Look like a Monkey

Today I was riding my bike through a remote area on my way into town.  I was riding on a path following two little girls, maybe 7 years old, they didn't turn around to look at me until I was right behind them.  They froze for a second when they saw me with an expression of the most intense fear I have ever seen in another human's eyes, then turned to run away from me screaming too loudly to be able to cry.  They ran for safety to a group of men who were laughing at the scene they had just observed.  The men gave me directions to the main road (I was in fact lost), and as I rode away the two girls seemed to have calmed down, realizing that I probably wasn't going to kill them.  Maybe it was partly they way I was approaching the girls quickly and the fact that I was wearing a strange helmet, but those two girls viewed me almost like a monster.  It was sad and funny.

Its weird that there are different races.  And its weird the way humans react to it.  Isn't crazy that slavery was legal in America a century and a half ago!?  And that the civil rights stuff in America took place half a century ago?  I guess as humans we like to divide ourselves into Us and Them.  Throughout history, Racism has been a popular way of making this division (though I prefer to separate the Them into Yankee Fans).  Its been around forever and will probably always be a part of the human experience.  The children that are so deathly afraid of me in Mali I think say something towards that point.  maybe.  Or maybe its just children being afraid of the unusual.  Which I guess might mean that by hanging out with other races can stamp out racism or something... not really sure...

Anyway, so there is racism.  I guess its people deciding that their race is superior in order to justify the horrible treatment of other races.  One way of doing this I think is by claiming that other races are less evolved/less human.  I think most white racists would say that Black people look more like Monkeys than white people.  And, since I grew up around white people I guess I might have to say.. umm. sure I guess I black person looks more like a primate to me than a white person.  Which I know is the worst thing in the world to say, but bare with me, this story has a point that teaches that tiny ignorant part of my brain a lesson.

So I was hiking around one day and came across some wild monkeys.  Thats pretty cool in itself since I had no idea there were any Monkeys in Dogon country.  In fact, I wouldn't have recognized them as monkeys if the traditional medicine man in my village didn't keep the same kind of monkey as a pet (I figured it came from a different part of Africa).  I was excited to share the story with my friends back at the village since I was really pretty ignorant about wildlife in Dogon Country and interested to learn more.  The most interesting response I got to my incredible story of 'I was walking and saw monkeys' was my friend telling me that they look like me.  The others agreed that white people look like monkeys despite my efforts to claim that it was them that looked like monkeys.  It was all fun and jokes, but some of their arguments were pretty convincing.  

Below is a picture of the Patas Monkey, which I am pretty sure is the type of Monkey that I saw.  It lives across the semi arid regions of Western and Eastern Africa, and are the most common monkey to see in Northern Mali.

My friends in village argued that the monkey looked like me because its nose is long, its eyes a lighter brown (like mine and unlike dark Malian eyes), it is hairy (Malians have hardly any arm/leg hair and much less facial hair then me), and because it is WHITE!  I have to agree.  Now that I look at the image above I think that if that monkey were to be a human he would probably be white.  

At first it was a shock to hear that I looked like a monkey.  My ignorant brain realized that it was dumb to think that black people look like monkeys, but I never even considered that white people probably look primitive to other races.  I guess it was kind of racist of me to think that black people wouldn't be a little racist and think that other races look 'primitive' to them.  The whole point I guess is that Racism and the excuses we have tried to use to justify it are really weird.  I am kind of rambling here since I have been sitting in front of this computer too long (its been over a month since I last used internet and I am letting myself get sucked in), but this was a post I am glad I was able to get up because it was a really cool experienced to be told that I looked like a monkey.  I liked it.  It was humanizing or something.

Ramadan

August 30th marked the end of Ramadan.  Though it doesn't feel like my village is intensely Muslim, and there are still traces of traditional animist beliefs, Ramadan played an important role in the spiritual lives of the villagers.  For thirty days many villagers refrained from drinking, eating and smoking (among other things) during the daytime.  The four small mosques in the village also experienced higher attendance and more extended visits.  When the fasting ended on the 30th of August I was not sure why so much celebrating was going on, but when I saw my work partner (Homologue) drinking tea under the morning sun I realized the fasting was over and joined the village in the religious festivities.

My Freshmen year in College I lived in a dorm with many muslim neighbors.  I remember that they stayed up late into the night in order to eat and maybe smoke some hookah.  I also remember that Ramadan happened in October or November that year (2006).   This confused me to think about at first, but it turns out that Ramadan really did occur much earlier this year than it did in 2006.  Since Ramadan is the holy month of the Islamic Calendar (a calendar that has around 10 or 11 fewer days than the Gregorian Calendar we are used to [how can a calendar function if it does not have the correct number of days?]) it shifts a little earlier every year.

The result is that Ramadan can take place during every season.  Had Ramadan not fallen during the rainy months of Mali, there would have been fewer people working in the fields all day long and more people participating in the fasting.  The work in the fields is tough (I tried it for one day and I could hardly walk the next day), and few go the whole day without eating.  I think that no drinking water for the whole day while doing fieldwork would be crazy and I doubt any of the villagers did this.  When Ramadan falls in December the fasting is easier to do.  There is no fieldwork, the sun is less brutal, and the hours of daylight are less so one does not fast as long.  December Ramadans are even easier for Muslims living in the far north such as in Great Britain where nearly 3 million Muslims live and the sun rises late and sets early.  A June or July Ramadan has the opposite affect however.  A British Muslim on July 1st starts his fasting at 2:55am and cannot eat or drink until 9:40pm!!  Muslims living in Fairbanks, Alaska or further north usually follow the practice of "Makkah," which allows them to began fast at 6am and finish at 6pm.

It was hard to tell who all followed the rules of fasting in my village and who didn't since most spent all day out in the fields.  My work partner followed it well, and since I usually depend on him for meals sometimes lunch was tough to find.  But other than that and the praying and festivities on the 30th of August, Ramadan hardly affected me.  Next Ramadan, however, I will be more used to the routines of the village and it will be easier to pick out the changes that occur during Ramadan.  Maybe it will have a greater affect on me then...

Rural and Urban

There are many Peace Corps experiences.  The stereotype may be mud huts and total isolation, but even in Mali many volunteers find themselves working in towns and cities.  When we first arrived in Mali and had not been assigned a community yet we were asked if we would prefer a rural life or an urban one.  There are advantages and disadvantages to both.  My life (after a whole two weeks of service at site) fits the Peace Corps stereotype well.  My village is small, everyone knows my name, lives in a mud hut, has no electricity, fetches their water and carries it back on their head.  It sucks sometimes (mostly because there is no good food or beer), but the I have certain advantages the city volunteers do not have.

City volunteers enjoy amenities that are lacking in the villages.  Food is available to buy in stores or markets any day of the week in larger towns.  This provides for tastier healthier diets than rural areas.   Water is easier to access as well for city volunteers as pumps and wells are readily available.  Some may even have running water.  Electricity and cell phone reception are other perks.  Some volunteers (not so much in Mali) even have toilets and internet.  These individuals are known as 'Poshcorps' volunteers.

I can't say I don't wish I had these luxuries.  Since the harvest is not for another two months my village is running low on food supplies and I find myself hungry.  I can eat millet as much as I want but I never get full.  I just eat until I get bored of eating. For water I can go either to a spring next to the village or to a well a mile away.  My house is dark and sometimes I feel isolated.  Sometimes I do not like that everyone knows me and crave that anonymity that exists only in cities.

But there are ways to get around these obstacles...  markets exist nearby and as soon as I figure out bus schedules and what villages have market on what days my diet will improve.  I give kids or villagers soap and they will do my laundry or fetch water for me.  I have a solar charger to charge a lamp and cell phone, and have discovered that by hiking around I can find patches of cell reception.

There are the perks of rural life that urban volunteers do not have.  With only 500 people in my village in will be easier to organize meetings and get the community behind the projects.  Community needs will be easier to assess.  I feel like a celebrity in a good way sometimes.  And it is beautiful: simple and clean with a breath taking landscaping that rivals Montana!

Below is a Dogon village (not mine) and Mopti a major Malian city where a couple of Peace Corps volunteers serve.  You can tell that there would be perks and disadvantages to both styles of Peace Corps.

I don't mean to say that I am getting a better Peace Corps experience than urban volunteers.  It is just a way of showing the two sides of Peace Corps.  Development is needed everywhere and no matter where you end up it will be a challenging experience.  I just thought it was important to point out that the Peace Corps experience varies greatly from one volunteer to the next, and the mud hut small village stereotype does not always hold true.

'Good Fellas'

Something I never considered before becoming a part of Peace Corps Mali is that there were many volunteers already serving here and that my group who I met in DC and have trained with for the last two months may not necessarily be the Americans who I spend my time with during the next two years.  In fact, only two other volunteers from my group will be in my region.  Zach (my Tomokan classmate) will live a bike ride away, but other than him it is unlikely that I spend much time with anyone else from my group. 

Currently there are four sets of Peace Corps volunteers in Mali.  Each group arrived together and did their training together.  They elected individuals to perform certain duties to make training run smoother.  They went to class together.  They worked on projects together.  They shared the wild experience of assimilating together.  They swore in as official volunteers together and had a swear in party.  Then they started their Peace Corps service in different villages.

These sets of people who arrived in Mali at the same times are known as 'stages' here in Peace Corps Mali.  Each 'stage' receives a stage name at their swear in party (picked by other volunteers who are helping them during training).  'Risky Business' arrived two years ago and have started one by one to go back to America as their service is coming to an end.  One year ago 'Team America' arrived in Mali.  'The Kennedys' arrived in Mali six months ago and are four months into their their official service.  Yesterday my group officially swore and then spent the day (and all night) celebrating.  Our trainers (four from Team America and one from Risky business) announced our stage name: 'Good Fellas.'  It is tough to entirely understand the reasons for the names of the four stages, but they are nice to have since whenever you meet a fellow volunteer the first thing I ask is "what stage are you?"

We, the 'Good Fellas,' are now official and it is wild to think about how much has happened during our training.  I guess I feel proud.  I mean really really proud!  I am just so damn happy for all of us and so excited to meet other volunteers and tell them "I'm a Good Fella."

We elected my friend Lyle to be in charge of designing a shirt.  The word 'tubab' in Mali is used to refer to a white foriegner.  The idea of Tubab Shakur was funny and turned into the t shirt design.  I think his hand is suppose to be an "M" for Mali. 

I was showing off to other members of 'Good Fellas' my really really awesome talent of drawing a map of U.S. by memory right before we held elections (I think the elections happened the first week I was here!).  I didn't realize that one of the spots up for election would be called 'Map Tigi' (map leader),  so I got stuck with the responsibility of organizing the painting of a world map in a library.  We have worked on the map off and on over the last month.  The map looks alright now, but I still haven't labeled the countries and cities so I guess I need to do that tonight since it will be my last chance before I leave the Capital area for three months.

Part of the end of closing of training included having a member from our host family come visit the Peace Corps training center.  They ate dinner with us (pretty funny watching them use silverware) and they each received certificates thanking them for hosting us.  My host dad was sick so my brother came.  He is the one in the green squatting down.  It was funny to see him be shy and out of his element... I guess it must have been a bit of a culture shock for him to come to such an American place.

Homestay (pics)

Last night was my final night living with my host family.  Though I appreciated all they have done for me and despite having lots of fun with the children, it was not a sad or emotional experience.  My homestay village and my family were great, but I am eager to be done with training.

I had it pretty good at homestay.  I lived with a slightly more wealthy/educated family.  Other volunteers did not have it as good while others had very wealthy families.  The result is mixed feelings among volunteers.  Some cried when they left their caring families and some jumped with joy to get out of their terrible living conditions.

The first picture captures one of the weirdest experiences of my life.  In it is my host dad and host mom, host nephew, host neice, real half brother, and real mother.  I think I set a Peace Corps record for having family visit only two weeks after arriving in Mali.  My mom and brother were traveling/working in Ghana and took a (very long) bus trip to Mali.  My mom, the most adventerous free spirited individual you'll ever meet, called my cell phone the Morning of June 14th to tell me she had arrived in Bamako.  I was expecting her on the 21st so all I could do was tell her the name of the village I was staying at and that I would probably be at the school.  That afternoon her and my brother strolled up to my Tomokan class and joined.

They spent a week in Mali living with me and my host family.  A pretty awsome experience.


The next two pictures show the inside of my concession.  The baby goats in them I saw be born.  The guy is my friend Vincent, an Education volunteer.

The last two is some hanging out time with other volunteers.  We spend long days being in class learning language, technical skills, and cultural stuff, so when we hang out and put down a few beers I think it is well deserved.

I wish I had more pictures up.  But I am bad at documenting and it so hard to upload pictures with limited internet.  Anyways, I hope this can give a nice visual to what I am seeing and experiencing.

The Children

50% of Mali's Population are under the age of fifteen.  Children are everywhere!  They are not very controlled and seem to have the freedom to wander around.  We entertain each other as I am curious about Malian culture and they are even more curious about strange looking white people.

Malian women start having kids as early as 14 and have lots of them.  Families are huge.  Since infant mortality rates are still very high in Mali, there doesn't seem to be as much emotional energy invested into children.  The death of an infant will not gain as much attention as the death of an adult.  Thats not to say that a mother won't be devastated by the death of her child, its just that the rest of the community may not take much attention.  Because of this attitude children are very independent and look out for each other.  Its not unusual to see a seven year old sister carrying a younger sibling on her back as if it was her own child.  Most children are very confident and have a blast trying to talk to us volunteers.  Their attention is usually a lot of fun.

The population pyramid above shows that Mali has extremely high birth rates and death rates.  A lot of volunteers put a lot of effort into teaching family planning and birth control.  Still, most Malian women, even the educated ones, feel like their purpose in life is to raise children.

My favorite part of Malian children is that their attention provides a stress free non formal way of practicing language skills and seeing how the Malian youth understand the reality around them.  My 16 year old host brother tried to explain that Malians are black because it is so hot in Mali, and (as I am tanning) I myself will become black after a few years in Mali.  That cracked me up.  The really young children hardly know what I am.  I've made lots of children cry just by being in their presence.  Some children really freak out and I think that they think that I will eat them.  Parents think its the funniest thing even when their kids are scared of me.  Other children HAVE to touch me.  Especially my hair on my head and on my arms, and my earring.

It makes sense that they would be so interested.  There are definitely some children in the rural villages who have never seen a white person.

They love to chant tubabu when they see me.  The term 'tubabu' originated during French colonization, but it has developed into a term used to refer to rich white foreigners (though the african american in my group will be called tubab as well sometimes).  Its interesting that countries have this word.  In Latin America the term in 'Gringo', and when I lived in Spain locals liked to use the term 'giri.'  Even though Spain is a developed European country my friends explained that the term 'giri' still meant "a foreigner who has more money than us."  The term tubab in Mali is usually harmless.  It is annoying when the children just chant it at you and don't want to talk, but it doesn't bother me at all when Malians call me tubab to get my attention.  I just don't like it when my family (or usually its friends of my family) are talking about me and use the word tubab instead of just using my name.

I have less then a week left of living with my host family.  On August 5th I will swear in as a peace corps volunteer and on August 7th I will permanently move into my village.  My first order of business will be hanging out with the kids and practicing my Tomokan with them.

North North

Cardinal directions develop different meanings from place to place and it is fun to see the way individuals understand the words North, South, East, and West.  Montana is divided between a mountainous west and the flat east.  California has a colder more rural north, and the opposite in the South.  Throughout all of America, the term "The South" carries a very specific connotation.  The region it represents is defined just as much by history and culture as it is by actual geographic location.  Virginia is in "The South" while New Mexico is not, even though New Mexico is in the southern part of the country and Virginia is not so much.  Even most of Florida isn't considered "The South" since the culture of Miami and Orlando don't fit the definition.  You can see North, South, East, West carry strong and strange meanings all over the world.  Florence, Italy insists it is not Northern Italy even though it is clearly in the Northern half of the country.  Then there are the terms like "The Middle East," which are very Eurocentric and don't really make sense.

Mali has a very strange idea of 'North.'  This is probably because no one lives in the northern half of Mali, and because the country is shaped oddly.  Kayes region is West, Bamako and Koulikoro (and maybe segou) regions are central (even though it is not far from the border of Guinea), Sikasso is South, and everything else is North.

The Orange line from Bamako to Mopti were 12 hours on Bus.  You can see Dogon country to the East of Mopti, a trip I will leave for in a couple hours.  The 'no go zone" line cuts across the northern parts of Kayes, Koulikoro, Segou, and Mopti.

 Mopti is the region highlighted on the Map.  It is where I will be spending my 2 years.  When I explain to people in Bamako (It is represented by the tiny dot of a region) that I will be going to Mopti they say that it is so far away, way up north.  I think this is hilarious since so much of Mali is further north still (the regions of Timbiktu, Gao, and Kidal).  So I like to ask if Timbiktu is far and Malians will say that it is far far far...  I ask if Gao and Kidal are far and their response gives off an impression that going there would be impossible.

The strange thing is that It is impossible to for me to go to the far North without breaking Peace Corps rules.  A line exists that cuts across the southern third of Mali, and crossing the line is deemed unsafe by Peace Corps for security reasons, and doing so could result in termination of service.  I have heard of previous volunteers getting kicked out of Peace Corps for traveling North and getting caught.  Apparently a branch of Al Qada operates in Northern Africa and the result is a closing of Peace Corps in Niger and Mauritania, and the creation of this 'No Go Zone' in Mali.

Today I spent 12 miserable hours on bus from Bamako to Mopti, 'the North'.  Even though Mopti looks like it should be called central Mali, it is characterized as being in the North because it is so far from Bamako and towards the Sahara.  And even though it doesn't compare to Timbiktu, Gao, and Kidal, it terms of northerness and isolation from Bamako, Peace Corps restrictions make it (and Dogon country expecially) the furthest North (and East) a volunteer can go.

So even though it doesn't make sense on a map, I can say "I am going to the North to do my Peace Corps Service."