What a fantastic week. Karen was up for a visit- using her own money and limited vacation days to come across the world to hang with me for 6 wonderful days. When my villagers heard this, the most frequent response was “That’s a really good friend.” She flew in Friday night, and had the energy to go out on the town to some of the more “Tubab” dance clubs with some PCVs and embassy workers.
The next day we had egg-tiki for breakfast and headed out on transport (after a lovely 3 hour wait) to the town of Siby on the outskirts of Bamako. We had a nice time there with PCV Elizabeth and in the morning, hit the cliffs for a guided hike/ rock-climb/ rappel with two funny little Malian guys. The view was great, I thought. So did Karen but she just came back from the grand canyon so I doubt our little Malian plateaus compared much. But we learned some cool history. We walked through a cave that was once used as a hiding place in an ancient tribal war. We saw the remains of pots of the Malian peoples of yesteryear, picked some leaves of traditional medicine, and saw a place where hunters used to skin panthers! We were done with the hike about mid-day (the hot sun was getting to us) and we headed back to Bamako.
After journeying to the post in Kati, I realized my phone and wallet were gone. I take most of the blame because of my inherent absentmindedness, but I also blame Malian transport and such. After a stressful few hours of trying to figure out how we were going to get back to village, Hunter came to the rescue again. The fact that Hunter to this day is still my friend, despite all of the times he’s bailed me out, calmed me down, and forgave me in stressful situations is a miracle blessing. He’s a great guy. And so is Karen for having such incredible faith that everything would work out alright.
We spent the night in Dio and biked to Dombila in the morning. Karen did a lot of the formal meet-and-greets and we went on a nice run together (it had been so long- and she’s still in great shape!). That night the xylophone guys played for us. It was a great experience- Karen was in her traditional Malian wear. But the xylophone guys still reminded me that they want me to ask my American father to send money so they can buy a microphone. It’d be nice to help them out, sure. But it’d be also nice if they wanted to play for the foreign visitor, as a thank you for my work, without asking for anything in return. Exhausted and sweaty, we went to bed- Karen liked the hammock quite a bit.
The next day we made mango jam, played with the kids, ate some Malian rice, and went to greet the chief. The old man with the bad eyes welcomed the visitor and we took a picture for him. Karen picked up a good amount of Bambara during her stay here, and she got at least a dozen marriage proposals. Not to mention everyone begging her to stay here. (My host mom even went so far as to offer to trade me in for her!)
Karen helped with baby weighing on Wednesday and afterwards we got a ride to Bamako with the Peace Corps doctor who came to do my site visit. We ran some errands (mainly replacing my lost items- thanks for hanging in there Karen) and then had a relaxing night. We looked at pictures, new and old, exchanged ideas about life, spirituality, fitness, purpose. It was fantastic to have her, and to feel so un-alone, so blessed with this great friendship. The shower in the old Dalfina was quite temperamental, so we put on our swim-suits and tried to scrub off all the African grime in the pool.
We took it easy in Bamako the last day. Real shopping (not market shopping where people are grabbing at you every second), sight-seeing at the University and through the city. Great restaurants, and real showers. I felt like an American. I felt like I was back in the states, in a way. Not back in the states per se, but back in my own life. With an old friend., doing normal people things. And I found myself craving it. I found myself craving her life- her desk-and-computer job, her grocery shopping, her road-racing, her house with 3 other cool young American girls. I want some time there.
It’s not that I don’t love the Peace Corps, but I think I have tried to block out of my mind how tough it is. It’s tough. It’s fantastic and I’d never give up this experience, but it’s tough. And I’ve been thinking now about where I’m going after this adventure- what field of work, what kind of job, what kind of schooling? I feel like this second year of Peace Corps is going to be personality building. I’ve already broken down the walls. I’ve hit rock bottom many times and pulled myself up. I know what it’s like to scratch at the grass roots of a community, of a problem and to not get anywhere for a while. But I also know that there are possibilities for growth and improvement. I am the only white girl here, but I’m not the only one with resources or motivation. I only pray I can do all I can to help my village come together, and to help you back at home be closer to them.
So since Wednesday, I’m still in Bamako. Depending on a meeting, I may be for another day. That’s a long time. And site guilt is still there, but I’m also treating myself to the real world of work. I’ve been in front of the computer all day. I’ve been visiting NGO workers to discuss projects. I’ve traveled all around Bamako replacing my phone, debit cards and identification. And things are good here. It’s still Western Africa, but it’s a little more modernized. I like this life.
But in the back of my mind I know there is much work to be done. We are just getting started. They say the first year of Peace Corps is trial-and-error, and the second year is where your lasting impact is laid down. A refresher, of motivation, organization, dedication, purpose. I have Karen to thank for all that. And now I’m off. No not to save the world. Not to even save the village of Dombila. Not to even save the CSCOM of the village of Dombila. I’m off to serve- wherever I am needed and however best I can. Inner strength is the starting engine, but one can only travel the avenue of service by following the lead of those you serve. Dombila, I’ve made mistakes against you, I’ve escaped you, I’ve resented you. But I’m still yours. Completely. For another year and change.
