"So Far...So good"

I visited on of the homestay villages last week to work with some environment and health trainees on gardening. It was really good to see all of them. It's funny, they probably don't realize how much we actually do miss them at Tubaniso. They all seemed to still be doing well, enjoying homestay and surviving culture shock. The village I went to is BEAUTIFUL. There are beautiful rock formations, the area is green, and there is a nice canal coming through. In addition to that, the soil looked great. We prepped a garden plot and just caught up with the gang. I got teased by one of the LCFs for wearing a new pagne for a gardening session. Come on now... it didnt get that dirty!

The following day we had a debriefing with all of the environment trainers to talk about what went well, what could go better, etc. I told Yacouba that I would extend for a third year if he would throw me in that village. So I might not be coming home anytime soon :). (No plans seriously made)

When we aren't working hard setting up our lesson plans and making sure we have things ready for session, we have been hanging out a lot with each other. As trainers we are all so different, but we actually get along real well. We make a great mixture. So it has been fun getting to know everyone better. It's going to be hard for me to go back to site this week, though I really do miss site.

I got a chance to hang out with one of my Bamako buddies this weekend. The best part about meeting new people here is meeting their kids. An adorable 6 year old told me that he would marry me. His 10 year old sister's friend told me that she would do my hair for the wedding. Very thoughtful of her.
So the friend that I hung out with speaks French, Bambara, a few other minority languages and some English. Sometimes I think his English is better than he lets me think it is. Seeing that we mostly speak in Bambara and the occasional french, there isn't much English thrown in. We were sitting talking and he was telling me about a few phrases he had learned from a missionary and some other people. "That is Awesome...cute... " and "So far so good" It was so wierd to hear these phrases come out. He told me he wanted me to explain so far so good to him in English. I got the picture that he already knew what it meant.
It was really nice to just sit down and talk politics, religion and life. Really intelligent, open minded conversation. With the occasional bad joke thrown in here and there.

Needing a motto to kind of sum up this past year. Sum up how I really have been feeling about this past year, but never had the words spit out right in front of me:
and so here it goes.... "so far so good"

The Post where I should reflect on my first year of service...

I am listening to the slackers... missing dancing to them... missing playing the trombone... but basking in the joy of the music in my ears. We were driving from Bamako to the training center last night... and as we hit this town called Sebenikoro, I saw all of the street vendors. I have rode on that road several times... a few times after dark, but never realized how busy the place really is at night. There was food vendor after food vendor. It has really been a long time since I have walked around at night to check things out. It reminds me that the street food vendors usually don't open shop until after 7 pm....and usually even 8. I forgot about that. I was suddenly reminded about Homestay in Kabe, site that isn't being used this year because it was too dificult to get to and caused logistical problems. I know I never really wrote much about Kabe. I loved Kabe, but for some reason I never got myself to write much about it. I know I have letters about Kabe that I wrote during that time period just sitting in my piles of books... but at the current moment... lost. Last night... I remembered of one specific night. It had rained earlier in the evening. Owa togo fila (the two Owas that I hung out with) and a few other kids had gone to watch the Soap Opera "Paco". After the show... which for some reason was really good that night... we jumped across puddles and miniature streams that covered the road to my house. The littlest of kids just kicked through the water.... which may have been cute in the States, but if you knew what was in the water here... I just cringed and tried to say in my real bad Bambara "stop...dirty..." They just smiled giggled and played harder. So when I got to the house... my mom had given me dinner and the Owas and the kids were just hanging out. My host mom and I were eating together... and I kept asking the Owas to eat with me. It took a bunch of begging and pleading. These girls had just really become my friends.... we were finally getting to understand each other. When they finally gave in to my begging I felt accomplished. Usually after dinner we would sit right outside my h ut by lantern and goof off and talk...Well this night Owa had to sell fried fish and sweet potatoes... so she begged my host mom to let me go. She doesn't go far to sell them... we actually just sat right outside my concession. For some reason, there was a lot of activity that night...Maybe there always was activity, but I never left my concession at night. It was the first time I really experienced nighttime activity.

well that was kind of a lame story.... but it made me smile when I thought about it. Plus I needed to jot it down to remember it.

It has been so strange sitting on the other side of training for the new group that came in. I remeber things completely different from how they really were. It is funny how stress, anxiety, and excitement can mess with your memories and perception. All of the questions that the new trainees have been asking make me reflect on the past year of my service. I am remembering things that I more than likely would have forgotten. Plus, there are questions that make me reflect to how I was before I got here. The "me" I was before coming to Mali...before Peace Corps... then thinking about the "Me" now. A really good friend of mine told me that after reading my blogs and emails he doesn't think he would recognize me. I didn't ask if that was supposed to be a compliment or not. I wanted to use it for reflection. Let me reallly think where I was and where I was going. It is probably true I have changed... well maybe not necessarily changed...but different qualities are expressed more than others now. I guess you would say that is change. I have always been the type of person needing approval for things...having someone always tell me if what I was doing was ok...I remember always asking Mom if joining Peace Corps was the good thing for me to do. I wanted her to tell me what to do. I knew I wanted to do it.. but I needed her to tell me that she was cool with me doing it. Even in Mali... Id ask...I'd get the wise answer from Mom "this is your life Audrey.... you do what you need to do" I have finally let that go....Finally realized... I am an adult... and as selfish as it may be... I need to do things for myself. Especially now before I am married and my life is shared with someone else. I can't imagine what it would be like to sit in front of my parents today. Have Mom and Dad just looking at me. I sometimes dream about just having one day with them. Just to see them to see that they are ok, and just to have them see that I too, am OK. I can only imagine that day.

saw yeah mom and dad... I do miss you guys a bunch


well this post was all over the place... blame it on the great music I was listening too.... Haketo

All is well in the African Sahel

One quick... and maybe most important update for everyone.... MY BEST FRIEND and HOST BROTHER both have passed their DEF and will continue their education in Bamako.

I called my host brother a few days ago and this is what the conversation was like:

First I need to mention that I had been trying to call Tidian all day, with no answer. I finally call at 9pm and he picks up.

"Tidian, what's up?"
"Bagayoko... how many times did you try calling me"
"A hundred... where have you been"
"Ba ko (the other side of the river)"
"I tun be monnikela? (fishing)"
"Yes"
"Jege sorola?" (did you catch fish?)
"Caman (tons)"
"So did you find out the results to your DEF? DId you pass?"
"Yes"
This was followed by my jumping up and down and cheering for him and saying a bunch of compliments in Bambara... he just giggled on the other end... He asked me when I was coming back and we discussed how we were going to have to hang out a lot before he went to Bamako (SAD :( but really really important).

Training has been going great. It is awesome to finally meet the new trainees. I can't believe how enthousiastic they are! Constantly asking questions, interested in everything. This is going to be a really great bunch! Too bad I will be leaving for site too soon. I know the other volunteers and staff will take great care of them!

We had a little break in between sessions the other day and my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. I see that it is Bamoussa (the soccer player who used to be from my site) who I have been playing phone tag with for the past few weeks. I ask him the usual "so when are you coming to Nyamina" He answers with the usual "I won't be there any time soon" I asked if he was in Bamako and explained that "a kera fama ye (its been a long time)" and that we should "nyogon ye (see each other)" I told him I would be running some errands in Bamako and that we should hang out. He seemed pretty excited so I will have to give him a ring.

This is going to be short I will add more later BUT

ONE QUICK good luck to the new stage of trainees that will be headed out to their homestay sites! I remember this day vividly. This is the real real start of your Peace Corps experience! Enjoy it! GOOD LUCK

What a good weekend.

So I was thinking about how weird it has been lately being at Tubani so. I miss site way more than I expected, I miss hanging out with my friends…drinking tea…. Speaking more Bambara than I actually can… and you know… all of that good stuff. It definitely has been good to get away. I have seen other PCVs that I usually never see… I have gotten to hang out with our LCFs a lot more and get to know them better. It’s not like I completely have forgotten that I am in Mali, but when you don’t have to sleep outside, or wake up every morning because someone is staring at you… or I don’t know how else to explain it.
Here is how I described it when I had some time to jot it down in Koulikoro: “So I have been having the hardest time figuring out what to writelately. I haven’t been at site lately, so things haven’t been normal for me. But, in another sense, things are more normal for me now than they have been for me in Mali. I’m back at Tubaniso, the first place I experienced in Mali, and the place that used to be the comfort zone. A little piece of America smack dab in Mali. American and Malian food, Bambara/French/English speakers, electricity, internet. It’s like being “home” in a sense.”
I have decided that I will only be at training for the month of July. I am going to go back to site and then just hang out there for the next year. Maybe if I am lucky, I can get a dog while I’m at it? I have had a lot of fun working with the PCVs, hanging out with our Program Assistant Yacou, hanging out with the LCFs. It has been nice to be working in an American-like atmosphere, but still be allowed to throw in French and Bambara, a few bean/fart jokes and be understood. I still miss site even more. What really seemed to prove it was this weekend. Fourth of July most volunteers crowd together in a city and celebrate everything American. I thought about going. Several people are going to disagree with this statement, but I swear I almost was going to go to Segou to find some old friends, but I realized it had been forever since I had been to Koulikoro, and I was really missing the gang that hangs out there. I left Tubaniso early Friday morning, got to the bureau to finish up a few things, then hustled off to the gare to catch a bus to Kkro. Usually before I leave the Kkro gare, one of the prentigis always says something smart to me, so we joke around for a bit and this usually catchers the ears of the other riders who get excited about the Bambara-speaking Toubab. This usually leads to a pleasant ride. People seem to be less crabby to a toubab when they know that they can understand the language. Fortunately enough there were a few Fulani (peuhl) guys sitting up front in the station wagon so I spent at least half of the ride explaining why Fulani’s weren’t really people.

I got dropped off by the bank in Kkro and started walking to the bureau. Before I reached our intersection, I decided to beep my friend Fofana, a Nat’l guard guy who is always asking about the next time I plan on being in town. I beeped him and within a moment I was rounding the corner and coming to the place where he usually works. He was busy staring at his phone about to call me when his friends start laughing and kept saying that I arrived. He got up from sitting in his chair, I smirked at him and greeted him, threw out my hand for him to hold. “I was just about to call you back” he said with a smile. “I just got into town I said” “Are you coming from Nyamina?” he asked. “Nah I was in Bamako” Fofana started to walk me towards the bureau. The guy can talk… let me just say that. We barely got halfway to the house and we probably had been talking for at least ten minutes. He told me that we would have to hang out later to catch up. I accepted the invitation. I looked towards the door of the bureau to find a gaggle of kids running around screaming and playing. I spotted Diarra amongst the group, sitting playing cards with another young woman. I whistled at him. He turned and smiled. DIarra is our guardian. He has always been a great, really respectful guy. Over the past half year that I have known him we have gotten pretty close. Everytime I’m in Koulikoro I usually hang out with him and the gang anyway. He is also a friend of DJ so I always have stories to tell him. He gave me the usually Diarra look. The one where he lifts his eyebrow, pretending to ask what I’m doing in town, not trying to show too much excitement…but that usually fades into real excitement because I start yelling at him (yelling in the good sense) about how much I have missed him, why he never gets out to my site…etc etc. He smiles and says “ I no don…(it’s your fault)” “Munan (why)” I ask… “Well who is going to watch the house if I leave… plus you never come to visit us anymore.” I smiled and patted him hard on the back. “ OOHHH Diarra!!! Tien don (that’s true)” I start to head into the house yelling “CA C’est Diarra!!” repeating it a few times, all the while the kids were laughing at this strange toubab shouting Bambara/French.

I quickly threw my stuff in the house only to find that Brendan Coulibaly had left some oreos for Amber and I. Thanks buddy. I needed that. Best present ever. I quickly ate a couple, gulped down a liter of water and headed back out to where Diarra and the kids were.
(One quick sidenote… So in Mali… most people drink water from what I like to call the communal cup. There is usually a clay pot filled with water with a plastic plate on top serving as a lid. On top of said lid lies a 1 L plastic cup. When I first got to Mali, I used to carry a water bottle with me everywhere. Taking tiny sips here and there. Even when someone would bring me the 1 L cup to drink from I would take two small sips and then hand the cup back. The day I drank a whole 1 L cup in one gulp, my friends cheered. Amahfah said “I kera malien yere yere” The docs here recommend us to drink at least 4 L of water a day. More if we seem to be losing more water… I have found now the easiest way to count the water, and drink it fast so I didn’t have to carry a water bottle constantly. Plus, I guess doctors do say that if you get thirsty, that means you are already dehydrated in a sense or something like that… so you gotta battle it before it starts)
I stepped outside the door and took a seat next to Diarra. I got introduced to a guy from my village’s nieces and we hung out and talked for awhile. The kids were excited to hang out and meet me. It was actually really neat because these were all kids/siblings of the people I usually hang out with in Koulikoro, so it was almost like celebrating the Fourth of July like old times. Respet family reunion, but with only one Respet. The kids were a blast. My name was of no interest to them… Toubabu was more fun for them to say… with the occasional Nana thrown in there. I have gotten over the whole toubabu bit… kids are going to say it whatever, as long as they are saying it out of love rather than malice… I can deal with it. I mean c’mon, who can get mad at a cute kid that says “hey mom… have you met my toubab yet? Do you know toubab’s name? Her name is Nana, she is my Toubab.”

And so my Fourth of July weekend had begun. The kids and I were busy playing, but I had the urge to just get up and walk around for awhile. “Let’s go to market” I said. It’s funny here, because when I walk with a gaggle of kids, people assume that I am using them to find my way around town etc. Well the kids had no idea what direction I was going in and I think they figured out a new shortcut to market. A new gaggle of kids were loitering next to a wall and immediately started calling me Toubabu. Sidibe’s daughter Tati was not going to have that. “Her name is NANA” she screamed. And she sung out a bunch of insults that I just dropped my jaw at. The girl has a mouth on her. For only being seven years old you would think she was already 17 or even some really old woman. She talks a lot, and she speaks her mind.
I hope she never changes (granted she censors some of the stuff she says… and does it respectfully) but hopefully in the future, she is going to keep her husband in line. Men don’t marry this type of woman…they get married by this type of woman. (In Mali, when talking about marriage, one must always say that a man is going to marry a woman… a woman can never marry a man… I hope this is making sense. Being the person that I am… I always make sure to say “when I marry my husband” I am immediately corrected by most Malian men… who think that ohh maybe I messed up because Bambara is a hard language. I quickly correct their correction and explain that “I will choose my husband.. I will marry him.. and if they don’t like it… tough”)
So unfortunately, market was not all it was cracked up to be. I bought a few cucumbers and that was it. I did run into one of the ladies that was in the car with me when I first got to Bamako a few weeks ago. She told me that the senile old woman that was in the car with us died the day she got dropped off in Bamako. I kept thinking about it. How weird to see someone, be with someone the day they die. Especially when you don’t see it coming. This woman, while senile, was still very fiery. The whole time on the ride to Bamako she had to be persuaded to sit down, she tried crawling out of the window, kept hitting her son who was sitting next to him to tell him to let her go. She paused briefly when she saw me on the bus. For a brief second she wasn’t senile. She knew my name, knew where I was coming from, asked how I was doing and everything. We dropped her off at my friend Bamoussa’s uncle’s house. They had said they were going to take her to the doctor. I don’t know what exactly happened after that, but she passed away that very day. Strange how that happens.
We headed back home and the kdis were more than excited to tell the story about how we went to market and how they told off the little kids that were calling me a Toubab. What heroes J.
Several hours probably passed by with me not really doing a whole lot other than chilling and talking with the gang. I can’t complain about that. I later hung outside the place where Fofana was guarding. Chatting with him and his crew. The guy can talk… like I said before. He talks.. and talks…. And talks… Occasionally asking me a question here and there, but before I’m finished speaking he starts to go off on some tangent. I am really curious if he actually understands any of the Bambara I speak to him sometimes. Or, maybe… he just really likes to talk. Dinner time hit and I headed back to the house to eat some homemade mac and cheese… which was actually more like macaroni and milk with cheese chunks in it. There is a reason that your wheel of cheese will only cost 300cfa…it usually means that it has turned into rubber instead of being cheese now. It was still good… with a side of vinager cukes which remind me of pickles… yum. I hung out for a bit, headed outside to be greeted by the gang. It is always nice to see those kids (this time I mean the group including Moussa, Aboucary, Sidibe, Diarra, Coulibaly… the kids who are really adults). We hung out for a bit and then Fofana called me to go hang out with them. Fofana once again did most of the talking, which I was cool with because it was already pretty late and I get into this weird state at night. I get into this thinking mode. I think about home, site, etc… anything that is specifically on my mind that moment. Most of the time though… It’s usually about home. Koulikoro is a special place like that because, well, it reminds me a lot of home. There is asphalt, electricity (street lamps) etc. I could sit and just watch, watch the few cars and motos pass by. I always have this weird feeling when I sit at night in Koulikoro. I always sit facing the big round about. At night the lights illuminate the spot… there is a faint orange glow. When it gets real late… the cars stop coming by… people aren’t outside anymore…wandering the streets. Last night… Diarra and I were hanging out at 1:30 am. He had just got back from running an errand (yeah I know pretty late for an errand… but its kkro… people don’t sleep by 8 pm) The power had just gone out so it was super hot inside the house. I was setting up my bed outside when I heard Diarra come back… “Current tigera (the electricity cut out)” he said. “yeah it’s hot out I’m going to sleep outside”. He too started to pull out his bed and we were just randomly chatting. After our ebds were set up I told him that we should go outside and sit at the door because the wind will be blowing more outside the concession walls. Well the wind was barely blowing but it was still a lot cooler than it had been inside. I teased Diarra for wandering off. I told him I had gotten some fire and was ready to brew some tea with him but he took too long running errands so the fire died. He frowned and apologized. I told him it was alright… I just wanted to tease him since he was always teasing me. We sat a little bit in silence and he said “ohhhh noooo Nana, sisan a kera Nyamina yere yere…” I asked him why he said it was like bing in Nyamina now… He started laughing and said “because there isn’t any electricity…”I started laughing and he continued speaking “plus there isn’t a single person outside… It’s almost like the world has ended… no one exists anymore except for me and you” We sat in silence thinking about this a little… then suddenly one of Diarra’s friends walked up having a really hard time lighting his cigarette. “Tea isn’t ready yet?” he asked. “Nana hasn’t started brewing it yet” Diarra replied. “I came back with the “well I got the fire but you wasted too much time running your errands that it died” I asked the kid his name. I thought maybe I recognized him… but it was so dark out, plus he wasn’t sitting that close to me. Diarra quickly answered with the name Basa (it means lizard). “nooooo” said the guy “my name is Pomme…” It was almost like Pommaranian… but I am pretty sure that wasn’t his name. It was too hard for me to say so I just ended up calling him Basa. Fofana was still awake and stopped by to talk for a bit, but that didn’t last too long since we were all pretty tired and it was pretty late for a broussie volunteer like me to still be awake. In slumber party like style, Diarra and I laid down in our beds, unable to fall asleep exactly at that moment and we just gossiped and laughed for a little bit. It was the best way to wrap up my Fourth of July… though I guess you would say the Fourth was already over… but I mean even in Duluth fourth of July lasts to the fifth, right??

Earlier and the day also felt like holiday. I spent a lot of the time hanging out with the gang playing cards, making tea, playing with the kids. Like I said earlier, it was already like a family reunion because all of the kids had returned back for summer break. It was really nice. This was later accompanied by a discussion about the United States of America, Michael Jackson… Many American presidents… the differences between France and the states… Old Peace Corps volunteers from the 90s that served there. I later made something that was a little like putin… French fries with an onion sauce and some of my rubber cheese to act like cheese curds in it. Diarra and I ate that and just hung out.

This morning I ended up waking up somewhat early still feeling exhausted. I headed to market just to walk around and wake up… and figure out what was for breakfast… As I was returning home I ran into a kid that bought some furu furu… Realizing that it had been quite a while since the last time I had some I asked him where he bought it and headed in that direction. I bought some extra so I could split it with Diarra. Diarra had heard me locking the door and asked me where I was going. “I’m going back to Bamako” I said. I walked into his room to hand him his share and he said “Wow.. you really are going” he noticed my pack on my back. I told him I would be back sometime soon. We said the usual goodbyes and then I was off on my way.

Now here I sit.. trying to figure out what to do with my evening before I head back to TSo in the morning. I have been trying to figure out if Kelly was going to be back tonight… but I guess you could say I haven’t really been trying all that hard… because… well.. I haven’t even called her to ask.

So that leaves me now… ready to be done writing this… and probably leaves you feeling like you were done reading it since the first paragraph.

Hope all is well back at home and wherever you may be.

woww... two in one day

I was checking my phone for missed calls since it has been dead for a day. I wasn't expecting too many. A few because I was supposed to see some friends in Koulikoro, but those plans fell through because we got stuck at Tubaniso for awhile. I never did make it to Koulikoro, but I will just have to see them some other weekend. Well, I was checking my messages and I saw that MY FAMILY CALLED. No... not the Respet's from Minnesota... but the Diarra's from my site. I was so excited.

So I called back. The phone rang... once... twice... third time I hear someone pick up:

"I ni ce... I ka kene"
"BAGAYOKO! Kan jumen be"

It was my host brother Tidian...Speaking in his coolest voice.. but you could still tell in his voice I was excited to call. We chatted it up a little and then he told me that my sister Mawa was there. I told him to hand her the phone. She picked it up and quietly said hi. I am pretty sure I screamed into the phone receiver in excitement and she just laughed at me. Her daughter Alimatou was right next to her. I could here her giggling and she even got on the phone saying BAGAYOKO.. and then giggling. It was super cute. My adopted son as I like to call him unfortunately wasn't around, but I will have to call them again sometime.

I love them so much... I am already homesick for site... and unfortunately it has only been a week. Maybe if we get some stuff done early next week I can make a quick visit to see them.

This is what I mean about how hard it is going to leave Mali. :(

We have been really busy here in Bamako and at the training center getting lesson plans ready for the new trainees coming. It was a lot of hard work, and there is still plenty to be done. It was different being at the training center this time around. When you first get to Tubani so... you are scared... and constantly in session. This time around, while we were constantly working, I stopped looking at the LCFs like teachers that I need to watch out for, they have now turned into fun colleagues and great friends. The LCF I had for my training was great. He is an older man, retired school teacher. He was tough, but seemed to enjoy my sarcasm in class when I would make up silly sentences in Bambara. After a year in Mali culture, I realized I can still have even more fun. I respect him, greatly. Not only because he was my teacher and a man of the older generation, but I respect him for all the hard work he does and all of the motivation he has given me. The other night a few of us volunteers were feeling a little bored and probably just missing everyone at site. Yeah, I miss the states, but let's be honest. I am in Mali... I gotta cherish every second I have until I leave. We took the opportunity to chat it up with our Malian colleagues. It was nice. Most of the conversation was in French. I was sitting silently mostly, just listening... occasionally talking to the environmental assistant trainer about my projects. One of the LCFs turned and looked at me and asked me if I understood french. I told him I was listening. I understood the whole conversation... but unfortunately I can only speak in the cherished Frambara because Bambara is my language of choice these days. I dream in it... I am constantly throwing the words even in English conversation... definitely hard to get over. That is another cool thing about hanging out with the staff. There are conversations in French, English, local language... and all of them together.

We did this activity the other day about stereotypes. The malian staff had to write stereotypes they had about Americans. One of our favorites is that they think Americans are gossipers. No, I won't deny that, but I do have to add that most of the gossiping I do in Mali is WITH other Malians.... funny how that works! and in fact we were gossiping the other night when we were all hanging out.... OHHH MALI

Us environment kids were discussing lesson plans with the LCFs and we finished up early... so once again we decided to start talking about... well... we started gossiping. Then, somehow, Kelly quickly mentioned that there may or may not be some gorkos (fulani/peuhl for husband) in my life. I tried to quickly shoot it down, but the LCFs were already on top of that gossip. quickly questions were being shot "What's his name" "Where did you meet him"

Nah... I don't have a husband yet... I tried to stop the gossip... but the wheel was already turning. Now.. I'm the girl that is going to marry a Malian... or so they think...

Sam and Mark just got into town... so I gotta say hi to them. This means I'm out

So my friend Kelly found this article in the Huffington post about Senator Dodd's bill to reform the Peace Corps. It is a great article, but what really struck me the most was the last paragraph of the article

"Today the public galleries were largely empty. The media gallery was quiet. There were few other Senators on the floor. But this was a great moment in American politics. As Dodd spoke, it was not a sixty-five-year old Senator rich in gravitas standing there. It was a twenty-three-year old young man in shorts, a t-short and flip-flops sitting around with a bunch of kids, laughing and joking in Spanish, probably as happy as he had ever been, and if he is like many volunteers, as happy as he ever would be. "

Kelly and I had both discussed how sad that it would be if we could not bring our happiness back home to the states. I am not going to lie, some of my happiest moments here have been with my great Malian friends, sitting around, joking, being PEOPLE... I hope to continue these experiences back in the states. Sure, we may not necessarily be making some Arywane... but, the happiness can't stop.

Leaving my friends to come here to Mali was hard. But, I always have this feeling in my mind, that I will see them again. Maybe not right when I get home, but, there is a great possibility. Leaving Mali may end up being one of the hardest parts of my entire service. Yes, I know, it has only been a year. But I cringe at the idea of leaving some of the most wonderful people in my life. The people that have helped me through everything. The people that adopted me into their families, adopted me as a friend. I just got a text message from a friend that I hang out with at market. He heard through the grapevine that I was sick and was hoping that I was ok. I see this guy once a week, and he cares enough for me to check up on me.

The stories don't stop there, but we are going to wander the streets of Bamako a bit.

Quick heads up: I'm in Bamako for awhile to help with training the new trainees. It will be exciting and has already had it's great moments. Many humorous moments given by Kelly... and a lot of them dealing with Alkalifa. Thanks for those.

when homesickness starts to kick butt

Yeah, it's starting to kick in unfortunately. That small achy feeling of wanting to be surrounded by all things familiar. granted I can still feel at home in the beautiful toan of Nyamina, but I can say I truly miss hanging out with the old pals from home. I called Jimmy the other day and got off the phone thinking...wow...eight months down...only 18 months left! Ive dabbled in the idea of staying, but I know my time here with Peqce Corps is not close to done.

To fight the unwelcomed feelings of loneliness and homesickness I visit the place that brings tranquility. I wanted to take pictures but unfortunately all of my batteries are dead.

This place? The banks of the Niger River. It has dried up greatly; Currently, my favorite thing to do is sit on the banks of the river. My first real memorable encounter was when my friend soccer star Bamoussa asked me to walk with him. We walked along the river. It was still rainy season so the water reached the banks of where I currently sit when I visit. The walk was taken in silence, but not the awkward silence that you could imagine. All of a sudden we approached the large tree that is near Basineli's house. He asks me if I know the name of the tree. I take a few guesses, but no where even close. After he told me, there was no way for me to forget. everyday I walk by this tree. its called in bambara Bana. The night before he left, Bqmoussa, Amahfah, and I drank ea and talked very late into the night. as we decided to head to bed the boys walked me to my house. Bamoussa was by my side while Amahfah lagged behind. Bamoussa whispers to me "sisan, an te nyogon ye." We aren't together anymore. My heart sank. I knew he was going to leave for Bamako and he wouldn't be back for awhile but it was just starting to hi. As I unlocked my door Amahfah starts to say the same thing. I told him to stop, wished Bamoussa some blessings. Tears were ready to run doan my face, but I didn't want the boys to see

Another memorable river moment took place recently. One morning I woke up at 5am. Unable to put myself back to sleep I threw on some pants, grabbed my CD player and my dog Sidibe and started running towards the soccer field where I used to watch Bamoussa and the boys play soccer every evening. I run past the mango trees whiwh were flowering and reach the bank which now has a 10-15 foot jump to the real banks of the river. I qqt in darkness, the sun had barely started to rise. I hear Moussa's friend in the distance and watch him and some other guys load sand onto their wagons. I'm close enough to hear their laughs but far enough that I cannot make out what they are saying. I watch as slowly one by one the fisherman wade through water to get to their boats. One boat has filled with water and two young men work to scoop the water out. As they hop in their boats they slowly paddle their way into the shadows. As the sun slowly starts to rise people start to notice me. This is my cue to return home. Soon peace will be interrupted by the sounds of women pounding millet, childre getting ready before they go to school, and the friendly greetings of fellow neighbors.

Another moment. I was sitting at my friend Bakalou's house sitting on the banks. It is market day, but soon everyone will hop into the boats to head back to their respective villages;*. I look towards the left and think of how the view triggers memories of the St Louis River, fishing with dad. Just a few days later on a Sunday, I'm sitting on the same edge overlooking the river as mom calls me. She tells me that Burt passed away. I was not ready to go home. I needed to sit on that edge qnd think about home.

The most recent moment I ventured with amahfah to the banks of the river on the road to Koulimana. Hot season is starting to begin and the haet was really starting to show it self; We found relief under a tree and the wind off of the river provided us with some comfort. As the last fisherman leaves we make our way down to the rivers edge. Sidibe can't avoid the urge to take a dip.

The Niger has definitely helped me cope with homesickness and is definitely helping me find myself.

site rat

wow, it's only been about 4 months

site rat... That's the name my friend Amber has dubbed me with. This is officially the second time I have made it to Bamako in four months, and well, my 4th time away from site total. Now as I type it, it seems like a lot. But, not going to lie, in comparison to others, it is NOTHING.

So what to say, I havent really had reliable access to internet in the last four months and a lot has happened. I will probably talk about some of my most favorite memories, and some that stick out the most.

First and foremost, Nyaminakaw (people of Nyamina) are the most friendly fun loving group of people I have ever met. The group of people in my quartier alone are amazing. Nyamina is made up of six quartiers, I live on the edge near the river, which is BEAUTIFUL!

My main set of friends consist of a group of neighbor guys and one the guy's wife. In the afternoon I usually drink tea with them and put works on my husband's fish hooks. Yes I said husband, but please take this lightly. His name is Baba and they call him the American. For the most part he is a soft spoken, kind gentlemen, who is really tall. The women in my neighborhood always ask me which guy I want to marry and conveniently I chose Baba. All of the time he is known as my Ce.

The younger population in my neighborhood knows better and always asks me how my husband Amahfah is doing. Amahfah has been helping learn language (bambara and some arabic) and get to know the village. He is my best friend in village and he is always willing to help out. His family is also very kind and his mom is always trying to get me to eat. I usually have eaten before I go to her house and when I tell her I am full she asks if I don't like the food or if the hot pepper is too much. I laugh and rub her on the back and say no seriously I am full. There have been a few occasions at his sister's house where I was so full I couldn't move, and they still didn't believe I was full, but amahfah straightens things out.

Ive been working in the women's gardens hoping to start my own garden in the future. I will also be doing a tree pepinaire, but mostly the past three months I have been talking to the women in the garden and watering with them. They are always telling me to take a rest and when I refuse they say " a be barrala bi" "she is working today" which is pretty humorous. Most women are shocked that I cook for myself and wash my own clothes. Then they usually tease me and say my clothes aren't cleaned perfect. The women are really awesome and all have great senses of humors. My neighbor's wife is young probably late twenty's with two kids. The two cutest kids ever. She is a sweet heart and is always watching out for me.

All of my guy friends act like my brother's and are always watching out for me. They like to make sure I am only hanging out with good people and are always willing to hang out with me when I am alone and inviting me to different events (soccer, dances, etc)

My best friend Bamoussa is an awesome soccer play but unfortunately moved to Bamako. Amahfah and I got to see him two weeks ago and it was memorable.

I have been learning some about Islam and have become really interested in it. My friend Amahfah has been teaching me how to pray and teaching me arabic, soon he is going to teach me how to read arabic and I am pretty excited about that. There was a day of reading the Koran at the mosque in my village and it was an amazing site to see.

43 days ago my host sister died. It was pretty horrible for me. My host sister was probably 18 years old and my closest girl friend in village. All of the time people would talk about her behind her back saying she was pregnant, etc. I always just shrugged my shoulders and explained to my closer friends that it takes two people to make a baby so why are they condemming her alone. Well Ev ery morning I go to my Djatigi's house for breakfast. As I was approaching the concession I heard shouting. This was really strange for me because my Djatigi and his wife NEVER fought. Both are very happy, friendly people. I walk into the concession and I see my host mom gripping a post of the hangar and a woman behind her she is crying. She stops crying as I greet her and then says, "Nana, Tata died" I just said no over and over and over again and she told me to walk into the room. I walk into the room and I see Tata's body lieing underneath a sheet, every part of her body covered, but I could tell it was her. I started crying and just sat on the ground. My host mother kept telling me to stop crying stop crying (crying allows bad spirits to enter the environment plus malians believe crying doesn't solve anything). So I just sat and waited and she told me to go home and tell the woman I lived with. I was upset because the woman I lived with always talked about how Tata was pregnant and how horrible it was. The funeral service was beautiful, but also very very very hard. I found out later that Tata had overdosed on medicine because she was trying to abort the pregnancy. This made me really really upset and has really motivated me to try to start a project for women's reproductive health and women empowerment.

Time is running short and I hate to end on a bad note

SOOO I will leave you with this. Language is going AWESOME and I really love speaking the language! hope all is well with everyone at home!!!!