Grains, rains, etc

A few simple phrases can open up a new world in Mali. Today, Lauren and I had our first official Bambara lesson, with a charming old Peace Corps teacher named Doudou. Lesson #1 was devoted to greetings, and we were told that if we did not greet people as we passed, bad things would befall us. Note: a greeting in Mali does not consist of a simple “hello, how are you” – it is also followed with “how is your family, how is your brother, how is your mother, how is your second cousin once-removed.” Suffice it to say, the walk home from our lesson was somewhat longer than Lauren and I expected. With every group we passed, from mango venders to soccer players, our simple “Aw ni wula,” or good afternoon, unleashed a torrent of (albeit disjointed) conversation.

I will admit, some aspects of the greeting ritual may just be a formality (the mango vendor probably did not really care about my second cousin once-removed.) But at the same time, I think the ritual is a good indication of the Malian community dynamic. There is so much emphasis on neighbors checking up on neighbors, friends checking up on friends. It is no wonder that, even in one of the poorest countries of the world, the cell-phone business is thriving, since communication is key. Another ritual is even more telling: every night before dinner, groups of about 10-20 men assemble by age for the “grain”, a.k.a tea time. They slowly make the tea over a small stove-like apparatus the size of a coffee-maker, serving out portions one-by one in a shot glass, and passing it around the circle. Women sometimes join, so Lauren and I had the opportunity to attend a couple of these “grains.” We asked why there were so many parts to the process, and why they served the tea in such small quantities, and only served the glasses one-by-one (very un-Starbucks-like). The Malians simply responded, the longer the process the better, because there is more time to chat.

Other news, here goes bullet form…

-We briefly attended a wedding this weekend. And I mean BRIEFLY. On Sunday afternoon we heard music and drums from right behind our house and decided to wander towards the source. Sure enough, it was a traditional Malian wedding, and all of the women (this was the women-only party) were decked out in glamorous dresses. Lauren and I got ushered into the tent, and all of a sudden this lady gripped our arms and dragged us into the middle of the dance circle. Not knowing how exactly to dance to Malian music, we tried our best (translation- we humiliated ourselves), and within seconds a whole crowd of children were imitating our every move. After a few fateful minutes of this, the same lady dragged us out of the circle, and calmly ordered us, “maintenant, sortez” (now leave). Oops?

-Barack Obama is everywhere. He is on printed on Malian pagnes (women’s clothing), his picture is sold by street vendors, and he is stored on every Malian cell-phone that I have seen so far. We also ran into Obama the other day, in our neighbors house. An EXACT look-alike. He told us he was tired of people telling him that, and didn’t think there was any resemblance, but he did have three pictures of Obama stored on his cell-phone so that we could see for ourselves. World News Headlines: Barack’s twin brother found in Sikoro, Mali. Pictured right.

-We met the peer-educators this weekend, and accompanied them on a TB-Bolo excursion. We all met on Saturday morning at Mme Niallo’s house, who is “la vielle” (the old one) of the group. Though hard to keep up with the peer educators’ rapid chatting, we hit it off before long, and joined the peer educators in a hike through the slums up to a neighborhood perched up on a red rock plateau. We then each followed a peer educator into people’s households to observe the education session. The dynamic was much different from what you’d expect from a door-to-door salesman in the States: the peer educator walked in unannounced, and sometimes before even saying a word, he or she would be offered a chair and possibly a drink. Usually the head mother of the household would offer these in the midst of a flurry of other activities: stirring a pot of stew on the fire, tying a baby to her back, scolding her children and shooing a dog away. Then the peer educator would explain the premise of the program, teach a few simple lessons about tuberculosis, and ask if anyone in the house was showing symptoms. If yes, they were given discount tickets to the local health center. On Monday morning, when we went to the health center as it opened, it was very heartening to see several people arrive with TB-Bolo tickets in their hands!

-We also attended a Here Bolo education session, about HIV, which is done at the “grain.” It was impressive to see 20 young men surrounding the teapot, keenly listening to the educator and asking questions. Even more impressive when a wooden penis appeared upon request of a demonstration of condom application!

-The rains have come. Their arrivals are always announced well in advance. Wind, then lightning, then thunder, then BANG, it’s pouring, and all of Mali seems to rattle. The rain is followed by a blissful coolness. It’s wonderful.


Mosquito-bite count: Lauren has 19. She says it’s because she’s so sweet. I’m too lazy to count mine but I do believe she is beating me.