Sikasso, you're the bomb.com!

I ni ce! (Hello in Bambara)

Sorry that I waited so long to write and then wrote a novels-worth of information. Haha… ENJOY!

First of all, you can all be reassured… my confidence in dancing has been restored. The night after ‘African boites are super intimidating’, while going out with some classmates, I remembered that although we can’t dance well… at least we are all in the same boat, figuratively. It’s not about the grace or technical level of your dancing but the spirit you have while doing it. To compliment my reestablished love of dancing, the very next night I had yet another opportunity to showcase my overly ‘white’ dance skills…
If you haven’t figured it out yet, Africans LOVE to dance. I would say their love and ability to dance is more of a defining characteristic than the color of anyone’s skin. On the night of their Independence, September 22, my street had a rather large block party a few minutes from my house. The party basically consisted of all of the neighborhood families circling themselves up with a DJ and huge bright lights, in the middle of a dirt street, to dance and party the night away. An emcee stood in the center of the circle and called out different age groups of kids to dance to different songs. Wanting to experience all that we could, a handful of my classmates and I attended the function with each other and a few members of our family. Because my friends and I glow in the dark, due to the light nature of our skin, we were immediately noticed. Not only did we receive front row seats, chairs included, for the event, but we were also summoned into the center of the dance circle. As I am sure you can imagine the crowd went absolutely wild. What could be better for a young group of Africans, who learned to dance before they could walk, then to watch a group of white kids try and awkwardly dance for their entertainment? Nothing, is the answer for which you are looking. So, we laughingly make our way out to the center of the circle… the music starts… and the song is none other than “Gasolina”—a favorite of mine from high school. Needless to say, we collectively ‘left it all out on the dance floor’ and showed them that although we cannot dance well, we can adopt their attitude of ‘live life to the fullest and love every minute of it.’ Overall the night was an inspirational tribute to the movement of our bodies and a celebration of our universal love and appreciation of music. And much to my surprise, what I thought was a one-time occurrence for their Independence Day celebration, is actually a regular occurrence in my neighborhood… maybe by the time I get back, I’ll be a dancing pro! Watch out “So You Think You Can Dance”… here I come!

Flash forward a few days to this past weekend.
My class and I traveled to a different city for a mini-vacation to escape our normal lives in Bamako. We drove 6 hours in crowded, non-air conditioned vans over the bumpiest roads I have ever seen—a comical tribute to Mali’s lack of infrastructure and France’s blatant disregard for ‘responsible colonialism’ (an oxymoron in and of itself). We left school early Friday morning and arrived in Sikasso, the city of our weekend get-away, around 2pm. After enjoying a quick lunch, we got a much needed surprise… we were going to the POOL!
To capture our excitement, revert back to your memories of your early childhood and that first day of summer when you and all of your friends headed to the neighborhood pool. Youdid your first big cannon ball into the cool, refreshing water… and as you pull your head out of the water and take a big gasping breath of warm summer air, all you can think is “life is good.” Nothing feels better on hot, sweaty, bugbitten skin than chlorinated pool water. After the pool, we went back to our hotel to find our dinner tables had been placed outside, under the stars. My class and I enjoyed a romantic dinner under the stars accompanied by some of the best food we have experienced on our entire trip thus far.
After going to bed completely satisfied, we woke up early the next morning and I completed an achievement I did not think was possible for myself… a THIRD hike! We drove a distance out from the city to a place with huge, rock-like, mountainous structures. To scale up the side of the rock formations, there were long ladders we had to climb up and over to get past the more dangerous cliff areas. The large rock formations consisted not only of steep cliffs, but also large caves which served as living quarters and prayer areas for local Muslim men. The view from the top was breathtaking and worth the scary hike up and then back down the side of the cliffs and small mountain side. Once on top of the rocks, we could see forever… the African landscape is a beautiful site from any location but the bird’s eye view definitely ‘adds a little something extra’ to its overall impact and beauty. The small shrubbery or bush was vibrant green in contrast to the reddish dirt. We could see large herds of moving cattle and small collections of huts scattered throughout the countryside. It was a site that you would never have the opportunity to witness in Bamako. After the hike, we saw a few more of Sikasso’s ‘high-lights’ including their version of China’s great wall and the tomb of Tata, a beloved past ruler of the area.
Although I thought the morning hike could not be trumped, I was happily proven wrong. After lunch and a quick rest, we went to see a cascade, or waterfall. Sikasso’s temperature was overall better and cooler than Bamako’s to begin with because it is located in a different part of the country, but the rush of the water from the waterfall added to an even cooler and extremely refreshing feeling. We walked around the top and then to the base of it, and even stopped to pose for several pictures as I am sure you have seen from my previous post. Unfortunately, we were not allowed to touch, let alone play, in the water because we are ‘fragile’ as they like to say… but witnessing its beauty was enough of a treat. After another romantic, outdoor dinner with everyone, a few of my friends and I headed to the roof of our hotel where we stationed ourselves for the rest of the night. We stayed up there listening to music, talking, and enjoying the incredibly cool weather under a full blanket of glowing stars.
The next morning we left bright and early to return to Bamako and although the ride was overall uneventful, one somewhat interesting thing happened… I had to pee outside in the African bush. Because they don’t have Quicktrips on every corner here, let alone any sort of bathroom-like structure, halfway though our ride home my van had to stop to take a restroom break. We all wadded through tall grasses into a clearing, scattered away into our own little corners of animal-less peace and did our business rural Africa style. My great aunt used to forewarn me about situations like that when I was young, encouraging me to ALWAYS use the bathroom before I got in the car… another life lesson learned, I am never too old or smart or cool to listen to the wise advice of my Great Aunt Wanda.

I made it back to my host family safe and sound, but not very well rested. It was a long and tiring weekend but one that was desperately needed. The weekend away was the perfect escape my entire class and I needed from Bamako and the stressful daily grind of school, our host families, and every other challenge that gets thrown our way every day.

A lot of people have asked for it so I am going to go ahead and post my address on here, that way I don’t have to message every single person individually:

Sarah Pontier
c/o Modibo Coulibaly
Baco Dijikotoni- ACI- Sud
Rue 732 Porte 54
Bamako
Mali

I’ll try and post funny stories later this week before I leave for my rural visit stay next week.
If you can’t tell, everything is still going great here and I can’t believe I have been here for over a month… it seems like such a long time, but in the same breath… it still kind of feels like I just got here.

Everyone is still doing a great job of keeping me updated! Great job  and thanks!
I love and miss you all.

Love, Sarah

I cant see the pictures... So I can't correctly label them but I will just tell you what they are and you play the game of placing the caption with the picture...

-The green van looking thing is the Sitrama... which is their bus system. These are what we ride to get around town and downtown.It is about as sketchy as it looks and ALWAYS an adventure.
-The picture of hand holding is two of my classmates with a couple kids who practically attacked us with love on one of our tours while we were out of town this weekend. They followed us around the entire time holding our hands...
-The picture infront of the waterfall is of me and my two closest friends here. This was also taken while out of town this weekend. The waterfall was amazing but we weren't allowed to touch any water or go in it so that kind of stunk. But, the view was worth it.
-The picture of me with one other girl was taken in our hotel room... we went out of town this weekend to Sikasso. The drive there was 6 hours and my friend in the picture got bored so she made all of us friendship bracelets-- very oldschool, but very appreciated. And this is a picture of her putting her creation on my wrist.

I think those are all of the pictures but like I said,
I can't see so I really have no idea.

Sorry about that but I hope you enjoy the pictures!
Some of my classmates have also been uploading pictures to facebook so check that out too!

Love, Sarah

African boites are intimidating!!!

Hello everyone!

A lot has been going on since the last time I updated so bare with me as I try to relay a lot of information in an easy and concise manner.

What I have been up to:

On Tuesday, my class went to a women’s prison. The image of this place is forever ingrained in my mind. To quote my post-visit journal entry, “It smelled like human shit, everywhere.” They live dormitory style, with too many women cramped in each room. There are no cells at all but instead they live in a large compound with almost everything outdoors. They are free to walk around inside the small, gated compound which is where we entered and walked through… right next to all of them. Not only were the living conditions less than excusable, but the women looked somewhat sickish. Most of them seemed to have some sort of skin illness or disfigurement. There were also very stark differences between their prison and a typical women’s prison in the United States. For instance, there were tons of children inside the prison. For some reason, women who are incarcerated are still able to keep their children with them up to a certain age. The rules of the prison are overall much more relaxed… the women are able to use knitting needles, razors, and even hot coals to cook with. This seemed rather strange to me considering that when the warden was asked what crimes placed these women in prison, the top 2 answers were manslaughter and infanticide (the murdering of children). It seems to me, although I am not educated on the subject, that the top 2 things I would keep out of this, or really any, prison are weapons and children… but I guess they feel it works for them. I could go into so much more detail but it isn’t particularly pleasant. To end this paragraph on a conclusive note, the Bamako prison was NOT similar to the Bridget Jones’ Diary 2: The Edge of Reason Thailand prison scene I originally had painted in my mind… Hollywood, your reenactment of a female third world prison was inaccurate, and because of you, I was ill-prepared.

On Wednesday, a couple girls from my class and I went down to the Niger River to ‘observe’ it. Our driver, Kara, dropped us off somewhere strange but eventually we made it to an opening in the river. There was a slum-like neighborhood we had to walk through to actually get to the river in the area we picked to observe and the contrast between where we live with our home stay families and this neighborhood was really extreme. We had to walk through a large field of muddy sewage to even enter the village area, and then walk through the village to actually get near the water. ‘Observing’ their way of life was personally difficult for all of us to take in. Most of the kids had potbelly or malnourished stomachs. Unlike most third world countries, Malian children get enough of a calorie intake but they are still malnourished because what they eat doesn’t actually provide their bodies any vitamins or health benefits. So, typically, their bellies stick out really far, looking very bloated, and the child tends to look very ill. It’s emotionally hard and draining to walk through this area and see swarms of sick kids with crusty snot running down their noses and smelling of human feces. It’s even harder trying to make the choice of whether or not you should let them touch you… they want to shake your hand and follow you around but at what point do you say enough is enough? We have no idea where their hands have been and literally have no way to properly disinfect. It sounds heartless but it is a legitimate concern my group had a hard time discussing.
Although the water is an excellent resource and in some respects they are very lucky to have it, in other ways it is a terrible curse. It’s disgustingly dirty, the entire cities waste just sits in it and it breeds disease and parasites. Everyone in the village drinks it, cooks with it, and washes everything in it, including themselves. The number one thing the SIT program tells you after “don’t eat the street food,” is DO NOT touch water from the Niger River. And if you do, you must immediately wash yourself off and disinfect as best as you can. So to think an entire group of people, and I am sure there are also others, live life with the river for companionship seems devastating to my Western eyes.
I have personally started to really struggle with these kinds of observations. I walk around and wonder… if they don’t know of anything different, do they understand the kind of poverty they live in? It’s crazy to think anyone would think a life like this is normal, even the living conditions of my wealthy Malian family, but the reality is, I am the out of touch person… a majority of the world lives in similar situations like this and we truly are the freaks for the way we live. It was a really hard experience to observe. Also, like most situations we find ourselves in, it’s awkward to just walk in on someone’s life and ‘observe it’. Who are we to invade their space and make them feel like what they do, which is completely normal, is something so strange to us that we want to study it? A majority of the time a lot of us feel like we are trampling through their lives carelessly making silly judgments on how ‘different’ they are. Having a group of young white girls walking through your village and shaking your hand is very weird—to put it bluntly. Try envisioning the situation vise-a-versa… Once you really start thinking about it, it’s rather strange.

On Thursday, we did the coolest thing yet… we went to the US Embassy! We had a presentation by the ‘spokesman’, aka total badass, for the USAID (which is the US Agency for International Development). To rewind a bit, let’s first talk about the US Embassy… Hello America! The next time you go anywhere in the United States, notice the track lighting, ceiling, smooth walls, crown molding, sleekly sealed windows, window panes, huge and heavy sleek metal doors, pretty much everything… because it’s uniquely Western. Our embassy is a ‘if you even glance at our building incorrectly, we are going to kick your ass in a way you’ve never even thought of’ kind of building. Just being in it made all of us a little homesick but luckily, our lecture on Malian development quickly reminded us why we are here and we soaked up the buildings air-conditioning with appreciation instead of longing.
Our lecturer talked with us about the four main areas the USAID works to improve development in Mali, which includes health, economic growth, governance and communication, and education. Although I won’t bore you with what we learned, it was wonderful to hear him speak. With his lobbyist persona, he embodied the ability to take anything negative and turn it into a positive. Just seeing someone with that kind of speaking ability is inspirational and to know that my class was able to have a discussion with someone that high ranking in such a huge organization is incredible.

Friday and Saturday were socially fun for me but definitely not blog worthy so I will move forward with Sunday. On Sunday, the big post-Ramadan ‘fete’ (or party) began. To preface it a little bit, we were told that because Muslims (which is basically the entire country) have been fasting for over a month to observe Ramadan, they throw a HUGE party to celebrate its ending on the Sunday it is over. But, cultural differences don’t lie… our definition and their definition of partying our two very different things. People here spend about a week getting ready to celebrate the end of Ramadan. It’s basically like preparing for Prom. They do their hair, paint their nails, get all new clothes, and fight with their significant others about their plans for the day. Problem is, when the ‘big day’ arrived I was expecting a “PAR-TAY!!!” and I got (include a small, sad sigh) “party”. My day went like this… I woke up, showered and was then greeted by the preparation of lunch. As I sat, watching them dissect what they kept referring to as just ‘viande’ (or meat), I grew continually more and more suspicious. With help from my trusty French/English dictionary I was able to creatively and tactfully ask about what exactly we were about to eat. By the time lunch came around and I had a piece of my mystery meat in my mouth, I put two and two together… I was eating the ‘best’ parts of the cow, or less formally known as the parts that no one in the Western world wants to eat. As I chomped on cow stomach, arteries, and tongue, I more figuratively ate my own words of “I eat and like everything, I am not a picky eatter”, and digested the fact that the previous statement is now a lie.
`After lunch, I put on my new traditional Malian clothes (yes, I took pictures) and walked with my friends from house to house meeting up with other classmates and seeing all of their new clothes. Needless to say, we looked strange. It’s one thing to walk around and be glowingly white but retain your ‘normal’ and expected Western garb… it’s completely different to walk around glowingly white in traditional Malian clothes. People thought we were literally crazy. After this spectacle, I returned home to observe the next big part of the holiday… begging and praying children. Adults sit in their courtyards with their front doors open and wait for children, dressed in their best clothes, to walk in and rattle off an entire list of prayers or wishes for their New Year in exchange for a few coins. To give everyone a western point of reference… it’s basically the combination of dressing and preparing for Easter and walking around from door-to-door like Halloween (but instead of candy, they get coins).
That evening, my sister invited me out to see a movie with her and her friends. I enjoyed Terminator 3, dubbed in French and then we went to the ‘boite’ (or club). Although I have about an hour’s worth of information to share about the boite, I will simply say this… I am not easily intimidated but dancing in an African night club lowered my ‘dancing self-esteem’ to nonexistent and tonight (Monday 9.21) when I go out, I am going with my fellow, terrible dancing, classmates.

A random Malian thought:

They wear Western t-shirts here—bargain basement, Salvation Army reject t-shirts. This, overall, is a great idea… it’s recycling at its finest and it’s nice to know the “Support our Public School” t-shirt you got in 95’ isn’t in some landfill but instead continuing to do its job by clothing and making a statement. It is however odd to see an impoverished man standing on the corner begging for change in a t-shirt that says “Support our Public Schools”. It’s wrong and strange on so many levels… even if he could read, the likelihood that he would read English is nonexistent. The irony of the meaning behind the shirt and the language it is written in paired against their educational system and basic lack of fundamental infrastructure is a prime example of globalization… its definitional perfection kills me. The strange thing is, this is not an isolated example or the exception to some rule… it is the cultural norm. Everywhere we walk, a majority of people are wearing graphic t-shirts with absolutely absurd things written on them. Although I see the extremely sad aspect to the t-shirt situation, I can’t help but laugh when I see a 50 year old man wearing a Pokemon t-shirt or a baby in a Lakers jersey… they don’t have anime cartoons OR basketball here.

Random personal thoughts:

I still love it here but homesickness has definitely started to settle in. It’s starting to effect almost everyone in my group in one way or another. It’s not terrible or anything traumatic; it’s just that over time things add up. To give a short, shout-out style list of things I am missing: mac’n’cheese and broccoli shells, chips and salsa, chapter, peebs, sushi, American TV shows, mindprobs, waffle house, pictures with ‘heads together’, bill, pad thai, singing in the car, green bean casserole, and anything that reminds me of my family (in multiple senses of the word). The updates are beyond awesome, I will never be able to explain how they impact my day and… if this little adventure of mine has shown me anything, it’s that I am truly beyond blessed with the friends and family in which I am surrounded. It’s cheesy, I know, but it just had to be said.

I will try and write again soon so that I can write without the stress of trying to include an entire week’s worth of information into one entry. I am sending my love from half-way around the world… I hope you can all feel it!

Love. Sarah

i think this will work?!?
lets test it and see!!

ps. the captions for all of the pictures except for one is included on an older post... so read that if you want to know what the picture is. and, the picture of me with a glass is the only picture i have of myself without sunglasses on... so ENJOY!

Love. Sarah

Breaking habits...

Africa is THE place to break a habit…

Biting your nails?
Not after you see how dirty your nails are and where your hands have been.
Picking your nose?
Not after the first time you blow it and see your blackish-gray snot that has formed because of the nasty air.
Leaving the lights on?
Not after Momma Tante yells at you and makes you feel guilty by reminding you that electricity is expensive and they’re poor.
Losing your cell phone?
Not when it takes DAYS to get it back and literally no one can get in contact with you and you have the hassle of trying to explain your incompetence to your family in Franbara (the mix of French and Bambara)
Picky eatter?
Not when your family spends the little money they have to feed you and spends the entire day in an outdoor, smoke filled kitchen yelling at the servant as she makes your meal.
Germ phobic?
Not when the only way to clean an apple and feel good about eating it is when you wipe an antibacterial cloth all over the outside of it. And, go to the bathroom over a hole in the ground.

I’ve heard it said it takes at least 30 days to break a habit… I’ve been in country now for two weeks and that research has successfully been disproven by me and my classmates.

As for some interesting stories:

1. One of my friends was lying in bed one night face down. All of a sudden, she feels the family cat walking up the back of her legs. Although she thought it was strange, she knew the cat was a wanderer and so she really thought nothing of it. Then, the cat continued to walk up her legs to her back, and then walk up her back to the side of her head. It rested on the opposite side of the pillow from where she was facing so she felt around to touch it, wanting to double check that it was in fact the cat. As her hand touched it, she soon realized it was NOT the cat… but a huge 1.5 foot long lizard that had crawled into bed with her. She screamed and the lizard ran away but an important life lesson was learned… always put your mosquito net on your bed, it saves you from more than just mosquitoes.

2. As I may have mentioned before, the sidewalks here are rather strange. They don’t really have a good grip on how to take care of waste and sewage so they build large canals along the sides of the roads and semi-cover them by placing large cement blocks over the opening. They leave space between the blocks, and at the end of the sidewalk, before you get to the road, there are sometimes very, very large openings. The logic here is you just throw your trash on the ground and it will blow into the holes and into the sewage canals or you just dump all your family’s waste and trash into the large hole. Anyway, onto the story… Because it is the rainy season here, it rains almost every afternoon-- some afternoons more than others. One afternoon it had rained particularly hard and flooded a vast majority of the streets. One of my classmates was walking from his bus stop to his house along the sidewalk that was flooded up to mid-shin. As he was about to cross the street, he fell INTO the hole between the cement block sidewalk and the road. He couldn’t see where he was walking due to the flooding. He was standing in a sewage canal, full of flowing waste, up to the bottom of his armpits. Needless to say, he threw away all of the clothes he was wearing and his nice tennis shoes and checked into the hotel for the night. He needed a dry room and a hot shower.

3. I use my own little laptop in my house to write my blog entries before I go to the cyber café so I have time to write and think. They think my computer is absolutely the coolest thing they have ever seen. The little kids told me they think it is even MORE beautiful than me! Haha They asked how expensive it was and how I could afford such a luxury and so to avoid the question, I told them it was a gift from my dad, which is true. That then sparked tons of questions about my family… they wanted to know everyone’s names, etc. Because my dad was the giver of the most ‘beautiful thing they had ever seen’, they insisted on memorizing his strange American name. Now, all of the little kids won’t stop saying it. When they play pretend, everyone fights to be called Tony Pontier. They also like playing jokes on me so they continually run into whatever room I am in and tell me I have a visitor… when I ask who it is, they always laugh and run away singing “Tony Pontier! Tony Pontier!” Their pronunciation is absolutely hilarious, but the best part? Their love of the name has spread to the rest of the neighborhood… now an entire cartier in Mali sings the name of an American man they don’t even know.

4. The best night with my family to date—definitely last night (9.11). After I came home from school, greeted by four of the little kids in my family running down the street and jumping into my arms, I sat around reading previous students research projects. Then, as dusk fell, my family moved the mat that we typically sit on in the tiled, lit part of our courtyard out into the middle area. I laid out there, under the stars, with a cool breeze, playing with the little kids. It was incredible. Then, the evening prayers start which added to the experience. I got to watch all the men and women of my family gather in the courtyard and watch them do their long night time prayer while laying on a mat and watching the stars. It was so relaxing and I really felt 100% comfortable with my family. After, I had an interesting conversation with one of my brothers about child trafficking in Mali and the surrounding countries and gained a very interesting perspective from his views. I then watched the evening news and for the first time since I have been here, I was actually caught up on what was happening in the world—how ironic, I know. An entire night, successfully conducted in only French… it was unimaginably fantastic.


I’ll try and write more next time… the updates have been great, keep them coming! Love you all!

Love. Sarah

Photos, Please work! <3. Sarah

Everyone’s comments, emails, and facebook messages have been great! Please keep them coming!! I really enjoy reading what everyone has been up to and so far I still feel like I am somewhat included on most peoples lives. As for some more updates:

I have spent my first official weekend with my family, which has been great and challenging. Trying to think and speak in French 24/7 is extremely difficult and when you add the Bambara it’s definitely a lot to take in.

Friday my class went to the National Museum of Mali. Sounds great… but it was a major let down. We had a guided tour with a tour guide that kept his eyes closed the entire time and started his speech off by telling us that because it is Ramadan and he is fasting, he is extremely tired and didn’t really want to be giving the tour. He then continued to speak French very quickly and quietly, losing my interest almost immediately. The museum itself was poorly designed and set up but fortunately I was there with my classmates and they make everything better. That evening when I returned home, I was getting sick so I went to bed early.

Saturday, my sister woke me up at 6 am by turning the light on and sitting next to my bed and staring at me until I finally woke up. My mom took my 18 year old sister, an older brother and myself to visit a cousin who had just had a baby and to meet my grandmother and more cousins and aunts. When I came home that afternoon I went over to my cousins house which happens to also be the house of one of my classmates, Katarina. Kat and I went on a two hour walk around where we live-- we were trying to sweat out some of the oil that our food is always drenched in. Then we went to the Cyber, or internet café.

On one of my first nights with my family, I had asked if I could go to their mosque with them one time to observe their religious practices and my family invited me to go that Saturday! They gave me clothes to wear because when a women goes to the mosque, only her feet, hands, and face may be showing. We walked there and filed in along with everyone else. I stood in the middle of the room observing and copying the movements of everyone around me. During the evening prayer session (remember they pray 5 times a day, but not always at the mosque) they go up and down 17 times! Not every time they pray during the day do they do the 17 rounds, they only do that during the night. During the day, there is a certain number they are supposed to do at certain time intervals. The way they pray is incredible and the amount of focus and dedication it takes is admirable. Even the prayers that are played over the loudspeakers that indicate which movement to do and when to do them is enchanting. The only downside to my religious workout was the heat-- standing in an nonair-conditioned room, fully covered with tons of women all crowded around you in continuous motion really gets the temperature rising. Add the already hot climate and the mosque is a top of the line cake-baking machine. Despite the heat though, it was an eye opening experience and something I have always been very curious about. It gave me a new perspective on why women wear and do what they do during prayer and really changed a lot of my uneducated preconceived notions.

Later that night, I spent the night out at another classmates house. She lives on the third floor of a huge house and has the entire thing to her self with a huge walk out balcony area that overlooks part of the city. Everyone needed a little ‘normal’ American college time. Lots of my classmates came over and it was nice to be reunited after not seeing each other for a day. It seems weird but because we were thrown into this situation and had to bond so quickly, we are creating strong bonds and truly enjoying each others company. And, let’s be honest, we speak English together which is what we love the most. The only down side… my love of B.Spears is pretty lonely.

Overall my family is great. I had friends over Sunday and my little sister and cousin enjoyed dancing and playing with all of them. I even got to show my friends the dance my family taught me… it’s not very complicated but it took me an embarrassing amount of time to learn it. The most important members of my family, or the people I see on a regular basis, are my mom (Tante), 18 year old sister (Moye), 12 year old girl cousin (Bejou), and 6 year old sister (Momme). I ‘hang out’ the most with Moye but spend a pretty large amount of time with the two little ones as well. Everyday when I get home from school the 6 year old waits by our door and runs down the street to me when she sees me cross the street and jumps into my arms. My typical day routine with the little ones is learn how to dance, get stared at, have them touch my hair, and continuously get told how pretty I am. It’s interesting here… no matter what you look like, if you have white skin you automatically look pretty because the color of your skin is your most attractive feature and very little else really matters. Although I know it is false flattery, I must admit that it’s going to be tough returning to the United States… I doubt Hillary or Ellie will sit on my lap and stare at my for 5 minutes at a time and comment approximately every 30 minutes on how beautiful I am. J

This Sunday, I also participated in my first complete bucket shower. For the first few days with my family I saw the task of taking a complete bucket shower as too daunting so every time I went to the bathroom I proceeded to just wash one main part of my body and leave the rest of the areas to the next time I was in the bathroom, like a rotation. Sunday though, I felt extremely dirty because I had yet to leave the bathroom and feel 100% clean at any one single point since moving in with my family. Thus, I took my first complete bucket shower which was shockingly successful and much easier than I would have thought. It might have been because I had washed every part of my body previously so putting all of it together was actually less stressful. Although the water looks kind of gross when it comes out of the faucet-like-thing and has left all of us covered in red bumps/ rashes, its cool temperature is greatly appreciated and the overall clean feeling I am left with when I leave the bathroom is rewarding… even if in only 10 minutes of leaving the bathroom my feet are already dirty again.

Okay I am going to try and add pictures but because of the way I write the blog it might not work very well so if the pictures don’t show up and it’s just the captions, I am sorry!

Here I am at the shea butter ‘factory’. At this point, the paste that was made from the kaite nut is added to water and beaten over and over again until it forms a white foam above the water.



When we got to the top of the rock/mountain structure after the first hike, we went to the place where they used to speak to the Gods and make sacrifices. This is where they used to make the sacrifice and supposedly the sand here tells the future. I just thought this was an awesome picture with the light and the motion. To the right is the an opening to the cave area we were standing in. This is directly under the ridge where the arch is located.



This is me, post-first hike. It isn’t a great picture to represent the hike but I’ll try and explain it… the arch is the large structure on the right and it’s a picture of the side of it so you can’t tell that it is an arch. We climbed up one side of it and then came down this side of it. I feel like it doesn’t look as big in the picture… bummer


This is a picture of me with a cousin and my little sister. The one on the left is my cousin, I only hung out with her one day and her name is Rokia. The one on the right is my little 6 year old sister named Momme and although you can‘t tell by this picture, she is absolutely the cutest thing ever! (Also, please notice that we are doing ‘heads together‘ and I didn‘t even have to tell them to do it! Haha… I was meant to be family with these people!)

Sorry I don’t have any pictures of myself without sunglasses on! I’ll try and add more later. If this works, I’ll put up more pictuers the next time I post.

All in all, life’s good J
Love you all!

Love. Sarah

My Malian Family

Okay so my blog writing skills are beyond terrible… I am so so so sorry!!! Let me try and catch you up a bit on what has been happening in the past few days.

We spent three nights in a rural village called Siby. We stayed in a hotel that was made up of stand alone huts that each fit three of us. We took a tour of a shea butter ‘factory’ and by the term ‘factory’, I mean a bunch of Malian women that work too hard all day long to ground the kaite nut into a paste and then mix it with water over and over again until it foams and the shea extract can be taken. Then they melt it down and make it into soaps and lotions. After we toured that we spent the rest of the day learning more Bambara so we could participate in our first rural village visit. Later, we went into the village in pairs of two and spent time with a family. We spoke mostly French with them, which was shocking because they typically don’t know much French. Although there accents are incorrect and grammer is worse than mine in French, we could still understand each other. We spent about two hours their helping out with chores for their dinner. My friend and I swept, did the dishes, helped cook rice, and pounded some strange ingredients together to form a mortar or paste like substance. Many people, especially children, gathered from the village to watch us help with chores. Most of them thought it was hilarious because we had absolutely no idea what we were doing-- they sweep their completely dirt floors with a bunch of sticks or branches and wash their dishes outside on the ground using the sandy dirt with the brillo pads for extra scrubbing power. The woman taught us a lot of vocabulary in Bambara though which was greatly appreciated. That evening I did get a little sick. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling pretty bad but by the morning it had mostly passed.

The next day… we… went… HIKING!!  I hiked! A lot! Mali is almost all completely flat but next to the village were huge rock mountains and we hiked to the top of one that had a huge arch. Our guide told us that many years ago, the tribe that inhabited the area worshipped there in a special cave next to the arch. Supposedly they made sacrifices and communicated directly with God. That hike was about two hours long. And in the hot sun, two hours FEELS long. After our first hike, we traveled down the rode to a waterfall my class had seen on the drive into Siby. We walked up that mountain to about the middle of the waterfall which took about an hour and then my class all sat around on these huge rocks all around the waterfall for about 30 minutes just soaking up the beauty and bonding. The hike down was really steep but I made it! And my friend who is really into hiking and rock climbing said he couldn’t even tell it was my first day of hiking! Needless to say, I was very self gratified.

The next day we left Siby early in the morning so we could get back to Bamako and spend more time with our family. We were dropped off with them permanently. Their home will be my base for the next two months. That afternoon we hung out around the house with my two sisters, one is 18 and the other is 6, and two of their girl cousins, one is 21 and the other is 12. I continually meet more and more brothers and when I ask them how many brothers I have they only respond “beaucoup, beaucoup” meaning “very many, very many”. Many of them are cousins but I know I have at least three brothers. They continually eat so I never know when meal time is but I am never hungry. They are all so loving and welcoming and I can tell they are beyond excited to have me in their home. I share a room and armoire with my 18 year old sister and I have my own queen size bed to sleep in. I also gave them the gifts I brought for them on the first night. I brought them two royals t-shirts, a bottle of bbq sauce, sunflower seeds, and a bunch of little gifts for the little girls. They LOVED the presents and had the entire large bag of sunflower seeds done before we had even started dinner. They put on their shirts and wore them the very next day. My 18 year old sister was so grateful she took me to the family boutique and got me fabric, then took me to the tailor and had me measured because my family is having a traditional dress made for me. My little sister and two girl cousins were so excited, they gave me a stuffed Ernie stuffed animal to sleep with and they named him Sarah Pontier. Oh, I should also mention, all families give their host students knew Malian names to use for the semester. My first name is Jamilla and my last name is Maiga, like theirs. They are extremely patient with me and continually help me with my French and my Bambara. The most difficult aspect of my family is their servant. They have a female servant that they treat terribly. The call for her to come into the room and turn the light on for them and then when she leaves, they make her open and close and open and close the door… over and over again. It’s terrible but I can’t say anything because it is a part of their culture.

I went to school today which was great and then my whole class went back to the large market together to spend some time. The best part of today was the little girls in my family told me there is a girl that lives down the street from me and her name is Sarah. They also tell me she is a bully, extremely mean, and a witch… they are silly little girls but I have to admit… its rather humours that the only other girl in Mali with the name Sarah is scary. C’est terrible!

That’s all for now!
I have much, much more I could write but I don’t have the time.
I love and miss all of you a ton but I am still having an absolutely incredible time!!

Love. Sarah

I arrived alive :)

Hey everyone!!

I am so sorry I have been unable to update this so far… I will try and keep it short because I don’t have a ton of time to type and I know you all don’t have a ton of time to read but I want to update everyone on all of the amazing things I have done and seen thus far.

First off, my plane rides were fantastic. I spent all day Thursday exploring London and I got to see Buckingham Palace, Hyde Park, Picadilly Circle, and I good portion of the west side of London due to the fact that I was determined to walk the entire day! I definitely got an incredible workout considering it was approximately 5 hours of continuous walking with a heavy backpack. I stayed a few hours in Nairobi, Kenya’s airport but unfortunately my layover was too short for me to exit. Also, it was a very cloudy day so I couldn’t even enjoy the view out my window as I left Nairobi for Bamako.

The airport at Bamako was two things: simple and confusing. Simple because it is a single standing plain building with practically nothing else and because they don’t really believe in the concept of a customs gate. They barely looked at my passport or visa but instead just let me walk straight through. It was confusing because there were people checking our bags but no one their to explain the process. Also, it’s a little scary getting off a plane expecting to see at least one or two white kids from your program but instead getting a bunch of large African men busily walking around not speaking or acknowledging you. I couldn’t find the area designated for my group and my French was so rusty no one understood what I was asking and why I was asking it. After feeling defeated and settling in for my 8 hour wait until my group meeting, a man comes up to me holding a sign with my group name on it. I go with him and he takes me and another girl from my program to the hotel where 6 other kids have already arrived. We enjoy lunch in our hotel and rest for the rest of the afternoon. The other half of group trickles in for the rest of the day.

The next day we wake up bright and early to start ‘school’. They drive us there in these small crowded vans that they like to call buses and although our school seems to be surrounded by not-so-great surroundings, the school its self is really, really nice for the area. They talk to us about our calendar for the semester and what to expect with our families, and then we have our first Bambara language class (which is the native and most common language spoken in Mali). It’s hard but extremely interesting and our group is dedicated to learning it because only about 10% of the population speaks clear French, which means only 10% has any sort of education… wrap your thoughts around that for a second. After the Bambara lessons, we participate in our first drop-off. To be honest, if you are fearful.. do not read what a drop-off is BUT… if you like adventure… read on!

A drop is where we are given a slip of paper “Amazing Race” style. On the card it tells you the name of a place and what to do once you get to that place. It gives you a time to return to the hotel and how much money you are allowed to spend. We pair off in groups of two and are then dropped off in the middle of the city and set free to wander around. This was the single most terrifying and intense experience not only of my own life, but of any experience I have ever heard anyone having. Eventually you all will see pictures of Bamako and the roads but to paint a bit of a picture the first thing you need to know is colonialism didn’t really touch the city of Bamako because the French saw no purpose or use for it. Thus, it has barely any infrastructure, or really structure at all for that matter. All the roads are dirt and there are no sidewalks. There are tons of people just walking through the middle of the street with the cars and the motor bikes and along the unlabeled roads are kiosks and stands selling everything imaginable. I was paired with another girl from my group and our task was to find this one large market, Artisanat, and figure out the prices for drums, statutes, beads, silver rings, and belts. Hardly anyone spoke French and the place we were looking for was at least a 20 minute walk from where we were originally dropped off. After finding it, we walked around the outdoor market which is basically a Mexican flea market’s second-rate, half brother on steroids. Everyone was yelling and whistling at us. The market was full of men begging us to marry them and telling us we were the most beautiful women in the world. Children gathered around us as we walked trying to touch our hands so they could feel what ‘white skin’ feels like and they sing the word “toobaboo” (white person) over and over again while clapping. We stopped in several spots within the market collecting the price of different goods. Because of inflation, $1 is worth approximately 500 CFA. I bought myself a bracelet and my partner bought a pair of earrings to fulfill the challenge and in the process we made a very kind shop friend. We got into a bit of hot water when we told our shop friend that we only had a limited amount of money to spend on our items because we had to use the rest of our money for the taxi. We told him we only had 1000 CFA left and because that isn’t enough for a taxi (because they charge you more if you are white) he told us he would take us to the taxi place and tell them to take us for the lower price. The problem was, the taxi drivers didn’t care and refused to take us for less than 1500 CFA and although we did in fact have much more money than that, we couldn’t say it at the time because we would have to exposed that we had lied. The solution… our friend walked us halfway across town to a street filled with green vans (aka. their bus system) and instructed one of the van drives to take us on his route and drop us off at our hotel. We were fortunate enough to sit in the front seat (the vans don’t have back doors or seats) and we made it back to our hotel having spent by far the least amount of money. It was an incredible and exhilarating experience in which a picture will be worth a thousand words so get excited.

Today we went to class again and we got cell phones. My number is 223 7 653 1085. It should work with an international calling card if anyone wants to try it… I’ll always have it one me. Hopefully pretty soon I will be able to try the phone I brought with me that has the local number. Anyway, after we got our cell phones, we met our host families!!! We don’t get dropped off with them until Wednesday but we had a meet and greet with them so we aren’t as startled when we move in. The family members that were sent to greet me include my mom, 18 year old sister, older brother, and 6 year old sister. They also said I have a 6 year old brother as well. They didn’t mention anything about the father or if he has another wife so there will be more children or not. I had a very difficult time talking with them but they seem extremely welcoming and excited to have me in their family. Having your own American is like opening a Willy Wonka Chocolate Bar every morning and finding you, have a golden ticket.

That’s really all I have been up to, or at least that is the shortened version. To give you an update on the country of Mali in general… it’s really, really hot and I have never sweated this much in my entire life. The pride I felt while sweating through a grey shirt can never be duplicated and although its miserable its tolerable only because this is the rainy season so almost every afternoon it rains and gets cloudy so everything cools down for a while. As most of you know, the country is Muslim which has made for very interesting observations. Although Mali is not very strict in their practice of religion, they still keep some tradition. They pray five times everyday and it is announced by prayers over a loud speaker. Everyone stops what they are doing and washes their hands, feet, and face and then kneels on special mats to start the prayers. It is also the month of Ramadan which leads the city to be less outgoing because most of the population is fasting during the day. Although things are obviously different over here it really hasn’t been difficult adjusting to their culture. I think I came in expecting the worst and my expectation definitely turned out to be real life… but at least I was prepared! I have yet to experience any real amount of culture shock but I am sure it is coming… the news that they wipe their bums with their hand and water instead of tissue paper was a bit disturbing but their logic is rather sound proof and they don’t judge us for using paper so even that wasn’t so bad. The best part about my trip this far is the kindness and happiness displayed by everyone, especially the children. Everyone is so alive and appreciative here-- to make a child’s day by just talking with him for a few minutes or letting him touch your white skin is the most inspiring and moving experience I think anyone can have. To live on so little and have so little to look forward too yet still wake each morning with a smile because you don’t know any different is why, to me at least, we who know of something better should work for those who don’t know what they are missing. I am not saying they should emulate our lifestyle but asking for a house with a door for protection isn’t asking too much. To know that I will only be here for four months is heartbreaking but knowing that within only a few days I have already learned so much I am hopeful for what the rest of the semester brings.

I love and miss you all J

I’ll try to write again as soon as I can!!!!

Love. Sarah