Siby is famous for its beautiful water falls. I went swimming in them and it was amazing!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Siby Photos From August 2008
Siby is famous for its beautiful water falls. I went swimming in them and it was amazing!
Siby Photos from August 2008
Here are some of the photos I took while previously visiting Siby this past summer. These are some of the smaller cliffs located on the outskirts of the town.
It is not this green at the present moment but is still beautiful.
It is not this green at the present moment but is still beautiful.
N BE BAMAKO SISAN
As of right now I am completely moved out of Djenne. The morning after everything happened I called my APCD (my boss), explained the situation, and simply stated that I wished to exhaust all possibilities of my departure from Djenne. I moved out of the house the following Friday and will be waiting here in Bamako until everything in Siby is set up for my arrival. I will be working with an association of guides which own a rock climbing business as well as an association of women that work with shea. I do not know all that much about shea, but I am quickly learning and I am assured that the women’s group is amazing. They have worked with volunteers previously, are excited for my help, and overall are driven and knowledgeable people. I will be only a 45 minute bachee trip from Bamako, a bit different from the 15 hour plus trek to site, and will be probably living without electricity and definitely without running water. I will most likely be residing in a mud hut and seeing other PCVs much less often, probably only on market days. Even with all of these changes I am stoked to be moving and feel as though this is going to be the Peace Corps experience that I was so looking forward to.
Please know that I am safe and happy at the current moment and again that this is not what most Malians are like. Fortunately not all places here have been tainted by tourism and Poor Unsustainable Development as Djenne has, and I believe I have found a wonderful place to live.
Please know that I am safe and happy at the current moment and again that this is not what most Malians are like. Fortunately not all places here have been tainted by tourism and Poor Unsustainable Development as Djenne has, and I believe I have found a wonderful place to live.
Leaving Djenne
Written Saturday February 7, 2009
There are some days here where I feel like I do not want to journal because I’d rather be out and about. Today is not one of those days. There are other days where I feel like things are going fairly well.This is also not one of those days. Overall I do not really want to be writing this down even because I do not feel like replaying it again in my head. However I feel as though I one need to record it, and two share with you what happened you may understand the changes going on in my life currently. I hope that in the future I am able to say that this was for the best, and I am sure that it will be, however I was upset that it happened and still do not understand.
The first things which needs to be said is that the reason that I even came back to Djenne after In Service Training (IST) was because of my host family and the other people in my concession. I knew that I could find language help for the communication problems that I was having and that I would have the people around me to depend on when work was difficult. Also, that there was little else that I was looking forward to about returning, and in all honesty I was so frustrated after IST that I started to panic thinking about working with my homologue. At IST his attitude was out of line; he offended and belittled the other homologues and with the general unwelcoming atmosphere of Djenne I felt as though I had too much to deal with. So when the time came, and I finally worked up the confidence and courage to return to site nearly 5 days after I should have, I was relieved to be back at my house and feeling comfortable in my concession. I knew that the future months were going to be a bit of an uphill battle however I had a game plan laid out, and was going to be looking for other resources to help me in my work. I thought that things were about to change for the positive; until the full moon came out over Djenne and all hell broke lose around me.
Thursday at about 4:45pm Stacy left for her village, 25 kilometers outside of Djenne, where she weighs babies, gives vaccinations, and holds formations each week on Fridays. This left me alone at the house in Djenne where I would be eating and visiting with our host family until her return on Friday night or Saturday morning. After Stacy left I decided to read outside so that the family could see that I was back and that I could visit with them if they so wished. I did not want to just right back in just yet, because I do not speak Bambara well and sometimes like to ease back into the swing of life at site. While I sat outside my door reading my book one of the women asked me where her gift was and I said it was in the house. (It is typical when you are absent for a long period of time to bring back a gift from your travels for all the people that you live with). I answered her back in Bambara, and I think I may have surprised her with my comprehension of what she said and my coherent response. She asked if I had been studying language in Bamako while I was gone and I said I had and planned to study more in the future. We laughed and I returned to my book for another hour or so. When the sun went down I returned into my house to wash my hands for dinner and to bring out the gifts Stacy and I had arranged to give them earlier that day. We had bought tea and sugar (which is the most acceptable gift given for any occasion here) mint candies, and cashews that were sent to me from America, courtesy of the wonderful Erhard family, because we wanted to share with them a bit of our own culture. I gave the gifts out and noticed that my host mother took hers without enthusiasm and I assumed that she just was not feeling well or that she had had a long day. It was at this point that she began yelling over her shoulder and within seconds there was a man standing over me who I had never met before.
The man began saying, “You don’t give her money”, to me in English. And although I had no idea who he was he surely knew a great deal about me. Now first of all this man did not greet me, a major faux pas in Malian culture, and he was speaking to me in English; both of these conditions are red flags to me here in Mali and when I hear them I immediately wish to leave. I then assured him, in French, that I had been paying her for my meals, the amount which had been set months before, and that I would be paying her for February’s food the next day when I was able to go to the bank. After that he began to ask even more questions, yet again in English and was relentless in prying into my business. He was saying:
“She says you don’t give here money!”
“She says you never set how much money you would pay her!”
“She has no money for herself and you must pay here!”
“She says you do not understand Bambara and that’s bad!”
“She says you are no good because she cannot talk to you!”
“She says you cannot eat with her until you pay her!”
It was then that he asked how much money I give her per month for my food, and began explaining that she needs money to survive and that if I am not going to give her more money, not for food, that I cannot eat with her family. I kept trying to answer the questions, speaking always in French, but the man refused to speak in anything other than English to me, and he was so unbelievably condescending and hurtful that I could not handle sitting there. In the mean time everyone else in the concession began to yell and scream; the others at my host mother and her at me. I kept trying to explain that I was not there to give them money, that I did not have large amounts of money, and that the purpose of me eating with them was to get to know their family and understand Malian culture.
And to me this situation was absolutely ridiculous seeing as we were already over paying her as it was for food and that most other Volunteers simply bring their family gifts in the form of food or pay them less than half of what we paid our family. It was after about 10 minutes or so of yelling that I simply decided to return into my house, where I immediately began crying out of frustration, not knowing how to solve this, and knowing that I could not trust anyone that I knew in the community to be able to help me resolve it with my family.
A few minutes later I heard the man and his friends talking in the concession in English about me and about what had happened. I was furious that they were chastising me in my own home and that they would not even listen to what I had to say. I returned to the concession and explained to them that in fact I did not appreciate the treatment they were giving me in my own home, and that I actually do speak French and would appreciate it if they would stop using English. It was then that they told me this was not my house, that it was my family’s house and that they could do as they pleased. Well most of you know my temper and I have to say at this point I began yelling in the teacher/pledging voice, demanding that they do not belittle me in my home and that they should not be breaking their own cultural morals just because I am not Malian. I was then cornered and told that I was the problem, no that I was not the problem, and then again that I was. The only comfort I found was from Aminata and her family, the woman who had previously asked about my language training, who was trying to protect me from the rest of the people who were simply chanting lies and derogatory comments at me in a chorus of three languages.
I returned into my house and did not come out the rest of the night. I was so anxious that I could not even look outside and I tried to find comfort from other PCV’s on the phone but knew that these problems were not to be solved soon.
I could not believe that my host family would have gone so far out of their way to confront me in such a hurtful way, especially while Stacy was gone, since she speaks Bambara and could have had a discussion with them easily. Thinking about it now as I type my blog entry a week later it seems as though it may not have been as bad as I thought at the time, but I am still glad that I was so put out by it, because I could not be more excited to move and to begin working with the people in Siby. I had been hearing about how welcoming Malians are, and experienced it to be true everywhere save for Djenne.
I also want to assure you that this is not the situation everywhere, and that I unfortunately did have to experience this type of hostility towards me on one level or another for the past 5 months. Luckily I have been given another chance to begin a new, in a smaller place which I have already fallen in love with. The people there are wonderful, the landscape is beautiful and the atmosphere is entirely different. I am excited to share with you all everything that will happen in the future and cannot wait for my site change to be completely done. Needless to say there will still be battles in Siby, and that language barriers will always be an issue. However I feel as though no situation will ever be like it was in Djenne and that I am embracing this new adventure with patience and anticipation.
There are some days here where I feel like I do not want to journal because I’d rather be out and about. Today is not one of those days. There are other days where I feel like things are going fairly well.This is also not one of those days. Overall I do not really want to be writing this down even because I do not feel like replaying it again in my head. However I feel as though I one need to record it, and two share with you what happened you may understand the changes going on in my life currently. I hope that in the future I am able to say that this was for the best, and I am sure that it will be, however I was upset that it happened and still do not understand.
The first things which needs to be said is that the reason that I even came back to Djenne after In Service Training (IST) was because of my host family and the other people in my concession. I knew that I could find language help for the communication problems that I was having and that I would have the people around me to depend on when work was difficult. Also, that there was little else that I was looking forward to about returning, and in all honesty I was so frustrated after IST that I started to panic thinking about working with my homologue. At IST his attitude was out of line; he offended and belittled the other homologues and with the general unwelcoming atmosphere of Djenne I felt as though I had too much to deal with. So when the time came, and I finally worked up the confidence and courage to return to site nearly 5 days after I should have, I was relieved to be back at my house and feeling comfortable in my concession. I knew that the future months were going to be a bit of an uphill battle however I had a game plan laid out, and was going to be looking for other resources to help me in my work. I thought that things were about to change for the positive; until the full moon came out over Djenne and all hell broke lose around me.
Thursday at about 4:45pm Stacy left for her village, 25 kilometers outside of Djenne, where she weighs babies, gives vaccinations, and holds formations each week on Fridays. This left me alone at the house in Djenne where I would be eating and visiting with our host family until her return on Friday night or Saturday morning. After Stacy left I decided to read outside so that the family could see that I was back and that I could visit with them if they so wished. I did not want to just right back in just yet, because I do not speak Bambara well and sometimes like to ease back into the swing of life at site. While I sat outside my door reading my book one of the women asked me where her gift was and I said it was in the house. (It is typical when you are absent for a long period of time to bring back a gift from your travels for all the people that you live with). I answered her back in Bambara, and I think I may have surprised her with my comprehension of what she said and my coherent response. She asked if I had been studying language in Bamako while I was gone and I said I had and planned to study more in the future. We laughed and I returned to my book for another hour or so. When the sun went down I returned into my house to wash my hands for dinner and to bring out the gifts Stacy and I had arranged to give them earlier that day. We had bought tea and sugar (which is the most acceptable gift given for any occasion here) mint candies, and cashews that were sent to me from America, courtesy of the wonderful Erhard family, because we wanted to share with them a bit of our own culture. I gave the gifts out and noticed that my host mother took hers without enthusiasm and I assumed that she just was not feeling well or that she had had a long day. It was at this point that she began yelling over her shoulder and within seconds there was a man standing over me who I had never met before.
The man began saying, “You don’t give her money”, to me in English. And although I had no idea who he was he surely knew a great deal about me. Now first of all this man did not greet me, a major faux pas in Malian culture, and he was speaking to me in English; both of these conditions are red flags to me here in Mali and when I hear them I immediately wish to leave. I then assured him, in French, that I had been paying her for my meals, the amount which had been set months before, and that I would be paying her for February’s food the next day when I was able to go to the bank. After that he began to ask even more questions, yet again in English and was relentless in prying into my business. He was saying:
“She says you don’t give here money!”
“She says you never set how much money you would pay her!”
“She has no money for herself and you must pay here!”
“She says you do not understand Bambara and that’s bad!”
“She says you are no good because she cannot talk to you!”
“She says you cannot eat with her until you pay her!”
It was then that he asked how much money I give her per month for my food, and began explaining that she needs money to survive and that if I am not going to give her more money, not for food, that I cannot eat with her family. I kept trying to answer the questions, speaking always in French, but the man refused to speak in anything other than English to me, and he was so unbelievably condescending and hurtful that I could not handle sitting there. In the mean time everyone else in the concession began to yell and scream; the others at my host mother and her at me. I kept trying to explain that I was not there to give them money, that I did not have large amounts of money, and that the purpose of me eating with them was to get to know their family and understand Malian culture.
And to me this situation was absolutely ridiculous seeing as we were already over paying her as it was for food and that most other Volunteers simply bring their family gifts in the form of food or pay them less than half of what we paid our family. It was after about 10 minutes or so of yelling that I simply decided to return into my house, where I immediately began crying out of frustration, not knowing how to solve this, and knowing that I could not trust anyone that I knew in the community to be able to help me resolve it with my family.
A few minutes later I heard the man and his friends talking in the concession in English about me and about what had happened. I was furious that they were chastising me in my own home and that they would not even listen to what I had to say. I returned to the concession and explained to them that in fact I did not appreciate the treatment they were giving me in my own home, and that I actually do speak French and would appreciate it if they would stop using English. It was then that they told me this was not my house, that it was my family’s house and that they could do as they pleased. Well most of you know my temper and I have to say at this point I began yelling in the teacher/pledging voice, demanding that they do not belittle me in my home and that they should not be breaking their own cultural morals just because I am not Malian. I was then cornered and told that I was the problem, no that I was not the problem, and then again that I was. The only comfort I found was from Aminata and her family, the woman who had previously asked about my language training, who was trying to protect me from the rest of the people who were simply chanting lies and derogatory comments at me in a chorus of three languages.
I returned into my house and did not come out the rest of the night. I was so anxious that I could not even look outside and I tried to find comfort from other PCV’s on the phone but knew that these problems were not to be solved soon.
I could not believe that my host family would have gone so far out of their way to confront me in such a hurtful way, especially while Stacy was gone, since she speaks Bambara and could have had a discussion with them easily. Thinking about it now as I type my blog entry a week later it seems as though it may not have been as bad as I thought at the time, but I am still glad that I was so put out by it, because I could not be more excited to move and to begin working with the people in Siby. I had been hearing about how welcoming Malians are, and experienced it to be true everywhere save for Djenne.
I also want to assure you that this is not the situation everywhere, and that I unfortunately did have to experience this type of hostility towards me on one level or another for the past 5 months. Luckily I have been given another chance to begin a new, in a smaller place which I have already fallen in love with. The people there are wonderful, the landscape is beautiful and the atmosphere is entirely different. I am excited to share with you all everything that will happen in the future and cannot wait for my site change to be completely done. Needless to say there will still be battles in Siby, and that language barriers will always be an issue. However I feel as though no situation will ever be like it was in Djenne and that I am embracing this new adventure with patience and anticipation.
Moving on up
I am not really moving on up. More like moving on down and West. I wanted to briefly let you all know, and there will be more details to come, that I am moving to a different site. My new site is a town of about 7.000 people and is located about 50 kilometers south west of Bamako. I am extremely excited about this move and cannot wait to finally find a community here in Mali. Hopefully I will be able to answer why, how, and when fairly soon! I hope all is well where ever you may find your self and know that its improving by the day here!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)