Greetings from Minnesota!
Tomorrow is my birthday and as a birthday present to myself
I am FINALLY going to write a blog post about our evacuation from Mali and
catch you guys up on my latest goings-on.
Writing a good-bye Mali blog past has been in the back of my
brain ever since I left the country. I was worried I couldn’t put into words something
that would do my time in Mali justice, that I wouldn’t be able to describe my gratitude
and emotions fully about the experiences and leaving behind those experiences.
So I never wrote about it. But now I am going to do my best to give some
closure, at least in cyberspace to my time in Mali and not worry if it’s what I
feel it should live up to.
When I last wrote, the volunteers in my region and I were in
consolidation in our regional capital, Kita. It was frustrating for us to be
kept away from our sites because we were hundreds of kilometers away from any
of the fighting, the protests, and the danger. All we wanted to do was be with
our community members, continue our projects, and live life as normal, but we
were stuck in a house with twenty-something twenty-somethings, and we had to
make the best of it. During this time we played games, made family dinners,
went out to the bars when we were allowed to leave the house, and in our
insanity of being cooped up when we weren’t allowed to leave the house, made a
zombie movie complete with a choreographed dance number(I know, we’re super
cool). I have to say that if I had to be cooped up with twenty people during a
coup, our region (Kita Kaw) was the best to do it with. It didn’t hurt that
Dave, my boyfriend, and Natazia, one of my close friends were there with me.
While we were consolidated we received updates from Peace
Corps about the situation in the capital and in the North. There were times
where it seemed as though things were getting better, that order was going to
be restored, but in the end that didn’t happen, and things still aren’t right
in Mali.
So we left, and so did many other aid organizations. The kids
who were in life skills classes, the women who were working to regain the
health of their children, the farmers who were trying to make their crops
better and reliably feed their families, the girls who had a glimpse at a
future in education, all of the families and community members who were
striving to make their lives better in partnership with aid organizations are
being hurt by the nonsense that began in March. Malians are incredibly
resilient and positive people, but this is an equally incredibly tough time for
them as last year’s rainy season produced poor crops, and many families are
facing hunger in addition to the other problems aid organizations were helping
to combat.
When we were consolidated in Kita and right before we had to
consolidate further to our training complex outside of Bamako, I was given
permission to go to my site for the night. I arrived after dark and greeted my
family and work counterpart and told them that I thought I was going back to
America. “Noooo, no, you won’t go.” “They are having a meeting on Thursday and
everything will be resolved.”
“Why are you going?” “There’s fighting here and Peace Corps
says we will probably go home” “No, the
fighting is far away, there is no fighting here. You will stay.”
I went home to pack that night, put things in a suitcase
that I wanted Peace Corps to mail to me, and told my work counterpart to divide
my other things up between his family, my host family, and other people in the community
if I didn’t come back. The next morning I said goodbye to my family and sat on
the side of the road waiting for the bus. My host father gave me $10 for my
trip which is A LOT of money in Mali and it was strange to take but he would
have been offended if I said no. I waited longer and thought about going back
to see my family who live close to the bus stop, but I just sat there. I didn’t
know how to deal with saying goodbye, especially since I was still holding out
hope that we would be able to return to our villages for good. About 20 minutes
after getting on the bus, however, I received a phone call from Natazia saying
that Peace Corps had made the decision to evacuate us, and that we wouldn’t be
returning.
In one way I was very sad, and in another which I don’t
usually talk about when talking to people about leaving Mali, I was relieved.
Ever since the safety and security issue I experienced in my first village,
Koyan, I had been a little wary and on guard. During my time in Guetala I had
become increasingly paranoid at night while I was trying to sleep that someone
was sneaking around my huts. I had had someone knock on my door once in Koyan,
and again on my window in Guetala, and I was freaked out. I had a hard time
sleeping and was in fear over tiny noises at night, which were plentiful
because of the animals roaming around and grazing on trash or straw during the
night. I kept a safety whistle that Peace Corps gave us in my bug tent and
sometimes would put it to my lips several times a night in sheer panic. I don’t
have to tell you that it is no fun living in fear, and that is the reason for
the relief at the news.
My time during the
day in contrast was wonderful in village. I had made real friends, and even
though my village was around 3,000 people, all of the kids called me by my name
(Assetou) instead of yelling “toubab” (white person) which I feel is a pretty
good accomplishment! My work counterpart was great, and we had recently held a
meeting with the school director and teachers about different projects we could
do at the school such as tree planting, fence mending, and creating visual
teaching aides. I had completed three map murals in the school, three health
murals at the local health center, and was about to put the finishing touches
on a mural about wearing helmets in one of the school classrooms. Two very
motivated people from my village and I had recently attended a tree nursery
workshop at the Peace Corps training complex outside of Bamako, and we were excited
to start new tree projects in Guetala. For two weeks prior to being
consolidated I held an informal running and workout group with kids from the
village and had some teenage girls get very interested which I was hoping could
turn into something great. So many things were going well, and so much
potential was on my side to make the rest of my service in Guetala great, but
with the nightly paranoia I was experiencing, the news that we were being
evacuated lost a bit of its sting. I still feel a little guilty about this, but
it doesn’t mean I don’t miss Mali. I miss it a great deal.
I miss riding around in the crazy taxis in Bamako, feeling
proud of the language I had learned to get around and solve problems. I miss
shopping in the market, an experience that was once so terrifying to do alone,
and at the end being able to joke with the women selling fruits and vegetables,
make new friends, and have them slip me an extra banana or handful of lettuce.
I miss my little friend Sita who couldn’t walk when I first met her and was
deathly afraid of me. At the end we she was walking like a champ and we were
best friends, she fell asleep in my lap one night. I miss sleeping on the
rooftop of our regional stage house in Kita and hearing the several melodies of
the morning calls to prayer mix harmoniously as the warm air and dust held them
in the air. I miss bouncing around from group to group on my way to my host
family’s house and greeting women of different ethnic groups on the way in
their own languages. I miss the warmness of Malians who were always looking out
for me whether it was bad prices at the market, helping me get water, making
sure I was eating enough, giving me shade for me head, giving up a chair to sit
in, making sure my laundry was being cleaned properly (I wasn’t very thorough),
and so many small things that were at first overwhelming and sometimes
frustrating but then turned to such a great source of comfort once I let go and
realized that they meant friendship. I miss the dirty little hands that would
invariably be in my own hands as soon as I walked out of the door. I miss
hearing “I be se!” (you can do it!) when I would surprise Malian women with an
action like dancing, painting, or speaking Bambara well, and I even miss hearing
“I te se!” (you can’t do it!) when they
would laugh as I tried to do something that Malian women are so good at like
pounding millet with one hand, or carrying 10 gallons of water on their heads.
There are a lot of things that I miss, and I hope one day I
can return to Mali and spend some time with the people that I grew to love. I
am grateful for the experience and all that Mali and the people of Mali have
given me.
Since leaving Mali I have been living with my parents in
Minneapolis, and on July 23rd I begin a new journey as an AmeriCorps
NCCC FEMA Corps Team Leader. This will be a similar experience to my AmeriCorps
NCCC gig in 2010 but this time I will be leading a team, and we will be
travelling around the North Central region helping on projects in collaboration
with FEMA. It is the first year of this new partnership between AmeriCorps and
FEMA and I have a feeling there will be a lot of growing pains, but I am ready
for a challenge and am excited to have to opportunity to continue a life of
service.
I want to thank you all who have offered me support during
my time in Peace Corps. I truly appreciate all of the kind words and warm
thoughts, and I think that all of the positive energy you sent my way really
increased the amazingness of my service during the 10 short months I had in
Mali. Please keep the people of Mali in your thoughts and/or prayers.
I plan to keep up this blog during my AmeriCorps service, so
stick around to hear what life will be like for the next 11 months!
Also congratulations to my beautiful sister Marni who is due
any day now. She and her husband Josh will be welcoming their first child and
my first nephew baby Jackson into this world very soon.
Another congratulations to my longtime great friend Kylie
who is marrying Dan on the same day as Marni’s due date. Kylie, I’ve been
telling Jackson that he needs to pick another day to be born so I can make it
to your wedding!
Thanks again everyone for all of your support.
Ala ka nogoya ke (May God make things better). Ala ka Mali
deme (May God help Mali). Ala ka funteni waati nyuman d’aw ma (May God give you
a good summer) Ala ka si ni keneya d’aw ma (May God give you age and health).
Mali mogo b’aw fo (The people of Mali greet you).
Love, Assetou Keita (Jamie)
