In Service Training

I'm aware that it's been over a month since I posted.  I would apologize, but it's un-Malian.  There isn't even really a translation for, "I'm sorry," in Bambara.  What follows are some disconnected updates from the various sectors of my life.

The Monday before Thanksgiving, I went to a thoroughly American (at least as far as the food) Thanksgiving celebration in Sikasso Ville, with about 50 other PCVs and ex-pats.  I ate my own weight in turkey, mashed potatoes, and pie.  No cranberry sauce was forthcoming, but I was too full to complain (or do much of anything but lie on the couch).  It was my intention to do lots of internetty good things on real Tgiving, but the internet died, so no dice.  Now I'm back for more training in 'summer camp,' so I have internet access every day if I so choose.

I've attended a few Malian celebrations, including a wedding and several funerals.  There was more crying than I expected at the former and less than I expected at the latter.  Everyone has been working all day every day (except Sundays, funeral days, and other feast days) to bring the harvest in and assure nutrition for their families for another year, so an old man heading off to Heaven is treated like a holiday by those not in his immediate family.  On the flip side, I was assured that it was a good tradition for the bride to spend the night before her wedding in tears - because she is leaving her family's home for good to go live in her groom's concession with his parents, grandparents, and other extended family members.  I tend to suspect it had more to do with FGM for the bride who was moving half a kilometer across town than any fear of never seeing her mother again.  Made me a little queasey, but she was smiley enough after the ceremony the next day, and it's important to be married in Mali.  With rigid gender roles, neither men nor women can fully function alone, and to the extent that it enforces cooperation and togetherness I appreciate the idea.

To my family and anyone else feeling sorry for lil ole me out here, i nison diya!  Cheer up!  I'm feeling great.  I'm quite happily at peace in my little village, and when I have to leave it's always for some happy thing like coming here to training to see all my PC friends again or going to Ghana to see 'Vito after Christmas (!!) or heading into Koutiala for some banking/post office-ing/interneting.  I have everything I actually need, and a fair number of comfort items on top of that.  I haven't started any projects yet, funded or otherwise, and thus have no need for that sort of support.  Although I've been convinced that funded projects can easily do more harm than good if handled poorly, I probably will subsidize some soak pits or well repairs, and I solemnly promise to hit you ALL up for money when my project hits PCPP.

If you're thinking, "Not do funded projects?  How could they be bad??" I recommend you look at some of the literature on development that is abundant in Peace Corps circles and probably available to the rest of the world showing that paternalisitic giving of things slows development down instead of helping people.  If the community doesn't want something enough to work - to struggle even - they will not maintain it, repair it, replicate it, or really benefit from it.  After all, I'm not here to fill Mali's need for trained professionals personally, but to enable Malians to do the work themselves.  If you're really curious about this theory, I can recommend a book or two to you.

On a side note, my hair is like early '90s Lackey cover art and I kind of like it.

Peace and Love!