Riding in Cars with Goats....

This is our new crew, the Belushis of Sikasso! Our stage was named the Belushi stage of Mali, apparently because we are party animals. We were able to impress some longterm volunteers with our skills already - last night for dinner were ground beef, home-made tortillas, guacamole, lemonade, and cookies made from scratch: all things they didn't manage to make until after their first years here.

"I am Michele, not Tim's Wife..." Michele walking with our LCFs after our going away "party" in Sanankoroba. The mood of the "party" was very toned down due to the start of Ramadan that very morning.

These are the wood trucks that pass thru Sanankoroba nearly everyday. Some stop and just sorta sit there for a while.

This is a view at dusk off the roof of the hotel most everyone slept the night of swear-in. It was right about this time as the sky was turning grey in the smoggy sunset that the night air filled with hundreds of large brown bats coming out of their resting areas for their evening meal.

Us and the old Sanakoroba crew. Good times, we will miss them as we are now all spread throughout Mali. Only Trinh is near us in Sikasso-ville.

Michele and I on swear-in day and our nice outfits. Both were specially made for us by a tailor - my garb is called a "bubu" and is the formal-wear of Malian men - it beats the hell out of a tux or suit any day!

Sleeping Beauty Michele and Medea, our since missing kitten. She was a gift of the jatigi the day we arrived in Blendio because it was Michele's only request of the town. She has been missing for a few days now.

Michele coming home from the market - with all of her disciples.

Guess what?
Chicken butt! (no, seriously, it is a chicken butt) given to us (along with the rest of the chicken) by our jatigi, Amadou Diallo.

Our house - it is a bit of a mess, but then again it wouldn't be ours if it wasn't messy now and then.

Bus stop for the once a week transport out of Blendio.

Michele and my most recent trip to Sikasso, sitting atop a rather angry goat (who wouldn't be angry when tied up in the back of a van just below two stinky Tubobs). After our next stop Michele had to switch seats since our NASCAR wanna-be driver kept pissing off the goat zigging and zagging across the road at top speed to dodge all of the potholes (these are not American potholes - these things have had years to grow and become foot deep monsters).