Coniba School Update

Hello blog followers,

Early in 2012 I posted a plea for funds to send my friend Coniba to medical school, and I sent personal emails to all who donated thanking them for helping to raise enough money for a year of tuition, so thank you! It has occurred to me that there are other people out there reading this blog so I wanted to post an update here as well. Additional funds have been raised and another volunteer (Katherine Arnold) has helped raise the funds for her third and final year, which she is now halfway through. I have been talking with her older brother about her options after school, whether she'd like to work in a big hospital in the city or return to the village to work there. We have discussed the pros and cons of both, and I have encouraged him to speak with her about going to a bigger hospital for some more experience before she returns to the village. I think this will allow her diversity of thought in her practice, help build her confidence and give her much more hands on experience. Either way, I know she'll be an excellent doctor.

The letter posted below also discusses the hardships my village experienced around the time of the coup. From what I can tell in conversations with my friends there, the situation in the south has been back to normal ever since the French intervention allowed Mali to take back the north. Clearly the situation up north is not back to "normal" yet, but because of the enormous size of Mali, this has had little effect on my village.

The letter I sent dated 6/2/12:

Hello all,

I want to sincerely thank you for your donations to my dear friend's education! As you may have heard, times are extremely tough in Mali right now, ever since the military overthrew the government and the rebels and Muslim extremists took over the northern half of the country. I was living in the south when I was there, and the community I call home has not yet been forced to flee. Food shortage is rampant and they are having extreme difficulty selling their goods on the market. Talk of closing the borders induces fears of fuel shortages, without which they would not be able to charge cell phones or leave the community and markets will further decline. Things have been hectic and the people there are certainly suffering. 

In spite of this all and thanks YOU who donated, my friend Coniba (Kadiatu) Berete was able to stay in school and she is just finishing up her first year of medical school. She is getting ready for an internship where she'll work for 3 months at a hospital and gain hands-on training. She sent me a thank you letter which I wanted to pass along to you. It is translated below:

Hi dear friend!
It's with real pleasure that I address this letter to you to give you my news. I am doing really well and I hope that this letter reaches you and your family/friends in the same good condition.
I'm writing to thank you for everything you've done for me concerning my school fees. I thank you infinitely!
Everything is well here, and with you, how are things? All my family is with you in spirit. You are unforgettable for me, and I hope we can always keep this friendship. These were the few phrases that I wanted to say to you.
I leave the pen here, though my heart is full of love. Thank you and your family.
Friends,
Kadiatou

I apologize this took so long to reach you and I hope it finds you in good health and spirits! 

Thank you again,

Chelsea

Holiday Greetings and Request

Happy holidays to friends and family near and far!

Last year I celebrated my Christmas at the Fang Fang Restaurant in Kampala, Uganda with a good friend on my way to Nanyuki, Kenya to work on a project.  It was a quick trip and my New Years was spent waiting at the check-in line at Entebbe Airport in Uganda.  After seven Christmases away from Michigan, I was fortunate this year to spend a long overdue Christmas with my family in Michigan. 

2011 brought me on many exciting adventures, including four more months in Africa.  Funded through the University of Michigan, I spent three of my summer months at an internship in Uganda working on a bicycle generator prototype at Technology for Tomorrow in Kampala and Fort Portal.  While in Uganda, I met some amazing people and forged friendships I that I expect will be long lasting. 

After the internship I went back to Mali for three weeks.  Returning to the completely transformed community of Kadiaradugu was one of the most exhilarating and fulfilling experiences of my life.  They now have two pumps with gardens in addition to the latrine and well projects I completed.  Coming home again invoked a celebration as if it were my first day there again.  They were as surprised, excited and welcoming as they were on my first arrival there.  I choked back a flood of emotions as I stared speechlessly for hours at the babies that were born during my service now walking and talking, and the girls who became young women in my absence.  I only stayed a few days in Kadiaradugu before heading to Bamako with my work counterpart, Hadi, where we met a Peace Corps Volunteer and began building a wind turbine and two bicycle generators.  Unfortunately, I was unable to see this project to completion due to a bout of malaria.

I finished off my summer with a busy but relaxing and beautiful three weeks near Nanyuki, Kenya at the Mpala Wildlife Foundation where I met with three fellow University of Michigan students.  We’re working on a dynamic and exciting 16-month long project to provide Mpala with a water sustainability plan, and are planning a return trip to Kenya this February. 

2011 was a busy and fulfilling year and was not without tough times.  On June 27^th my paternal grandmother, matriarch of the Ransom family, passed away just one week before her 91^st birthday.  I was in Uganda at the time and was unable to support and mourn with my family, which was extremely difficult.  Following this event, I learned of other deaths including a friend from high school and another friend’s father.  These deaths combined with my own frighteningly intense battle with malaria and a respiratory virus that landed me in two hospitals in Mali and Kenya made me once again acutely aware of my own mortality.  I pondered the reality that life is fragile, and for so many survival is the only thing that matters.  I was reminded that amidst its beauty and wonder the world can be scary and sometimes the only way through it all is with the help of friends and family.

I returned to school in the fall, where I’m currently in my second year of a dual Masters degree program, Engineering Sustainable Energy Systems, in the School of Natural Resources and the Environment and the College of Engineering at University of Michigan.  Shortly after returning from Africa, I received a phone call from Hadi, who, in his most serious tone, said, “I need your advice.  My little sister (ba kelen, fa kelen), wants to go to medical school, what do you think about that”?  I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, it sounded like a no-brainer to me, and so I asked why he was asking.  “Well”, he said, “I didn’t go to school, and she’s younger than I am, and I wasn’t sure that it was okay for me to allow her to be more educated than me.”  Their father passed away years ago and she is unmarried, so he is her guardian.  This was quite the reminder about how different our cultures are!!  I encouraged him in what he already knew, that if she were to become a doctor, she would be an invaluable asset to the community. 

Her name is Coniba Berete, a 22 year-old girl whom I used to chat with almost every night during her school breaks.  She was previously enrolled in secretarial college in Sikasso, but the government teachers were striking on a regular basis and didn’t seem to take education seriously.  She also realized that with such high unemployment rates, a secretarial degree would probably land her back in the village working in the fields.  Hadi payed her tuition the first semester, which she completed successfully, but he doesn’t know how he will keep coming up with the money.  The tuition is only 945,000 fCFA ($1,900) for the entire three-year program plus housing and food.  While a small amount of money for us here in the US, I know this is a serious financial strain on him, so I’m once again asking for assistance in helping this community.  She’s already the most educated female in the community and if she were to complete the program successfully, she’d also be the first female doctor there.  Kadiaradugu has gained autonomy after years of struggle with the government, opening it up to government funding.  With a female doctor, they can apply for government funding for a maternity, forever changing the face of this community.  I’m asking you for your support in this effort to send her to medical school and give her the chance that so many of us take for granted.  I have set up a Paypal account and am asking anyone and everyone to donate any amount that you can.  The tuition receipt, along with a photo are attached, and all of the money will go to her tuition and housing costs.  When the money has been raised I will send it over to the school, securing her an opportunity that so many of us take for granted.

Thank you and happy New Year to all!!  I hope 2012 brings joy to you, your family and friends!

 

A Beautiful Life Remembered

I don't have too many vivid visual memories, but I remember a few things.  The brown house with that shaggy carpet, orange - or was it green? at the house on Creal Crescent, right by the park, where I used to go and work puzzles and raid the candy jar.  Butterscotch was my favorite and I avoided the spicy cinnamon ones that set my mouth on fire.  I vaguely remember the house in Geddes Lake with the big geese and the pond.  And more recently, the apartment at Chelsea Retirement Community, where I sent you letters when I was in Mali, and where I'd go once a month for second Sunday brunch with family, upon my return.  I remember that blue lightweight jacket with the alligator on it, and the beautiful umbrella from Ethiopia that sits in the corner in memory of Grandpa.  The gray shoes.  The dark blue elastic waist pants.  I can picture you in your light blue Lazyboy chair, listening to us talk about anything and everything.  Sometimes I thought our banter was too fast for you, but then you'd chime in, and I'd know how sharp you were.  Sometimes, when you was tired, you'd sit with your eyes gently closed, and I'd try to imagine what it was like being you, in a 90 year old body.  Certainly though, what I remember most about you grandma, was the feeling I got when you were in the room.  You had a gracefully strong and beautifully kind presence.  It was as if raising five kids gave you infinite patience, and the generation gap between us meant you'd seen it all.  I remember those days on Creal Crescent, trying to be on my absolute best behavior - I didn't want you and grandpa to think I had a bad bone in my body. Yet, somehow, I knew you knew.  I looked at you in wonder, in amazement at what you must have seen and experienced in your life. An infinite treasure chest of wisdom, patience, compassion and kindness.

The last time I saw you was at the May brunch, and I'd left, only to remember I had a disposable camera with one picture left on it, and I wanted it to be of the two of us.  I ran back up the stairs to apartment 351 to take our picture together.  I remember trying to decide where to stand for the photo, and we decided to take it in your bedroom in front of the closet.  Dad said that you died peacefully, in your sleep.  That you were tired, and ready to go.  It's so hard to imagine what that's like.  It has to end sometime, and even though I wish you could have stayed for another 90 years, I'm glad for you that you finally got what you needed.

I already miss you, so much - the way you look at me with your gentle all-knowing yet compassionate smile.  I miss those Sunday brunches, the only thing that consistently slowed me down in my fast lane student life.  I'll miss the boys always trying to outdo one another to show you they love you the most, and the way you roll your eyes at them and laugh at their silliness. I'll miss them hiding from you as they write on the prayer board, even though we all knew you knew our shenanigans.  I miss knowing that you're reading my blog, and I know I'll miss the excitement of opening birthday and Christmas books or trinkets that you'd held onto over the years. You spoiled us like grandmas should, always giving the best, most thoughtful presents. I'll miss your famous chocolate chip cookies, and receiving articles on Africa from you.  Even though I wasn't around much until recently, you always knew what I was up to.  Mostly though, I'll miss feeling your strong, wise, patient presence.  I'll miss how your presence somehow brings about a feeling in the room that isn't there when you're not. I can't imagine what it will be like without you. Who will the boys try to impress with their flowers and candies?
You were the glue of our family, the matriarch, and you've always had a way of bringing us together.  Because of you and grandpa, we have stayed united as an extended family for so long.  I feel so lucky for this and I hope that, in your honor, this beautiful tradition continues. I'm forever grateful to you for the way you raised my father.  He's an excellent man and the best father a person could ask for, and I attribute that to your love and kindness in raising him.   I'm so glad we got this last year to spend time with each other.  I will remember you for all these things and so much more.  I'm sorry that I can't be at your memorial service, and it breaks my heart that I can't be there to support my dad.  I'm comforted because I know you know how much I love and admire you.  Rest in peace, grandma, and know that you are loved by all who knew you and will be missed dearly.

Jeanne Bailey Ransom passed away peacefully in her sleep on the morning of Monday, June 27, just before sunrise.  She would have been 91 years old on July 4th.