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.

The Bicycle Generator

A quick internet search returns many bicycle generators, mostly for teaching purposes.  Yet, in spite of this information, there were more than a few people back home that expressed their doubt that a bicycle can create electricity.  I am proud to say that today our bicycle produces approximately 12V and 6.5 amps, or 80 watts.  To give you a sense of scale, CFL lightbulb that consumes 22-watts puts out as much light as a 100-watt incandescent lightbulb.  With 30 watts, my notebook can be powered and also charge the battery, my ancient, gigantic laptop consumes 75 watts, and my cell phone uses approximately 2.5 watts.

The bicycle generator comprises two systems - mechanical and electrical.  The mechanical system is built on a makeshift bicycle frame, and uses the traditional front gear by the pedals connected by a bicycle chain to the back freewheel.  The freewheel shares a shaft with a large pulley (the flywheel), which is connected to the motor by a v-belt.  The first bicycle was built with a larger flywheel and filled with concrete to increase the moment of inertia.  This system was connected to a car alternator.  There were 2 problems with this system. First, a car alternator really only works for an output of less than 30 watts, so when it was connected to the battery it became impossible to pedal.  The second problem was that the belt on the wheel and the motor were not compatible, and there was quite a bit of slippage:

According to the internet, it's possible to get up to 200 watts out of the system, and ours is only producing 80 watts.  The technician wanted to try adding another flywheel to the system:

As you might imagine, this extra pulley made it too difficult to bike.  The second pulley was taken off, and we reverted to the original system.  The electrical part of the system begins with a permanent magnet dynamo, also known as a low RPM DC motor.

When we measured the voltage directly from the motor, it was quite high and fluctuated quite a bit.  Our technician spent many days searching in the market for a voltage regulator, only to find the one he purchased was broken and couldn't be fixed.  He then purchased another one that eventually worked once we hooked it up to a small light bulb that acts as a switch to prevent the battery from discharging.

At one point, we even tried a charge regulator used with solar panels, but eventually reverted back to the car regulator.

Our next steps with this project are twofold.  First, we are currently working with 2 electrical engineers to hook the bicycle up to a computer program called LabVIEW, so that we can see the variation in power over time, and across different users to get a better sense of the capabilities of the system, and how it is used by users.  Secondly, we are building a second generator on a mountain bike frame using a gear box.  We are hoping to create more power with this system, and hoping that the cost will be kept down by using bicycle frames instead of building our own.  Our final prototype will probably be some sort of combination of the two systems.  Connecting these systems to the computer will allow us to better quantify the amount of power we are producing, and help identify areas of improvement.

The importance of Electricity

I remember a conversation with a friend over a beer in Ann Arbor shortly after I returned from almost 3 years in Africa.  She challenged my drive to work in Africa, more specifically my desire to bring small scale electricity systems to rural Africa.  Why do they need electricity, she asks?  It's a legitimate question.  A lot of Americans still picture Africa as an almost mythological place where people live in seclusion with no exposure to Western culture and the only light they need is the moonlight.  They believe if we bring electricity to Africa, we will somehow be "westernising" them, or selfishly "making them like us".  After all, illiteracy isn't a new phenomenon, and they've survived this long.  I struggled to see it her way, but I've seen so much evidence to the contrary.

In Kadiaradugu, Mali, where I lived for two years with no electricity or running water, a village with a population of 270 people, there were only a few people who could read, and nobody could read at a level that Americans would consider "literate".  Diarrhea, malaria, malnutrition, infections affecting whole limbs, and many other diseases are rampant.  There is no school in the village, so primary school children walk 1 km, and if they move on to secondary school, they have to bike 8 km, assuming their families can afford bicycles.  Most students didn't make it that far, and almost none made it to the high school.  It's true that the community members were amazingly happy despite the everyday struggle to keep themselves and their families alive.  It is a myth, however, that they are somehow cut off from Western society.  Most men had cell phones, whether or not they could afford to buy credit or use it properly.  They also had small flashlight bulbs they hooked up to 4-D cell batteries to see at night.  The chief had a solar panel hooked to a car battery, which is where I charged my cell phone, until it broke.  Another man had a TV that he hooked up to a generator when Mali was playing football, or on the rare occasion that he was feeling generous and wanted to show Terminator, provided he could afford fuel.   Most people have radios and listen to music or the news.  They are using electricity, but it's expensive and unsustainable.  Batteries litter the ground and more than once I saw toddlers chewing on them.  I imagine this is not a unique situation in much of rural Africa.

So, if we're to avoid "westernising" these communities by bringing them electricity, and allow them to continue to live how they are, throwing aid money at them for emergency food, vaccinations or ARV drugs, then we are doing them a disservice.  Because of our overconsumption in the western world, climate change is already hitting subsistence farmers hard; those whose entire livelihoods depend on predictable rain and weather.  Our electricity consumption is directly pushing people on the edge of survival further into poverty.  We have a tendency to sit back and think of reasons, - "if they would only have less children....", or "their governments are so corrupt it's beyond help".  With a life expectancy of 49, 10% of children dying before their first birthday, and almost 20% dying before their fifth birthday, who are we to judge how many children they have?  Corruption indeed runs deep, but it's a small percentage of dishonest people, and many more are the victims.  How can they lift themselves out of poverty under such dire circumstances? 

In order for people to lift themselves out of poverty, they need education.  They need to know market prices for their crops, best farming techniques, how to prevent disease, and they need to understand what to expect from their governments so they can work for change.  Does the fact that Egypt's youth organized their uprising on Facebook somehow show that they are so "westernised" that they have lost their culture?  I think many Egyptians, on 11 February 2011 when Mubarak stepped down, were embracing and celebrating their culture.  How could this have been possible if they couldn't read, or didn't have electricity?  Education in Africa begins with improving schools, providing good teachers who have incentive to teach.  In addition to good schools, they need to be healthy.  But, how can vaccinations and medications be kept cold, and how can night surgery happen without electricity?  How can children study at night without light?  How can students become engineers and doctors without electricity?

I strongly believe that teaching someone to produce electricity using everyday items found in local markets isn't "Westernising" them or causing them to lose their culture.  On the contrary, I believe it is empowering them to take important, life-saving matters into their own hands.  Teach a man to fish and he becomes less dependent on foreign aid and government help, which may never come.  Learning to produce your own electricity generates income, encourages out of the box thinking, makes learning fun, and provides a desperately needed service.  

Why Africa?

It was unusually difficult for me to come to Africa this time.  I had just finished a crazy year at school, after many years off; I’d visited an old friend in New York, and was enjoying the (finally) nice weather.  I was just getting comfortable with American life, living in my hometown for the first time since high school.  In Mali, I was immediately accepted and eventually became profoundly comfortable in my community, and since then I’ve been looking for similar community living in Ann Arbor but with no luck.  Despite my unsuccessful efforts, I was finally generating optimism about finding a close-knit adult community here at home.  I didn't want to leave again.  Also, due to a rewarding but extremely time consuming and challenging position as a graduate student instructor this past semester, I didn't have a chance to work on or cultivate my African projects, and my interest for the continent got swept up and lost in the daily grind.  For the first time since I returned from Peace Corps over a year ago, I didn't desire the upcoming change of scenery, and found myself asking “What is it that keeps bringing me back to this continent?”  I doubted that I would find the sense of comfort in Uganda that I felt in my community in Mali or even at that very moment in Ann Arbor – so why was I returning?  Those who have spent time in Africa know the unspoken answer to that question, so it’s those that haven’t been here that ask, and I’ve never been able to give them a satisfying answer.  This time, I couldn’t even answer the question for myself; I’d somehow forgotten why I’d spend the last year of my life trying to get back to Africa.  But I was committed, and my intuition told me to stick with it, so I got on that plane and flew back to Uganda.

After that long, uncomfortable plane ride surprisingly full of eager tourists and missionaries ready to see Africa, I disembarked and was comforted by the chaos, inefficiencies and misunderstandings that made my visa check last for hours.  After waiting in the parking lot for the boot to be removed from the car (it had been “illegally” parked in the spot where the tires mysteriously appeared), Dr. Musaazi drove me back to Kampala.  This ride brought me a sense of comfort from the things that usually elicit culture shock in other people – the seemingly chaotic driving styles; shaky shop walls leaning on each other topped with rusty metal roofs; dirty, naked children shouting “how are you”; police stopping vehicles with intimidating AK47s at road blocks; blaring music from clubs; wild dogs with hunger in their eyes - the simple “disorder” of daily life.  This sense of comfort was ephemeral; in a few days, I found the disorder of this new city to be somewhat scary and alienating, confirming my pre-departure fears.  Then, on my second day of work, I decided I needed to find a more permanent home than the cheap hotel I found in the city center.  I wasn’t sure how to find a place, so I brought up my dilemma at work.  Not more than 30 minutes later, a very hard working, friendly and dedicated female co-worker said her sister may have found me a place in a hostel (an unfurnished apartment building usually for students).  Just before lunch the same day, we went to check it out.  It’s modest, an empty room and a filthy bathroom with a shower, sink, toilet, and burned out light bulb, and access to shared kitchen space on the floor below.  Needing something closer to work and more permanent, I decided to take it.  After a stop for lunch, we headed to my hotel and I was met along the way by the most amazingly energetic, happy, bubbly woman (co-worker’s sister).  Maggie helped me gather my things together from the hotel, and move them into my new apartment.  She organized delivery of a bed, loaned me a mattress, sheets, dishes, her kettle to boil water (cold, non-potable water from the faucets only), and her stove, ensuring me I didn’t need to purchase anything.  Next thing I knew, she’d gathered her cleaning supplies and was literally scrubbing my room from top to bottom.  I tried to help, but mostly was probably just in her way.  When my bed was set with the mosquito net she bought, the light bulb installed, and everything clean, we sat on the floor in my new home and chatted the night away.  I knew immediately she’d be a lifetime friend. 

It was at that moment, four days into my trip, head spinning from the days events, watching a stranger (who happens to also be a doctor) vigorously scrub my filthy floor, laughing all the while, that I remembered why it was that I came.  I still struggle to explain the way I feel when somehow, out of nowhere (in a country where it takes 5 hours to get a visa), people come together to make the impossible happen in a day, so I’ll quote John Chernoff, from his book, Hustling is Not Stealing: Stories of an African Bar Girl,

            “These are the people last in line, those without the opportunity to participate in the universal grabbing. . . Despite the chicanery at every turn, they hold strongly to a fragile fabric of social decency.  Their approach to life is characterized by every type of exploitation but also every type of altruistic kindness.  How else can one account for the survival of the common people?  No economist has every figured out how they make it from day to day.  The per diem allowanced deemed appropriate by the U.S. Department of state is several times the monthly wage of a well-employed worker and more than half the people in a city like Accra are unemployed.  It is a situation that would turn us into gunslingers, and instead, people somehow hang together and get by.  The society may be disorganized but the people are not in disorder. . . Sharing is everywhere – sharing a room, sharing one’s clothes, sharing food, sharing a cigarette, sharing a laugh, sharing a moment in the evening breeze.  Under the pressures of modern living at its worst, the inherited values of the people do not break, though they often bend.”

It is these inherited values of this culture that brings me back every time.  It’s good to be home.  

An intro to T4T

After 2 years of service as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Mali, I spent 5 months traveling in Ethiopia and Kenya. When people heard that I'm an engineer, they would express their technical problems to me, most of which I found utterly helpless to solve given my American education on large scale systems. The more I thought about it, however, the more I developed ideas for simple devices and technologies to meet these needs. Little did I know at the time that these technologies have a name, “appropriate technologies” (AT), a rapidly growing industry.

I first heard Dr. Moses Musaazi, founder of Technology for Tomorrow (an AT company) and Electrical Engineering Professor at Makerere University in Kampala, Uganda speak at the U-M STEM-Africa Initiative Launch Conference in early May 2010, only a couple months after I returned from Africa. When I heard Dr. Musaazi speak, I was inspired by the work he was doing, and approached him after his talk. I doubt that he remembered me amongst all the eager professors and students waiting to speak with him but it was then that I became determined to learn from him first hand. In September I was introduced to Dr. Abigail Mechtenberg, a post-doc in the Applied Physics department at U of M, who is currently working with Dr. Musaazi on a Bicycle Electric Generator (BEG). Through this connection, I traveled to Uganda in December 2010 to meet him and discuss a potential internship. I then applied for and received, a student initiated summer internship fellowship through the William Davidson Institute (WDI), and funding for materials from the African Studies Center (ASC). I am extremely grateful for these sponsorships, without which I wouldn't have this amazing opportunity.

About the Company
Technology for Tomorrow (T4T) is dedicated to “making life easier while protecting the environment.” They use readily available materials to create solutions focused in three categories: sustainable building materials, health and fuel conservation. They aim to create appropriate technologies that work with traditional customs and habits, making them more transferable. Below are some examples:

ISSB
The Interlocking Stabilized Soil Blocks (ISSB), which use regular soil, don't need to be fired like traditional bricks, and only use a small amount of cement. The bricks are formed by loading soil, a small amount of water and a small amount of cement into a hand operated press. When the block is removed, it is strong enough to stand on and can be used after only 4 hours of curing building. This option is cheaper and faster than concrete bricks, reduces the amount of deforestation for fuel in fired bricks, and is more durable that regular mud bricks. Furthermore, because they are interlocking, the bricks don't need mortar in the vertical spaces, and only require a small amount in the horizontal spaces. The ISSB can also be made using a circular mold press, which are used to construct water tanks. Combined with a roof and gutter system, these tanks can easily and inexpensively be built on-site to harvest rainwater. Capturing rainwater can reduce erosion and flooding and provides easy access to water, reducing the amount of time and effort usually spent on gathering efforts.

Water Purification
Water purification technologies developed by T4T include the SolRay passive solar water panel to pasteurize water, and the Natru filter, adapted from a design by Canadian Professor David Manz. The Makiri hybrid stove improves on the traditional cookstove by replacing a clay portion with a metal portion that effortlessly circulates, pasteurizes and stores water while the user is cooking.

Sanitary Napkins
The most well-known invention of T4T are the Maka Pads; sanitary napkins made from papyrus. There are currently four production facilities in Uganda including one in Kayaka Refugee Settlement. Because it is a product for women, approximately 95% of the employees are women, including managerial roles. The pads are currently sold in bulk to the UN High Commission on Refugees (UNHCR), and other non-governmental organizations.

My contribution to new technologies
My time in Uganda will be spent working on the final phases of a Bicycle Electric Generator (BEG) prototype. I also will be helping with an improved design for a municipal waste incinerator, which uses only a match and some waste paper to ignite, at which point it uses only the waste for fuel. The new design will add a pipe which heats water into steam to run a turbine for electricity generation. I will be working on teaching a workshop to technicians in a rural area so they can design their own BEGs, and conducting rural and urban market analysis for the product. Pictures will come when I get a cord to connect my camera.

Finally Done - And in Ethiopia!

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

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!!

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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.