On the Eve of the Presidential Elections...

At first I was sad that Michele and I would be spending the weekend of the Malian Presidential elections in Bamako away from our village, but once we got into the capital a few days ago we saw that things would be nice here in the city.

Segou is one of the more prosperous regions in Mali and so is also a stronghold for the current president ATT (Amadou Toumani Toure). So, in our village of Diaramana in the region of Segou, we had seen a single face on all of the political posters - a smiling ATT in a light blue bubu and white hat. We took transport out of our village into the city of San and then the next day hopped on a bus towards Bamako - a trip of a few hundred kilometers - and possibly a thousand posters of ATT. People in our village don't even talk about any other candidates - they all only know of ATT and assume that he will win outright. At least that's what they tell us.

But once we got within 30 minutes of Bamako, the scenery out the bus window changed, not greatly but enough to take notice. The majority of posters still show the smiling visage of ATT, but now there are a significant number of posters showing other candidates, some of whom have followed ATT's lead and go by their initials as well, like IBK and SBM. There are even posters of a woman who is running for president - a big shock in this male dominant society. I never get a chance to watch the news so I can't be too accurate in any political predictions, but if the number of posters are any indication, IBK may be in the lead of the non-ATT crowd.

On our typical walk from the PC Bureau in Niarela to the Relax restaurant on the Koulikoro siraba, we passed a normally open, empty field that was uncharacteristically full of tents, people, large rams, and posters of ATT - it was a political rally of ATT supporters. As we dined on chicken and pizza at the Relax, a barrage of car horns broke the silence. I turned towards the road expecting to see a car accident or a more typical Bamako sight but was surprised to see hundreds of motorcylces honking and cheering with IBK posters hanging from the sides. Democracy is alive and well in the city of Bamako.

This whole thing provides a wonderful example of how lucky Michele and I are to be here in Mali. The people of this country are genuinely nice. Democracy isn't at its healthiest here, but it is still doing well. People we have talked with in the streets seem very excited about their chance to vote tomorrow and plan on doing it very early so they can hold parties the rest of the day. The Peace Corps decided to drop our 'Standfast' alert status in favor of normal status because the elections here are predicted to be peaceful and without trouble. That is something you cannot say about neighboring West African countries - Senegal and Burkina Faso PC will be on alert for their elections, Guinea had to be evacuated, Cote D'Ivoire is still in turmoil, Niger has had issues with its most recent elections and there was violence in Nigeria recently because of elections. All in all, Mali definitely seems to have its act together.

ATT is Mali's second president. The 1st stepped down after his 2-terms in office rather than create some laws to keep himself in power like many other African countries have done. ATT has served a 5-year term (presidents are allowed 2 terms in office here) and apparently is so well liked that he stands a very good chance of serving a 2nd.

This whole thing goes beyond Malian politics and into the very heart of the culture. I think I've written of joking cousins here before. Each last name has select other last names that they are allowed to poke fun at, most stemming from a rivalry in another part of Malian history. The Traore clan used to enslave the Diarra clan. Rather than continue age old animosity the way Arabs and Jews do in the Middle East, these two clans poke fun at one another - back and forth banter about who farts more often.

Even different relgions have a way of getting along. I read story after story in Newsweek after how some prominant Muslim or Christian leader is spouting off about how Christianity and Islam are so inherently different that they can never coexist beside one another. Simply put, this is bullshit and Mali is the reason why. In our village of Diaramana, there is a sizeable Christian population living amongst the Muslim population. The majority of the Christians live on the outskirts of town in their own communities, but some do live right in the middle surrounded by Muslim neighbors. There is no animosity between these groups, both spend all their time trying to survive the climate, not each other. The past few times I have gone to the nearby school to pump water for Michele and I, one of the Christian teachers had brought his pigs (1 large sow and 6 piglets) to the pump to roll around in the mud and get something to drink. Muslims do not eat pig because their scripture (as does the Christian Bible) states simply that pigs are dirty and should not be touched or eaten. The teacher told me that no one complains that he brings his 'filthy' pigs over to the pump to stand next to the source of water for a mostly Muslim population. People here have found a way to get along. The rest of the world would do itself good if it were to look to Mali for an example of a healthy culture.

Anyways, the elections are tomorrow, they seem to be a lot more exciting here in the city with its diversity of thought. Can't wait to see what becomes of this whole thing.

For more info check out CNN Africa

The fish bowl effect

When we started back in July of '06, many peace corps administrators would talk about the fish bowl effect and how to cope with it. Well, just to give you some idea of what exactly this is, here is a video of how we are treated everyday. We are but two white people in a village of over 12,000--- so needless to say we are fascinating.

My favorite poem.

I think i have actually posted this on here before, but I feel it is so amazing that it warrants a second go. Everytime I read it, it puts a smile on my face. I hope it does the same for you.

The Orange by Wendy Cope

At lunchtime I bought a huge orange

The size of it made us all laugh.

I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave

They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy,

As ordinary things often do

Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.

This is peace and contentment. It's new.

The rest of the day was quite easy.

I did all the jobs on my list

And enjoyed them and had some time over.

I love you. I'm glad I exist.

Fun with the Military

Neda, the super volunteer and Trinh Tranny.

Me and Tamara...

So the Military decided to throw us a party, and since we dont get to party often we made the most of it.

top pic: Amanda and I singing to each other

next pic: me and my togoma

last but not least: Amanda, Christy, and I...

Photos from the past month...

From the upper deck of the Hotel Iklass in Sikasso-ville, not too far from the Trinh-ster's house. We are going to miss getting to see our Sikasso kaw all the time...



The end of IST (in service training) with a party at the old Bamako Marine Corps house turned bar. The Marines sure do know how to throw a karaoke party - this is us getting down to the Water/Sanitation Sector anthem : 'The Final Countdown' by Europe. Or maybe this is our ovation-worthy rendition of Journey's 'Separate Ways' - either way our fellow corps-ers in the audience loved us.

Michele being Michele... with style

The old Sanankoroba kaw (sans Fadibe because we couldn't find him).

More of Michele being Michele...beautiful.

Officially a Government Worker

So Tim and I go to the second cycle school in our new village, and decide to chat with the English teacher there. It is the day before final exams, and the kids have something like field day in elementary school while the teachers sit around drinking tea and eating. The English teacher, Traore, asks Tim and I---- why are people in america always killing each other? Taken aback by this question, we let him continue... "I listen to the radio and I watch the tv everyday and America has so much crime and is killing people all over the world and each other. But why? Nobody kills in Mali or Europe. If I were to go to America, I would be afraid."

Crazy, right?

Tim and I, still in awe at the audacity of a claim like that sit and wonder where to begin-- Both of us feeling incredibly on the defensive. I start. It is very complicated, I say. It is very difficult to explain how America with such riches and seemingly happy people would have such high levels of crime. I think back to my criminology class and juvenile delinquincy with Rojek at UGA... I think about the UCR and about the victim crime report survey, and how yes--- levels of crime in the US are high. What the hell do I say to this guy? It would be unheard of for someone in a village to kill someone for money, Nike crosstrainers, or to rape---- it is ridiculously rare here. Ok, maybe not ridiculously, how about amazingly rare? They would sooner go without, and often do. I glance at Tim and realize he is thinking the same things.

I try to explain the large gap between the rich and the poor and how the middle class is shrinking and there was a recession, all excuses. I am trying to excuse the US's shortcomings on crime to a man who doesnt read about murders in the local paper, to a man whose life consists of such simplicity.... Not that I am complaining one way or another... it is just weird talking to someone with no real grasp of the claim he is making. I try to explain statistics, and how certain crime projections can be biased or based on spurious relationships. Then I realized that I was being an idiot, and resorted to the following:


America is great
American people are great
There are many things in america
American food is amazing
You should come to america; you would love it
The government helps you in America

And then i realzed.... I was then officially a government worker. A tool of propaganda.

Welcome to the Peace Corps.

On the New Site: Diaramana (a rat-less post)

Michele and I have officially lived in Diaramana for two months now and have just returned to Tubani So (our PC training center in Bamako) for a quick week long training session with our Malian counterparts. So far, life in Diaramana has been significantly different than Blendio if not better in most ways. Here are a few reasons why:

In most every aspect, I would have to say that Diaramana is a good deal better - from the market to the work that we'll get to do, etc, etc. It makes me think that our Peace Corps Assignment is a bit like an extra credit report - those who don't necessarily need it are the ones who actually do it - our town is fairly better off than it seems most are. People here aren't exactly rich, but they can be considered better off that most of Mali. In a country where our almanac says 13 out of every 1000 people have a TV, when every one of our neighbors have television (and the car batteries and solar panels to run them - no 'real' electricity here) you tend to think you don't live in the 3rd world norm. Even our weekly market (actually an 'every 6 days' market) we have access to cabbage, carrots, lettuce, butter, potatoes - all the nice-ities of big village life here. Except eggs. Every house has dozens of chickens - and we know they lay eggs because there are chicks walking about as well - but no eggs for sale. People don't care for eggs here, I am never going to get it. We have to go 50km to the nearest 'city' Bla to get eggs which does not always have them for sale.
One point that Blendio actually seemed to do better was with the local boutikis or local shops and 'convenience stores'. The boutikis of Blendio stocked cooking oil, mayonaise, powdered milk... even cold drinks in a frig. Diaramana doesn't have the cold drinks (except the 10CFA bag of chilled water on market day). We bought a jifilen (clay cannery) in order to store water and to help keep it cool, but lately it hasn't gotten cold enough at night to chill the water much. Oh hot season, how you persist so...

And then there's the children. In Blendio, they were pestilential - always in a line around our concession staring at us from over the wall and by the gate asking for presents of candy, tomatos, money, etc. I don't know what it is, but the children of Diaramana, at least while we are at home, are much better behaved. Occasionally we do get the random children who stop and stare through the chain link fence, but before too long our neighbors are at their own walls yelling at the kids to get lost. -That's another good point about Diaramana, we have neighbors. In Blendio, all the adjacent homes faced away from us. They didn't even have windows on the walls that faced us. In Diaramana, not only do our two closest neighbors have concessions within a few feet of our yard, but they also have very low walls to where we can see each other and say 'hi' all the time. It makes us feel like more a part of the community, yelling across the yard every morning the daily greetings (that go on for a few good minutes: 'Hey, good morning, how are you? How's the family? How's your husband? How's your children? How's your little children? How's work going? Hot isn't it? How was your sleep? Do you have peace? May God grant you a good day....etc etc)

But yeah, back to the children - most do seem better behaved than normal - with the exception of the kids we meet on the way to the mayor's house for lunch every day (toh! oh boy!). Basically, we have to walk a long stretch of road (the gauntlet) in order to get to the mayor's. About a block away from the mayor's is a small low wall that we refer to as the guard wall. Most days there is a single child posted on top of this wall - the lookout. When he/she happens to spot Michele and I he sounds the alarm with "Tubabu! Tubabu!" About half a dozen of the neighborhood children hear the call and come running out of nowhere, reaching and groping to grab a hand or a limb or even a pant pocket so that they can hold the 'tubab' and escort us to the mayor's a few mere feet away. I don't mind too much but Michele (who doesn't even like hugging her friends because too much touching is involved) loathes this daily ritual. Dirty children with bright, excited faces acting as if this is the best day of their lives - all to touch and hold us, the town novelties. I have a feeling this ritual will soon come to a stop when we get back to Diaramana - in part because Michele and I have recently looked up the Bambaran words for 'don't touch me' but also in part because the most recent time was a shock to us.

As we were sneaking by the inattentive child posted on the guard wall, I noticed he was playing with a stick pretending it was his penis (as small boys do). He looked up and spotted us, sounding the alarm and running towards us at the same time. He reached out his hand to grab mine when I noticed something odd. The child wasn't playing was a stick, it was actually a syringe filled with a dirty muckish water with a needle two inches long. Before the kid could realize what I was doing, I grabbed it out of his hand before he could be stupid and 'show me his new toy'. Michele took the syringe from me and ran off towards the mayor's house to dispose of it while I held the kid's hand for a while trying to explain that his 'toy' was 'a ma nyi' and dangerous.

The worst part about this story is that this kid probably didn't just find a syringe on the ground. The local hospital is relatively good at disposing of all of its needles, as Michele and I have witnessed numerous times for 'child vaccination day'. The child was most likely given the needle by a parent who didn't know the dangers of a dirty needle - how is a kid supposed to do the right thing and stay safe when his parents are the very ones who encourage him by handing it over? It goes to show that even though our town may have a bit more money to spend than other towns, they still have a good ways to go.

At least our new site has a good level of excitement for what we want to do here. Diaramana already had a water/sanitation committee set up when I got there. Granted, no women are a part of the committee as of yet (something I must change if I'm to get the right kind of work done) but it is a start. The town is looking forward to wuluwulu (soak pit) construction and the nice thing is that they actually have the money where I can get them to pay for a significant portion of it rather than relying on outside money from an NGO. Teach me to fish is always better than give me a fish.