Hunter Gray (Kati, education): http://hunteroflifewithnograydays.blogspot.com/
Caroline Nelson (Dombila, small enterprise development) http://carolineonmyway.blogspot.com/
Amanda Misit (Koulikoroville, Health) http://amisiti.blogspot.com/
Saturday, October 25, 2008
The One Who Speaks
Hey all! Guess what? The amazing folks at FACE AIDS Geneseo have carried on the torch and are producing a short play that I worked on adapting from an interview with a young, HIV positive Ugandan girl. The date of the one who speaksis set for Dec 5 (during the week of world aids day) and there is now a facebook group if you are interested in the project. Sweeeeeeeeet!!!
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=32609141023
Send me a videotape!!
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=32609141023
Send me a videotape!!
Where I set my bag
Another week in the brush and I'm beginning to feel at home- though not without some growing pains. The rest of my weekend in Bamako was wonderful- I have become really close with the other volunteers in my region- wonderful but difficult at the same time. Bamako is like the crossroads between the two worlds. When I can look at a computer, talk English, go out to eat at a resturant, it is like a teasing of the Western world. And this past weekend in particular, my homesickness struck me hard. I cried after speaking to my cousins and sister on the phone, part of me refused to go back to my village because I was having such a great time with my American friends. Yet when I returned to Dombila, the clouds cleared. I realized why I was so upset. This time of transition, I don't know where to call home. Is it back in the U.S? Is it here in Bamako with my American friends? Or is it back in the village of Dombila? Dombila in Bamabra means "The place where I set my bag down to rest". Right now, my home is all three of those places. Its just I cannot decide where I want to rest my bag.
Coming back to Dombila though, for the first time, my guilty feelings of leaving town were exterminated upon arrival. I met my homolouge on the road back who invited me for dinner. There, she took me into her bedroom and brought out a brand new dress that she had made for me. It was about as African as you can get- leopard skin from head to toe- and I love it. "When the man comes to market with the camera, he can take a picture of our family and you will wear this dress and be in the picture." And that was the day I finally rested my bag in Dombila. I have been accepted. I have a family here, a home. Though my true home is across the ocean, though I will always be a foreigner, I feel like I am finally settled in. And who knows, if Irene has her way, our families will be one! I will marry her oldest son and my sister will marry her second oldest. (Kate- he's already fallen in love with your picture!) hahaha
But despite feeling so accepted by my host family and my homolouge's family, in many ways I feel like the most popular girl in junior high amongst the rest of the village- worshiped yet resented. Greeted with enthusiasm but gossiped about at the same time. I actually had my first argument in Bambara and though proud of my language skills, I am now even more frightened of the witch-lady who demands that I bring her medicine. I try my best to be friendly with everyone, but I'm a sucker for the "Oh, come back tonight- and sit and chat with us!" The other night I remember coming home from work having promised to sit and talk with 3 different families, play soccer with some teenagers, and run with Shaka and the boys. With only a few hours of sunlight left, I decided, maybe its time to grow a backbone and set few boundaries for myself. Alone time is hard to find, but Im going to need a little if I want to stay sane here..
After a few hard days of homesickness, things started to come together for me in Dombila. My language is improving, especially with the help of my language tutor, the young English-speaking secretary General of Dombila. It's peanut harvesting season, so everywhere you grow there are groups of people sitting around, listening to a radio, laughing as they shuck the peanuts off of the stalks. And just when you think its over, another donkey cart pulls in hauling another load. The women make peanut butter here, but nobody actually eats it straight, especially not in a sandwhich. They water it down to make sause for rice. Tasty for sure, but I've promised them to bring back some bananas from Kati and introduce them to my staple food- peanut butter and banana sandwhichs. The idea though, that you would actually put peanut butter inside bread, is incredibly bizzare.
Not only is my own language getting better, but my host brothers and sisters are picking up a little English. I called my sister this week who was able to have a short converstation with Shaka (How are you, what is your name). Shaka is like the little brother I never had. He helps remind me of people's names, tells me what's going on with the kids in Dombila, at school or in the feilds, and he has already told me that I am to stay in Dombilia for not 2, not 5, but 100 years. And I am to marry him AND his two younger brothers. He asked me how to say "I like you very much" in English, and since I told him, all the little kids in our compound can say it. Even Mussa, the two-year-old, will come up to me when I am reading under my hanger, get right in my face and exclaim in a fast, excited, African accent "I like you very much!"
As for Dombilia, everyday my head fills with more and more ideas. I want to start a water sanitation committee with the village men, I want to get some equipment for the schools... I have so many ideas but I can't keep up with them because every day I discover a new problem with the village. Taxes for instance. The secretary general told me yesterday that only 17% of the people here paid taxes in the last three years. Why? because it's not enforced. And the mayor doesn't want to enforce it in fears of not being re-elected. Talk about backwards thinking. What can the mayor even do when only 17% of the population is paying their $3 a year? It is true though, that some people cannot even afford this.
Out in the expanse of Dombilia, I've been able to ride my bike to some vaccination sites. Yesterday, I did a skit with my homologue about the importance of vaccinations. It was pretty funny. The big-boned Irene gets right in my face and asks me why my child cannot walk. And this little boy I pulled from the crowd, has his head down in shame. I was a bad mother, I did not take him to get his shots. And the crowd of Malians are pointing and laughing. And I am trying to defend myself. Out in the brush, away from the main village, they only get medical services maybe once every month when we got out there. Either that, or they walk for miles and miles to get to the CSCOM. My supervisor has told me just to investigate now, not to start any work until I really know the village deeply. I agree, but after seeing a handful of severely malnourished babies in the distant village of Tomba, I could not just leave. I am returning Monday to teach the women how to make ameliorated porridge. My language skills are going to struggle greatly with this, but I figure it can't hurt to at least give it a try. I think...
My supervisor from the Peace Corps comes to visit Tuesday. I'm going to seriously discuss project ideas from her, and possibly post them in the next blog. (I'd love to get something going that you can all help with, like supplies for the school). I travel again to Bamako next Tuesday to watch the election with my teammates. I just got my two absentee ballots in the mail today. Yes two. I guess I can vote twice...??? Anyway, in Kati now, going to the big church tomorrow morning, and gonna stick around to beg the priest if I can play the piano when the place empties out.
Love you all. Miss you terribly- as I have been brought into the family of Dombila, as have you. Your pictures are known to the villagers, your names, your stories, and as they say in Bambara, Ubee aw fo. (They greet you all).
Emily
PS- pictures will be coming hopefully within the next month!
Coming back to Dombila though, for the first time, my guilty feelings of leaving town were exterminated upon arrival. I met my homolouge on the road back who invited me for dinner. There, she took me into her bedroom and brought out a brand new dress that she had made for me. It was about as African as you can get- leopard skin from head to toe- and I love it. "When the man comes to market with the camera, he can take a picture of our family and you will wear this dress and be in the picture." And that was the day I finally rested my bag in Dombila. I have been accepted. I have a family here, a home. Though my true home is across the ocean, though I will always be a foreigner, I feel like I am finally settled in. And who knows, if Irene has her way, our families will be one! I will marry her oldest son and my sister will marry her second oldest. (Kate- he's already fallen in love with your picture!) hahaha
But despite feeling so accepted by my host family and my homolouge's family, in many ways I feel like the most popular girl in junior high amongst the rest of the village- worshiped yet resented. Greeted with enthusiasm but gossiped about at the same time. I actually had my first argument in Bambara and though proud of my language skills, I am now even more frightened of the witch-lady who demands that I bring her medicine. I try my best to be friendly with everyone, but I'm a sucker for the "Oh, come back tonight- and sit and chat with us!" The other night I remember coming home from work having promised to sit and talk with 3 different families, play soccer with some teenagers, and run with Shaka and the boys. With only a few hours of sunlight left, I decided, maybe its time to grow a backbone and set few boundaries for myself. Alone time is hard to find, but Im going to need a little if I want to stay sane here..
After a few hard days of homesickness, things started to come together for me in Dombila. My language is improving, especially with the help of my language tutor, the young English-speaking secretary General of Dombila. It's peanut harvesting season, so everywhere you grow there are groups of people sitting around, listening to a radio, laughing as they shuck the peanuts off of the stalks. And just when you think its over, another donkey cart pulls in hauling another load. The women make peanut butter here, but nobody actually eats it straight, especially not in a sandwhich. They water it down to make sause for rice. Tasty for sure, but I've promised them to bring back some bananas from Kati and introduce them to my staple food- peanut butter and banana sandwhichs. The idea though, that you would actually put peanut butter inside bread, is incredibly bizzare.
Not only is my own language getting better, but my host brothers and sisters are picking up a little English. I called my sister this week who was able to have a short converstation with Shaka (How are you, what is your name). Shaka is like the little brother I never had. He helps remind me of people's names, tells me what's going on with the kids in Dombila, at school or in the feilds, and he has already told me that I am to stay in Dombilia for not 2, not 5, but 100 years. And I am to marry him AND his two younger brothers. He asked me how to say "I like you very much" in English, and since I told him, all the little kids in our compound can say it. Even Mussa, the two-year-old, will come up to me when I am reading under my hanger, get right in my face and exclaim in a fast, excited, African accent "I like you very much!"
As for Dombilia, everyday my head fills with more and more ideas. I want to start a water sanitation committee with the village men, I want to get some equipment for the schools... I have so many ideas but I can't keep up with them because every day I discover a new problem with the village. Taxes for instance. The secretary general told me yesterday that only 17% of the people here paid taxes in the last three years. Why? because it's not enforced. And the mayor doesn't want to enforce it in fears of not being re-elected. Talk about backwards thinking. What can the mayor even do when only 17% of the population is paying their $3 a year? It is true though, that some people cannot even afford this.
Out in the expanse of Dombilia, I've been able to ride my bike to some vaccination sites. Yesterday, I did a skit with my homologue about the importance of vaccinations. It was pretty funny. The big-boned Irene gets right in my face and asks me why my child cannot walk. And this little boy I pulled from the crowd, has his head down in shame. I was a bad mother, I did not take him to get his shots. And the crowd of Malians are pointing and laughing. And I am trying to defend myself. Out in the brush, away from the main village, they only get medical services maybe once every month when we got out there. Either that, or they walk for miles and miles to get to the CSCOM. My supervisor has told me just to investigate now, not to start any work until I really know the village deeply. I agree, but after seeing a handful of severely malnourished babies in the distant village of Tomba, I could not just leave. I am returning Monday to teach the women how to make ameliorated porridge. My language skills are going to struggle greatly with this, but I figure it can't hurt to at least give it a try. I think...
My supervisor from the Peace Corps comes to visit Tuesday. I'm going to seriously discuss project ideas from her, and possibly post them in the next blog. (I'd love to get something going that you can all help with, like supplies for the school). I travel again to Bamako next Tuesday to watch the election with my teammates. I just got my two absentee ballots in the mail today. Yes two. I guess I can vote twice...??? Anyway, in Kati now, going to the big church tomorrow morning, and gonna stick around to beg the priest if I can play the piano when the place empties out.
Love you all. Miss you terribly- as I have been brought into the family of Dombila, as have you. Your pictures are known to the villagers, your names, your stories, and as they say in Bambara, Ubee aw fo. (They greet you all).
Emily
PS- pictures will be coming hopefully within the next month!
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