If Harry Potter were Malian, I like to think he would look like Lye and posse

This week has gone surprisingly fast. Here’s some highlights.

On 10/14, I went to Babemba to meet with the individual who works for the water company. Several individuals from the community met with us. I saw where the main water line is and where we would install the faucet. Unfortunately, after talking with the water company, it is unfeasible to put the faucet in the middle of the village. He informed us that the pressure would be too weak. Hopefully, after this first faucet is installed perhaps in a decade; they will have the technology to supply water uphill to Babemba. But right now, we have to install it near the road. While this isn’t the ideal situation, people will still have access to potable water which is the main goal.

2 Wednesdays ago (10/15), I left the internet café in such a good mood! It’s remarkable how just an hour of the internet can put a smile on my face for the rest of the day. I was peddling along, when I past a kid on my bike. As I was passing him, he managed to nail me in the leg with a rock, propelled from his sling shot. I abruptly stop my bike, grabbed my purse, and chased after him. I spent a good 30 minutes of my once joyful afternoon, chasing this punk kid. He knows Sikasso better than me, and I unfortunately lost him. During the chase, I began crying (which is such a no no in this culture) because I felt like one of those kids from elementary school that is constantly bullied and then one day, they fight back. All this built up tension of kids yelling TUBABU!, taunting me, making farting noises when I passed on my bike…it just all built up and I broke down. I did not even know I had so much built up tension in me! I bought a coke (I only drink soda on the weekends, but I felt like I deserved one), and called Emily in tears. Oh how drastically moods, and the weather, can change!

I went to a women’s group last Friday to help them cook. I cut the onions with my left hand, but nobody said anything. When I told my tutor I helped them cook, he asked with what hand did cut the food with. I told him my left, and it told me it was bad. Why don’t you try cutting food with your non-dominant hand and tell me how that works out for you? I washed my hands more than anyone in the group. I am so unMalian, and cannot cut food in my hands without shedding blood. They gave me a plate to cut on, and I will start looking for a piece of wood to give them for when Americans help them. I am planning on hanging out with them more this upcoming year because I had a great time and was able to practice my Bambara.

On Sunday, I went to Babemba for a meeting. Unlike the previous meeting, people were on WAIT time. We ended up starting 30 minutes late, and people continued to come in even near the end. I think it is because we started the meeting earlier and people were still at the market (Sunday is the big market day in Sikasso). Anyway, everybody is on board. I hope to submit the paperwork early Novemberish, with the intent of it being online in December.

On Wednesday, I went to a baptism. I think a more appropriate name would be the naming ceremony. I was supposed to go to my homologues house at 7 am. I came a few minutes late, and Madame was already gone. Thankfully, Echin’s son Essac escorted me there because I had NO IDEA where I was going. They served me beans when I got there, and I hung out. Jaba (Echins wife) was so in tune with me and as so as she saw me yawn, she took me inside to nap. I, unlike most PCVs, think 7 am is really early, but people in brusse think 7 am is sleeping in. Yes, I am a city girl. Because I didn’t bring my cell phone, I had no idea what time it was. So I kept on listening to see when the greeting changed from good morning to good day. IT’S STILL N E SOGOMA? [Good morning in Bambara, spelled phonetically] Needless to say, it was a long day.

Jaba and her sister-in-law Fatimata...while I couldn't understand their conversations, they were so comfortable and considerate (Jaba pulled water from the well so Fatimata could bathe) I bet this will be Katie G and myself in 30 years

The guest of honor primping with him mom (it was quite funny because I asked her his name, she told me Karim...but she was mistakened. His name is Ibhrihim...in Mali, the father and his friends name the child )

I hung out with the women, ate zami (red rice), had an orange frozen soft drink, and ended up leaving in the afternoon. I left before the griots came. Griots are people that give out blessings and you pay them. I (much to the horror of all Malians I’ve told) don’t really agree with griots and don’t want to pay someone for something I didn’t ask for. I explained to my tutor that they just do it for the money, but he argued that their heart is in it too. While I understand it is a part of the culture, I have had a hard time embracing griots. So, I got to experience the preparation for the baptism.

So much food!
I believe this child hasn't seen many white people before...

Women cleaning the dishes

My last name, Maïga, is a northern name. Because I live in the south, people are always like, you’re a northern woman. Sure. So, I typically impress people because I know how to say good morning in Songhi (sp?). They laugh. But, last week it backfired, because the person I said good morning to continued speaking in Songhi. I guess I can’t fool everybody.

Isnt this little girl adorable? She didn't cry at all