Despite the tumultuous travel we endured, the trip to Mali was indeed magnificent. Hiking through the cliffs of Dogon country alone made the hours on the road worth it. Well, almost… It reminded me of the Mesa Verde dwellings, creating a sense of the southwest, all the way over in West Africa that sent me longing to share the beauty of these lines with my climbing comrades. No doubt they would have shared the same clammy hands and jittery feeling I seem to get just thinking about climbing.
It’s that time of year again when it’s hard for me to relate to those back home in terms of weather and holidays. I distinctly remember writing the Thanksgiving blog post last year; stating something like the 90 degree won’t let me wrap my mind around the fact that this Thursday is Thanksgiving. This year, though, it’s easier to grasp that soon we’ll be entering a new year. Most probably, though, because with the new year, comes the commencement of the analogical new chapter of my life. The end of April is only 5 months away, but the beginning of a life I’m not sure I remember, or perhaps more correctly, a life I’ve never known, is still 5 whole months away.
Regardless, the past couple of months have rolled on and I’m sure the next 5 will travel in the same fashion, collecting enough speed on the way and barely allowing for the documentation of memories. But I have a moment now, so I’ll use it to back track on the months you all call fall and that I have come to know as hot, just a little less than before. Most devastatingly, my grandmother, the matriarch and 80 year old human power tool of the compound, had a stroke right before I left for Mali, in September. When I left, she was bed ridden, as the stroke affected the left side of her body, including, it appeared, her speech. I left, uttering goodbyes as if they were as permanent as the affects of the stroke, just in case… She didn’t look good. I called as soon as I got back to Basse, preparing myself for the worst, but received news she was getting better. Still, in Mandinka and other indigenous tribes, the phrase “getting better” could mean anything from a full recovery to hanging on the last breath. However, I was pleasantly surprised to see in person, that she actually appeared to be getting better. Before I went away, I had arranged with someone from Hands on Care, the NGO I worked with my first year, to make a home visit to try to begin physical therapy. By the time I returned home, it looked like she had started gaining strength to display the mobility left in her left leg, she was feeding herself and swallowing with less trouble than before, sitting up on her own and her voice was becoming more audible. Little by little, we are practicing standing. She’ll probably never be tending the fields again like she once was, but every now and again, the kindhearted disciplinarian of the under five peanut gallery will flash me a toothless smile that goes straight to my heart.
Well, shoot dang folks, we’ve got a new president elect! Who’s excited about that bit of news? I’ll go ahead and declare that I’m right there with most of my American friends, and Gambian friends and even strangers in this “forgotten corner of the world” that can’t wait to see what the other side of this new leaf looks like under the administration of Mr. Obama. It was a unique experience to be abroad during this entire process. I can’t even imagine what kind of election stimulus overload all of you guys experienced this past year. My nightly tune-ins on the shortwave with BBC and month old Newsweeks were about the extent of the media buzz I received. On election day, however, we PCVs were invited to share a little slice of Americana in the form of a generous Embassy employee’s home, which included pizza & tortilla chips, hot water, cold drinks, comfortable couches to curl up on and satellite TV. We donned the few pieces of Obama paraphernalia that had either been sent or brought over or hand made (mainly in the form of bumper stickers) and prepared ourselves for the first purposeful all-nighter since Professor Hard-Ass’ final exam, starting with the most important viewing, “The Daily Show” and “Colbert Report”.
Hmm, what else… The newest, and last training group to come into country while my group is still around got here right after the elections. It’s a combination training of Environment as well as Health and Community Development (my sector) because of all these budget cuts we’ve been hearing about but are not sure where they are stemming from and who’s cutting one of the most successful and well regarded government instituted programs. I could go on and on about the changes that have been suggested and ones that have been implemented, but I’ll just say this: I’m currently reading The Village Of Waiting by George Packer, which eerily comparably describes his experience as a PCV in Togo in the early 80s, except for his $200 a month stipend and motorbike. Please, Mr. Obama, please pay attention to us PCVs again who are working in the fields, crossing cultural barriers on our bicycles, not motorbikes, and who get excited about tortilla chips and hot water, all for $175 a month in 2008. Anyway, the group started their training bright-eyed and motivated and I got to help present a session about emotional health during training as the VSN coordinator because most of us have experienced a bushy tail gone wiry at least once, while over here. They swear in January 14th, with my Health and Community Development ’09 sector’s close of service (COS) conference just a couple weeks behind. Speaking of VSN, Western Region held our first sponsored event, which consisted of a tour of a magnificent eco-lodge only about 2k from Bafuloto. I knew of its presence since my predecessor pointed out signs during 3 month challenge, but never had I fully explored to see what existed beyond the wooden gates. Fortunately, my friend Rachel had not only crossed the threshold of the gates, but she had befriended the owners whom have casually worked on and off with Peace Corps Volunteers since the culture forest was built, 17 years ago. A tour of the manicured overgrown bush and traditional wooden paddle boat ride left those of us who attended the event relaxed and yearning to make a habit of venturing into the calming quarters.
I hope everyone’s Thanksgiving was filled with full bellies and cornucopias of grace. Ours felt more like a really extravagant Fourth of July backyard BBQ cookout, but I’m confident that those wearing wrap skirts even had to re-tie and loosen them. There was soooo much food! The Thanksgiving weekend also allowed for the scheduling of the bi-annual all volunteer meeting, including individual sector meetings, as well as an evening of opportunity to present one’s nose whistling, song writing or picture taking talent at the 2nd official Open Mic-Night at one of the favorite and frequented bars in the more touristy area. I personally searched long and hard to get tap shoes made, but alas settled on reading the Mali transport terror story.
Well I think that about does it for the time being. It’s getting close to the end, but I’m sure there will be enough time to write home again about new work developments and frustrating market moments. Oh! Guess what’s all the rage among school aged and young women: ballerina style jelly sandals! I’ve got my pair and if you want to be hip like me when I come home, let me know and I’ll get you a pair as well.
It’s that time of year again when it’s hard for me to relate to those back home in terms of weather and holidays. I distinctly remember writing the Thanksgiving blog post last year; stating something like the 90 degree won’t let me wrap my mind around the fact that this Thursday is Thanksgiving. This year, though, it’s easier to grasp that soon we’ll be entering a new year. Most probably, though, because with the new year, comes the commencement of the analogical new chapter of my life. The end of April is only 5 months away, but the beginning of a life I’m not sure I remember, or perhaps more correctly, a life I’ve never known, is still 5 whole months away.
Regardless, the past couple of months have rolled on and I’m sure the next 5 will travel in the same fashion, collecting enough speed on the way and barely allowing for the documentation of memories. But I have a moment now, so I’ll use it to back track on the months you all call fall and that I have come to know as hot, just a little less than before. Most devastatingly, my grandmother, the matriarch and 80 year old human power tool of the compound, had a stroke right before I left for Mali, in September. When I left, she was bed ridden, as the stroke affected the left side of her body, including, it appeared, her speech. I left, uttering goodbyes as if they were as permanent as the affects of the stroke, just in case… She didn’t look good. I called as soon as I got back to Basse, preparing myself for the worst, but received news she was getting better. Still, in Mandinka and other indigenous tribes, the phrase “getting better” could mean anything from a full recovery to hanging on the last breath. However, I was pleasantly surprised to see in person, that she actually appeared to be getting better. Before I went away, I had arranged with someone from Hands on Care, the NGO I worked with my first year, to make a home visit to try to begin physical therapy. By the time I returned home, it looked like she had started gaining strength to display the mobility left in her left leg, she was feeding herself and swallowing with less trouble than before, sitting up on her own and her voice was becoming more audible. Little by little, we are practicing standing. She’ll probably never be tending the fields again like she once was, but every now and again, the kindhearted disciplinarian of the under five peanut gallery will flash me a toothless smile that goes straight to my heart.
Well, shoot dang folks, we’ve got a new president elect! Who’s excited about that bit of news? I’ll go ahead and declare that I’m right there with most of my American friends, and Gambian friends and even strangers in this “forgotten corner of the world” that can’t wait to see what the other side of this new leaf looks like under the administration of Mr. Obama. It was a unique experience to be abroad during this entire process. I can’t even imagine what kind of election stimulus overload all of you guys experienced this past year. My nightly tune-ins on the shortwave with BBC and month old Newsweeks were about the extent of the media buzz I received. On election day, however, we PCVs were invited to share a little slice of Americana in the form of a generous Embassy employee’s home, which included pizza & tortilla chips, hot water, cold drinks, comfortable couches to curl up on and satellite TV. We donned the few pieces of Obama paraphernalia that had either been sent or brought over or hand made (mainly in the form of bumper stickers) and prepared ourselves for the first purposeful all-nighter since Professor Hard-Ass’ final exam, starting with the most important viewing, “The Daily Show” and “Colbert Report”.
Hmm, what else… The newest, and last training group to come into country while my group is still around got here right after the elections. It’s a combination training of Environment as well as Health and Community Development (my sector) because of all these budget cuts we’ve been hearing about but are not sure where they are stemming from and who’s cutting one of the most successful and well regarded government instituted programs. I could go on and on about the changes that have been suggested and ones that have been implemented, but I’ll just say this: I’m currently reading The Village Of Waiting by George Packer, which eerily comparably describes his experience as a PCV in Togo in the early 80s, except for his $200 a month stipend and motorbike. Please, Mr. Obama, please pay attention to us PCVs again who are working in the fields, crossing cultural barriers on our bicycles, not motorbikes, and who get excited about tortilla chips and hot water, all for $175 a month in 2008. Anyway, the group started their training bright-eyed and motivated and I got to help present a session about emotional health during training as the VSN coordinator because most of us have experienced a bushy tail gone wiry at least once, while over here. They swear in January 14th, with my Health and Community Development ’09 sector’s close of service (COS) conference just a couple weeks behind. Speaking of VSN, Western Region held our first sponsored event, which consisted of a tour of a magnificent eco-lodge only about 2k from Bafuloto. I knew of its presence since my predecessor pointed out signs during 3 month challenge, but never had I fully explored to see what existed beyond the wooden gates. Fortunately, my friend Rachel had not only crossed the threshold of the gates, but she had befriended the owners whom have casually worked on and off with Peace Corps Volunteers since the culture forest was built, 17 years ago. A tour of the manicured overgrown bush and traditional wooden paddle boat ride left those of us who attended the event relaxed and yearning to make a habit of venturing into the calming quarters.
I hope everyone’s Thanksgiving was filled with full bellies and cornucopias of grace. Ours felt more like a really extravagant Fourth of July backyard BBQ cookout, but I’m confident that those wearing wrap skirts even had to re-tie and loosen them. There was soooo much food! The Thanksgiving weekend also allowed for the scheduling of the bi-annual all volunteer meeting, including individual sector meetings, as well as an evening of opportunity to present one’s nose whistling, song writing or picture taking talent at the 2nd official Open Mic-Night at one of the favorite and frequented bars in the more touristy area. I personally searched long and hard to get tap shoes made, but alas settled on reading the Mali transport terror story.
Well I think that about does it for the time being. It’s getting close to the end, but I’m sure there will be enough time to write home again about new work developments and frustrating market moments. Oh! Guess what’s all the rage among school aged and young women: ballerina style jelly sandals! I’ve got my pair and if you want to be hip like me when I come home, let me know and I’ll get you a pair as well.
Pictures have been posted to the Picasa site, so check 'em out :)
Love you all and miss you dearly.
Courtney
Love you all and miss you dearly.
Courtney
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