So I apologize for not writing in so long! So much has happened since I left training center. I've started on some exciting projects, but more exciting than all of that is MY PARENTS CAME!
Here it is in a nutshell (a real nutshell). You say I should write a book on my experiences, this whole week in itself could be a book. For the dirty details, talk to Gina and Bill. I hereby give you too eye witnesses of the my Peace Corps Experience.
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I had excitable butterflies all in my stomach as I took the flight to Dakar, Senegal. After a great hug with my parents (Gina cried of course), we went on to spend 4 days at the President Meridian hotel, a beautiful resort on the rocky beaches of Africa's West Coast. Though Mom was scared to leave the hotel for the first 48 hours, she eventually found her nitch in a local artisans market, where Senegalese loved to sell her things and I loved to butt in the way to bargain the price. "You are a very nice lady" they told my mom. "And you-" looking at me- "you are TOO African!"
We eventually ventured out into the city, with the highlight being the colorful island of Goree, where we saw fantastic views of the beach and some historical sites. The old slave house was especially moving, a site that figures like Pope John Paul II, Nelson Mandella and Bill Clinton have visited to pay their respects to slaves of years past.
Another little island gave us a day on a sandy beach, but not without women selling jewlery on their heads and such. Besides that, we spend a lot of time on the grounds of our resort- eating, lounging, catching up. I feel like I'm a little bit more in the loop now with local Rochester gossip and CNN news every day. Though I've never been more clean and well-fed since moving to Africa, the tourist life actually got very difficult for me after a while. At first I joked after getting our dinner bills that I could fill up my stomach for 60 cents in Bamako. But then on the last day when the laundry bill came in, I really had a hard time. My host mother in my village washes my clothes for me by hand. She barely makes a dollar.
When you see my dad, ask him about how his wallet got stolen in Dakar. I also jumped on the bandwagon- someone stole my jewlery! And by stolen I mean we misplaced them in the hotel room, and with the help of the hotel manager and about 6 security gaurd, found them- and a lot of embarassment for the Hurley family.
The plane landed safely in Bamako on Friday at 1:00pm. We checked into the chic Radisson hotel before meeting my friends at the local American bar, the Campinyard. Immediately, my two families messed and we had a great time over belebelebas (large Malian beers). After checking the Peace Corps volunteers into their lost world- the luxary of the Radisson hotel, we had dinner at "Savanahs"- a jazzy, zebra-striped music club where Bill almost got lost coming back from the ATM on the dark streets of Bamako and Gina almost choked on some chicken. Oh dear, how will they do in village?
Breakfast was "filling their stomachs for 60 cents" at an egg sandwhich stand on the side of the road, which they actually thoroughly enjoyed (ask them about eggtiki when you see them) and we then hopped in the car of a very brave taxi driver who agreed to take us to the village of Dombila.
Oh dear, this writing is horrendous and I'm running out of computer time. Please ask the Hurley's to fill in the details about the following:
- The Malian "drive through" at the Kati gare
- The Dio market, and the realization that my father left the bag with most of my personal belongings in it at the Peace Corps office. (I got into my hut via window)
- The zylophone dance party- with 200 villagers, traditional music, and a big welcome for Gina and Bill (Irene made Gina get up and dance in her new pagne)
-Gina's first bucket bath experience, pounding millet, and carrying a baby on her back
-Bill's quest for "Hut Improvement projects" and successful usage of joking cousin bean jokes
-The ultimate cultural exchange: 'Smores in Africa
-Church on Sunday (Catholics are the same here and there)
-Heat stroke and starvation (ok, I hope that's an exaggeration) but overall impressive survival by my young and thriving parents!
-A beautiful exchange of respect and gifts between my American and my Malian families.
Mom and Dad, I hope you find the time to write a little something for posting. I think they'd love to hear your side of the story as well as some pictures!
I'm sorry for the brevity of the past three weeks. Now that I'm back in the "Malian pace" of things I might have some more time for blog writing. Having my parents here was absolutely incredible, and it brought me closer and closer to all the tremendous support that you at home are giving. I too, give you MY support. My parents are telling me of all the exciting things you are all pursuing at home and it was so nice to feel back in touch with it. Saying goodbye was hard, but I stand here thoroughly fulfilled- a great week, a great experience, but most of all, a great blessing to have been given these incredible people as parents. Thanks Mom and Dad! Hope you make it home ok!
All my love from Mali,
Em
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Latrines- an unfinished blog from like three weeks ago
I’ve been back at sitee for a week now- eager to put all of my new ideas into use. Yet it seems like my head is spinning a lot faster than the pace of life in Dombila. I found myself wanting to do everything- from plant a garden full of moringa trees to help two womens’ groups start small businesses without loosing my focus on infant malnutrition. I have to be careful not to let myself get too carried away. After all, it’s their village, it’s their projects, and I must be patient and mindful that small is beautiful. One little thing gone right is better than a dozen things started that gradually fall apart.
That being said, lo and behold, I wound up roping myself into a new project my first week back here. Upon my arrival, I found that the NGO who laid the foundation to build an addition to the school had finally returned to finish the job. A young, enthusiastic Malian engineer called Ibriham was heading up the operation. He took me on a brief tour, and showed me that they were also constructing three new latrines to add onto the 3 already situated at the school. And the ones already there are covered with leaves and dust, unused. Ibriham’s investigative mind rose to the occasion when I challenged: “Why are you building new latrines if the kids aren’t even going to use them?”
What followed was an observation of dozens and dozens of students dashing toward the bushes during 10:15 break time while the latrines stood empty, two focus group discussions with students, a meeting with the school’s director, and a new partnership between me and this engineer. We discovered that not only are the latrines not maintained (never cleaned, not stocked with water), but students are simply embarrassed to go in in fear of being ridiculed. One young girl told me that she used the latrine once and when she came out, all the boys were laughing at her “You just pooped! You came from the poop place!” Instead, students will tell their friends, “Oh, I’m going to take a walk in the fields.” Everyone knows what you’re doing, but it’s not on display in the school-yard.
With some humorous skits about smelly-clothes and hygiene, demonstrations on germs and hand-washing, and explanations on how our small village latrines can improve our health even without the luxury of running water, Ibriham and I performed sensitization lessons in each class. Our next step is to identify one student per class who can be inchage of organizing the duties of our new latrines- getting classmates to fill up the water, etc. We’ve also decided to construct two hand washing stations, hopefully with some funding help from Peace Corps, so that students can wash their hands and feet. Changing behavior like this is not easy, especially with 800 plus kids, 6 latrines, and a lot of embarassment. The biggest opponent to this is Shaka. “Aminata, if you build the hand-washing station, kids will mess with it. It will be broken in a week. Aminata, even if you build new latrines, no one will use them.” During one of our focus groups, I asked the students at the end if the latrines were clean and kids could wash their hands, would you still laugh at kids who used them. I heard I lot of “No! That’d be great!” “I’d use the latrines!” “I wouldn’t be embarrassed!” Shaka is smirking in the back. “Yeah, I’d still make fun of the kids.” Jerk. He’s just been messing with me lately because I’ve been running with Ibriham sometimes. I suggest that the three of us run together, but no, Shaka needs constant attention. We’re in kind of a joking fight- he can totally ignore me and pretend he refuses to talk until I figure out a way for him to crack a smile. I hate to admit it, but that kid’s got me wrapped around his finger.
That being said, lo and behold, I wound up roping myself into a new project my first week back here. Upon my arrival, I found that the NGO who laid the foundation to build an addition to the school had finally returned to finish the job. A young, enthusiastic Malian engineer called Ibriham was heading up the operation. He took me on a brief tour, and showed me that they were also constructing three new latrines to add onto the 3 already situated at the school. And the ones already there are covered with leaves and dust, unused. Ibriham’s investigative mind rose to the occasion when I challenged: “Why are you building new latrines if the kids aren’t even going to use them?”
What followed was an observation of dozens and dozens of students dashing toward the bushes during 10:15 break time while the latrines stood empty, two focus group discussions with students, a meeting with the school’s director, and a new partnership between me and this engineer. We discovered that not only are the latrines not maintained (never cleaned, not stocked with water), but students are simply embarrassed to go in in fear of being ridiculed. One young girl told me that she used the latrine once and when she came out, all the boys were laughing at her “You just pooped! You came from the poop place!” Instead, students will tell their friends, “Oh, I’m going to take a walk in the fields.” Everyone knows what you’re doing, but it’s not on display in the school-yard.
With some humorous skits about smelly-clothes and hygiene, demonstrations on germs and hand-washing, and explanations on how our small village latrines can improve our health even without the luxury of running water, Ibriham and I performed sensitization lessons in each class. Our next step is to identify one student per class who can be inchage of organizing the duties of our new latrines- getting classmates to fill up the water, etc. We’ve also decided to construct two hand washing stations, hopefully with some funding help from Peace Corps, so that students can wash their hands and feet. Changing behavior like this is not easy, especially with 800 plus kids, 6 latrines, and a lot of embarassment. The biggest opponent to this is Shaka. “Aminata, if you build the hand-washing station, kids will mess with it. It will be broken in a week. Aminata, even if you build new latrines, no one will use them.” During one of our focus groups, I asked the students at the end if the latrines were clean and kids could wash their hands, would you still laugh at kids who used them. I heard I lot of “No! That’d be great!” “I’d use the latrines!” “I wouldn’t be embarrassed!” Shaka is smirking in the back. “Yeah, I’d still make fun of the kids.” Jerk. He’s just been messing with me lately because I’ve been running with Ibriham sometimes. I suggest that the three of us run together, but no, Shaka needs constant attention. We’re in kind of a joking fight- he can totally ignore me and pretend he refuses to talk until I figure out a way for him to crack a smile. I hate to admit it, but that kid’s got me wrapped around his finger.
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