Guest Post: A Parent’s Perspective

Since we’re sure you all are tired of hearing only from us all the time, we asked Joye’s family to write down their observations about Mali. Here are Joye’s Dad’s comments…

 

Because there is so much I could talk about, I have tried to highlight a few unique things that made a big impression on me during our three week Mali vacation.

Malian Transportation

The bus trip from Bamako to Koutiala on day #3 of our visit was something else. Two seats on the right, two on the left, with a narrow aisle down the middle. Except, this narrow aisle had about 10 jugs upside down for seats to accommodate additional passengers. Nobody yell fire, please. Because it’s “cold season” nobody would roll the window down and it got very hot. But that’s okay because the bus did stop for one 5-minute stretch and potty break about 4 hours into the 7-hour trip. I was afraid to drink anything for fear my tiny bladder would cause a major scene. I sat with Jim, David and Carrie (another PCV) in the back row. There was one Malian guy ahead of me who had his black leather jacket on for the entire trip, dripping in sweat. Jim and Joye do this trip all the time, and in hot season! It was good to experience it (just) once!

Cars, especially taxi cabs, own the road in Mali. If you’re a chicken, dog, pig, goat, sheep, cow, donkey cart, bicycler, moto-biker, moto-taxi, or even a pedestrian, then get out of the way, ‘cause I’m not going to slow down! I may honk to warn you of your impending doom, but my foot’s not leaving the accelerator. Busses trump cars, and large trucks beat busses. Women with babies strapped to their backs were driving motos day and night, dodging in and out of traffic at speeds of probably 30+ mph. Thankfully, we observed no incidents. I noticed that every taxi we rode in had a cracked front windshield except, as David pointed out, the very last ride to the airport! I wasn’t surprised!

Moto-taxis (left) don’t carry the same street clout that a taxi cab does. (Right) Boy on the way to market with chicken to sell

Baobab Tree

Some Baobob trees were lean and gangly, some huge and intimidating, some were happy and some were spooky, but all of them could have played a role in The Wizard of Oz! I have never seen a tree like the Baobab and was fascinated with them the entire trip. Like snowflakes and fingerprints, they are everywhere, come in all shapes and sizes, but there are no two alike. We even sampled the fruit it produces which was entirely new to my taste buds. My favorite photos from the trip include Baobabs. Two are below:

(Left) Baobabs at Sunset on Christmas (Right)Mom, Joye, Jim, and David pose next to an average size Baobab. Some trunks can get much larger!

Malian Dress

Someone’s going to make a lot of money when they figure out how to market Malian clothing into the United States. One of our favorite things to do was pick out fabric at village markets, find a trustworthy tailor, and have the tailor make a variety of shirts, pants, and other articles. I wear the shirts to work now in the States! For the buyer of a shirt you can’t beat the $5 price – for the seller one shirt may provide the profit you need to put food on your table that evening.

(right) Jim’s work partner, Rube Dao, tailored this “Christmas shirt.”

Temperature Swings

One of my first journal entries was “Today’s Weather: mostly sunny, 89-91 degrees, breezy in morning. 60 tonight.” The daily entry for the rest of the trip might as well have been “Weather: see yesterday!” For the locals, the 30-degree day/night temperature drop requires, of course, parkas if they weren’t already wearing them throughout the day. (It is winter, you know.) I kidded Numujo and Ashata (a.k.a., Jim and Joye) that even they have grown thin-skinned and wondered out loud if they will ever move north of Kentucky when they return to the States. Even Cindy, David, and I were there long enough that we started feeling the cold in the morning towards the end of our stay.

Medical

Okay, so I was the bonehead who rolled his ankle during our descent from the Dogon Cliffs, which, on the positive side, makes me partially qualified to rate the medical competency of this country. My left ankle swelled significantly in the next 30 minutes and, as we settled in for lunch, the village medicine man was summoned to manipulate my foot and ensure nothing was broken. In retrospect, he did a pretty good job even though the special leaf ointment he put on my ankle really didn’t do much. He did validate his authenticity by showing us his license (like I had any clue what the piece of paper he held up meant). Five days later in the capitol of Bamako, I visited a French clinic “Polyclinique – Pasteur” to have a more educated doctor’s opinion, and despite an ugly black and blue foot by then, he said I was fit for flying. Other than the swelling, the pain was never that bad.

Final Ponderings and Pictures

• Almost every day I’d see women spit, a rare site in America.
• The Malian rice and sauce is delicious and nutritious if you can find and afford it (unfortunately, it appears many cannot).
• I spotted one Malian child wearing a Michigan State University sweatshirt. It is noteworthy that nowhere on this trip did I see a U of M anything. Go Green!
• Malians like loud music, even when it doesn’t make sense such as on a long bus ride when you’d rather nap!
• A lengthy trip to Africa is a good place to grow a beard if you have never done so.

Although I struggled more than anybody trying to learn the Bambara language, this was an amazing experience. I am so grateful to have a son-in-law who not only put up with his in-laws for three entire weeks, but wined and dined them with incredible hospitality. Parting was still not easy, but we look forward to their return to the States in six months. We are excited about Jim completing his Master’s thesis, and seeing Joye’s new elementary school building project come to fruition.

Eating Malian Style (with our hands)