January 15, 2008

Greetings from Mali!

I’m currently at the Peace Corps training center outside Bamako, so I’m taking advantage of the free, relatively fast Internet to send out another update.  I’ve kept busy since my last e-mail, both with work at the clinic in Senossa as well as various excursions off site.  I continue to weigh babies weekly, although I’ve had problems keeping the Plumpy Nut nutritional supplement in stock.  There’s been a shortage at the hospital in Djenne, which means they haven’t been distributing it to the surrounding clinics very frequently.  I also get the sense that the director in Djenne dislikes Senossa’s "chef de poste"—the nurse who runs our clinic.  Like it or not, politics come into play, and unfortunately it’s the children who suffer.  Although I’m still convinced of the benefits of Plumpy Nut, without a steady supply it’s going to be hard to see any positive results.  

When I return to site at the end of January, I hope to start making ameliorated porridge with the help of mothers of underweight babies.  Unfortunately, there’s no real source of protein (i.e. crushed beans or peanuts) to add to the porridge powder.  The previous volunteer bought peanuts and gave them to the women.  That, of course, brings up the question of sustainability—a buzz word for the Peace Corps.  Will the women actually buy the peanuts on their own?

I’m realizing that, as a replacement, I have different responsibilities than the first volunteer.  The villagers now have a basic knowledge of nutrition and sanitation—I need to make sure they’re going to continue these practices once the PC leaves.  In Mali, at least, the PC doesn’t like to have more than three consecutive volunteers at one site (i.e. longer than six years).  I get the impression that I may not be replaced, which makes me want to be sure that the villagers take a personal interest in their health.  I may start a health committee made up of motivated villagers.  They can target health issues in Senossa and then find solutions on their own.

In non-health related news, I’ve spent some time recently in Dogon Country, which is probably the most visited tourist attraction in Mali outside of Timbuktu and Djenne.  Living in the region of Mopti—with Dogon Country and Djenne—can be annoying sometimes (like when you’re constantly harassed on the street for money), but it’s also great that I’m so close to these really amazing places.  A couple weeks after Thanksgiving I helped at a "Dogon Country Sustainable Tourism Conference" organized by USAID.  They invited guides, village chiefs, NGOs, and various local groups to discuss how to increase tourism in the area while maintaining the environment, as well as the local population’s culture and traditions.  

For Christmas, the Mopti volunteers did a 2-day hike through Dogon Country.  Words can’t really do it justice—Dogon Country has some of the most amazing landscapes I’ve ever seen.  Sometimes we were climbing cliffs, at other times walking through sandy plains, and sometimes trudging through desolate, moon-like canyons.  The people that live there are also fascinating—their religion and cultural practices are unique in Mali, as are their dwellings, which are carved directly into the cliffs.  We had a local guide who was able to explain what we were seeing, as well as to make sure we didn’t get off the trail and step into a sacred area.  The Dogons are traditionally animists, and while I still don’t fully understand their beliefs, I learned that certain rocks, streams, etc. are considered holy and are therefore off-limits.  Animism also involves fetishes—we ran into a couple areas littered with animal bones, sites of their sacrifices.

Right after the hike ended I got sick with a sinus/ear infection—luckily some friends let me convalesce in their apartment for a couple days.  Although it was totally unplanned, I spent New Year’s with five PC friends in Djenne.  They also visited Senossa—I enjoyed showing them around, and the villagers enjoyed meeting my Toubab friends (Have I mentioned Toubab before?  In Mali, it designates any white person, regardless of nationality.  Sometimes I don’t mind hearing Toubab, but other times it drives me crazy—usually when I’m in Djenne and kids chase me around saying "Toubab!  Give me candy/bottles/a pen/money!").  After New Year’s, we made our way to Bamako, where I treated myself to the luxuries of cheeseburgers, ice cream, and warm showers.  Now our entire group (still 70-something strong—relatively few people have ET’d—PC lingo for "early termination"—whenever you decide to go home before your two years is up) is back for a two-week training session.  We’re learning more technical skills so we can hopefully work more effectively when we return to our sites.

I’ve been in Mali for almost six months now.  In many ways the time has flown, although it also seems like a lifetime ago that I was in America.  Now that I’m not such a newcomer, things that I remarked on as strange at first have become commonplace—waking up to the braying of donkeys or the bleating of sheep, eating rice with my hands, planning my day around the Muslim calls to prayer, etc.  Still, I’m an outsider in many ways, and I’ve come to accept that I probably always will be.  The fact that I’m not married, am not Muslim, that I can read—these things all separate me from a "typical" Malian woman.  Despite my differences, I feel accepted by my village, and that’s all I can ask for.

Thanks again for all the e-mails and letters I’ve received.  I really enjoy hearing the news from back home.
Kate

October 8, 2007

Greetings from Senossa!

I arrived here almost 2 weeks ago, and I'm slowly adjusting to my new village.  I didn't come at the best time of year--it's Ramadan, and everyone in this conservative village is fasting--which means grumpy, tired, and most of all hungry people come mid-afternoon.  To top it off, we're now in what's called "mini hot season"--a 3ish-week period of intense heat before cool season begins.  I can't wait--I honestly don't think I've ever been this hot in my life!

I'm living in a small, two-room mud house.  I also have a covered porch area, which is a nice place to hide from the sun.  The courtyard is shared with four other households, which means there's no lack of activity (or kids hovering at my door).  The volunteer I'm replacing, Ariel, has stayed an extra month, so we've been sharing the house for now.  She'll be leaving at the end of the month, and then I'll really be on my own.

Senossa is currently a semi-island, surrounded by flooded plains following the rainy season.  It's really pretty, but one drawback is that the wells are flooded too--in fact, the only well that isn't flooded is at the health clinic where I'm working.  My water filter has already turned dark brown--it's having to work overtime to get all the muddy water clean enough to drink!

Besides the lack of clean water, I've already noticed a lot of health concerns here.  People can't afford cement to construct latrines, leading to unsanitary methods of disposing waste.  No one uses soap when they wash their hands.  Many kids are underweight; some are starving, literally.

Hammadi, one-and-a-half years old, lives in the house next to me.  He's been sick since he was born, and his skeletal body makes me wince whenever I see it.  Ariel has taken on his survival as her personal mission--making sure he gets medicine, giving him oral rehydration liquids when he has diarrhea, etc.  It feels like the family has given up on him--he's just a sick kid who's probably not going to make it, so why make too much of an effort?  It's sad, but I wonder if Ariel's method of buying medicine, etc. is setting a bad example--the white person giving a handout.  Since I'm the replacement, it puts me in an awkward position.  I'm still deciding what my strategy will be.
 
I plan on coming into Djenne once a week for the market, and I'll hopefully also be able to check my email.  I hope all is going well back home.  I think of my friends and family often.

Kate

August 3, 2007

Dear friends and family,

Yet again, I'm writing this letter by hand under the shade of my host family's lean-to.  In less than two weeks I'll be leaving Sala, my homestay village.  Training has passed really quickly--at this time next month I'll be at my permanent site (where I'll work for two years).  I found out that I'll be working in Senossa, which is located in the Mopti region of Mali.  It's only 5 km from Djenne, a city famous for its mosque.  (I'm sure that if you Google Djenne, you'll be able to find photos--it's really impressive).

I was recently able to spend a couple days in Senossa and Djenne after surviving 12 hours on African transport, which leaves much to be desired.  Senossa is fairly small (3000-4000 people); but with its narrow, twisting streets I still got lost several times.  Senossa is in what Peace Corps volunteers describe as the "brousse"--meaning that it's pretty rural.  No electricity, running water, or plumbing--luckily I've already adjusted to that after Sala, my homestay village.  One advantage of Senossa's location is its proximity to Djenne--because lots of tourists visit, Djenne has some electricity, a couple of restaurants, and an Internet cafe.  It's also where I'll come for my banking, and to buy food at the weekly market.

I'm a health volunteer, so I'll be working with the matronne (equivalent to a midwife--she has some training, although no formal schooling) at Senossa's clinic.  The Peace Corps is fairly flexible with projects, which means that I can work on basically anything that interests me.  I'll be replacing another volunteer named Ariel.  During her two years in Senossa, she weighed babies and gave presentations to women at the clinic, taught mothers how to make protein-enhanced porridge, gave weekly radio presentations in Fulani on the radio, helped fund a new well for the village, and planted marengo trees (its leaves are full of vitamins and minerals, and they can be crushed and added to food to increase nutrition).  In addition, she spent a lot of time going around from house to house, visiting families, encouraging them to come to the clinic, etc.  Especially during my first three months, this is what I'll be doing the most.  I'm not supposed to be working during that time, technically--instead it's a time for me to continue learning the language and building relationships with people in the village.
Everyone in Senossa seemed really friendly, and I think I'm going to enjoy working there.  I'll miss seeing my Peace Corps friends every day--the closest volunteer will be 40 km from me, which is quite a distance via bicycle or public transport--which as I hinted at earlier, means rickety buses/vans crammed with people, luggage, animals, etc.

A few other random things I thought I'd add:

--The 3 health volunteers in Sala recently held a baby-weighing at the local clinic.  We had 50-60 mothers bring their babies (ranging from 1 month old to 3 years).  We have a chart that tells us if the babies are in the green (healthy weight), yellow (mild malnutrition), or red (serious malnutrition) zone.  We had 18 babies in the green, 16 in the yellow, and 6 in the red.  One of the kids was literally starving--it was shocking to see in person.  I tried to lift him into the scale (you hang the baby in a diaper-sack) and thought that I was going to dislocate his shoulders.  It made me realize that if I'm going to be a health volunteer, Mali is the place to do it--poverty, lack of nutritious foods, combined with general ignorance of disease/germs/nutrition lead to lots of serious issues.

--Speaking of health issues, I had a scare a couple weeks ago--had been sick for a couple days and ended up fainting.  Although I had lost liquids, I didn't realize how quickly my body would become exhausted in this climate.  Luckily I was at the training center, and the RN was there at the time.  I loaded up on Gatorade and quickly recovered!  

--On a lighter note, I've been able to travel into Bamako a couple times with fellow trainees.  We've enjoyed getting some Western food (cheeseburgers never tasted so good).  Last week we got to swim--the Niger River isn't safe for us (lots of nasty diseases floating around), but there's a chlorinated pool which is safe for us.  It felt wonderful!

I hope all is going well at home.  I think of you often!  
Love, Kate  

August 7, 2007

Dear friends and family,

Since I don't have regular Internet access, I'm writing this letter by hand under a lean-to in Sala, Mali, with the intention of typing it once I have computer access.  It's 1 PM, and at least 90 degrees, so being in the shade is necessary.  My room's tin roof makes it an oven, so I try to spend as little time inside as possible.

Much has happened since I left Indiana.  I flew to Philadelphia on July 17 to meet the 80-person Peace Corps (PC) group going to Mali.  We arrived in Bamako, Mali's capital, on the 20th.  I knew we were in Africa the moment I arrived--even though it was nighttime, the heat hit us the moment we stepped off the airplane and walked into the crowded, un-air-conditioned terminal.  Even though we're a large group, none of our bags were lost or broken into--a small miracle, we were told by the PC staff waiting to meet us at the airport.

The entire group spent the first few days at Toubani, the PC compound about a half-hour outside Bamako.  There we were given a general orientation to the PC; a crash course in Bambara, the language most widely spoken in Mali; and an intro to Malian eating.

In order to learn the language more effectively, we were split into 13 groups, each going to a different village, living with a host family, and having intensive language lessons. There are more than a dozen languages spoken in Mali, so our group has been split according to the language that will be spoken at our eventual work site.  Most are learning Bambara, but some people are learning French (Mali's official language), Dogon, Tamashek, and Somgrai.  I'm one of 6 people learning Fulani (or Fulfulde or Peulh, depending on your language of choice).  The first two weeks in Sala, my village, have been a linguistic challenge--I'm just starting to speak in sentences, and I understand about one word in ten that my host family speaks.  Fulani is a complex language--lots of irregular verbs, sounds that don't exist in English, etc.  Luckily, people are patient with Toubabs (the African word for a white person), and they find our mispronunciations amusing.  

I am living with Altine Diallo and her four young children.  She has a small house with two rooms--I sleep in the smaller one, and the rest of the family uses the other.  The rooms have concrete floors, and I have a small window as well.  There's no electricity or running water--I'm using a kerosene lantern at night and hauling water from a nearby well.  Bathroom facilities are minimal--each family has a small concrete structure called a negan in their yard--a basic latrine structure.  I take bucket baths in the negan twice a day--actually really refreshing.  Although this is the "cool" rainy season, it's extremely hot here.  When the rain comes, it's for a fairly short amount of time--the sun dries up the potholes quickly.

I'm very comfortable with Altine and her family--they're very friendly and open.  They're also determined that I'm going to learn Fulani well--every night they have me read my lessons out loud to them.  In general, Malians are very friendly people--lots of laughing and socializing with neighbors, especially in the evenings.  With no electricity, conversation is the entertainment of choice.  Tea-making is also very popular, and the whole process can take an hour or two.

The food in Mali is carb-heavy, to say the last.  For breakfast I have Nescafe (instant coffee) and an egg sandwich.  Lunch is usually rice with some kind of sauce (often peanut-based).  Dinner is macaroni, millet, potatoes, or more rice.  Keep in mind, all this is being eaten with the hand from a communal bowl--not always an easy task!  Usually we have a bit of meat or fish, but neither is very appealing to the American palate.

My fellow trainees and I have lost weight since arriving in Sala.  This is partly due to the food, but illness has also taken a toll.  Everyone has had a certain amount of gastrointestinal problems, either from the food, water, stress, or a combination of the three.  I've luckily had fairly mild problems so far, and I'm hoping to keep it that way!

Although I'm enjoying myself, I (and the rest of my group) have moments of homesickness.  We talk about American food a lot, friends and family, and creature comforts (indoor plumbing! Lazy Boy recliners! cold beverages!)  Still, there are moments when I feel absolutely at home--writing on my mat watching the sun set, playing euchre with fellow PCTs, and helping my host family make tea.

This letter has gone on longer than intended, so please excuse my ramblings.  You're all in my thoughts often.

Kate