Long Time

I need to back up a bit.

The day before I left for Bamako, Echin told me that the village chief died in Woroni. So, instead of getting henna on my feet (like I originally planned), I went to Woroni to pay my respects. I practiced 2 blessings on the way down. Everybody from OMATHO that came was a man, so I had to hang out with the women by myself. After the ceremony, the covered body was placed on a wooden ladder with sides. A group of men singing lead the way to the cemetery, and then a group of men carried the ladder followed the singing men. They walked about 2 miles carrying the body. They had to alternate carrying the ladder. After the men began walking, the women took a short cut to where the men would eventually walk. I was part of this crowd. I’m sure I looked confused because my coworkers were on the other side of the concession. One coworker then explained that everybody was going to the cemetery, and if I wanted, I could follow the women. This was probably the most interesting funeral I have ever attended.

The next day, I went to Bamako. I went to a Mexican restaurant with some other PCVs. The food was sub par, but the company was excellent.

It was absolutely crazy going back to Tubaniso. I hadn’t been back for over a year. Oh how the eyes of experience changes things! I enjoyed meeting new volunteers. My presentation was okay. It was at the end of the day, and everybody was tired, so I cut my part short. After the presentation, there was mud wrestling. I didn’t participate, but I enjoyed watching it. That evening, Lindsay D. arranged a pig feast at the bar. It was marvelous! We shared with the Malians there because if they are at the bar, they either aren’t good Muslims (alcohol) or not Muslims at all. They enjoyed the pig almost as much as we did!

I came back to Sikasso for a day, and then off to Anna’s village I went. Her house is so cute and so neat! We stayed surprisingly busy for village life. There was a funeral, a wedding, and work. We also ran daily. Thanks to my brother and his wife, I have a newfound inspiration to run (music!). Unfortunately, my tennis shoes (I hate saying “sneakers”) need some repairs. The insides of all my tennis shoes cut my heels or cause blisters. I can’t find my duct tape, so I had to tape the insides with medical tape. Anna told me she was “out of shape” but our “out of shape” levels are way different. But, the most important thing is that every day, I ran. It doesn’t matter that Anna could run circles around me.

I’ve become tougher in Mali in so many ways. It takes something pretty heart breaking to make me cry. But, in Anna’s village, one lady’s situation made me want to cry. I was able to control it, but it was ripping me up inside. One of Anna’s friends in village has 6 children. She is pregnant with her 7th. Her 5th and 6th children are malnourished. But to see the youngest at 1 ½ years old, her twig like legs that can’t support her, the patches of baldness on her head, completely unable to walk, can only say one word sentences, broke my heart. And, when the new baby is born, this child will have even less attention. And, I don’t know what’s going to happen because she is currently carried on her mom’s back, but when the newborn baby comes, that’s where the new baby will go.

I don’t know if I was oblivious of deforestation my first year here, but I am starting to notice obscene amounts of firewood. This is definitely an important issue that needs to be addressed soon.

I’ve seen lots of motorcycle accidents in front of my house. 2 in 2 days. Everybody is alive, but the sound of metal clashing makes me say “oh snap” and then I go outside.

It’s a good thing I started running again because of the multiple comments of how fat I’ve gotten (just what you want to hear the week before you go to the beach). For the most part, I have been able to just laugh it off, but I was emotional last week. After I was done running, a 50ish year old man told me how big my stomach is (apple shape…$%#! genetics) and how big my butt is. Tell me what you really think sir. Later, on the same day, a lady told me how fat I was too. I appreciate your honesty (no, couldn’t say that in Bambara). Instead, I went home and cried. I know it’s cultural, and a lot of times, I laugh it off, say thank you, etc. but I couldn’t shake it this week. I try to reverse roles and picture a Malian comes to America and someone tells them how thin they are, and I STILL can’t find that insulting. I don’t think I ever will. Maybe that’s the American in me. The next day, I told Jaba (Echin’s wife) how much my feelings were hurt. She was like it’s Mali. It’s not a bad thing. And, your dad’s fat too. I was able to laugh then.

I am ridiculously excited about going to Senegal next week! And my birthday is coming up, and I have an extremely embarrassing large box coming from Mah.

Cold season is “a banna” (it’s finished). Check out www.accuweather.com if you have time. It’s crazy how fast cold season becomes prehot season.