Letter Home: June 19, 2009

So we finished our project. We successfully made 44 Malians jump into their nasty, and quite possibly, toxic Niger River for the final test ( i more than likely have some illness called schisto but who cares! Peace corps will have to pay for the treatment). This made us rethink the progress we thought had been accomplished in seven weeks. BUT we can't do anything about it now... We had a huge closing ceremony where we each (there were three of us volunteers) received unexpected gifts-a full bogolan outfit and ciwara sculpture.



Mali LESSON: Bogolan is a traditional mudcloth art that originates in Mali. Many countries have tried to copy their designs and claim they started it but it is ALL MALI :) and Ciwara means... while it is given to the mightiest warrior, greatest leader, etc. It is a sign of respect and again a Malian thing (it means something in Bambara but I forgot).



We also decided to honor Alkalifa Traore, our safety and security officer, because we would not have been able to accomplish anything without him. He went with us to the military offices and convinced the commanders/captains that this was a worthwhile project and they should participate.



The following day, after seven straight weeks of having something that resembled a job, my boyfriend and I went to my old village to see my friends and 'family' before my Close-of-Service conference and vacation. It was a nice couple of days. We ate well-made Malian dishes, played with kids, and got updates in my village. One of my friends, A WOMAN, got elected to be the 2nd deputy Mayor! How amazing!



THEN We come back and I go directly to a nice Malian Hotel!!! UMMMMM good food, A/C, pool (haha you'd think i would be tired of swimming), and my RETURN DATE to America!



I spend three days learning about how to make a resume, how to market myself, and how to deal with the shock of going home... It is true. It is harder going to America from Mali than America to Mali. You learn to live without and about reverse-racism! My date is set for September 4th, which is at least three weeks earlier than i thought i would get.



Ok now here comes the adventure!!!



We (five other peace corps girls, my boyfriend and myself) decide to travel to Guinea together since our vacation overlapped each other. We meet at the bus station (really a taxi station). Get a sept-plus (it should hold seven but we learn they shove in nine; then why do they call it a sept-plus?) and head to the border. This is where we encounter our first corrupt Guinean gendarme. "Um you need to pay 5000 cfa for administration expenses." "Why? We have visas, our WHO cards, all our shots, and what admin expenses? Your 'office' is a table under a tarp with thatch walls." That was the first response and last response he got from us since he didn't even try to ask the rest of us for a bribe!



We get into Kankan, Guinea (google Guinea so you can follow our adventure :) and lucky for us the Peace Corps regional house was marked. We exchange money and find out that Guinean francs seem like a lot of money but really has no value. Every boutique, street vendor, etc couldn't carry wallets and replaced them with money 'buckets'!!!!! ahh the madness! Or the economy of a state in constant government turmoil. We have a lovely evening with Peace Corps Guinea volunteers-exchanging stories about our experiences in West Africa.



We wake early the next morning to get on the road before 8am. We had the most serendipitous moment when the same exact taxi that brought us from Mali drives past us on the way to the station. He pulls over and says he will take us to the station. Once we are in the car, we negotiate a decent price to Pita, Guinea. We wanted to get as far as we could that day so it would put us closer to our destination, Doucki. All day we passed beautiful landscapes as we slowly very slowly made our way up bumpy, potholed roads to the topmost points in the Fouta Djalon. I should describe the car we are riding in… A Peugeot station wagon with a third seat in the far back. Normally you shove two people into the front seat next to the driver then four in the middle and another three in the far back which is probably the worst spot since you have no head or leg space. BUT we bought out the last two spots so we could comfortably travel to Doucki. This trip lasted about 12 hours! We arrive in Pita and learn that our car can’t make the last leg to Doucki since the road is no longer a road and it is a bit confusing. We chased down to the edge of town by another taxi that is trying to be “generous” and give us a lift. We literally said we would walk the last 20 or 30 km to the campsite and they all laughed but we were not going to pay a penny more than what we expected to be the price. FINALLY we get a price we can agree on and make the haul… UMMMmmmm yeah our car could not have made it and we were in this car for another three hours! My motion sickness decided to kick back in during the first 30 minutes. Regardless we made it to the site. We had dinner and crashed!



Our first day was a half day hike to a waterhole, it was called “wet and wild.” It has been so long since we’ve seen green and topography. Hills, rock formations, creeks, trees, and grass were abundantly available to the wandering eye! We got a lot of cool pictures and got to go swimming in a creek that had a few hidden holes in the rock. It is always scary but worth it when you jump into the unknown and come out on the other side.



The afternoon was a short hike to the cliff edge to see where we were gonna hike the next day. Breathtaking! Plus the cliff edge is the same spot that villagers go to when there has been a death and they yell to the village below. Our guide kept telling us to lower our voices… opps!



The next day was the “chutes and ladders” and the name alone scared me! We descended for hours! All I could think about was the upward journey on the other side of the day! We made it down and my knees already felt like jello. Had lunch at a cool waterhole where the fishes viciously attacked anything you put in the water including your toes! Directly following lunch we started the hike UP! We made our way up, up and up then we encountered the ladders that were branches, logs, tied together with vine. They looked as though they would fall apart but they held us. We made great progress by scurrying up 5 or 6 ladders then the real hike started! Thank you GOD! I made it up the hill and all the way to the campsite… I can’t even begin to describe how out of breath I was near the end of the hike… We kept climbing and climbing but I made it… And! I wasn’t even sore the next day! YAY



The last hike was a half day before we took off for SIERRA LEONE! It is called Indiana Jones. We climbed vines and played in the water! It was an amazing time! It felt as though we were in a rainforest. Again, after two years in our barren wasteland known as Sub-Saharan Africa, the beautiful topography of Guinea was greatly appreciated.



Ok so our hiking days were over and we were ready to get to Sierra Leone. We made it to a hotel for the night… Did you know that most of Guinea doesn’t have electricity? It is an eye-opening experience to see a town that was probably at one time, thriving and bustling with lights and running water. But Guinea struggles along since they are continually ravaged by coups and insufficient governmental support which at the moment is military control! We had just spent three days in the villages and extremely surprised to see that the village people kept their towns clean, their pumps in running order, and houses that were substantially in better shape than I have ever seen at such a low economic level. BUT things at the higher level are getting bypassed…



The hotel we were staying at turned on their generator once it got dark and cut it off at the daybreak. Somewhere during the night the electricity did something wacky and pumped too much juice into our rooms and ruined our converters and chargers (ipod, zune, phone). But it didn’t matter… We have learned to expect as much in developing countries.



We made our way to the gare (bus/taxi station) only to be told countless times, “oh Sierra Leone? Go there”. We went to five different places before we finally got the taxi we needed. Then we made the long hike down the hills, got to another gare, and negotiated the price to the border of guinea so we could get into Sierra Leone. At this point we are running into many English speakers and having a hard time! I think we all negotiate better in Bambara!



We travel to the border… Now here comes the corruption. We were asked at three different stops to give a bribe. Of course the police/gendarmes didn’t even tell us why, they just demanded money. We always refused and they always threatened to make us wait at this checkpoint. One time a guy said we were gonna stay the night. We said ok and ten minutes later he let us go. I bet the taxi driver was fed up with us and had to pay a bribe for us since we wouldn’t do it. But that is Peace Corps.



The border to Sierra Leone. Ok Ok before you say anything we knew that you were suppose to get a visa ahead time but we just wanted to try our luck. We thought that they would be the one place we could and would pay a bribe…. Opps. We walked through the countless Guinea exit border checkpoints because the taxis to Sierra Leone were trying to charge us a ridiculous price to Freetown. We finally get to a point where we need a taxi, it takes us to the border and then we were reprimanded for over an hour about how we were suppose to get a visa prior to our arrival at the border. They told us to pay the $200 for the visa or go to the embassy at the Guinea capital or change our plan which is exactly what we did. During this whole ordeal I am feel faint from motion sickness because my medicine has ran out and my conscious is killing me b/c I know we should’ve done the right thing but… NOW we had to turn all the around and make it to Conakry. We made it to the 36 km point where we got held up again for another bribe but this time we called the Safety and Security Officer at Peace Corps Guinea and she straightened him out.



Finally, we made it somewhere nice and cool! We slept at the PC Guinea house which is a mansion in our eyes! Next to the beach, with a beach bar that has great pizza, a wonderful roof, a/c, four stories, nice bathrooms, etc…. we were in heaven for a day!



We decided to enjoy the beaches in Guinea and went to Room Island. We really did nothing for three days. Ate good seafood – fish, calamari – swam, hiked, and read books. It was amazing and we all got sunburnt.



Then back to Conakry! We made dinner, said good-bye to our entourage (the five other girls that were traveling with us), went to the Sierra Leone Embassy to only find out they wanted US dollars from us and denied our Malian money and we didn’t have enough in Guinean currency. So….

We went to Senegal!



Ate a wonderful meal at a Indo-chinese restaurant, slept like babies in a cold room, packed our stuff, and waited for the taxi strike to stop so we could get out of Guinea. Made it to the gare, got a car to Labé that ended up taking a full 12 hours because the car couldn’t get up the hills! Literally had to get out at every big incline and push the car up til it gained enough speed to leave us in the dark in which case we had to walk up the hill to catch up with him at the next level point. CRAZINESS! Arrive at the gare at 1am, sleep in the taxi, get to the next gare at 6am, wait til 1pm to leave for Senegal. Travel til 11pm to sleep at the border on hard cement out in the open. Get up and travel another two hours, get another car go to another point in Senegal, get another car, go another couple hours and finally we make it to our last gare, get a bus go to Cap Skirring, Senegal.



We get a hotel room at Chez M’Ballo that is located on the beach! Amazing and breathtaking is all I can say! We were awestruck by the beauty. Finally a place where we could stay for a long period of time! A whole week we spent laying on the beach, eating seafood, swimming, reading books, drinking beer with limes while watching the sunset over the ocean. Absolutely wonderful!



Then it was time to go home. Cap Skirring to Tambaconda. There was a peace corps house so we stayed there. We were sleeping on the roof when a sandstorm/rainstorm ran us off. So we slept inside = HOT!



Left the next morning after being “snuck” out to a neighboring village to wait for a bus b/c of some weird penalty the bus would have to pay inside the town, etc… stupidness! This time we travel for a straight 18 hours (all day, all night) to arrive in Bamako, Mali. We traveled through a sandstorm and crossed an irish bridge (a roadway that is covered by rushing water and marked with little posts sticking up to lead your way).



Finally we are home!

As of Today March 9, 2009

Things are moving along. The most recent changes have been my move to Bamako (no longer Banamba), Christmas in the Region of Mopti in Dogon Country, January Peace Corps Training for the new volunteers (I was a trainer-again), started working with the Junior Achievement Mali office in Bamako, organized/coordinated/planned/implemented a Junior Achievement Training at the Peace Corps Training Center for 44 school teachers, and now the 8 week learn-to-swim/water rescue project starts on March 16, 2009.

The new changes have been an adjustment. I am almost as busy as I was in America before I left for Mali which was why I left in the first place. hmmm go figure, huh? We all tend to fall into our similarities. Hopefully the new balance in Mali won't be that easy to disappear once I return to America...

Ok back to Mali changes... The heat didn't even try to sneak up on us, it decided to overwhelm us from the gate. It is already hitting degrees over 100!!! Lucky for me and two other volunteers we will be working on our tans and front crawl during the hottest months of the year. No we will not be in the Niger River (at least not yet anyways).

Our house is full! Three guys and one girl sharing a house isn't all that bad... We are all pretty clean individuals. To be honest I am probably the biggest slob out of the four of us. We are slowly building a new network of friends in Bamako. Mostly other Americans or ex-pats. We visit one another, have parties, go swimming or to bars, and compete in Hash Runs, flag-football, and volleyball. Hopefully a routine will form out of these escapades...

The new house has internet and I have a computer. You can always skype or email!

Peace

Reflections from December 2008 - March 2009

I hear the children laughing. Their laughter is no different from that of any child. The low chuckle of an overweight bully, the high-pitched cackle of the comedian, and the wispy almost non-existent laugh of the shy one who doesn’t know what is so funny. I smell their musky scent of sweat and dirt. A pungent body odor that is unique to Africa. The dust is disturbed for any instant and the shrill laughter diminishes into the distance. I see the dust settle and fall through the sunrays that are poking their way through my window screen. The particles delicately fall through the light. The specs seem to be dancing a slow-dance as they lackadaisically fall onto the cement floor in my house. The heat is picking up and I can feel the sweat collecting at the nape of hair. The familiar dry heat quickens the beads of sweat and starts dampening my hair as I struggle to wake up. I walk out to face the day.

The sun is beating down. The dust is inescapable; one can find the dust in every open crevice of your clothes and body parts. The scene around you is busy borderline frantic. The ride to work flies to a halt inches from my feet. The green deathbox beckons me to get on. The eyes follow the white person into the public transportation. Gasps are exchanged when I greet them in Bambara. I catch glances from older women, bold flirtatious stares from men, and curious eyes of children. Our route is a constant stop-go action. Soon we are sitting in deadlock traffic. I look out the window to see a naked little boy outside of his concession. He is splashing water over his head as he squats next to a bucket of water. The water glistens across his body. He jumps up and runs into the house only to return seconds later to throw water behind his ears. He is vigrously rubbing water across his buddy washing away invisible suds. Our eyes meet and a slow smile creeps across his face. He continues to bath and rinse but at a slower pace. His eyes follow mine as we finally pull away from his house. His smile made my day...

We approach the market. My jumping off point where I catch another deathbox to the other side of town. The men and women are moving with direction and purpose. The work of the lower-class keeps us fed, clothed, and operating. However in this country you can see the hard work that goes into transporting vegetables to and from markets, how they move large loads of materials, and transport anything that has a new destination.

The scene: The beads of sweat are sliding down his ebony-colored skin and pooling into puddles of sweat directly in front him as he waits to pass the street. His muscles are bulging out of his arms and neck. The cart he steadies with one handle is loaded with so much weight that it is top heavy. He is exuding brute strength while he tries to keep it from tipping over. Forcing the handle down in front of him but not overpowering it so that it doesn’t become a balancing act of danger. In which case, the cart becomes too heavy and falls unto him. If an incident like that happened the line of cart pushers would be forced to leave their heavy burdens to remove it from his crushed body. Then the day would continue like nothing happened. Another day at work with another almost serious injury but it wasn’t so let’s thank God for allowing us to live another day…

New scene: She passes him without a second glance. She is busy balancing an entire household load of laundry on her head. She has many things to consider: what chores has she already finished? What chores has she started but not finished? And what must be done and what will never end? One thing that will never end is her slavery that isn’t even obvious. The servitude that she must endure for a set of dishes-dishes that she will never use and may end up selling to buy rice or millet to feed the hungry mouths of her nine children. But lets back up to her present predicament, the predicament that she is living now. She is 12 years old and lives far from home. She has never attended school, only speaks her native language, knows how to make five traditional dishes but can not add or subtract nor can she sign her name to a legal document. She spends her mornings waking before the rest of the family to prepare the breakfast over a burning fire that takes atleast an hour of preparation. The meal must be ready to serve before 7:30am after which she must start the days endless chores: sweep and mop the entire house, wash the clothes, dishes, and start lunch (that requires another hour or more of preparation). She does all this work and more. She is at beck and call for the family. She is their slave. She earns a small income that will be used to buy a set of dishes for marriage. However she knows nothing of a real life. She knows nothing of education and a life beyond the walls of her concession and the walls beyond her consciousness. She is a prisoner in time and place due to tradition. Tradition that doesn’t allow her to grow or mature into the woman she is destined to be but will be denied because she will never have the chance to be a child so she will live the rest of her life trying to relinquish the pastimes that she never had. If she is able to accomplish all her tasks and come out pure and untouched, she is free to marry. It will be a man that her family probably chose that is no less 20 years older than she. She will have her first child before fifteen (15). She is free. Free of her servitude but the marriage, pregnancies and motherhood are her new masters. The new workloads only increase with each mouth to feed.

Flat Stanley visits Dogon Country

"Flat Stanley" was created by a first grader in the USA. His unique flatness allows him to travel to many exotic and faraway places. On this particular journey he finds a Peace Corps Volunteer in Mali, West Africa. He accompanied 30 volunteers on their Christmas 2008 vacation to Dogon Country. If the beautiful photography inspires you to travel to Dogon country please visit www.visitpaysdogon.com

From 2009-01-08 Peace Corps Flat Stanley

The Spirit of an American Citizen: Reflected through the words of President Obama’s Inauguration Speech

I was greatly moved while watching the 44^th President’s Inauguration. Never before have I ever been so wrapped up in our Nation as of this moment. President Obama’s speech was powerful and moving. In an over-crowded room of 100 or so people there was silence and tears. He filled us with hope-hope that a brighter tomorrow will be reached. However it will only be reached if we take up the burden of rebuilding our nation together. No one man can solve all of our problems, but a good leader can encourage us to take up our a role in making a reality.

This post is written in past-tense third person because I was trying to give it an artistic feel.

To Lee for helping me realize that I have found a purpose.

The decision to join the Peace Corps in 2007 was a difficult one. The task that lay before this recent college graduate was too profound to put into words. She was a graduate with a potentially prosperous career in her chosen field due to an extensive effort on her behalf that was to gain all the experience possible before entering the ‘real world.’ Each of her post-university decisions was just as broad and vague as the next one and all of them were empty.

An emptiness due to a lack of real service-a service that provided an experience, a new beginning that would allow room to grow and explore. The United States of America had always been a quiet room with a side window to the outside world. The outside world was a place that couldn't have been previously explored due to economical hardships. Here was her chance to break free of the mutinous workforce, forge forward into the unknown, into her new purpose.

"As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who, at this very hour, patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages.

We honor them not only because they are guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves. And yet, at this moment — a moment that will define a generation — it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all."

The chosen road led her to a life of service. Serving others was something bigger than her. It was bigger than the salaried job in the big city with the nice car where she could have attended fancy parties and mingled with so-called important people. Instead she served those who were considered to be less fortunate than the rest of the world. Yet after careful reflection that truth lays in the minds of those who measure life by the tangible not the intangible because the Africans couldn’t wrap their minds around the Americans' hatred of others nor why war was their only answer for things unknown. The intangible things of love, unity, and true day-to-day happiness didn’t exist in her world prior to this experience. Her willingness to find meaning allowed her to find true purpose in life.

"For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies.

It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate."

As an American her duties did not stop at the shorelines of the East or West. Her hope in a better world fueled her passion for Peace Corps. It was the selflessness of the Malians who gave food and shelter to a stranger; the love of other volunteers and counterparts that encouraged and comforted throughout the uncertain moments which saw her through the darkest hours.

The fate of her life was known before the dawn of time. It was to come to African soil so that she could find true meaning in her life; find out what it means to be a true American.

"Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends — hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism — these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history.

What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility — a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world, duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task."

Her many challenges before Peace Corps did not end and have not been resolved but a new strength and hope was discovered. The values that were slipping away during her college years were slowly renewed-honesty and hard work, courage and tolerance-while others were realized for the first time-loyalty and patriotism. She was a citizen of the United States of America. She was a daughter, sister, cousin, granddaughter, niece, and friend before she was a Peace Corps volunteer in Mali, West Africa. She was a southerner, Christian, and loud-mouthed. All of these were characteristics of this young woman, yes a woman, but they did not define who she was. The new values gave her hope in her fellow citizens. It provided her with the courage to believe in a better world that would lean on each other and not hurt one another.

The truths of her reality, such as family problems and lack of money, didn’t hold her back but spur her on! Into the direction of the rising sun! A place where she could spread her wings-no limitations and no regrets. She was finally able to rely on herself and God to define her character and determine a path.

"This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

This is the source of our confidence — the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny."

Now, Holly is shaping her uncertain destiny through God by serving others-her fellow citizens and the citizens of the world.

Special thanks to http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090120/ap_on_go_pr_wh/inauguration_obama_text

for providing the text for President Obama's Inauguration speech.