Chelsea's Malian Adventure

Finally Done - And in Ethiopia!

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 08:50:00 +0000

Hello! This blog post is brought to you from my uncle Bob's office at the Ethiopian Center for Disabilities and Development in Addis Ababa Ethiopia. But first let me rewind.

MALI

I finished in my village on September 8th. About a week or two before I left, my replacement, Katherine, came to the village to do a visit for a few days. I helped to familiarize her with the village and the community members she should know and work with. She has a really good attitude and I'm really excited for her to be working in this most amazing village that has become my home the past two years!! On September 11th, after finishing my work and shopping up in Sikasso, I went off to Bamako. I closed out my projects, and finished my service without a problem. I was delayed in Bamako with problems with the airlines, and a sudden pretty serious cold. I guess that was my body's way of telling me to SLOW DOWN. I listened. I was supposed to leave on the 19th but because of the cold and bus scheduling (it was leaving on Friday instead of Saturday because of the end of Ramadan), I decided to stay until Tuesday, the 22nd. I bought my plane ticket leaving Accra, Ghana for Saturday the 26th because I saved about $700 by leaving from Accra instead of Bamako. Luckily I have a very nice friend in Bamako that has been willing to take me in over these past two years, and let me feel at home there. So, plane and bus tickets in hand I boarded a bus at 7 am Tuesday morning to Accra. Saying goodbye to Mali was difficult to say the least. Luckily I was met in Sikasso by a friend who dropped off some pictures we had taken Malian style the last night in Sikasso, so this brought my mood up.

BURKINA FASO

We got stopped for 2 hours on the Malian side of the Burkina border, and then again on the Burkina side for another 2 hours. We didn't get into Ouagadugu (the capital of Burkina) until after 1 am. By this time I felt as if I had fluid in my ear and got a Qtip - BIG MISTAKE! About 30 minutes later I was struck with the most intense ear pain I have ever experienced accompanied by deafness! Because we had stopped for the night, the bus was locked and the driver sleeping. I decided to let him sleep because despite the bus company saying there would be more than one driver, he appeared to be the only one, and we were leaving at 4 am!! Well, this pain ensured that I didn't sleep, but I sat with the women and helped them keep their restless children out of trouble. After no sleep, we got on a bus at around 4:30 am. I loaded up on ibuprofin and fell asleep shortly on the bus, all the way to the Ghana border.

GHANA

We didn't spend too much time at the border, and then we were off to Kumasi, about 5 hours from Accra. We made it to Kumasi by sunset, and I was lucky enough to find someone to help me out with a place to sleep and internet. I stayed on my regular sudafed and pain killer schedule so I could sleep. I stayed on that all the way down to Accra the next day, when I arrived at about 4 pm Thursday afternoon. I immediately went to a doctor who looked and said my ear was fine, no rupture, no earwax buildup, it was just water in the ear and it would go away. That night I couldn't sleep again with all the pain, and went to the doctor again the next day. She prescribed antibiotics, and assured me the pain would go away. By this time, it was Friday, and I was scheduled to be on a plane by Saturday morning!! With all this pain, the doctor told me I shouldn't fly and gave me a note. I went to the airlines, and they let me switch my flight to Tuesday, Sept 29th. So, I spent the rest of the weekend on a dwindling cash supply in Accra. Finally the pain subsided and I boarded a plane to ...

ETHIOPIA!

I was met in the airport by my uncle Bob. I spent two nights at his house in Addis Ababa and then went to Awasa with my cousin Myles to check out his newest restaurant that he's building. It's quite the place, there's a beautiful lake and lots of good food and night life. The food here is amazing! And the juice, I can't get enough of it, avocado, mango, pineapple, guava, orange, lemon. We're not just talking juice, we're talking puree. Like right from the blender. It's SO GOOD!!! A few nights ago we went out to an Oktoberfest party at a bar, and then went off to see a reggae show. It was fantastic, and I had a lot of fun. Yesterday, we celebrated my cousin's son, Michael's birthday, age 6. So, that brings me here. I'm still deaf, but luckily it's my already mostly deaf left ear. I'm hoping it will go away before I leave Ethiopia!! I'm headed off to Awasa again today with Myles, until Friday, when his mom, my aunt, Kitui, will arrive from Geneva. I'll keep you posted as events unfold, and hopefully I can get some pictures up sometime.

Closing up

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 09:56:00 +0000

Hello blog readers! Well, it's been crazy around here for the last 4-5 months or so. I was waiting on this blog post because I really wanted to get pictures up, but that's just not going to happen right now. I really also want to thank again everybody that donated to these projects, it's only because of you that I was able to do this. And again thanks to Donna and Mel for arranging it all eliminating the stress of money from my Peace Corps experience!

So, as you may know, I'm getting ready to close up my service this month. Here's a quick and dirty of the last few months at my site (and America, etc.)

After our latrine project was finished back in April, we moved on to the well project. The large diameter well that we had begun last year was opened to discover that a large chunk of the mud wall had fallen in the hole, and the charcoal that we were using as back fill was full of mud, and a lot of it had entered the well itself. We had to clean out the charcoal and wash it and spent a few days simply repairing the damages the rain had caused the previous year. We then started digging again and got the well to a final depth of about 16 meters. It was a long, slow, difficult and stressful process. After digging and lowering the bricks the rest of the way, we were able to build the walls up to surface level. This part was relatively quick and I felt like it was a little safer as well, alleviating some of the stress. After the well walls had been built up we placed a cover on top of the well, closing it off from surface water, rainwater, and any debris that might fall into the well.

The day after this project was finished, I rushed to Bamako for our Close of Service Conference. There, all the volunteers who came in with me in 2007 met, and talked about readjusting to America, medical stuff and the overwhelming amount of paperwork we must do to get out of here. In my village on the first day of the conference an engineer had come out to do a site prospection on the installation of two pumps in the village. Pumps are the best, easiest and most reliable source of potable water in Mali because, unlike wells, they pull water form a deeper aquifer that is thought to be uncontaminated. The engineer then produced a report and later gave us a cost estimate on the two pumps. This information was gathered with the intention of providing it the the volunteer that will be replacing me in my site so that she can continue with my work here. Thus completing my funded project number 2.

Immediately after the COS conference, I hopped on a plane to Ann Arbor, where my friend of years, Liz, was getting married to a wonderful guy, Ryan. The wedding was beautiful and tons of fun. I had a really good time being around my family and friends again. I especially had a good time with the hot showers, beer, and cheese, but the spring cold was a little rough. After too short of a visit (3 weeks), I was off on a plane again back to Mali.

During the time I was in America, I was thrilled to hear from my village 2-3 times a week on their progress on the rest of the well project. During the design on the project, we had decided to perform well repairs on two other wells, if our money and time allowed us. Well, the community members continued to work even when I was in America, where they set up safe workplaces, and cleaned out 2 wells, pulling debris such as shoes, clothes, ropes, toys, and mud out of the well. The then dug the wells deeper by about a meter, increasing access to water during dry periods. The top couple meters were dug down and the mouth of the well was widened where bricks were cemented in place to prevent surface water from entering the well. The well cover was then placed on top of the well. On the third well, the bottom was also repaired. The well owner had initiated a well repair and payed for the bricks to repair the well, but the well was only half repaired. The mason, also my work counterpart, was lowered into the well to place more bricks to prevent the mud walls from caving in more. So, you can imagine my delight when I came back to my village and not only were the well repairs done, but the accounting had been completed accurately and there was still money left over. Overall probably the most valuable part of these projects were not the end product, but the knowledge gained during implementation. My work counterpart now knows how to set up a safe work zone at a well, how to build new wells and repair old ones. All of the workers in my village now know how to lower people and objects into wells safely, and make concrete bricks using the appropriate ratios. The fact that they could do all of this even when I wasn't there to be their manager shows the sustainability of this project.

I then spent about a week in my village, after which I took my final vacation to Ghana. While in Ghana, I went to Mole National Park and slept amongst the baboons, elephants and wild pigs (think Pumbaa). I then went to Kumasi, and on to the coast to the Green Turtle Lodge (tourist heaven), and then to Cape Coast where I toured the slave castle. Cape Coast was full of banners featuring Obama's face, because he had been there just days before. Then I was off to Accra, where I shopped, watched English TV, ate good food, and even went to a local soccer game. Ghana is a nice country, quite a bit more developed then Mali, there are better sanitation systems in place (although drinking water is questionable), more cell phone service and electricity, and a lot more literacy. It was a great change from life in Mali.

After coming back from Ghana, I used the rest of my project funds to buy little kiddie pots so that babies and toddlers can also be potty trained. I chose a woman from my village whose child always using the pot and I had her walk with me to each concession to hand them out. She explained proper usage and the benefits, and each woman got a pot for their kids. I also was able to buy hand washing stations, which are buckets with a kettle on top and a place for soap. I bought soap for each hand washing station, and my work counterpart, Hadi, and I went to each eating area, and he explained how they worked in a way that was culturally sensitive and hopefully got over their barriers to change. Now all 3 of my projects have been completed and closed!

After all this, I was able to meet the volunteer that will be replacing me, and she's excited about the work, and I'm really excited to have her there. As time goes on, I'll try to keep my readers updated on the progress of the projects that she's doing in my (our) village.

As for me, it's a difficult time. I've been living in a tiny community for 2 years, and I know each and every one of the community members, some better than others. I have my closest friends there, and have learned so much about life and work and different cultures and so much more. While I'm ready to go back to the conveniences of hot water, good food, good health, contact with the outside world, and a wide selection of people to chat with, I'm also really sad about leaving. This is my home and feels more like my home than many other "homes" that I've had in my life. I can only hope that I'm fortunate enough to have another experience like this in my life again.

As for what's next, I'm headed to Ethiopia where I'll be staying with my cousins and uncle for about 6 weeks, and then I'm off to India. I'll keep you posted on my travels, and hope to get pictures up soon!

Latrine Project Finished!!

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 11:49:00 +0000

After many months of work our massive latrine project finally completed!! (See slideshow below) First I would like to thank again all the donors that helped make this happen, especially Donna Dunn and Mel Danaher for all their help and organization! This project brought the following improvements to my village: 21 new 4-meter deep, concrete slab latrines with a separate concrete floor bathing area, surrounded by concrete brick walls, and a drainage system that dumps greywater into a shallow, covered soak pit area, 1 stand-alone concrete bathing area with soak pit; and every wastewater area has been dug up and replaced by a covered soak pit, such that no standing wastewater is present in the village anymore! This project provided 12 family concessions with latrines that were previously non-existant, and replaced 9 latrines. The latrines that were replaced had a range of problems, including one which when exposed the hole covering of logs and mud was on the verge of caving in due to termite activity, and another with a concrete slab that had recently fallen in the hole, and was unusable for safety reasons. The project provided access for every single member of my village and a small family concession in the next village over to a concrete latrine and bathing area. The project has also purchased covers for the opening reducing fly activity. With the extra funds that are left over, we are going to buy plastic soap containers and a bar of soap for each latrine to be left in the latrine at all times. We will also be holding a village wide meeting where we will discuss the need for use of the latrines, and strategies for teaching young children to use the latrines without fear of falling in. We'll also be teaching proper handwashing techniques.

For those of you who would like to know more about construction techniques, here are the steps for digging and building a latrine:

1. Dig a hole, one meter in diameter by 4 meters deep

2. Measure, cut and tie #8 rebar into 15 cm on center grids for the reinforced concrete slab that will cover the hole

3. Build the reinforced concrete slabs and water 3 times a day for 7 days.

4. Make thousands of concrete bricks, and water 3 times a day for 7 days.

5. Dig the mouth of the hole down ~20 cm, and out to meet the size of the slab (approximately 30 cm). Using rocks and cement/sand mixture, build a foundation for the slabs, and water 3 times a day for 7 days

6. Using manpower, logs as levers, and donkey carts, remove the concrete slabs and move them to the holes; place them onto the foundations built, and check with level to make sure that water will drain properly when dumped on slab

7. Measure and build the foundation and walls of the buildings

8. Dig the soak pit (1 cubic meter)

9. Place PCV piping, and finish the floors ensuring that water will drain properly to soak pit

10. Fill soak pit with boulders that have been dug up and transported to village from the fields

11. Cover soak pits with plastic sheeting and dirt

12. GO POO!

The good life

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Wed, 11 Feb 2009 16:44:00 +0000

Since last time I blogged, a lot of things have happened so here’s a quick recap:

Perhaps the most exciting and happiest moment was when I got back to village this most recent time after putting Lauren on a plane, and I was greeted by the newest addition to my village! As I held this sweet tiny baby, my whole being filled with joy and sadness at the same time. My mind flooded back to the happy times I had with his father, Tahiru. Knowing that I was holding his one last gift to this world was overwhelming. Tahiru’s second wife got pregnant shortly before he died, and gave birth to a tiny little boy at the beginning of February. He appears to be premature, but keep him in your thoughts and prayers that he’ll grown into a wonderful man just like is father was. He has yet to be given a name, but my guess is that he’ll be named after his father.

Like I said, I put Lauren on a plane Feb 4th after a month long visit in Mali. During her stay here, we went up north to the Hand of Fatima to a wedding between two good friends and fellow PCVs, Kevin and Rachel Belida. Congrats you two! We were also really lucky to get some climbing in. The Hand was breathtaking; one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. After the wedding and climbing and hiking, we headed up to Gossi where we saw wild elephants, and took a camel ride. It was amazing up north, as usual!

Later on in her trip, we had decided to make a trip to Manantali, but after negative feedback from others who had been, and a 5 hour wait on the side of the road after our minibus started dumping oil, we decided to check out Segou. The Festival du Niger was happening at the time, which I went to last year. We spent a few days checking out Segou, and then randomly met these three South African guys who had rented a boat to go to Bamako and were leaving that day, and did we want to come? We packed up our stuff and hopped on their boat, where we spent the next three days and nights hanging out on top of the river (and in it). It was quite a good, relaxing break for me to not have to translate all the time. Thanks to Conrad, Jason, and Lloyd!

So, on the work front, my latrine project got funded the day Lauren got here and then the money came through about a week or two later. Hadi and I went to a few training sessions together where we were able to learn more about how to make reinforced concrete slabs to cover our latrines. He also stayed a few days longer and learned how to do top well repair. We also were able to go to the place that installs pumps, and found out that in order to drill the borehole we need to hire an engineer to come out and do some surveying about how deep the water table is and where exactly we can drill. We were put in touch with someone in Sikasso and were able to get a cost estimate for his work. As for the latrines, we bought two tons of cement and the rebar, and all of the equipment to make the bricks, which will be happening Saturdays, Sundays, and Mondays for a few weeks, until we decide to work on the well again. Finishing the well from last year should start sometime in March. The work left on this project is to dig a few more meters, build the walls and make a door. I’m in the process of writing a proposal for some money to supplement the money we got last year since the project so drastically changed. Due to overwhelming support, we’d also like to clean out the bottoms of and do top well repair on the other two wells in the village. These wells were significantly overused when the well we were working on closed down, causing damage to the tops of the wells.

As for me, I’m happy as a clam! It’s great to be back in village after a long time with visitors, and fantastic to be working again. I’m also looking forward to coming home in May for my good friends Liz and Ryan’s wedding. It’s so hard to believe that these two years are almost up! It seems like only yesterday I got here, and now I have only 6 months before I leave. Any ideas for post Peace Corps?

Some pics:

http://picasaweb.google.com/chelsea.ransom/WeddingAndElephants?feat=directlink

http://picasaweb.google.com/chelsea.ransom/LaurenInMaliDogon?feat=directlink

http://picasaweb.google.com/chelsea.ransom/SelibaAndVillageLife?feat=directlink

THANK YOU!

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Sun, 11 Jan 2009 21:10:00 +0000

To everyone who so graciously donated to the latrine project initiated in my village, THANK YOU! In under two months, more than enough money was raised to fund this project. It looks like there are even enough funds to cover finishing the well project. It will take about two weeks for the money to arrive in my account, so I can begin to buy supplies with my counterpart, Hadi. In the meantime, my friend Lauren is here to visit me, and I'm headed up to a wedding in Hombouri. My counterpart will be attending a technical training session in January, where he'll learn to repair wells and build latrine slabs. Also a speical thanks to Donna Dunn and Mel Danaher, who have put in more time and energy than I ever thought possible. Without them this would not have happened, so thanks! I'll try and keep you posted!

Holidays and Projects

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 17:58:00 +0000

It’s another sunny, blazing hot day during “cold season”. It’s Sunday, which means the men have all put down their daily work in the fields to work on the latrine project. Four of the eight women have also set down their work to undertake the daunting task of feeding 35 very hungry men. If God is willing, this will be their last day digging the latrine holes. They have been working hard each Sunday for the past five weeks. The next step in the process will be to gather sand and gravel for the concrete bricks for the walls and slabs to cover the latrine holes, and digging up boulders to fill the covered waste water areas, aka “soak pits”. At this point in the harvest season, the corn has already been shucked, peanuts dried, and the oranges and guavas are gone. Right now, my friends are off cutting and beating their rice; cutting and beating nawelena, a red seed found in a spiny brown pod that is sold for a good price and turned into oil; digging out their sweet potatoes and slicing them to lay in the sun, amongst other daily chores.

On Monday, December 8^th, the big Muslim holiday, Tabaski, which marks the pilgrimage to Mecca and the day when Abraham’s sacrificial child was switched with a sheep. Everyone who can afford to buy a sheep to sacrifice did so, and the sheep market was especially CRAZY in Bamako, where sheep can go for $100 each. Those who can’t afford sheep will get goats instead, and those unable to afford either will get chickens. I ate my full of meat, and didn’t discriminate this year on parts. I ate everything but the bone, including bone marrow, fat, and I even added stomach and heart (yum!) to my list of strange meat eaten while in Mali. Most of the adults bought new outfits for their children and some for themselves. I put on my nice, new, stiff bazin outfit and joined them at their makeshift mosque at 9 am for the prayer. This year’s fete was a little bittersweet for me. I remember last year’s Seliba Tahiru’s mother came and got me and made sure I was dressed appropriately. Since the death of her son, she hasn’t been the same, and our relationship doesn’t go beyond greetings. I remember it as being a time of happiness and excitement. I was new to the village and it was my first big holiday. It fell close to Christmas, so I could feel the holiday cheer. I also spent most of the day with Tahiru and threw a party at my house where my friends came and played cards and I gave the children gifts. This didn’t happen this year, and not having Tahiru around to celebrate with was a heavy place in my heart. Instead of an exciting day in anticipation of the next year to come, it was a look back at the past year, in which much tragedy has struck my life, and realizing my time in Mali is more than halfway over. The blessing you say this day is “May God show us another year”, and it was always followed by the person noting that I wouldn’t be here next year to celebrate with them. Life moves in mysterious ways.

So I have to apologize for not writing more often, but I realized that if you guys are going to be donating to my projects I owe it to you to let you live vicariously through me. I wanted to write about the other big holiday this year, which had much more significance to me. It was the day that marked the end of Ramadan, the holy fasting month, which fell on September 30^th this year. This holiday was more important to me because of the connection I felt to my village. During Ramadan, Muslims will fast for 30 days. Fasting means waking up at 5am (3am if you’re a woman and need to cook), and stuffing yourself with rice and sauce. Then you go back to sleep until normal waking time. During the day, which fell right in the middle of rainy season this year, you are not permitted to eat or drink anything until the sun sets at around 6:20. People work a bit less and sit around more, but no tea to go with the chatting. I was amazed at the number of people who would leave at the normal 7am and do grueling field work until 4 or 5pm with no water. They say it’s easier to fast when you have your mind off it. In the evening, people are tired and a bit cranky and eager to break fast. Fast is broken when the radio sounds the three bangs (gunshots?) and is followed by some singing. At this time, hot Malian “coffee”, which is extremely sweet chicory tea and bread are consumed. After a few minutes, you drink millet porridge. Most of the time I was full from this food and didn’t eat more, but some would eat corn tô or rice and sauce. Of the 30 days of Ramadan, I spent 17 of them in my village, waking up at 5 am to eat with my host family and breaking fast at sunset with them. The first few days were hardest, but when you put your mind to fasting, it’s really not that bad. By far the hardest part is trying to stay hydrated, as you can only drink water half the day, and those hours are spent sleeping or eating. The festival marking the end of Ramadan, Seliden, for me was a much more exciting time. I got new clothes made, participated in the prayer, and stuffed myself with meat and good food again. It was so great to see everyone’s spirits lifted now that they had gotten in good with God, and can go back to drinking tea and work full time again.

Between Seliden, and Seliba (Tabaski), I had my first visitors to Mali. They arrived in late November and spent two weeks with me. When they first arrived in my village, the WHOLE village came to greet them. I’ve never seen them all in one place at one time before! The next night, we had the first balafone (traditional instrument similar to a xylophone) party in my village since I got here. It was such a delight!! We danced until 2am, when the musicians got tired and had to make their way back home. It was such a beautiful experience to dance with the people of my village. The highlight of the night for me was when I realized none of the elders had danced, that it was all full of young men and women. I urged a few of them to dance, and one by one, they joined the group until finally all of the old men and women were dancing together, and boy can they MOVE! Malian dancing is all pretty similar without much variety but these old people sure put a spark in the night! That is a memory I will not soon forget. After a generous goodbye and giving of gifts, we sadly left my village to head into Sikasso to celebrate Thansgiving with the larger Peace Corps community, where the food and company were fantastic. We next made our way up to Mopti Region, where we drank beers and watched the boats come in and the sun set on the Niger River. The next morning we were off to Dogon Country, where we only had enough time, money, and energy to do a day hike. It was still amazing, and I think my family was able to see enough to get a feel for the life and culture. The next morning we made our way through Djenne, home of the biggest mud structure in the world. Unfortunately, because the mosque is still in use and there is so much tourism, the security was tight, Malian style, the market was full, and the number of people wanting to be our tour guides was overwhelming. We then passed through to Segou (one of my favorite cities) where we relaxed by the pool and watched the sun set over the Niger. We spent two nights in Segou before heading to Bamako where we took a nice boat ride on the river, ate some good western food, and heard some good music. We also took a stop by the museum, which is filled with old artifacts and a cool textile exhibit (although all in French).

Now, it’s Sunday, about a week and a half before Christmas and only a few weeks before my next visitor, a UVM college friend, Lauren, comes to visit. As of yet, I have no Christmas and New Year’s plans, but am not fretting, as I’ve come to understand even the best laid plans get foiled! As for the short term future, a few good friends of mine, and fellow PCVs will be getting married at the Hand of Fatima rock formation in northern Mali, where I plan to get some climbing in. This next 8-9 months or so I have left in country seem seriously packed, as I think I’m the only volunteer who hasn’t left country yet!! I have 48 vacation days to use and two projects to do! Thanks for reading, and thanks even more for your donations, keep them coming! I’ll try my hardest to keep you updated!

Latrine Project

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Sat, 06 Dec 2008 12:30:00 +0000

Hello all!

Welcome to a new era of my work in Kadiaradugu. I have just recently completed a proposal for 22 new latrines and bathing areas in my village. This will be enough to supply one per family unit in the village. I've submitted my project through the Peace Corps Partnership Program, which funds projects by donations from friends, family and others in America. In order for this to happen, I'll need YOUR help!! 100% of your donations are tax deductible and go DIRECTLY to the project (no hidden admin fees). The village is very motivated, and has already zoned the village in anticipation of a new electricity project (so the latrines don't get ruined when the lines come through), and has dug all of the holes for the latrines. They are awaiting funding to make the reinforced concrete slabs and build the brick walls. Please help make this a reality for the village!

Some of you will receive in the mail a complete copy of the proposal I have written with instructions on how to donate. If you didn't get one and you would like one, please send me your address. Others have received a letter from my very generous support network back home (Donna Dunn and Mel Danaher). To clear up the confusion as to where to donate, I'd like to explain the objectives of the rest of my service. Our goals for the village during my remaining 10 months in country are as follows: (1) To complete the latrine project (2) To finish the well that was started last year, but had to be stopped due to the rains, and (3) set up the village for a means of finding a pump. The first initiative is underway, a proposal has been submitted, and we're awaiting donations to complete the project (see blog sidebar). The well project cannot be started again until later on in the dry season (April or May) so that we can dig it deep enough to ensure it won't dry up. Because the initial proposal for this project was well repair, and not complete construction, additional funds will be needed. A budget has been completed, and will be submitted when the funds for the latrine project have been collected. Finally, the pump situation is a little more complicated. There is government funding available for a pump, but because of some difficulty in getting the village recognized by the government, it is unclear if they will see that money or not. Either way, because of how spread out the village is, they will need two pumps. Ideally, we'd write a proposal for one and get the other from the government, but we are still unclear if this is possible. I will keep you updated as the pump information is available.

After my remaining 10 months are completed, inshallah (God willing), there will be another water and sanitation volunteer that will replace me to continue work in the village. This is where two donation locations comes in. You can donate directly to the Peace Corps Website to the latrine project, but when that is funded completely, it will be taken offline, and any donations above the needed amount will be donated to another person's project. I'd like to keep fundraising going, so that it will be quicker to collect funds for the well project, which is why the church account is open. As funds come into the church, they will go to the latrine project, until it's funded, and anything above that amount will be saved for future projects in the village, including the pump and well. When I get done in Mali, I plan to come back to America and continue to help fundraising for this village as long as there is a volunteer here to implement the work. Please help me and my community members in making Kadiaradugu a more sanitary and safe place.

If you have any questions, feel free to email me or leave a comment here and I'll get back to you.

Thank you!!

A Tragic Accident

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 18:59:00 +0000

On Tuesday, December 2nd the Peace Corps Mali community lost a very important member. Cristina Nardone had completed her Peace Corps Service and returned to Mali to work on an irrigation project for a medicinal garden near the city of Bandiagara. The article posted in the local newspaper has been translated below:

Bandiagara : Tragic Collapse of a Water Towerl'Essor n°16337 du - 2008-12-04 08:00:00
An American was killed last Tuesday in the collapse of a water tower. The accident occurred in the village of Kokodiougou, 15 kilometers north of Bandiagara in the rural commune of Doucoumbo.
The victim, Cristina Nardone, was the coordinator of the Global System Tourism Alliance (GSTA). Her compatriot, Brenda Adelson was injured in the accident. Christina Nardone was a member of the Federation of Traditional Medicine in partnership with the Regional Center for Traditional Medicine in Bandiagara.
The construction work on the water tower was finished last Monday. The structure measured 4 meters in height; with 2 meters being for the pillars and 2 meters for the portion holding the water. The water tower was entirely constructed of cement.
The day after the construction work was completed, the two women visited the site, along with the builder, to visit the water tower, which was to water medicinal plants in the botanical garden managed by the "Federation of Traditional Therapy" of Bandiagara (FATTB) in the village.
Upon arriving at the site, Christina Nardone asked the builder to fill the basin with water.Several minutes after the water tower was filled, it collapsed on the two women who were unfortunately under it.The collapse led to the sudden death of Cristina Nardone. With respect to Brenda Adelson, she suffered an open fracture on her left leg.
As soon as they were alerted, police agents from Bandiagara arrived on the scene and the victims were immediately transported to Mopti.The builder of the water tower is currently being held at the gendarmerie.
The entire population of Bandiagara prays the victim will rest in peace and for the rapid restablishment of Brenda Adelson. The two women were true friends of the Circle of Bandiagara.

O. GUINDOAMAP-Bandiagara

Christina had a beautiful spirit and through her work and life she inspired many people, including myself. May she rest in peace.

RIP Tahiru Berthe

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 17:13:00 +0000

The morning of Friday, June 13th started off like any day in my tiny village of Kadiaradugu. It was a bit overcast and cool when all the masons gathered in the center of the village to start work at around 8 am. It marked the first day of work repairing the main well in the village, which supplies water to over 50 people, or 1/5 of the village and sits in the dugutigi’s (chief of the village) concession (large family housing group). Work started by setting up the pulley system that would be used to lower the masons in the well. Everyone was excited to begin work, as most of the masons were eagerly awaiting their first descent into a well. By the time the pulley system was in place, it was 9 am and the hot Malian sun was beating down so hard on us that I joked that we should make a gwa (grass roof) to cover the well area while we worked. I was a bit tired and my crankiness was pointed out by my friend, Hadi, so I went to my hut to make some coffee. When I reemerged with my French press full of Ethiopian coffee it became the talk of the concession. I poured some into a small metal cup and let the dugutigi try it. He exclaimed “there’s no sugar!” and immediately handed it back to me. Knowing Tahiru, my homologue, likes coffee I gave the rest to him. I then let a few other brave souls try it, and all gave the same response – a pursed lip look coupled with an exclamation of “there’s no sugar in it!” Tahiru, however, intercepted the cup each time on the way back to me, drinking down every last sip. He had been observant during my PHAST (Participatory Hygiene and Sanitation Transformation Series) formation of my inability to function in the morning without it, and although he was already extremely perky today, he exclaimed “it’s medicine to make me happy!” He was goofy like that and I couldn’t help but laugh.

We started work again with a demonstration of how to handle the pulley system, lowering each mason into the well one by one, starting with Hadi. He’d worked in the diamond mines in Cote D’Ivoire, which are much deeper and narrower, so it was no big deal for him. He was lowered and raised without incident. Next came Dau, who had also been in wells before. He was a bit nervous, but with his determined face, you wouldn’t be able to tell unless you really knew him. When he came up, Tahiru went down. This was the time he’d been waiting for since I first described in my crude Bambara (local language) how the pulley system works. As my main work partner, we had stumbled through our PHAST together, planning each session by flashlight in the evenings. By the end of the PHAST we had determined the most logical steps to take to improve the sanitation of the village. He’d helped me write the proposal, and it was his concession that was to become the model concession for the village. Although he was afraid to get in the well, he knew that everyone else in the village was too, and partly because he feared we wouldn’t make the quota of 5 masons (we surpassed it with 6), he decided to step up to the plate, putting his fears aside and enter the well. He’s a big guy so it took all the masons with all their might to lower him into the well and raise him again. When he got his feet back on solid ground, he gave me that big dimply grin, with the missing front tooth and sparkling eyes that I’d come to know so well, and said “I wasn’t scared!”, but you could tell the adrenaline was pumping through his veins. After him the other three masons were lowered one by one, so that each person would know each position on the rope and as the watchman.

After all the masons had mastered the art of lowering and raising into the well, and been quizzed on what they learned the previous day, we were ready to get the water out of the well, and lower someone in to measure how much repair was needed. Like last time, we decided to start with the pump Tahiru uses for irrigation in the fields. It didn’t work last time, but we had a meter less to go this time, because we’d torn apart the top of the well. We also had the ability to lower someone in the well to work with the motor. So it went, and the motor was lowered in. It didn’t work at first, so Tahiru was lowered in with it. He soon got it to work, and there was a mad rush of women to fill up their buckets. I was watching a child, Bakary, at the moment, but caught out of the corner of my eye that they were pulling Tahiru out, so I got up and walked over to the well just in enough time to see his head and shoulders lift above ground level. Next thing I knew his head slumped to one side, and he released his grip on the rope that held his life and the seat that he was sitting on flew into the air. Mass chaos broke out. The women and children lost control, screaming, pulling their hair, flailing their bodies on the ground, and making noises I didn’t know were human. I remained calm because I knew there was no way anything could happen to him, it was Tahiru after all, my rock. The one who had taken me under his wing, helped me understand his culture, and believed that I knew what I was talking about when everyone else laughed in my face. He was the one who I talked with late into the night every night about everything under the sun; one of the few who could understand my Bambara, and showed patience and insistence when he couldn’t. He physically and emotionally built me a home in a village so far from, and so unlike my own. As the dugutigi’s son and natural born leader, people came to him for advice. He had a family, three young kids, two wives, a mother and father, and numerous brothers and sisters. In my eyes, he was going to be the next dugutigi. He was the village leader. So, nothing could possibly happen to him. We were going to pull him out and I’d do CPR, he’d be okay.

I tried to calm some of the women and children but realized it was no use. I yelled over the chaos at the men that they had to pull up the pump, so they did. I then told them someone had to go down to get him, so Hadi got ready. They all took their positions on the rope and lowered him down. I ran to my house to get my First Aid guide to get a refresher on CPR. I got my phone and called the only people I knew who might be able to help. Peace Corps said they’d call the Sikasso hospital and fire department, and I called the Peace Corps mason, who said someone had to go in after him. By the time I got back, they were fashioning a new wooden seat to put Tahiru on so they could both come up, leaving only a few people on the rope that held Hadi’s life. Shortly after they threw the seat down, Hadi came back out of the well filthy and soaked, with a look of despair and defeat on his face. We looked at each other like that for a minute while the rest of the world melted away. It was then I knew he wasn’t coming out alive. I walked away from the well, and fell to the ground where I lost myself in the chaos of the village. I screamed and cried, pleaded and sobbed. I insisted that I get in since I knew how to swim, and blamed myself for coming to the village. Hadi and Tahiru’s brother, Nuhu, kept their cool and took turns holding my hands and comforting me while I surrendered to the chaos. The next few hours are blurry, but I watched as his other brothers, and the other villagers came home from the fields one by one and were told the news. They all had the same reaction – to try to get away from the other men to get down in the well to retrieve him. They were all held down, and each time, I sobbed again. I felt extreme pangs of guilt about being sent to this village, and helping start this project. Hadi, seeing my despair, took me to the dugutigi, Tahiru’s dad, who held my hands and told me to look into his eyes. Looking into this wise old man’s eyes, I couldn’t help but feel calm right to my core. He said to me “Dry your tears. Don’t cry. God took my son today, you did not. This is God’s will. Even if you never came here, he would have died today another way.”

At this time, I asked where the mason I’d hired from Bamako to help me with this project was. I was led to the concession that he was in. When I came upon where he was, I found him lying on the ground in a concession outside the main part of the village. He grabbed at my ankles, and sobbed “what happened? How did this happen?” I took his hands and told him that it wasn’t him; there was nothing he could have done. I told him exactly what the dugutigi told me, that it was God’s will. This calmed him down for a bit, but as the lead mason on the job, he felt just as responsible as I did. It was then that I found out his body had been pulled from the well. I lost it all over again, and struggled against them to get back to the village to commence CPR, even though I knew it was too late, but again I was restrained.

As time crawled on, the news spread and people started showing up by the hundreds. The whole concession was overflowing, and people spilled out into my area of the village, blocking my concession door. Although the Sikasso ambulance and fire department never came, the doctor from the nearest CSCOM did, and he approached me as I returned to the village. He looked at me and told me that he had checked out the body and that there was nothing that could be done.

As I wandered around the village trying to figure out where I fit in, I felt alienated and longed to find Tahiru to ask how things would proceed. He was the only one I ever asked, and I trusted him to give me the answers I needed. Without him to turn to, I found myself a stranger in my own village with no answers.

I continued wandering and ran into Hadi. He asked me where I was going, and I stated I’d like to see Tahiru. He said okay, and took me to the room he was in. Before I entered he asked me if I’d be scared, and I told him no. As I entered the dark room, I saw him on the far side, covered with a blanket. Hadi removed the blanket so I could see his face. I asked if I could touch him and he said yes. I took his hand in my own and told him how fortunate I had been to come to his village and get to know him. I told him that I understood that God needed him right now, and apologized for letting this happen.

Tahiru, you were an honest mentor and teacher, an eager student, a driven and encouraging homologue, a loving and hard working father, husband, son and brother. Your enthusiasm, leadership and ever present smile will be dearly missed for all who had the blessing of experiencing your presence.

I want to thank the Peace Corps staff and everyone who has helped me through this tragedy, especially the PCMOs, Alkalifa, Kris Hoffer, Alyssa Karp, Christine Sow, and the Sikassokaw.

I just want to thank you
For all of the things you’ve done
I’ve been thinking about you
I just want to send my love

I send my best to you
That’s my message of love
For all the things you did
I can never thank you enough

Feel like I’m falling
Falling off the face of the earth

I just want to tell you
You sure mean a lot to me
It may sound simple
But you are the world to me

It’s such a precious thing
The time we shared together
I must apologize
For the troubled times

Feel like I’m falling
Falling off the face of the earth

~Neil Young

Thanks to the never ending hard work and dedication by two women most dear to my heart, Donna Dunn, and Mel Danaher, there has been a Memorial Fund set up in Tahiru’s name. This Fund will help fund the very water and sanitation projects that came out of the PHAST formation that Tahiru spent so much time dedicated to. As soon as a website is created I’ll post the link. For now, tax-deductible donations can be sent to the following address:

Church of Christ
330 Dorset Street
South Burlington, Vermont 05403

You must put Tahiru Memorial Sanitation Fund on memo line.

Work Project Update (kind of)

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Mon, 19 May 2008 10:24:00 +0000

Hey guys, it’s been awhile, sorry, life called!! I think most of you have gotten a copy of my proposal via email, (if you’d like to get it let me know). UVM recently contacted me to write something for their Reunion weekend’s theme of the “environmental and sustainability arenas”. So, here is what I wrote:

My name is Chelsea Ransom, and I graduated from UVM in 2005 with a BS in Civil/Environmental Engineering, and a minor in Community and International Development. I’m currently serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Mali, West Africa, where I arrived in July of 2007, and will stay until September 2009. My village is a small Senufo village with about 250 residents. The literacy rate of my village is around 5% which is way below the national average of 24% (reference). The most widely spoken language is Senufo, with over 20 distinct dialects. Despite the many scholars working in Mali to preserve the language, it remains unwritten, and without its own alphabet. The second language is Bambara, a much more widely spoken language, and is what I use to communicate with my community members. A third, much less common language spoken in my village is French, the national language. My job title here as ‘Water Sanitation Engineer’ covers a small fraction of the work I perform in the environmental and sustainability arenas.
A water and sanitation committee has formed in my village, which is in charge of educating the rest of the community members in proper health and sanitation activities such as hand washing with soap after leaving the restroom and before eating, filtering and treating drinking water, sleeping under a treated mosquito nets, decreasing the amount of standing water, and keeping latrine facilities and garbage areas away from drinking water sources. Some of the engineering projects we’re working on include top and bottom well repairs, washing area, soak pit, and slab latrine construction, and hand washing stations.
There is also a women’s shea association who is currently selling shea nuts to raise enough money for a cereal/shea grinding machine, magazine construction, and women’s literacy and numeracy trainings. A majority of these women have also begun working towards creating a community garden space with a central concrete and mortar brick lined large diameter well. The community garden will tie into a two-week long child nutrition and ameliorated porridge demonstration based on the Hearth model, as well a composting and waste management training.
One-third of the Peace Corps Model is based on providing sustainable, technical support to a community. All of our projects aim to be sustainable in the villages which we serve after our two year tour is over.

Ala ka dayoro suma

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Wed, 16 Apr 2008 09:55:00 +0000

Hello blog readers (are there any of you out there?)

I was sitting in village about three months ago, when I got a text message from my fellow PCV Christopher Krey. He is one of the first second year volunteers I met here, and ironically enough we have a mutual friend in Ann Arbor. This is besides the point, but he was in the same homestay family in Missalabougou as me the year before, so we've become brother and sister. Anyhow, he sent a text message that our little brother Adama, who was born during his time in Missalabougou got sick and despite taking him to the doctor he didn't make it. As you might recall during a post at the beginning of this blog, this is the same small village that was hit hard with three deaths during a week when I was there. This came as a big shock to me, and naturally my emotions were all over the place, from disbelief to grief, anger, injustice and sympathy. My host family was amazing, one man with only one wife, and this is not thier first child lost. A few years before I came, one of their siblings was swept away during a flash flood on a walk home from the fields. On one of my last days in village, my host brother Ladji took me to her grave, where I stood in silence looking at the now dry river where this young child lost her life. News like this always comes when I seem to have gotten comfortable with my new way of life, and forgotten about the grief and injustice in this world. But the harsh reality is that when my two years are done here I go back to the luxuries of American doctors, running water, and malaria free mosquitos, but Mali will still be here and children will still die every day. So, please, today and every day, call, write, email or hug your children, do anything to let them know they mean the world to you. Don't let that opportunity slip by.

Awa and Adama

For some pictures of baby Adama as Chris knew him, and for his view on the death please check out his blog at http://www.faceyboy.blogspot.com/. It's the Saturday, February 16th entry.

Seliba

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 14:57:00 +0000

When the morning of December 21st, Seliba (Tabaski, or Eid Al Adha, the day of pilgrimage to Mecca) arrived, it felt a little like Christmas, minus the snow. The entire village was alive, with the crackle of frying furu-furu (fried millet cakes), and sight of brand new, pressed, specially tailored, colorful clothes only to be worn once, with stickers still firmly attached. The excited feeling you have when you wake up on Christmas morning and head to the beautifully lit Christmas tree was the same feeling that overcame me as I wandered around Kadiaradugu that morning. Excitement was everywhere, and I felt it arise in me when Géné, one of the children, came up to me with a big toothless grin and said “Seliba is today!”

For me, Seliba started the day before, when all of the women got dressed up to go to the special pre-Seliba market. Our markets are always on Wednesdays, but this was a special market, and what is normally a small, empty marketplace had turned into an almost saturated, bustling place. I walked with the proud women of my village to the market that day, their children strapped snugly to their backs and their empty buckets and bowls safely balanced on their heads. I greeted my usual friends, mingled in the market, drank some dégé (sweet yogurt with millet), and dublini (sweet hibiscus tea), and went home. That night, my friend Wasa came over to apply the jabi (Malian henna) I had bought in market that day. So began one of the best nights in village yet. We pulled my straw mat into my front yard and got to work. The entire process took a few hours, which were filled with the beautiful, distinctive laughs of my female friends. We spent the night chatting in Bambara, and pretending like I can speak Senufo, which elicited multiple howls of laughter from my lady friends. At one point there were four women working on my feet, all lit by the light from a single flashlight gripped between Wasa’s neck and shoulder.

Wasa applying Jabi
My lady friends helping out
Pre Jabi feet
Jabi feet
Post jabi feet

Mine and Wasa's

The next morning found me in bed with jabi, plastic bags and socks on my feet, with Wasa yelling softly to me at 6:30 to get up and remove the jabi. I washed it off, and mixed the rock salt consistency rat poison with ash and water, used to turn the red shade of the jabi into black. When my cuts were taped up and the poison application was finished, I proceeded with my daily activities of pulling water from the well for drinking, cooking and cleaning, and reading. Today was different, however, as I was to be at the mosque by 9 am for the big prayer. I didn’t have much time to heat my water for my bucket bath, bathe, eat, and get my clothes pressed before the big prayer. Luckily, musokoroba came to my house and gave me furu-furu mixed with water and sugar for breakfast, sparing the need to cook. When I was ready, I put on my best Malian outfit, and musokoroba showed up to give me her white shawl (again) and escort me to the prayer area. As I was walking up to prayer, an old woman approached me telling me that my skirt was too short. This skirt was below mid calf, so I was quite surprised, but utterly embarrassed, and after much chastisement, was on the verge of tears. What would happen to me if I disrespected their sacred place? Would I get kicked out, or would they just look at me differently from here on out? Some of the women agreed it was too short, but others said it was okay, so I proceeded to the mosque. Despite the fashion faux-pas, this trip to the mosque was less nerve-racking than the last one, and one musokoroba actually requested I stand in the back and take pictures first, and she would call me to prayer secondly. I snapped some pictures, and then joined in the group. It was much cooler and more pleasant than the first trip to the mosque, and I remembered to bring money this time. After mosque, I was only able to snap a few pictures of my villagers in their special Seliba outfits before they hurried home to change clothes and start preparing the meat for the feasts.

Prayer at the outdoor mosque area.

The old ladies (musokorobas) of the village in their finest clothing
One of the dugutigi's wives, Seitu
My host father, Bakary
One of my host mothers, Korotum
My friend Wasa and her husband, Yacou
Me, in my finest clothing.
Wasa and I
My language tutor, Sidiki and his family

I walked around the village and gave my greetings, and handed out the 5 chickens I bought to Hadi my supervisor, Lasina the village doctor, the dugutigi, Tahiru my homologue, Bakary my host father, and Sidiki my language tutor. I watched a few goats being slaughtered, skinned and prepared, and preceded to my house to prepare for the party I was set to host in the afternoon. Thanks to an EKI package, I had a ton of toys, including gliders, kaleidoscopes, balloons, stickers, jumping frogs, magic writing tablets, amongst others. I made banana bread in my solar hot pot, and a majority of the men and a few women came over, where we made tea and played a Malian card game called 151. It was a day full of laughter as I blew up 100 balloons, with the men watching me in amazement (they couldn’t seem to figure out how to do it). I watched the curiosity and creativity of these men as they looked through a kaleidoscope for the first time, put the gliders together backwards, watched the magic writing disappear with the swipe of a finger. I made many old men and women jump and shriek as I pressed the bum of the jumping frog, causing it to leap at them (there is a strong dislike and even fear of frogs here in Mali). They decided the best use of the plastic frogs was to glue them to their motos. They were equally as fascinated with the stickers of colorful cartoon fish (Finding Nemo?) They couldn’t believe that fish like this existed, and when I tried to explain that smiling fish with googly eyes didn’t really exist, they couldn’t understand the concept, and decided that they just didn’t exist in Mali, but surely they could be found in America.

Slaughtering of a goat
Skinning the goat is an amazingly delicate art. Some men and kids in my yard playing cards.
My homologue Tahiru and my supervisor Hadi have matching clothes on.
Some village boys all dressed up.
And the village girls all dressed up.

As evening fell, the party ended, and people went home, happy with their new toys, and amazed at the things they had discovered about America (including banana bread). When night fell, I went to Bakary’s house where I feasted on goat meat, including liver and who knows what other parts, but turning down the invitation to eat stomach. I went to bed full, happy and exhausted. It was a wonderful holiday, with Christmas just around the corner. Check your email in a few weeks for my Christmas adventures and more photos.

Living Conditions

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Sun, 02 Dec 2007 12:17:00 +0000

Happy belated Thanksgiving! Thanks for all the feedback on the recent blog entry! It has only recently come to my attention that the majority of you don’t really know what my living conditions are like. I’ve been here n village for 2 months now and am starting to get a feel for what’s around and feel better equipped to post a blog about them.

I’m living in a village called Kaidiaradougou. It’s in the Sikasso region (shown below) and about 75 km south of Sikasso ville on the main road. I’m 25-30 km from the Cote D’Ivoire border. There was an unofficial census taken in April that puts the population of Kadiaradougou at 254. I like that it's tiny, and I’m getting a feel for who’s who. Although it’s on the main road, it has a “bush” feeling because I’m not replacing anyone, and most people haven’t seen a white person before.

Since I’m not replacing a volunteer, my house was built new for me this past spring. It’s a 2 room house, with walls made of mud but creped with mortar on the outside to prevent melting in the rain. The ceiling is pretty high, and the roof is corrugated tin. The floor is made of cement, and is relatively flat. I have a screen door, and two windows, all placed logically on the same side to prevent cross circulation.

I have an outdoor bathing/relieving area made of mud walls creped with mortar. It’s divided into two separate areas, one for bathing and the other with a hole in the ground. I have a separate cooking and storage hut with mud walls and floor and a roof of tin.

I have a front yard with a wooden gate.

When harvesting is over, and the cold season is underway I plan on having a hangar built so I can sit in the shade and invite people over for tea. Just outside my concession, I’m in the process of creating a compost pit and would like to plant a garden.

Every day I pull water from the well in the middle of town for drinking and bathing. The well is by no means clean, and in fact clogged my water filter within a month due to a petroleum problem. I can tell this because of the smell, and sheen that is apparent on the surface. I now prefilter my water through a piece of fabric before use, to extend the life of the filter. Currently I take bucket baths, although I found a solar shower left over from another volunteer’s service, and will hang it when I can build up the walls of my nyegen to support it. I cook my own breakfast and lunch, using a gas stove. I usually eat oatmeal with whatever dried fruit and nuts gets sent from the states, and sometimes I smoosh a banana in there. Sometimes I eat Bashi, which is dried, pounded peanuts, millet and corn that you soak in water with milk to create a sort of porridge. I also am a huge fan of oatmeal pancakes, which I make frequently. If it’s the day after market, I’ll make myself an omlette with some veggies. I just recently bought a “Hot Pot” which is a cooking pot that comes with a reflective surface surrounding it, enabling one to cook food using the sun’s rays. It apparently can get up to 200º F but I haven’t tried it yet. I believe I can bake cakes in it, and it will be useful for cooking things like beans and rice. I can put it in the sun at 9 or so, and have food by noon. Quite convienient.

My village has no electricity or running water, although some people have rigged lightbulbs to batteries to create lights at night. Everything at night is done by lanterns, flashlights, or moonlight. It’s remarkable how much night life depends on the moon. When the moon is full, the village is awake late into the night, yet when the new moon arrives, people go to sleep much earlier. Most villagers are unaware of what month it is on the Tubabu calendar, relying on the moon to tell them when soccer season starts, when to plant their crops etc. It’s a beautiful thing.

My closest market town is walking distance, but has a very small selection. I am able to buy eggs, rice, and sometimes a limited amount of vegetables in my village. The next closest market town is an hour or so by bike, and has a much wider selection of fruits and veggies, including bananas, guavas, rice, beans, avocado, watermelon, plastic and cooking utensils, as well as a clothing section and full cell phone reception. I can also buy radios, some school supplies and pretty much anything else one might need. As you might imagine, transportation of goods on an hour bike ride in the sweltering heat is a small problem. If I buy tomatos in the morning, and put them in my plastic bucket to be strapped on the back of my bike, by the time I get home, they’re oozing. With no refrigerator, veggies don’t last more than a day or so, and with market once a week, I rarely have fresh veggies to cook. There is another market town that I go to once in awhile that is an hour and a half by bike. It’s a border town and is quite bustling. There is a much wider selection of goods there, as Cote D’Ivoire imports can be found there.

My last meal of the day is eaten at my host family. They are absolutely amazing. My family consists of a father, Bakary, 3 mothers, Jatah, Korotum and Sitan, and 4 children – 2 boys aged approximately 24 and 13 (Madou and Seydou), and 2 girls ages 16 and 4 or so (Fatumata and Afu). The 16 year old girl also has the most lovely, happy, loud and beautiful daughter, not quite walking yet named Worokia. These are only the family members living in the village. There is also a young boy, who lives elsewhere and goes to school, 2 older married girls and an older boy who drives cars from Bamako to Abidjan. I could go on and on about my family, as I spend a fair amount of time at their house, eating dinner after sunset, and oftentimes drinking tea and chatting at their house (in Bambara of course) until late into the night. I'll spare you and show pictures instead.

L to R: Worokia, Sitan, Fatumata, Daramine, Afu and Korotum

Bakary, harvesting cassava with Madou in the background

Me, Seydou, and Madou after a day of picking oranges

Fatoumata and little Worokia

For dinner we usually eat to, which is a thicker-than-jello mixture of corn powder and water. It is eaten with the hand and dipped into a sauce, usually burning hot with peppers. My personal opinion is that it’s quite good. It seriously lacks nutritional value, however, which is why I cook my other two meals at home.

Me cooking millet to

Jatah cooking to

Finally, I come into Sikasso about once every few weeks to use internet, charge things like AA and AAA batteries, camera batteries and IPod. I take care of any business I might need to do including mailing letters and going to the bank, and posting blogs. I plan on getting a solar panel in the near future to help with this in my village so I don’t need to ration flashlight and IPod time. I can also buy a much wider variety of fruit and vegetables, and can enjoy cold water from a tap and cold beer at the bar. My tailor is also here, so I can have pants, bags and anything else made here for relatively cheap. It’s quite the amazing setup!

That’s all for now, sorry for the dryness in this post, but I figured you might like to know what living conditions are like here!! Next post will be more flavorful I promise!

New experiences

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Mon, 29 Oct 2007 18:04:00 +0000

So, I’m having trouble deciding what to write in my blog, so any suggestions would be nice. Stories? General information? What do you, the reader, want to hear?

This time, I’m going to take an entry right out of my journal.

This trip to West Africa has been all about firsts for me. The first time I’ve eaten lizard for instance, or gutted a chicken with my bare hands. The first time I haven’t spoken English for over a week, and the first time I’ve understood what it really means to live in abject poverty without running water or electricity. The first time I’ve unremorsefully committed genocide (those damn ants actually EAT your walls). The first time I’ve seen worms pulled out of a puppy, only to watch the puppy die a few hours later. The first time I’ve been to a child’s funeral.

This entry, however, is about my first trip to a Malian place of worship, in this case, the makeshift mosque in my village:

It’s the end of Ramadan, here in Mali. The night before the fete, the dugutigi’s wife comes to my house and tells me everyone will be praying at the mosque the following morning at 9, and I should come. Nine AM arrives, and I go to her concession, a little nervous, and she’s nowhere in site. I had a lot to do that day, so I started my laundry. The anticipation started to build. What was this going to be like? Do I really want to go? Will I be accepted, as they all know I’m not Muslim? How can I get out of this? Should I leave my house and avoid the situation, later apologizing? I then thought back on a conversation I had with a fellow EKIer. There was a time when I was making my first trip to the field alone, and I was so nervous I wouldn’t know how deep to dig the well, or where to put it, but he told me that it’s essential to do things that test your boundaries, for only then can you become a better individual. This sure was going to test my boundaries, so I decided I’d suck it up and go. She comes to my house at about 9:45 wearing her new clothes bought for the occasion with her white head covering on. I quickly put on one of my two Malian outfits and came back out. She handed me her nice white head covering, using her older one for herself, because she could tell I couldn’t get mine to stay on. We were a little late, but the ceremony hadn’t started, and many turned to look as we came in. I heard my name, Pamuchen, muttered amongst them, and more people turned to look. The mosque in my small village isn’t really a mosque. It’s three old melting mud walls, and serves as the weighing station for crops as well as a soccer field, and game playing area when the moon is bright enough to see at night. We lined up in the mosque, women behind the men. There was a row of men and 2 rows of women. The musokoroba laid out her mat so that we both could fit on it. We then were reorganized by a man that came around, and moved us in line with the other women. We were packed in like sardines, and the relentless Malian sun was starting to beat full force. As we stood there, people turning to look at me, I was laughing had a huge grin on my face, but tears were welling up in my eyes. I was completely overwhelmed with emotions I didn’t know human beings were capable of feeling. Here I was, in a Malian place of worship with not a clue what to do. I feel superbly awkward in churches in the States, and it’s pretty awkward being around Malians in general, so to combine these two situations was a stress I’d never felt. I’d seen Malians pray a lot, they do it five times a day, but I’d never paid enough attention so that I could do it myself. So, I followed the pack, I moved when they moved, and I did what they did. Finally, we were kneeling and the Imam delivered the service. I sat there, covered from head to foot in clothing with the blazing sun burning down on me, and sweat dripping everywhere, down my arms and legs, and pouring off my face. I was afraid someone might see the puddle that was surely forming underneath me. We kneeled for about a half an hour at which time I noticed that everyone had a dorome or a fila (small change) laid out in front of them except me. I was mortified. Here I am, this Toubab, with all the money in the world, and I didn’t even bring a penny donation to the mosque. The guy came around collecting money in the jar, and I was so nervous that with nothing to give I’d be viewed as just another stingy white person. Luckily, a woman down the row caught this faux pas, and passed a dorome down to me, so that I could donate too. It was truly the Malian way. When the service ended, I was dizzy from the heat, and soaked in sweat. We got up and greeted one another, and headed back home. It was an enchanting experience to say the least.

There are all sorts of days here, fast ones, slow ones, solitary ones, and ones when you can’t seem to get away. Days when you think you understand the language and days when it feels like you’ve never heard it before. Days when you’re so overwhelmed with stress you think you’ll lose it, and days when you’re so overwhelmed with joy you could cry. Days when you’re so inspired by the enthusiasm you see around you and days when you feel so defeated it’s as if you’ll never get anything done. Days when you’re homesick and miss the comforts of running water and electricity and family and friends and food, and days when you realize you have all you need at your fingertips. Days when you can laugh at yourself, and days when you want to cry when they laugh at you. Days when you think Malians are rude, and days when you can realize it’s not being rude, it’s just a cultural difference. One thing I’ve always thought about but never fully understood before is that each day is a new day. Each day is the first day of the rest of your life. If there is something you don’t like about the way you’re living, or the way things are going, each day is an opportunity to make it right. It’s this knowledge that keeps me going through the trials and tribulations that make up Peace Corps service.

End of Training

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Thu, 20 Sep 2007 06:42:00 +0000

Hello to all my faithful blog watchers. I have to apologize for not being as faithful to you as you are to me. As I sit down to write at this computer I don't know where to begin to describe the innumerable adventures I've had since arriving in Mali, hence avoiding the computer all together.

Anyhow, first things first, it's been a time of many deaths. First, our one and only Shakey Jake passed away on Sunday, and I'm sure Ann Arbor will mourn his loss. Secondly, the death of the Michigan Football team. I'm just glad I don't have to be there to experience what will surely be Lloyd Carr's final season.

On the same note, it was a trying past couple of weeks in my homestay site. It's funny how in the last few weeks before you leave a place, everything just happens at once. When pulling up to Missalabougou from Bamako for the last time, I discovered that our village had grown to approximately twice the size. The men and women were dressed in nice clothes, and gathered in groups divided by sex. The women were cooking kilos and kilos of rice to feed all of the guests. Turned out the occaasion was my first formal funeral. I say formal funeral because the previous week, a little girl living in the concession next to my fellow trainee, Lisa, passed away for unknown reasons, and they just do a burial and small ceremony when children die. Anyhow, this time it was an old man that had passed away a week before, and they had come to celebrate his life. I walked aruond and greeted hundreds of people, most of whom were much more interested in finding me a husband (their son will do), or complimenting my clothes, only to ask if I might give them to them, than talking about the deceased. All were extremely friendly and laughed a lot, you'd never have guessed it was a funeral.

The next few days were great, studying hard and finishing up language class, and some technical trainings on water borne diseases. One night the next week all of the trainees in Missalabougou (the 4 of us) were over at Mary's house hanging out, and she expressed that her dad had left much earlier to take her much sick 3 year old brother to the doctor in the neighboring village. He finally returned with his wife and child on his moto much after sunset, and we greeted him and went home. The next morning I woke up and went to my LCFs (Language and Cultural Facilitator) house to get some water, and he informed me that the child had died the previous night from malaria. This death hit a little closer to home, and made for a somber morning. We went to the small gathering that morning at Mary's house, where again, the women and men sat divided and the men gave many blessings to the deceased. Some of the blessing are: Ala ka hine a la, meaning "may God have pity on him", and Ala ka dayoro sumaya, meaning "may God cool his resting place".

Death was taking a toll on our morale, and we needed a boost. Luckily, a few days later, the Peace Corps trainers and some fellow trainees from neighboring villages came to Missalabougou to help us build a soak pit and wash area. The wash area is just a concrete slab constructed with adequate drainage where women will wash their dishes and clothes. It drains into a covered pit full of giant sandy boulders. This helps keep the graywater from sitting on the ground leading to all sorts of unsanitary conditions, as well as a mosquito breeding ground. It was quite the community project and it was fantastic to finally be able to give something concrete back to Missalabougou.

Just a few days after the construction of the soak pit, we had to say our final goodbyes to our families. Quite the bittersweet day. I'm more than ready to settle down for the next two years (you all know this hasn't happened since high school!), but it was tremendously sad to pack all my things and leave the people who have fed me, taken care of me, played and laughed with me, and helped me learn the language for the past two months. I made a promise that I would come visit them in the future. I just hope it's sooner than later.

Finally, I sit here in Tubaniso, on Thursday September 20th (Happy birthday to mom and dad!), 7 AM, before most are awake, to post this blog. Today, I will go into Bamako to find and price out certain construction materials such as concrete, sand, tape measures, etc. Tomorrow is our Swear-in Day, which is what we've been working so hard to get to for the past 2 months. Swearing in signifies that we've passed our language, cross-cultural, technical, medical and safetly and security tests. It also signifies that we're no longer PCTs but now PCVs. From what I understand, there will be a ceremony at the Embassy, and then we'll return to Tubaniso to have a picnic with all of the current volunteers, the PC Mali staff, as well as any RPCVs in the country, and two representatives from our families from homestay, provided they can afford the transportation cost. Anyhow, then we head into Bamako, and the volunteers show us a good time in the city. We have all day Saturday in Bamako, and I leave Sunday morning to Sikasso. I'll be staying in Sikasso until Thursday, when I'll be installed at my site. So, this means for those who are interested, my cell phone is working until then, and you can email me for the number if you'd like to call.

I must wrap up here, there are many waiting for this computer, but I finally wanted to leave you with some pictures I finally got the chance to upload. Enjoy and keep those letters coming!

PS. If you click on the slideshow below, you will be redirected to another page where you can view the captions on the photos.

Get crackin

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Tue, 28 Aug 2007 12:35:00 +0000

Ok, so my blogs have been limited in number and content. Here I will try to explain the reality of my experience thus far in Peace Corps Mali.

Missalabougou (my home stay village):

My home stay village of Missalabougou is somewhere between 200-300 people. It's about 5 kilometers off the main road, with the ride into town being quite treacherous on a bike, and is often washed out in the rain. My family there is amazing. I have a host father and only one mother, which is rare in a Muslim village. They have 12 (I think) living children, of which 7 still live in the village. They are extremely friendly and caring, cooking all my meals and helping me with language. I have one particularly nice brother, Ladji who is approximately 12. He's extremely smart and helps me learn Bambara every night after school. There are 3 other Peace Corps Trainees (PCTs) in my village, all of whom are enthusiastic, dynamic and supportive people. My teacher at the school got his degree in English in Bamako, and is an amazing help in communicating, teaching and cross-cultural adaptation. I'm getting ready to head back to Missalabougou in a few days for the last 3.5 weeks of training. I'm super excited to get out of the rigid life of training but sad to leave my host family at the same time.

My permanent assignment: Kadiaradougou

I just got back from a 4 day visit to my site, and it goes a little like this: The village is approximately 75 kilometers south of Sikasso city. It's amazingly lush in the Sikasso region and rumor has it you can get pretty much any fresh food you want most times of year. This is good news for those of us in the land of To. I have a few mango trees visible from my house and am super excited for mango season, which unfortunately just ended. Other trees we have growing in the immediate vicinity of my house include papaya and banana, along with other unidentifiable fruits with interesting Bambara names, to be identified at a later date. My house is a fantastic 2 room home made of mud bricks with a tin roof. I have a separate cooking house across the yard also made of mud with a tin roof. I have an outdoor bathroom area with two rooms, one for showering, and the other for natural and sometimes not-so-natural human practices, called a nyagen. My yard is fenced in with a nice gate to keep the animals out. My village has 254 people according to a survey just completed by my language tutor. My counterpart, language tutor, and jatigi are extremely nice people and were very helpful during my visit.

The village has requested my presence to deal with a perceived water quality issue. Almost every family concession has it's own well, some covered, some uncovered. They are hoping that I can help them to install a pump. Peace Corps encourages us to integrate into the community for the first three months, and just get a feel for the way things work, so updates on my projects may not come for awhile.

As you can see things are absolutely wonderful here. I'm learning so much, and making so many friends. Technical training just started, which will continue throughout service. It includes things such as how to design and build a soak pit and well, how to make mud bricks and cement and grout mixtures. There is more to come which I'll keep you posted on!

I have a new address as of September 22nd, my Swear In day, which will be

Corps de la Paix

BP 227

Sikasso, Mali

West Africa

Feel free to send snail mail as I will only be able to access Internet once every few weeks, and personal emails might be difficult to return. It's really fun getting mail (and pretty reliable) and you will most certainly get return letters as I foresee a lot of spare time on my hands in the future! Food items are also welcome! I would like to stay updated on my friend's and families lives, so start writing, and I will too!! Finally, cell phone service is a no-go in my village, but I can receive voicemails 25 km away, so contact me if you want the number, and you can leave me a message! Hope all is well in America, and let's stay in touch!

PS Picutres to be coming soon I hope!

Placement

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Thu, 09 Aug 2007 11:34:00 +0000

Well all, after a long process and much excitement, I have finally received the location of my site which I will be stationed at for the next 2 years!! I will be stationed in the Sikasso region in the south of Mali. I will be pretty close to Sikasso, the regional capital, and it appears I'm not too far from Ivory Coast either. I'm really excited about my placement. I heard from a currently serving volunteer that my village is relatively small, but not too far off the main road, both characteristics I was hoping for. I also hear that because it is south, the agriculture is good, and I'll have a wide variety of food. I've been holding off on learning about the different regions, because I didn't want to develop a bias before the assignment came, and risk being dissapointed. Now, I'm so excited to learn more about the region and I'll keep you posted on what I find out! As for now, things are going great in my little homestay village of Missalabougou, the people are amazingly friendly and I'm picking up bambara slowly but surely. I haven't had much technical training but it seems like most of that comes after I swear in as a volunteer and get settled at site (or maybe it happens during training?) Anyhow, I'll keep you posted and hope to get some pictures up here sometime soon!!

I am also looking forward to hearing from you all, and knowing what's going on in your lives in the states! Remember that you can send me mail at any time at the address to the right, and I should get it! Email is also good!

K'an ben sooni!

Safely in Mali

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Mon, 23 Jul 2007 21:22:00 +0000

Hello all! I made it safely to Mali, via staging in Philly and a layover in Paris. We (all 81 of us) got here on Friday, July 20th. We're in our own little Peace Corps village outside the capital, Bamako. It's the rainy season here, and we just had our first huge thunderstorm last night, perhaps the loudest thunder I've ever heard! We're living in little mud huts, three to a hut. Our training starts each day at 8 and goes until approximately 7. Training includes health, safety, cross-cultural, and Bambara, and is mostly conducted by Malians in english. We will split up and move on Thursday to a homestay village, where we will complete the next 8 weeks of training. I don't know where I'm going yet or what language, and I won't know where my final site is for at least a few weeks. In the first homestay village, a group of 5-11 of us will be placed in the same village, but different families to ease us into village life. We'll be taking about 7 hours a day of language class, and combined with immersion, we should become stable enough in our respective languages by the time we go out to site. We had a nice cultural festival here today where jewelry and clothes were sold and made. I got some henna tatooing on my feet and hands, and picked out a nice fabric and had a pagne and shirt made. It was quite the experience. Anyhow, things are wonderful, and I look forward to hearing from you! Sorry for the lack of visuals, I'm pretty sure it would take forever to upload!

Going Away

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Tue, 17 Jul 2007 03:33:00 +0000

After three and a half short weeks in Ann Arbor, the time for me to leave has come. My brother threw me a going away party, and I was so fortunate to have so many friends there, coming from all over. Thanks to all in attendance!

Liz and Mandy

Joanna and I

Joanna, Erin and Debbie

Elissa and I

Alison and I

Me and Pops

My new stepmother and I

Well folks, it's been fun here in the states, and a million thanks for all those who helped make this transition a smooth one. I'm off to Philadelphia tomorrow where I will begin the biggest adventure in my life. I'll spend two days there, and fly to Mali via Paris for my nine week training. I'm not entirely sure what happens from there, but I'm sure it will a challenging and rewarding experience. I'll keep you posted from time to time! Feel free to leave comments on here, or send personal emails, and I'll try to respond as often as I can. Keep me posted on what's happening in your lives too!!

Dad's Wedding

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Sat, 14 Jul 2007 00:03:00 +0000

I flew back from Vermont into Denver and began the end of my road trip. I hopped on I-70 across to see something new. This route brought me through Topeka, Kansas City and St. Louis, where I saw the arch and had dinner. It was quite a nice time, but the midwest is quite boring after all those natural wonders. I arrived home on Friday June 22nd, and after 16 days living out of a suitcase I sure was happy to be home!

After arriving home, I had a little time to relax before the second wedding took place. This time it was my very own father uniting with the mother of a good friend of mine from high school, Taraneh. It was a beautiful day for a beautiful ceremony.

Left to Right, Carol (Anita's mom), Anita, Bill and Jeanne (Bill's mom)

The bridesmaids, Taraneh, Elissa and I

The groomsmen, Javan and Matt

The ceremony

Cake time!

Sisters

A very happy couple! Congratulations Bill and Anita!!

Vermont Wedding

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Fri, 13 Jul 2007 21:15:00 +0000

On 14 June I flew to Vermont to attend the wedding uniting Sunni Dunn and Michael Eriksen. It was a most fun weekend, and the Dunn hospitality was once again impeccable. The ceremony was beautiful and the reception was quite a time, followed by an after party and an after after party. I was able to play the discgolf course in Waterbury on Sunday, which was a real treat.

Jesse and the flower girls at the reception

The parents of the bride made a most lovely slideshow video of the bride and groom as kids, we all got a kick out of it

The most lovely bride

Parents of the bride and groom

bridesmaids and flower girls

Lighting of the candle

vows

The groomsmen

The Old Round Church in Richmond

Jesse and I at the reception

Arches to Boulder

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Fri, 13 Jul 2007 21:00:00 +0000

6-11-07

As everyone who's ever been to Arches knows, the campsite fills up at 8 AM in the summer. Since I arrived early afternoon, I had to travel outside the park to find a campsite. I was lucky and got a spot in an awesome campground, Negro Bill's. My campsite backed up to the Colorado River and was very secluded. It was the best campsite I had the whole time.

I then headed into Arches for a long hike. I had my heart set on the Devils Garden Primitive Loop. It was a bit ambitious in the late afternoon but it was overcast, keeping temperatures down and tourists away. Despite a full campground, I only encountered a few other groups on my hike. The hike is a 7.2 mile loop that visits eight arches, most off the beaten path, including Private Arch,

and Double O Arch

My absolute favorite part about the hike was all the bouldering.

At the end of the hike (actually halfway because it was a loop) there was a formation called the Dark Angel shown below. It was quite the structure as it was in the middle of nowhere by itself, and the stone was actually black.

At the end of the hike, a rewarding view of Landscape Arch, which is one of the world's longest stone spans, at 306 feet long and only 11 feet thick in the middle.

After an amazing afternoon, I saw the sunset in the park, and again, it was overcast, and not great for pictures.

Waking up the next morning, I had to hurry to get to Boulder to a friend's house before my flight took off to Vermont for a wedding. It was a rough ride over the Rockies, raining and hailing, but I made it in time to unload and go to bed.

Bryce Canyon

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Fri, 13 Jul 2007 20:45:00 +0000

6-10-07

After leaving Kaibab, I went back north to Utah's Bryce Canyon. The scenes here were breathtaking.

I finally got to a park early enough to set up my own campsite, and even take a hike before sunset. I hiked the 3 mile Navajo Loop to the Queens Garden Trail. It was quite the change from other hikes I'd taken on the road trip, because you hike down first, and the canyon is at approximately 9,000 feet MSL, leaving you short of breath. The hike down brought some crazy formations into view.

For those who don't know, Bryce Canyon was underwater at one point, but is now completely dry.

One of the coolest things is that you can really see the layers, and when you're hiking down, you go through the layers. There was this one white layer that really caught my eye. I never did find out what caused it.

I was fortunate enough to watch the sunset, again not excellent for pictures, and have a picnic dinner on the rim of the canyon.

Notice the Polygamy Porter
It was going to be a long haul to make it to Arches in time to find a campsite, so I woke up in the morning just in time to see the sunrise over the eastward facing canyon (again not good for pictures, unfortunately). I quickly packed up my campsite, and was off to the most beautiful Park of them all.

Grand Canyon

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Fri, 13 Jul 2007 20:30:00 +0000

6-9-07

Upon departure from Zion I drove through Kaibab National Forest. The Forest had previously been devistated by a forest fire, and a huge logging operation was taking place to prevent trees from falling in the roads. The road through the forest took me into to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon.

I only had time to sit and enjoy for a minute before heading to find a campsite outside the Park, as it was peak season, and the weekend.

I drove back into Kaibab National Forest, where camping is open as long as you are a certain distance away from the road. After a speedy 35 miles on a dirt road, I arrived at a remote campsite that looked over the canyon. I made it just in time for sunset, but it was cloudy so pictures weren't well. This is a picture of the canyon from my campsite the next morning

After making a mental note to come back ASAP and backpack into the canyon, I was off to explore another canyon, Bryce.

Zion

noreply@blogger.com (Chelsea) — Fri, 13 Jul 2007 20:19:00 +0000

Thanks to those who noticed the pictures weren't working and notified me. I'm new at this, and it's not as easy as I thought it would be!! If you have any other suggestions feel free to leave a comment for me!

8 June 2007

After driving through Vegas,

I made my way to Zion Canyon where a nice guy from the Netherlands let me pitch my tent on his campsite. After making dinner, I went for a hike and watched the sunset.

I woke up in the morning and after some convincing from a friend, I decided to take the Angel's Landing hike. It was probably the coolest hike I've ever done, climbing 1,488 feet over 2.5 miles. There were times when all you had to hold onto were chains. It was a strenuous climb

but the views were extremely rewarding.