Update: Not Getting Stuck In The Mud

Rainy season can be a hard time for many Peace Corps volunteers. Since everyone in village is busy working in their fields, there is no time for projects, formations, or even regularly scheduled meetings. We kept the first half of our rainy season occupied with the following:

Tree Nursery Training: Probably the most exciting that happened in the past month is that James and his Malian counterpart went to a Peace Corps training at Tubaniso (summer camp) on how to start and manage a tree nursery. Not only can a tree nursery be a great small business, but more importantly, it encourages tree planting, a priority for Mali’s environment volunteers. Depending on the species, trees can provide shade, animal fodder, soil conservation, field protection, firewood, construction wood, raw materials for processing and – most importantly – food, especially during months where food is hard to come by. Therefore, to counter deforestation (cutting down too many trees), we urge villagers to plant and cultivate valuable trees, most of which can come from a well-managed tree nursery. A good nursery prevents the young saplings from being stunted by disease and also can graft young trees to expedite and maximize their fruit-giving potential. Not only did he learn way to much about trees, but it was also a great time to catch up with other volunteers who are working on similar projects. 

Presentations & Formations: As we mentioned, it is really hard to meet with groups during rainy season since everyone is working in their fields. But even so, we have managed to lead a few informational sessions with various women and discussion groups. In Duguba, we met with twelve women to teach them how to make mango jam and mosquito repellant. And just last week in Kongodugu, we spent two hours stressing how all people need to eat from Mali’s 3 food groups: energy foods (calories), construction foods (proteins), and protection foods (vitamins), and not just one or the other. We explained to parents that their children’s bloated stomachs are not proof that they are full, but is rather a symptom of protein deficiency (kwashiorkor), which is tough but important lesson to learn. We have also been keeping up with our radio show, now going 26 shows strong!

 

Gardening & Farming: With the rains comes more work in the garden. Not only have our veggies been growing quickly, but so have the weeds! However, right now (post-hot season) it is very difficult to find vegetables in market, so we are more grateful than ever for having the garden as a dietary supplement. Furthermore, after a particular boring day, Joye succumbed to the old wisdom of: “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.” She went out and planted cotton with our neighbor for an entire day, from 10am to 5pm! We now tell our villagers that Joye farms while James cooks the meals; the men always laugh nervously.

  

Graduate School: Despite being in Africa, we have also been pursuing  post-undergraduate opportunities. As many readers know, James is currently writing his Master’s thesis in village in order to earn a degree in agricultural economics from Michigan State. This month, he began writing his proposal and began playing with the data collected from a survey he conducted in April with 50 households. Meanwhile, Joye has been applying to pharmacy schools and dutifully studying for the pharmacy college admission test (PCAT, the MCAT for pharmacists). For her, this has meant reading for an hour or more daily an Anatomy & Physiology textbook, which by the way, was a pleasure getting to our site. :)

Reading Russian Literature: Lastly, Joye just started “The Brothers Karamazov” and James “Anna Karenina,” so that should keep us busy for a few weeks at least.

Thanks for reading! – James (& Joye)

Reflection: Planting Cotton

Malians are ALWAYS laughing, and most of the time, they’re laughing at us. So last week, when my neighbor Fatimata stopped by, I did not take offense when she  yelled “Ashata, Why don’t you come help me plant my fields?” with a faked indignant look and then burst into peels of mocking laughter. They love teasing us about not being able to do what they consider to be the simplest of tasks. Normally, I would brush it off and make a joke back, but that day was different and something inside me (pride, boredom, stupidity...) thought… how dare you? “I’m busy today, but can I come tomorrow,” I replied. “Oh sure, always tomorrow,” she laughed. “No, seriously, what time will you leave?” I retorted. “In the morning.” she answered in a tone that said, ‘why would you ask such a silly question?’ Yelling a quick blessing she walked away shaking her head and chuckling at those funny tubabs.

So, needless to say, I got a pretty big kick out of the look on her face when, on the following morning, I showed up to her  house in work clothes, carrying my garden hoe and a day’s supply of water, and said “Are you ready?” After repeated objections  of “Ashata, you can’t be serious,” I finally convinced the women in the house that I WAS in fact serious and around 10AM we set out on foot for their fields, a mile from the village. They strapped their babies to their backs, put large pots full of “toh” for lunchtime on their heads and after all that had the nerve to say, “Ashata, you can’t carry that garden hoe for a mile, give it to me, I’ll carry it for you!”

We arrived and as the sun was getting high in the sky, we got to work immediately. We have had serious droughts lately, so much of the seed that was planted did not come up and Fatimata’s husband assigned us to replant a few hectares of cotton. This basically meant, bending over, chopping up the hard dry soil, dropping in 2-3 seeds and covering it up and moving on to do it again 2 feet down the row. Not so hard right? It took about 15  minutes of this work to wipe the ‘I told you so’ smile I’d been wearing all morning off my face. Really, what was I thinking? Its not that planting cotton required great muscular exertion, but as you plant in rows, you move in a crouched, bent position that makes your back and legs ache. I honestly don’t remember being that sore since doing speed workouts for cross country. I was also amazed at the coordination of these women who, even when I got the hang of it, were planting at twice the speed of myself.

We planted until 12:45 and with sweat poring down my face, and my shirt soaked through, we took a break for lunch.  As I sat down hungrily to eat my toh and sauce, I realized that despite the exhausting morning and the further embarrassment I had caused myself  by actually being pretty lacking in my cotton planting skills, I had had some great conversations with the women I was working with. They wanted to know if  Numudjo (James) had worked in my father’s fields before we got married, which led to discussions on arranged marriages, polygamy, and eventually children and nutrition. It had been especially rewarding because there had not been men present, which gave the women an opportunity to really open up to me.

The conversations continued over lunch when I discovered that Fatimata had lived in the Ivory Coast until she was 12 and she completely surprised me with detailed knowledge of how ‘tubabs’ live (Sure, educated Malians know a lot about the outside world. But educated Malians,especially women, are few and far between in my rural village). She began sharing about the white people in the Ivory Coast. “They always bought the melons I was selling.  We would just sit around and watch them sometimes and they were so funny. They LOVED carrots, green peppers, cabbage, potatoes, eggs, macaroni…and the mom would actually split up their food first and then give them each their own little portion on a plate. (Malians eat everything from one bowl) Then, they dug this hole in the ground, filled it with water, and put their kids in it.” Choking a bit on my toh, “um…excuse me? what?” “You know, they dug a hole. Then they put cement in it. They put water in the hole and then they put their kids in it.” “I’m confused and slightly worried about where this is going, are you talking about a well?” “No, they would play in the hole and swim in it.” “OHHHHHH……a pool.” I realized with relief. “They would have competitions for whose child could get from one end to the other the fastest,” she continued miming with her hands, “and they would only wear these little tiny pieces of cloth to cover here and here. Then, one day, I used their bathroom. It had this big device that you were supposed to pee or poop into and then if you pressed something, it would just take it all away! And high on the wall their was a pump and if you turned these things it could be hot or cold or whatever you wanted. It was so cool! You got so clean and it was awesome!”

We rested until 2pm and then, the temperature still around 90F, we went back out and planted for another couple hours. At about 5, one of the women saw that, due to exhaustion, I was having trouble still planting in a straight line and suggested we rest and go back. Its Shea nut harvesting season, so each woman filled a large bowl with Shea nuts and placing it on her head, and tying a baby to her back, we walked back to village.

However, the mood on the return trip was completely different from that morning. Instead of the proud “how dare you question my abilities?"’ attitude I came with, I had been humbled by the fact that these women do this backbreaking work every day for months during rainy season. They wake up at 5 to make breakfast, wash and dress their children, clean their concession, draw water, wash dishes, and make lunch before heading out to the fields. They work until late afternoon, only to come home and repeat their chores in preparation for dinner before they can have any time for themselves. Though I only spent part of one day doing their work, I gained a new kind of respect for them that you can only have through experience. Since it took my about 3 days get over the soreness in my legs and back, I think I learned my lesson and will never again so lightly volunteer to work in the fields. Still, it was a wonderful experience to have and I know that I’ll never forget the conversations I had that day.

~ Joye

Update: One Year

Dear family & friends,

One year ago, in the evening of July 3rd, Joye and I landed in Mali. That's right, we've been in Mali for 12 whole months! And though the country probably doesn't look or feel much different (given its the same time of year), our perspective certainly has. However, instead of taking this event as an opportunity to reflect on the last year of experiences, I would rather take the time to thank you for your continued love and support. Whether a care package, email, facebook wall post, or blog comment, many of you have kept our spirits high with your encouragement and continuous updates of life back home. We also want to thank all of you for reading our blog, whether regularly or occasionally, and we hope that you have enjoyed following our adventures.

Here are some other fun facts about our blog, thanks to the "Stats" tab (as of 6/2/11):
Number of post (including this): 76
Total number of pageviews: 9052
Top 3 most viewed posts: "Packing List for Mali," "Malian Food," and "Malian Fashion."
Countries where viewed (from most to least): USA, Mali, France, Germany, Canada, Brazil, Russia, UK, Israel, China

We are also happy our viewership has been fairly steady since we came to Mali a year ago, so again, thank you!

However, we would always like to know how to keep your attention. And now that we've been here for so long, it has become difficult to remember what Americans might interesting. So, if you have a second, please put a blog post topic suggestion in our comments session. Anything from aspects of Malian culture to certain perspectives we may have on social issues. All is welcome.

Lastly, for our readers who originate from the USA (who are the majority thus far), Happy Independence Day!

-James (& Joye)