2-5 : A day visit like NO other.

Today is a day off of sorts since locations are closed, but we still spend the whole day on and off discussing the assignment. Bara informed us the night before that he would be taking us to his village. This village is about 80 miles outside of Mopti in desolate country. The village is called Borko, and it’s where his parents are from. This means that almost EVERYONE in the village has Bara’s last name of Kassambara. This town is the one that another volunteer John Grover told me about earlier in the week, and I’ve been fascinated by it ever since.

We travel north and east in and out of villages and towns. We then turn off the main road and head into the country on dirt road. The dirt road turns to crudely paved road and eventually up a mountain, then down another into a canyon. We arrive to fields and fields of beautiful onion and garlic crops. And cool breeze, palm trees, and a natural spring. David says this is a microclimate being between the two canyons, and that’s why it feels so different.

The exit to Borko off the main road.

Taking photos from the road with David and Bara.

The "paved" road to the Borko canyon.

The "entrance" to Borko.

We stop and travel across the sections of growing garlic and Bara catches up with family members as we look at the beautiful crops. We return to the truck, some children talk to Bara before we get in, and he laughs. I ask him what the exchange was about, and he says “That boy. He is smart! He asked me for my empty water bottle. I told him not now, but he could have it later. He told me ‘now is better’!” We all laugh at this.

The garlic and onion crops.

One of a handful of natural springs that feeds the village.

We wind into the village and are taken to the mayors house. The mayor of the village is Bara’s little brother. Bara talks to him a while while we look on. He stops to interpret important points. They are basically discussing the sad situation in Bamako of the protests and the government as a whole. I tell Bara’s brother he should run for president as I point to a picture of him on the wall looking very stately. He says “no, no, no” and we have a laugh about it.

Boureima and local children.

We are intrigued about the crocodiles Bara has told us about, and the “swamp” of weeds happens to be across from the mayor’s building. Bara informs us that later, they will feed them. I asked why they feed the crocodiles. He says “we have an understanding with them.” He elaborates that everyone in the village contributes goats or dead animals, having them slaughtered to feed the crocs. He says that if the crocs are fed, they won’t have to come into the village to possibly hunt humans. “If we don’t feed them, they will feed themselves” he tells us. Good point.

Children insisting on having their photograph taken.

This was a highlight. They were loving having their picture taken.

Children begin gathering around us and start insisting on having their picture taken, and then being able to look at the image on the screen. I start letting them hit the shutter as well so they squeal every time the camera clicks to take a picture. A few girls are there as well, and when I ask to photograph them, they squeal and hide behind a tree laughing. This starts a small game of chase down the road trying to photograph them. When I turn around to go the other way, they come up and tap me on the back. Then I turn around and chase them with the camera again.

A few elders have a laugh. Bara turns to tell us another funny story. The man telling the story, a Borko villager, was out fishing with a Dogon tribesman (Malians native to the Mopti region). They fish and fish until the supply starts running thin for some reason. The dogon asks “What should we do?” The Borko villager says “we must depend on God now.” The dogon asks “Well, who were we depending on before?” Bara explains that people only pray when things are bad, not when they are good. Laughter.

Bara asks if I would like to climb a mountain? I say yes and Boureimi and two children guide David and I up one side of the canyon. It’s an excellent climb and not quite as high as the one I’m used to with Pinnacle mountain. It seems this is a trail that people on the other side of the canyon travel to come to the market, which is in Borko. We stop and I ask if we can keep going. Boureimi informs us that it’s too dangerous, and is insistent that we go no further. Although disappointed, I take his advice. We sit and watch and men, women, and children come walking down the mountain carrying all kinds of loads to the market.

The hike from the base.

Women hiking down to the market from a village on the other side of the canyon. Note the woman carrying a load AND a baby.

A view of the canyon from a third of the way up. Bouriema wouldn't let us go any further.

After the hike, we travel through the market. I notice that children keep tapping my water bottle and saying something. I ask Boureima, and he says they want the plastic bottles to carry water to school. I drain my water and offer the bottle to one of the children who was our guide. Right then a child falls on the ground and cuts his lip. Boureimi rushes over with his water, picks the child up, checks him over, cleans him off, then gives him HIS water bottle. It’s pretty cool.

We have lunch, beef and potatoes. Then Bara informs us to get the camera ready, because they are going to feed the crocodiles. A man with a bag of meat shows up and starts clicking and grunting. The crocs immediately start coming out of the swamp. About six make an appearance, including on huge one that Bara insists I feed so he can photograph it. I oblige.

Feeding the crocodiles. The problem here is that as I'm trying to feed the big one, the little one keeps running for my feet.

This has hands down been the highlight of the trip. I joke with Boureima that I want to build a second home here, and he agrees to help me when I’m ready.

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2-4 : You think YOU know hard labor

Today is our visit to a local farmer and a few markets along with the director from the Regional Directorate of Animal Production and Industries (DRPIA) of Mopti. I’m horrible with Malian names, so instead of butchering, I’ll refer to him as the Director. We head first to pick him up. He lives in a house within an “office park” of sorts. We’ll return to his home in a minute.

We then drive outside of town, east and north I believe, to a farmer’s homestead. The man we meet is well dressed, well spoken, and has a tremendous love for his cattle and farm as a whole. He’s extremely interested in the urea treatment process, and says that he will do whatever he needs to participate. In fact, when we mention building the brick “bin” to hold the straw, he says that he can get it done right away if need be. The farmers we’ve talked to don’t have any of the information that David is presenting, so it’s exciting to see them interested in making this happen.

We tour his farm looking at cattle, storage bins, and clay brickmaking. We also look at different feeds he has on hand. Rice bran, wheat bran, sorghum, and millet are among them. He has all the supplies, save the urea, that we need to make this happen.

A realization is made on this trip. From the beginning, David and I have been confused on how we can measure the straw, urea, and water to make the proper combination so the chemical reaction occurs. Since we’re using local supplies, we haven’t been able to hammer down what we can use in the brochure to show the process. They don’t have measuring buckets like we do, and they usually measure in kilos with whatever is on hand. The vessels they use are common in call towns. Last year, it was the 2 kilo salsa can that was the staple measuring cup. What we found is that the bale of hay could be the amount of straw they could use, then David just figures out what amount of water and urea to add to a bale of hay, and we can illustrate that in the leaflet.

Hanging with the cows. The brown was safe, but evidently I didn't understand that and stood next to the white one.

Inspecting stored straw. There were several layers. Unfortunately, the straw at the bottom had gone bad.

Manual baler. This thing takes 3 men to operate. They can bale 90 per hour. That's pretty awesome.

Myself, David, the owner of the farm, and the Director.

The farmer's family. It surprised me when I saw the child's shirt in the foreground.

After visiting, we head to two local markets to see what type of supplies they have. There is a lot of technical discussion about the chemical makeup of different grains, that I sort of phase out and just concentrate on photography.

When I asked these kids if I could take their picture, they IMMEDIATELY fell in line. Then they demanded to see it on the screen.

I'm not sure how high they can stack that stuff.

We return the Director to his house and notice that in his back yard are a random selection of cattle, chickens, goats, and a very mean dog. On the roof is a supply of grass. It’s there that we see the bourgou grass for the that is the subject of the second assignment. The different kinds stored show us that there IS the type we need, which is good news.

Bara showing off the elusive bourgou grass.

David and Boureima drop David and I at the hotel after recommending a restaurant for lunch down the block called Mankan-Te. We head down there and order. A man walks up and says hello in French and starts talking to us. I tell him we don’t speak French, and he replies “Ah! You speak Bambara!” This makes me laugh. We shake hands and introduces himself as a tailor. He says he makes shirts and “air-conditioned pants.” We say we’re not interested in buying, but he says he will come back anyway after lunch. I order a chicken in ginger on rice plate and am excited how beautiful it looks when it comes. As I dig in, that changes. It seems that respectfully the Malians cook ALL parts of the chicken. The mixture had the skin, gristle along with a little bit of meat, and vegetables. I’m so hungry, that I go ahead and start chewing. The skin is the consistency of squid, so I just pretend it is. The sauce is good, which makes up for it. The tailor returns after lunch, and we’re not surprised to see that the shirts he “makes” all have name brands on the tag. We pass.

We’re on our own for the afternoon, so I take a walk for a bit. After heading back to the hotel, I head over to the “office” and work, then I head back to the hotel and catch up on reading and emails.

At 7:00pm, Bara picks David and I up for a meal at a local restaurant, Bavaria. It seems that it’s a restaurant for the beer Bavaria, but he assures us the food is good. It has a huge dance floor with a DJ working, but we’re so early, we’re the only three patrons. It’s here that I have the most amazing Malian meal I’ve had thus far. Pigeon, with green beans and plantains. I ask Bara about the pigeon, and he says the dish name means “they are on a stick!” I assume it’s a kabob and find out later that they were roasted on a spit. Either way, the breast meat is amazing.

We have a quiet evening just talking to Bara. It’s been so amazing getting to know him. He has such a history and it’s been intriguing to hear it.

2-3 : 7 hours east to Mopti

We start the drive to Mopti at 8:30am. Bara, David, Boureimi (our driver) and myself. The truck is packed with our luggage as well as bags of onions and foods. Bara is getting us out of town before the “craziness begins” as he says, referring to the riots. We head out of town after stopping at several curbside markets to pick up fruits and drinks. Boureimi brings me a Coke. He didn’t even have to ask.

Bara and I gearing up for the trip

Merchants, merchants, and more merchants

The drive is long, and according to a Harvard student I met in the airport, a boring one. I’m quickly convinced otherwise since there’s so little, yet so much to look at. Villages, travelers, animals, foliage and just scenery in general. It looks like NOTHING I’ve ever seen. In between towns, it looks desolate and dangerous, like if you stepped 10 feet off the road, it would swallow you up. I’m very comfortable in this Toyota truck.

After about 30-45 minutes through town, we pass a toll booth, and Bara announces “we are on our way!” It seems that the last 30-45 minutes didn’t count.

These guys are hanging on to the back of a truck traveling at 50mph +

This whole trip is about Bara. He constantly entertains us with stories of family and villages, as well as stories of how things came to be.

It seems that there are lots of crocodiles in his home village. We ask why. He says that years ago, two brothers were traveling. One went looking for water to settle a village. The other went another way. The brother looking for the water was having no look and desperate. He came upon a crocodile. He followed the crocodile knowing that he would be going to water. Eventually he did. That’s why to this day, the crocodiles live along side the village of Bara’s family, and are even fed by the villagers. If a crocodile dies, they even bury it as it was human. Very touching story.

We are stopped at a gas station filling up, when I see a man run out of the station yelling. I ask Bara what he was saying and he says “He was telling those boys to get away.” That leads us to talk about discipline. Bara tells us that in Mali, if a child is misbehaving, anyone witnessing will whip the child. It’s understood that the villagers share the responsibility of disciplining the children. He then tells us laughingly “After the child is whipped, the child will not cry when he goes home, because if his family sees him crying, they will know he did bad, and whip the child AGAIN!” This cracks us up.

We also talk about the intelligence of farm animals. David talks about sheep being stupid, and goats being smart. Bara tells us that villagers prefere goats milk to feed their children, because of that reason.

This leads to our best story. After watching a goat scramble to get out of the way of oncoming traffic, Bara speaks. “You know, if a car travels through a village, the dog will chase the car, the goat will run away, and the donkey will just stand there. This is true. Years ago, in a village run by dogs, a traveller was passing through. When he stopped to pay the toll, he paid and then forgot to get his change, so the dog went barking after the villager to give his change. In a village run by goats, another villager passed through to pay the toll, when the goat realized he didn’t have change, he ran away. In a village run by donkeys, they always have correct change to give, so they don’t care!”

A village along the way.

The mighty baobab tree, complete with man-made beehives

We arrive at Mopti about 4:30 and unpack at our new home for the next four days. The hotel is much more basic than Massaley, but cozy nonetheless. I walk around a little, but after being hit with merchants every where I turn, I head back and hang out in the courtyard. After dinner, I go across the street to a CyberCafe to catch up on emails and blogs. Time to head back and get some sleep under my mosquito net. Yep, I’m finally sleeping under a mosquito net.

My first mosquito net!

2-2 : Burning tires in downtown Mali

I awake to a double whammy this morning. I’m outside after breakfast waiting for the bus, when David comes out to say that he’s not going in due to illness. He also tells me that Bara has postponed the trip to Mopti for another day due to some issues he must see to. Things are quite unpredictable here, so I’m not surprised. However, I get confused when the driver doesn’t come. I decide to walk to work (it’s only 3 blocks). Once there, I notice the office is thinned out. I’m in the office setting up when Alfousseni explains that there are protests happening in Mali. I visit the Embassy website and see the warning due to “civil unrest.” I get the info that Malians are protesting because several inadequately armed (well, they evidently WEREN’T armed) Malian soldiers were killed in the north by rebels. The soldiers’ families began protesting and brought the public along with them. They are demanding that the president resign.

A little while later, Bara storms in and says “Kevin! Where were you last night?” I’m thinking of my selfishly delicious Thai meal and automatically feel guilty. He says he came to hotel and called my room to let me know we weren’t going to Mopti because of the protests. I inform him I knew and he tells me not to sleep so deep next time so I can hear the phone ring.

After this, Alfousseni fills me in on the details. He’s receiving information all day from friends and shares that info with me. He also goes into tremendous detail about the sadness of Mali’s government and why it won’t change. It’s depressing. You can see and hear that he truly loves his people and I feel for him.

It’s quite a lot of information to take in. I won’t use this forum to educate you. I gather up my illustrations for tomorrows’ trip. Here are some of those.

 

I decide to go back to the hotel and take out my frustrations on the hotel mosquitos.

The bloodbath on the walls

2-1 : If I see Malians two-stepping, I’m out of here…

Another productive day of work. More research. Illustrations. I’m giving myself a plethora of photos and illustrations to work with, considering the time in Mopti, where we’ll actually be performing the treatment of the straw, is tomorrow. I’m not sure how fast paced that will be, so I want to be ready so I’m not up until 3:00am every night procrastinating  like I tell my students NOT to do.

Alfousseni and I have another day of bonding. “Communication is a hobby” is an interesting thing he told me when I asked what inspired him to learn languages other than his native. He’s not done with French, English, and Bombara. Chinese is next. I have GOT to learn a foreign language. I decide at this time that I’m investing in learning and I’m going to teach my family along with me. Maybe we’ll start with Post-It notes all over the house of common nouns.

We listen to a lot of music once again, trading off tunes while we’re working. We find ourselves dancing on more than one occasion, yet remaining professional. David and Jerry seem oblivious to us.

Lunch is more of the same, but it’s the discussions that make these so memorable. I have to admit these are my favorite parts of the trip. We all forget what we’re doing for a little while, eat, learn about each other, and laugh.

The group during lunch.

After work, I do another 2 mile run. This time it’s much easier, and I successfully avoid the choking smoke of the main road. After returning, I head out to the pool to cool down, and cool down I do. The pool is borderline freezing, and I can only handle about 5 minutes. Once out, I strike up a conversation with a woman finishing up a swim. Her name is Christine and she’s from Senegal here with Oxfam. After introductions, we spend about 30 minutes as she talks about condition of the governments across Africa, which I’m ignorant of. She’s concerned also because of a food crisis that’s about to hit in regions of Africa. She’s anticipating several months before she can head home and talks about the difficulty of leaving a husband and two kids at home. I can relate, and we both wonder how middle aged people with kids can make it with jobs that have them traveling all the time.

After the swim, John, David, and Jerry disperse and I’m left to handle dinner. I take a look at the hotel restaurant and decide to venture out again. I ask the front desk for a hotel business card (I’ll explain later) and head outside to hail a cab to Sokuthai in the Quartier de Fleur area of town. The taxi lets me out in front of the restaurant, but I decide to check out another two doors down, Appaloosa. I walk in, and a tall Malian wearing a cowboy hat and western shirt circa Garth Brooks greets me. I take a look at the Tex-Mex menu, another Malian in cowboy hat and shirt, start laughing, and leave to go to my original destination. A few minutes later I’m enjoying spring rolls and dim sum. There are 5 other couples in the restaurant, all English speaking. I decide to leave them alone because they’re obviously enjoying dates.

Sukhothai Thai Restaurant in Quartier des Fleur

After dinner, I walk the gauntlet that is the alley in front of restaurant, and after passing up cigarettes, tissue, and compact disks, I take out the hotel business card and hail a cab. The first one doesn’t know where Massaley is, but the second does.

Back “home” to wind down.

1-31 : No more hotel food

Another day at the office. Focus on reading over assignment sheets. I’ve completed several illustrations and one layout, but I know most of that will change with our trip to Mopti on Thursday. That’s when we’ll talk to the farmers and actually see what supplies are being used. We’ll find out how the rice (or other) straw is stored, what their measuring system is for fertilizer and water, and the surroundings where it’s done.

First attempts at a layout.

I see Bara and Bourama for the first time. They treat me like the old friend I am. We have laughs at lunch once again discussing cooking. I tell them stories at home with cooking mishaps by Amy and I, and they are in stitches. We come up with an idea to write a proposal for the field office to come to North Little Rock and teach Amy and I to cook. I wonder if Winrock will go for that.

Bourama teaches me some Bambara, mainly the clicking and lip noises that mean yes and no. He shows me that you make a “clicking” noise with your mouth shut and I can’t do it. He says to give it up it won’t be possible for me after laughing. I say it’s a useless way to communicate. What if you’re in a crowded room? No way anyone can hear this faint clicking noise.

After we arrive back home, I decide I can handle another meal at the hotel and venture out. The bartender at Hotel Massaley, Yousouff, recommends Festival des Glace. He can’t tell me what kind of food it is, but it has ice cream in name, so I’m good for it. A quick taxi ride and I arrive at a small, well lit restaurant run by a guy named Assan that is sitting outside smoking a hooka pipe. The meal is chicken with ginger and coriander with potatoes and salad, and I finish with homemade vanilla ice cream. It’s amazing.

Festival des Glace

Chicken with ginger and coriander, fries and salad

Glacé : Vanilla : Tasty

I get back to the hotel and compliment Yousouff for his recommendation. He pats is chest and says “my pleasure.”

1/30 : Who’s the new guy and how does he speaka da English so good?

Monday is our first day at the Winrock office. At 9:00am, Laya picks us up to take us to the office. Our hotel is right around the corner so it’s a short drive. We arrive to find Bengaly and Lala just as we left them, as friendly and warm as ever.

We head up to the “war room” and meet Alfousseni Sidibe, who works as an interpreter for the Winrock office. I take to him right away. He has a great sense of humor and is extremely intelligent. We discuss music and I find that we have a lot of the same interests, so we play each other our favorite songs within the hip-hop and rap genre, his favorite. He is fully connected with a Facebook account as well as email and Skype so we swap connection info. He creates business cards for us with the Winrock logo. We’re official.  I notice his Skype account has the quote “Le sourire est un bon rémede.” It means “laughter is the best medicine.” He quickly tells me “…and you are the doctor, Kevin!”

Alfousseni is my first model for my first illustrations. I decide to attempt a style that’s much simpler than I did last year, because the authenticity and detail of the pictures isn’t an issue this time. I photograph him standing and stooping and start there.

Alfousseni as my test model.

I spend the day gathering images, reading over the scope of the project as well as several PDFs that David has sent me about other companies that have used urea to improve straw. They provide a wealth of information and I find myself asking David several questions about the process while I’m reading it. He’s more than happy to provide answers.

At lunch we get caught up over beef in peanut sauce with rice. I’m talking to Alfousseni about the difficulty of learning French and start reading words out of my French dictionary, focusing on those that have more than one French word (like – comme and aimer) when I say “I bet there’s more than one way to say “épouser” as well” randomly picking the word from the dictionary. He looks at me and says “Say that to Lala” as he chuckles. I look at the book and it means “marry.” So now we’re all embarrased.

At dinner, we meet Deborah. She is here as an evaluator for the Farmer to Farmer program. David, John and I discuss our projects with her and hear all about what she’s doing. The program has all kinds of checks and balances, which is obviously necessary. We start to explain how effective our volunteer time has been and she assures us she’s not here to evaluate us individually. We laugh.

1/28-1/29 : Aller de l’étang pour l’Afrique

Once again, I’m on my way to Bamako. The travel is the same. No new developments. Amy and Cameron drop me off and a quick jump east at 10:35am puts me in Atlanta for a 2 hour layover around lunch time. I’m sitting at a bar in the middle of a huge intersection that contains the food court with a man playing jazz piano right behind. While I’m eating my quesadilla,  the music starts back up and I hear some woman singing “The Rhythm is Gonna Get You” and ask the bartender if they guy and girl always play music this cheesy. He gives me a puzzled look and I turn around and see it’s one of those self-playing pianos.

I listen to muzak versions of The Beatles and James Taylor before David St. Louis shows up. After a quick catch up, we head over to the gate to meet Roger Grover, a volunteer from Auburn University. I start to give him the “new guy” treatment when I realize he showed up last year right as I was leaving and this is his third time to Mali.

The 9 hour flight to Paris lets me catch up on reading assignment materials, finishing up a novel (Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) and starting a new one (Steve Jobs biography). I also catch up with a season of Curb Your Enthusiasm. The French lady sitting next to me refuses to talk to me even after repeated conversation starters. After my second attempt (“No in flight movies? I was really looking forward to seeing the latest Miley Cyrus flick”) she takes out a book written in a language I don’t even recognize, so I’m questioning if she’s even French.

The 6 hour layover in France gives the three of us a chance to learn about each other’s assignments. Roger is an aquatic specialist, and is here to help local fisherman hatcheries. I learn alot about college politics in the conversation.

The flight to Bamako is full, which surprised me even last time. This flight has movies so after more reading, I start up “There’s Something About Mary” and sit back to laugh. The movie is edited, so the big laugh is during the infamous “hair gel scene,” this pops up on the screen several times while the movie switches back and forth from Ben Stiller’s scene. I crack up out loud every time it shows up.

There are several groups on the flight from the United States. I meet several at the Bamako airport waiting for entry. Two of the ladies are students at Harvard here for 2 years doing volunteer work. One is working with non-profits and General Mills to build a plant to make peanut products so Mali can be more self-sustained. Another group of college students just arrived for Study Abroad staying for 4 months. I talk to them, but seem nervous and keep looking around. They’re acting like I did when I arrived last year.

Arrival at the Bamako airport

The driver picks us up and takes us to the Hotel Massaley around 6:00pm. John and David head upstairs, but I unpack and head to the restaurant. I order a tuna (thon) sandwich and green beans (haricot verts). I ask for the green beans on the side and the waiter looks confused. He keeps asking “thon? Haricot verts?” When I get the sandwich, I see the problem. He’s had the green beans put on the sandwich.

They are just as good scraped off the sandwich.

I have a conversation with Amy via Skype and all is good. I talk to Cameron as he’s waking up from a nap, upset, and I inform him I left him a present in the house. I tell him to go look in my sock drawer. Squeals of delight and several “oohs” tell me he’s found the Miles Axlerod die cast toy car I left him. Amy says he’s beside himself.

Nice end to the evening.