While my ‘American’ holidays were spent with my fellow American PCVs, I chose to spend my ‘Malian’ holidays in village. I’m actually a little worried about the fact that these two schedules happen to coincide in the same period of time, because with all 6 of these celebrations occurring during my first 4 months at site, how am I going to party for the next 8? I’m sure we’ll figure something out…
My first feti in village was the feast at the end of Ramadan. For the month of September, give or take a few days, a large number of people in my village fasted. A lot of women and most of the children don’t fast for various reasons, but the majority of the men don’t eat or drink from sunrise until sunset, despite that fact that they were still working in the fields. I did not fast, not being Muslim and all.
My second feti in village was Tabaski, which commemorates Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son, and the sheep given by God/Allah to save Isaac. We therefore killed not only sheep in village, but also a cow. I was really interested, so I asked my host dad if I could go with him to get our family’s portion of meat. I followed him out to the dirt square in the middle of town where, spread on top of a sheet of corrugated metal and 2 cow hides, there were about 45 individual piles of meat and organs to be divided among the 32 concessions in my village – some families are much larger than others and presumably got multiple piles. The men who were making the piles tried really hard to make sure that each of them got the same share of heart, liver, intestine, etc. on top of the actual meat, and then when that was all complete my dad went out and pointed to the pile he wanted. He got to select our pile first since he is the dugutigi, or chief of the village, and I think that’s why he also wanted to stay and supervise the rest of the proceedings. I headed back to their concession with my nephew to deliver the beef (plus some various chunks of non-meat cow product) to my sister, and then she taught me how to prepare it Mali style.
My third feti in village was New Years. I had been invited to a party near Bafoulabe, but I asked my family whether it was celebrated in village, and, being told yes, I decided to stay there. Silly me, I thought New Years was celebrated on December 31st/January 1st, but I ignorantly didn’t remember that the traditional Malian calendar is based on the lunar cycle, so we instead had our annual chicken dinner on the 5th.
Now you may be saying to yourself, thanks Karmen, but what does it mean to feti in Mali? Well, in my experience it mostly just means that you get to eat meat. Those 3 holidays I mention above are the only times I have had meat in village. Ramadan there was also some praying, blessing, and greeting in new clothes around the village to accompany the day-long meat consumption, but the New Years celebration was pretty much confined to my chicken and rice dinner. Tabaski, however, was a big affair. I actually got henna put on my feet, along with a lot of the women in Drametou, and they also braided their hair especially for the day. Since I just look bald and tend to burn my scalp, (spring training in Phoenix, as you may recall, was painful shortly afterwards,) I declined the offer to braid my hair in cornrows. I did however get a new complet made, which matched a bunch of other women in my host family, and I wore it that evening for the dancing. Malian women are apparently all amazing dancers. We imported some drummers for the music and then there was one giant drum which had to be reheated over the fire several times through the evening to keep the head tight, and the only other instrument was a cow bell. The women would sometimes sing along, but what I enjoyed the most was the dancing. I went out to the square in a procession of women following the drummers, and I intended to just watch, but was persuaded to dance a few times as well. Most of the time a couple women would go out in the circle together and shake their groove thing, but there were also a few individual performances and a few group dances. All of them were impromptu, and all of them put me to shame. Thanks to band, I’ve always thought I had a good sense of rhythm even if I was lacking in the dance moves, but I’ve got nothing on the women of Drametou. It was spectacular getting to watch them jump, sway, and bounce in the firelight, and even my 3 months of African dance class my last term at the U of O couldn’t begin to prepare me for it. They manage to dance beautifully even with an infant strapped to their back – amazing!
11 January 2009
09 January 2009
Wow – I can’t believe my Peace Corps service is 1/6th complete….well, complete is the wrong word, but I think you know what I mean. Since I haven’t been able to write since mid-September, I have many stories and experiences to share, far too many for one entry, so I’ll try to hit the highlights for you:
Perhaps the most significant event which I could possibly articulate is that I am now a mother. In mid-November I adopted a little girl who has become a daily joy (and frustration). I’ve named her Basi, which means both couscous and trouble depending on the context, and it’s proven to be appropriate for both, considering our diet and her precocious nature. She’s mostly white with some black patches and has become quite the mouser in the last few weeks, for which I am incredibly pleased (this was perhaps my main reason for getting her). She also curls up in my lap on a regular basis while I’m reading or writing, sleeps on my chest while I nap, and just generally gives me the affection I’ve been craving. She’s also well known throughout my village and if she happens to stray too far from my concession a small boy usually finds her and brings her straight back to me, which is unnecessary but very sweet and they always look so proud of themselves for helping me!
Other animal news: One night during my first month at site I was sitting in my concession studying after dinner when I caught motion at the edge of my lamp light. I stood up to confirm my suspicion, and, yep, there was a giant green mamba crawling across the compound. My surprise and poor language skills only allowed my to shout “Sa file!” (“Look a snake!”) to the woman in my concession who caught its fleeing tail in the beam of her flashlight as it rounded her kitchen hut. She, in turn, notified the men in the village and they set out to kill it before it got too close to small children or livestock. I, in the meantime, went into my hut to try and wrap my head around what I had just seen and only emerged after I could hear a group of people gathered outside. Shortly after I joined my village outside the dead snake was brought back on a stick, paraded a bit and then probably eaten. I’ve since then had one much smaller snake crawl through a small hole in my screen door as I watched, but it was quickly dispatched of as well. I have heard talk of many other snakes in the village, but I’m ok with only having seen the two.
I’ve taken 3 multi-day trips from my site in the last 4 months, all of which were a nice break from village life. In October I biked down to Manantali with my fellow volunteer, Brooke, which was a much more traumatizing ride than I had anticipated. The trip was just under 100 kilometers for me, more than twice as far as I’ve ever biked in one sitting before. The first 2 hours were really pleasant, with gorgeous scenery and pleasant temperatures, but the next 6 started to really suck. The weather was just getting hotter, the entire trip was upstream along the Bakoye and therefore slightly uphill the whole way, and I was just not quite prepared for that kind of endurance. Fortunately the next 4 days spent at the Peace Corps house in Manantali were run and relaxing and I definitely took a bush taxi back…
For Thanksgiving I took the train up to Kayes to meet up with a different group of volunteers at the house there. Kayes is the hottest inhabited city in the world, so I’m glad it was the cold season, but it was still significantly warmer than my village. Kayes, being so much bigger than Manantali, and on an important route, is much more of a city, so I was even able to partake in some soft-serve ice cream while there. For Christmas I met up with people again in Manantali, and, like Thanksgiving, feasted and celebrated the holiday amongst friends.
Perhaps the most significant event which I could possibly articulate is that I am now a mother. In mid-November I adopted a little girl who has become a daily joy (and frustration). I’ve named her Basi, which means both couscous and trouble depending on the context, and it’s proven to be appropriate for both, considering our diet and her precocious nature. She’s mostly white with some black patches and has become quite the mouser in the last few weeks, for which I am incredibly pleased (this was perhaps my main reason for getting her). She also curls up in my lap on a regular basis while I’m reading or writing, sleeps on my chest while I nap, and just generally gives me the affection I’ve been craving. She’s also well known throughout my village and if she happens to stray too far from my concession a small boy usually finds her and brings her straight back to me, which is unnecessary but very sweet and they always look so proud of themselves for helping me!
Other animal news: One night during my first month at site I was sitting in my concession studying after dinner when I caught motion at the edge of my lamp light. I stood up to confirm my suspicion, and, yep, there was a giant green mamba crawling across the compound. My surprise and poor language skills only allowed my to shout “Sa file!” (“Look a snake!”) to the woman in my concession who caught its fleeing tail in the beam of her flashlight as it rounded her kitchen hut. She, in turn, notified the men in the village and they set out to kill it before it got too close to small children or livestock. I, in the meantime, went into my hut to try and wrap my head around what I had just seen and only emerged after I could hear a group of people gathered outside. Shortly after I joined my village outside the dead snake was brought back on a stick, paraded a bit and then probably eaten. I’ve since then had one much smaller snake crawl through a small hole in my screen door as I watched, but it was quickly dispatched of as well. I have heard talk of many other snakes in the village, but I’m ok with only having seen the two.
I’ve taken 3 multi-day trips from my site in the last 4 months, all of which were a nice break from village life. In October I biked down to Manantali with my fellow volunteer, Brooke, which was a much more traumatizing ride than I had anticipated. The trip was just under 100 kilometers for me, more than twice as far as I’ve ever biked in one sitting before. The first 2 hours were really pleasant, with gorgeous scenery and pleasant temperatures, but the next 6 started to really suck. The weather was just getting hotter, the entire trip was upstream along the Bakoye and therefore slightly uphill the whole way, and I was just not quite prepared for that kind of endurance. Fortunately the next 4 days spent at the Peace Corps house in Manantali were run and relaxing and I definitely took a bush taxi back…
For Thanksgiving I took the train up to Kayes to meet up with a different group of volunteers at the house there. Kayes is the hottest inhabited city in the world, so I’m glad it was the cold season, but it was still significantly warmer than my village. Kayes, being so much bigger than Manantali, and on an important route, is much more of a city, so I was even able to partake in some soft-serve ice cream while there. For Christmas I met up with people again in Manantali, and, like Thanksgiving, feasted and celebrated the holiday amongst friends.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
