Carpe Diem!

So Abdoulaye is on American soil, spending his days getting a little stir-crazy in my apartement while I navigate the bureacracy of Columbia University.

It seems a little strange to share my fears and concerns in a blog, but since most of the budding of our romance last summer was public knowledge too, it figure it will all work out.

Basically, I am kind of freaking out because I have life decisions layered all over each other ON TOP of being a cultural guide, financier, and student.  Am I selfish? Will I ever be able to share my life with someone?  Can I share my life with someone so different? 

So many questions. Never enough time.  We are in dialogue, but I am already learning towards breaking things off.  From what I have seen of our pattern together here, I think it would be best for both of us.  Maybe we want different things and thought we would both be able to compromise a bit more on culture than I now think I can.

That’s where I am in this whole thing.  Just to keep you abreast of the situation…

As I was leaving Mali on Friday night, I had a conversation with a customs officer that went something like this:

Him: You have a 5 year visa. How did you get that? Are you Peace Corps volunteer?
Me: No. It is not normal?
Him: I didn’t say it is not normal, I just want to know how you got it.
Me: I don’t know, I didn’t ask for it. It really is not normal?
Him: I just wanted to know why you got it.
Me: I really do not know. Maybe God knew I would find a husband here?!
Him: You found a husband? An American working here?
Me: No, a Malian.
Him: Ah, that is good.

Back in New York, a Ghanian taxi driver took me home. We got to chatting, and he was very happy to hear i was coming from Africa and about Abdoulaye. To pick up in mid-conversation:

Him: You don’t want a Ghanian?
Me: No, I want to marry somebody who speaks French.
Him: Okay, that is good. I don’t meet people like you everyday.

In a matter of 2 minutes I was able to synthesize what happened this summer and why it is so fantastic and he accepted it as if I said something as banal as ‘the weather is hot today.’ He was very supportive.
As we parted, he wished me the best of luck. It is moments like this that I am happy my life is an open book.

Yesterday at the grocery store, the guy at the checkout had a nametag that said “MOUSSA.” Having met many Moussa’s in Mali, I just had to ask.

Me: Moussa, where are you from?
Moussa: I’m from Africa.
Me: What part?
Moussa: West Africa.
Me: Where?
Moussa: Mali.
Me: I just got back from there yesterday.
…. (unimportant)
Moussa: People here think we live in the tree tops.
Me: ?
Moussa: People think there is no civilization there, some people are even surprised that I came to the US in an airplane.

Moussa did not seem very happy to be in New York, or in America for that matter. It is hard to leave your civilization behind. Indeed, it is a great irony that for Westerners Timbuktu is a synonym for ‘the middle of nowhere’ when in reality it was for centuries the cener of a vast network of traders in ideas, salt, gold, humans.

In the years 1352 and 1353, the legendary Moroccan traveller and intellectual Ibn Battuta traversed the Sahara by caravan after decades of exploration of the Islamic world of North Africa and the Middle East, the Kingdoms of East Africa, the Moghul Empire in India, and China. His accounts are the only first hand historical record of Malli at it’s prime.

Among his observations of the positive aspects of the people in Mali, he notes the intolerance of injustice, the “prevelance of peace in their country, the traveller is not afraid in it nor is he who lives there in fear of the thief or of the robber by violence,” and the fact that they beat their children until they learn the Koran by heart. (Ibn Batuta in Black Africa, page 58).

The night before I left Bamako, Abdoulaye and I went to pick up a sheep sent from the village. One of his cousnin’s was having a party for all the women in the family and so she called the village to ask for a special delivery. They tied up a sheep and put him in a bag (with it’s head out so he could breathe) and put it on the bus. We navigated a tangled web of small streets to pick up the sheep and put it in the trunk of the cab.

As we dropped it off at his cousin’s house, we exchanged our greetings with her family and inlaws. She told me to come back the next day, but I said I could not because I was leaving that night. “In that case, bon voyage!” she said.

I was all smiles as this happened, thinking about how this could be my life someday. It is really funny! If I live in Mali, I hope you have the chance to visit. We can have a sheep sent from the village in your honor.

How many of you know a goat from a sheep?  My ignorance of livestock, agriculture and the natural world in general astounds me; but I can now proudly distinguish between a goat (chevre) and a sheep (mouton) when I see them scurring off the road in front of our hurtling bus.  This might be my biggest a most lasting achievement of the week.

There are so many forms of knowledge and intelligence required to make this planet tick!  When we think of an illiterate person who works their ass off in the fields, let us realise that we would have a great deal of trouble navigating their world without their expertise!

I have arrived back in Bamako after 7 fantastic days exploring some of the places and peoples that make Mali famous.  When I get back to NY, I will try to post some photos of my summer and Abdoulaye and I to satisfy all your curious minds. For the moment, it is just difficult to imagine myself leaving Mali and stepping off the plane into the alternate reality of the US.

During our trip, we visited the Dogon Country, where the majority of Dogon people still live in tiny mud houses clustered around small rocky courtyards along the Bandiyagara Escarpment in Eastern Mali.  These are some of the original people of Mali and have retained many of their animist religous  traditions and aspects of their life as cultivators of millet and sorgoum.  They decend to their fields every day and also come down from the hills to fetch gallons of water which they then carry back to their homesteads.

Abdoulaye has spent a lot of time in Dogon as a tour guide, so we were very warmly received by an old friend of his - the proprietor of a hillside hotel in the town of Banini.  We ate well and slept on the roof under our carefully hung mosquito net.  We stayed for free and when we left he gave us a gift: a huge door beautifully carved with symbolic images for the Dogon people.

We also visited Mopti and Djenne.  Djenne is famous for the worlds largest mud structure.  It is a gorgeous 700 year old mosque that gets a ritualistic facelift every year efore the rainy season begins. 

Last night we were in Segou, and stayed at the house of a very energetic and welcoming Peace Corps volunteer. The main reason to stop in this town was to visit with my coworker and meet his family.  Lassana is a very kind man with a lovely wife who teaches Chemistry and Biology.  He and I worked together in Bamako.  Unfortunately, he stays in Bamako to work and makes the 3 hour journey by bus to visit his family every other weekend.  It is tough because he has a 4 year old daughter and an adorable baby boy just born in May.

He is spending all of his month off in Segou with his family, but he is obliged to work every day in the fields belonging to the extended family in a village nearby.

There is no rest, and there are few easy decisions here!

All these places and things were cool, but as always, my least favorite part of any journey is the destination. I prefer sitting in the bus with people, chatting, sharing food, listening to music, watching the world roll by with the wind on our faces.  Mali really is a beautiful country and if you only go from tourist destination to tourist trap, you do not meet the best and most genuine people any country has to offer.

We left Djenne yesterday upset with a group of Dutch tourists who refused to take us on their bus. But then we had such a great journey and meet some fantastic, beautiful, kind people and I then thanked God for being rejected by the Dutch. Everything happens for a reason. Everything.

My beloved friends,

You have been sending me such great comments, things to think about, and words of support.  I am pretty sure marraige is in my future, but as I have said before, this will not happen until I see Abdoulaye in my reality and experience more of his.  All of your comments and concerns are welcome- whether here in response to the blog or directly to my inbox.

And there will be ample chance for discussions as soon as I get back to New York.

Love and carpe diem, angela

Here I borrow from Kapuscinski, an author who my good friend Jeff (a man with many great tastes) recommended I check out a while ago.  His book is FABULOUS and I highly recommend it to you all as well.

Incidentally, Jeff is off to Brazil (en route from a year in the UK and a summer in Indonesia) to find work and possibly marry his Brazilian Sweetheart.  He has ushered a not-at-all-desperate request for any nepotistic connections I have there, so please feel free to become his Friendster and give him advice.

“Our world, seemingly global, is in reality a planet of thousands of the most varied and never intersecting provinces. A trip around the world is a journey from backwater to backwater, each of which considers itself, in its isolation, a shining star. For most people, the real world ends on the threshold of their house, at the edge of their village, or, at the very most, on the border of their valley.  That which is beyond is unreal, unimportant, and even useless, whereas that which we have at our fingertips, in our field of vision, expands until it seems an entire universe, overshadowing all else. Often, the native and the newcomer have difficulty finding a common language, because each looks at the same place through a different lens. The newcomer has a wide-angle lens, which gives him a distant, diminished view, although one with a long horizon line, while the local always employs a telescopic lens that magnifies the slightest detail.”

Ryszard Kapuscinski, In the Shadow of the Sun, p. 171

Last night I was reading an old issue of the Harvard Business Review (not my typical reading material) and there was an article which defined ‘cultural intelligence’ as essentially the ability to differentiate between ‘cultural behavioural norms’ and the idiosyncrasies of individual personalities.

I genuinely believe this is a skill I have and that it has carried me around the globe almost effortlessly.  Putting a name to this makes me feel much more worthy somehow, like I have actually determined what my comparative advantage is.  How Western to name this skill and how American of me to call it my comparative advantage.

The last week here in Bamako has been very relaxing. I am finished with the internship because the office, like many other NGO offices in Mali, is closed for the month of August for the summer holiday.  I was thinking that this is a very French thing, but then remembered that Washington DC all but shuts down for the month of August too.  See that cultural intelligence shining!?

The whole internship was a good learning experience, but the last week was particularly useful.  Working directly with the director of the organization, I wrote a huge grant proposal to submit the Netherlands Ministry of Foreign Affairs.  It was a great learning experience because it exposed me to project design, grant writing, and allowed me to work directly with the director and get her instant feedback on what I was doing.  Luckily, this proposal was a priority for her so she was really involved, despite the fact that there were lots of things to take care of before the office closed up.  She had given me very little feedback on anything else I did this summer, but because we worked together in this, I feel I at least had the chance to make some kind of impression on her.

I have just been kicking around Bamako, house-sitting for an American guy (a Columbia alumni- see we may just get jobs after graduation after all!) who is in Kenya on business. He has a really nice hose with a beautiful garden and a pool! He also has a very energetic dog, which has confirmed that I have NO DESIRE WHATSOEVER to own a dog. 

Taking care of this house has been a full time gig, really. The second day I was staying here the power went out. There was a huge windstorm and I tried to take the dog for a quick evening walk and we almost got electrocuted by a crazy surge in the power lines.  That ended the walk AND knocked the power out. It was out all night long. The next day, I was getting a little worried because it was out for an abnormally long time (and while I was suspicious that the power surge which almost killed me was the cause of the power problems, this had yet to be confirmed).  We got in touch with the power company, and they sent a small crew out right away.  I defrosted the freezer and totally cleaned out the fridge.  Both were overdue, anyway!

Then a few days ago there was a problem with the plumbing in the guard’s house  (yes, there are guards on duty 24 hours a day) and we had no water for about 15 hours.  When I finally got in touch with the landlord, he sent a plumber within 15 minutes. He fixed that problem and the leaky kitchen sink.  Ryan will return to find his house in a slightly better condition than he left it!

So I have learned a few things:

1. Walking under live wires in windstorms is bad;

2. Having a cook is cool- Fatim has been feeding us so well it is unbelievable!;

3. Definately no dogs, though I will try to take morning walks weather permitting;

4. Appropriate technology is critical: how do engineers design a washing machine that can resume the cycle immediately where it left off after a 24 hour power outage?

5. If I build a house in Africa, it must be positioned to take advantage of natural breezes and be surrounded by a large garden;

6. There is always something to deal with in Africa, but every problem has a solution!

I have also been spending a lot of time with Abdoulaye and getting a better feel for his life here and his personality. We are really compatible and have a lot of fun together. He is just a really open-minded person, fun, and I think he will be a great partner.  My parents know about him, and my Dad is already looking forward to an African wedding. Mom still has yet to react, but I know she loves me and might just need a little more time. 

Yesterday we went to see a man who is a little bit like a fortune teller or future reader- called a Marabout. I am happy to report that my future looks bright! I will be happy in my marriage, have children, live a long time, be a successful project manager of some sort after beating out a woman in a competition to get the job and overcoming a lot of conflicts in the initial stages of the job.  My upcoming travels and trip home will be safe.  I should make a sacrifice of money and a goat at some point, but if I do not have time to carry this out myself I can give them to an older person who will complete the benediction for me.

Abdoulaye had to drop an egg in the middle of an intersection after the Marabout decorated it with pen markings.  Thus, I have now experienced the mixing of Islam (he consulted his book with Arabic notes after doing some chanting with prayer beads) and more traditional African belief systems.

I had my fortune told once in Vietnam too, but I cannot remember a single thing that she said. Is my future just more certain now, I wonder? At any rate, I am happy to know that my future looks as blessed as my past has been.

I return to NY on the 20th after about 10 days checking out some other famous places in Mali with Abdoulaye- most notably a place called “Dogon Country” on the border between Mali and Burkina Faso.  The Dogon live in villages on the cliffs of the Bandiagara Escarpment- a major geographical feature of West Africa. 

I look forward to talking to and seeing many of you soon after arriving in NY. I think I will be changing my phone number because my prior cell phone service is expired. Details and photos to follow soon.

So if you read my earlier post (I hate to make assumptions) then you will note I have been struggling with male-female realtionships here.  It is hard to be surrounded by the temptation of mututal attraction when the assumptions I have about most African men and they have about most white woman are not mutual in the least.

I tried my best to resist temptation, but after my first lesson French lesson, in a truly junior high school style, I described Abdoulaye as "crushable" in my journal.   We spent a lot of time together before anything happened between us, and I just really enjoy his company. We always have intersting conversations about culture, development, families, my warped office environment, life experiences.  When something happens to me, he is the first person I want to tell. It is great.

He says he wants to marry me, and I believe he is sincere and kind as well as very intelligent and creative. He is the mayor of his town, in addition to being a Peace Corps trainer. And he gives great massages, but those, I hope are only for me!

Monique asked me what our life would look like, and I truthfully have trouble invisioning where it will be and what we will do. For now, we are living in the moment, which has it pro’s and con’s.

There is a chance he will visit me in NY soon, thanks to his service passport and friends in high places. I think this is an unethical use of his Mayoral position. He agrees, but says it is worth it. I am not agreeing to anything until he meets my mom, who will certainly flip her shit, because he needs to know what he is getting into.

Of course, there are lingering questions. I ask myself if the doubts I have about this relationship are different from doubts I have had in the past or would have with a different partner.  This is a difficult question to answer because of the fidelity question in Africa.  It is not drastically different from the fidelity question in America, but one is forced to ask it more often.

I say ‘more often’ because I have watched my office-mate, Mireille, be chased by no fewer than 5 married men at a time.  This reality is sad, but true.  She has been a fabulous partner in processing and partner in crime this summer (in the office they called me ‘the accomplice’. We have fantastic conversations, we laugh a lot, and we have contributed to each others’ less than optimal productivity.  She is supportive of my relationship with Abdoulaye, but is also concerned for me, as any friend would be. 

I know you are concerned too, but also that you know me, love me, and trust my judgement. I think you’ll like Abdoulaye too whet you meet him, en-shallah! 

So before I went to Ghana this fabulous ivoirienne woman showed up at my house here in Bamako.  Madama Camara is 50 years old and came here to track down her husband who just up and left her in Abidjan two years ago without a word. Men are unfaithful pigs. Despite repeated asking, I have no idea how she knows the family I live with or why she is staying with us, but these details just don’t seem to matter here.

What matters is that this woman is hilarious, extremely open-minded and teases me to no end about the man in my life.  When she first got to Bamako, I was trying to choose between three boys. We did a lot of laughing about the ‘traffic accident’ I was tempting. Since then, I have happily settled on Abdoulaye and am really into him.

Yes, this is the same Peace Corps Language instructor who admitted how desperately he wanted to have sex with me when I had only known him for 10 days. But when I laughed at him and said no he took it so well it made me like him even more.  He wants to marry me, and I can’t really blame him! And I am considering marrying him too- though not this summer.

I have been coming home quite late at night and have to wake up half the house to get in. Madame Camara opens the door for me at 2am and then we have a good augh the next morning when she is actually awake. I like how open she is, and how non-judgemental. She is like a mom and a friend wrapped into one.

She is going back to Cote d’Ivoire on Thursday. This makes me very sad. On Friday I begin house-sitting for an American guy who lives here (actually a SIPA-Columbia alum), which is good because otherwise being in the house without her would be really sad.

My internship (which has actually taken a turn for the better in the last week) finishes up on Friday. Although in reality, it is over tomorrow because the boss lady goes on her month-long vacation to the US. When the cat’s away…  Everyone is already mentally on vacation anyway, so we might as well not deny it.

I a sad to be finishing up and moving out from the family house. It is amazing to me that even though I have been here slightly less than two-months this little life has been created around me. Friends, people to laugh and eat with, and more shared realities. It has been fantastic!

Humans are amazing creatures.

I’ve been promising to talk about my internship and then quickly shifting to other topics because, compared to other things, my internship is the the least interesting aspect of my summer.

On the positive side, it gave me a reason to go to Ghana and see my dear friend Amanda.  Amanda also generously facilitated the trip by splitting the cost of the $850 airline ticket with me.  Getting from one country to the next here is a huge pain in the ass. On my way to Ghana; I missed my connecting flight and spent the night and following day in Abidjan.  One of our colleagues there, Mr. Bih showed me the town.  The next day, I got to the airport to find out that Air Senegal had not communicated with Air Ivoire and I did not have a confirmed seat on the already full flight. There I was, 15 minutes before the flight was to depart crying in front of the check in counter.

The Air Ivoire employees and I took a liking to each other.  They were all kind middle-aged men.  Yesterday, on my way home to Bamako, I saw them all at the Air Ivoire counter and we had a great laugh about my crying spell. I am happy that I am taking myself less and less seriously as i get older and was able to laugh at my own silliness. 

Here I go again, shifting to other topics.  Ghana is a strange little English speaking island in a sea of Francophone West Africa.  Funny how we hear all these names and words in America and do not realize what country is next to any other.  I admit myself to be much better at the geography of places I have been, but it still strikes me as odd that we hear about everyplace as disembodied from the next.

The highlights of Ghana: two (negative) malaria tests taken after two days of a splitting headaches mark my first clinic or hospital experience in a developing country; seeing my freshman year college roommate and her family (her parents live in Accra and her sister was visiting with her three kids); a trip to Cape Coast and a tour of the Dutch/Portuguese/English Slave trading castle following a day drinking beers on the beach; a workshop for my internship which made me question the wisdom of this career path!

This workshop was for the Ghana chapter of the organization I intern for.  I have never experienced anything so unprofessional in my life!  In two days of meetings, the 10 participants were constantly leaving the room to answer their cell phones, demanding coffee breaks in the middle of power point presentations, and spinning stories to hear themselves talk.  While I recognize the latter happens all over the globe and realized I am not one to pass up the opportunity to eat fried chicken and drink nestcafe before 11am, it was still very upsetting. 

Luckily, the two days in Cote d’Ivoire, restored my faith in the professionalism of the organizationa dn the dedication of member researchers to the quality and substance of their research.  Also, their commitment to increasing the visibility and applicability of the work they are doing.

It is particularly important in the cotext of Cote d’Ivoire, which is in the middle of a civil war.  Abidjan, the capital, is in a secure zone, but there was a heavy military presence all over the beautiful city.  One got a good sense of just how damaging this conflict is to a very cosmopolitan and active population…

Well, I’ve just returned from a very busy 9 days in Ghana and Cote d’Ivoire. It was brilliant to see the differences between the three countires.  Next to Accra and Abidjan, Bamako is definately a big dusty village. Yet I am surprisingly happy and at home here. 

I will have many more witty and brilliant observations to share with you about my trip, visit with my college roommate Amanda in Accra, and the experiences of working with members of the organization I am interning for in the neighboring capitals in a subsequent post.

For now, I am thinking about showering and napping all afternoon.  And I will leave you with the knowledge that I checked 20 kilos of acheke in my luggage. This is a cous-cous like substance that is made fro, ,anioc and eated widely in Cote d’Ivoire.  I brought it back for everyone in the office and my Malian family.

yummy.