Creatures of the Night, Part II

Knew it was too good to be true, right? Of course there were more nighttime terrors in my future; it seems that I doomed myself from the beginning by titling that post “Part I”…So, there have been two mice in my house since I moved in and they had been pretty harmless until recently. I could hear them scurrying around at night, but they rarely appeared during the day, so I decided to leave them be. Then they started getting brave, not even bothering to avoid me during the day. Then they chewed through my sunglasses case. And then my toothpaste. And then I decided they needed to die. So I bought some rat poison at market (it’s just pure zinc that comes in a paper packet; you mix it with peanut butter and let the creatures choose their own adventure). I set it out in the morning and went mouse hunting later that afternoon only to find nothing, feeling sad that it didn’t work, because these mice had become to bane of my existence. Then, that evening after getting back from dinner at Maimouna’s house, I put on my headlamp to set up my bed stuff (I sleep outside but bring the mattress and net in every morning to keep it clean), and my light happened to flash across IT: the dead mouse. It was GROSS. Really. It was just lying there spread-eagled in the corner of my bedroom with its eyes open. So I went outside to grab some straw from my hangar (under which I sleep) to fashion some chopsticks and also a plastic bag to get the mouse out of my house. Had it been daytime, I would have given it to a child to pay with—they love that stuff. Whenever anyone catches a mouse, the kids go crazy. Once, my favorite little boy, Sounké, ran up to me excitedly with a handful of dead mice, expecting me to share his enthusiasm. Needless to say I did not. So my mouse, I threw it in the latrine and tried not to be too grossed out to sleep. I never found the second mouse. I don’t know if that’s better or worse.

A second scorpion bit me last month. Got me on the stomach. At night again. I have since switched mosquito nets, so hopefully this will never happen again.

In other news, it is REALLY, INCREDIBLY hot here. Hot season has most certainly officially arrived. I’m guessing it’s about 115 degrees now, and getting worse. It unfortunately also seems that the food situation at Maimouna’s house has also gotten worse along with the weather. I don’t understand this correlation. But we have been eating a lot of toh (boiled millet paste) lately—sometimes twice a day four days a week, with other meals being tasteless rice. I paid Maimouna 10,000cfa (about $20) recently for food for her family, so I hope some of that finds its way to me. In the beginning I paid her 5,000cfa a month (a lot of money around here, I swear) to feed me, but I stopped for some reason and regret it. I just cannot help but feel uncomfortable knowing that I cannot give enough money for everyone to be eating the same foods that Maimouna would prepare for me (as in, I might get pasta while almost everyone else eats toh). But her family is huge! I don’t even know her relation to more than half the people she lives with.

In other news, all the first-year volunteers in San and Segou just got back from our regional in-service training (not to be confused with our in-service training held back in December). We spent three days with our homologues in sessions in Segou. However, Maimouna (my homologue) did not come, and I was sick the entire time. (I had strep throat! Didn’t know that adults really suffered from that.) So I got absolutely nothing out of the training. Although it seems as though even the volunteers who did participate didn’t get much out of it, either. Such is Peace Corps life. But on the last day we went to another volunteer’s village to do a session called Participatory Action for Community Analysis, which is essentially a way to find out what villagers need without really asking them straightforwardly or telling them that Peace Corps will help them try to make their dreams come true. At the end of the session the villagers are asked to identify their hopes for the village and then vote on them to find their priorities, but this unfortunately usually just turns into an expensive wishlist. It did in this case. But the session was helpful to see nonetheless because I think I would like Peace Corps come host a session in Fangasso.

Mali is a terrible place to be sick, by the way. I was stuck at the Catholic Mission of Segou (where our sessions were being held and where we were sleeping dorm-style) in a very hot room without nutritious food (carbs, carbs, carbs for breakfast lunch and dinner) and couldn’t sleep for the heat. Things seem to be fine now, though. Thankfully!

Back in village, things are going…well, they’re going. I am still trying to impart my clearly superior Western wisdom on the masses, but in a good way! I taught a round of malaria lessons (which went relatively well) and am now on to a round of HIV/AIDS lessons. I am teaching with the middle school students here. We have six classes (two each of 7th, 8th, and 9th) that have open free time each week. (Before, they had this open time because there were only three teachers (or sometimes four, which I never understood) for the six classes, meaning half the kids were just sitting around at any given time. Now, however, they have a lot less free time because we now have seven teachers in Fangasso! I hope this continues for the school years to come.) So the kids’ free time now comes from a built in “study hour” they have each week. So I show up at talk health. The malaria lessons were fun because I could walk around the classroom pretending to be a mosquito, but the kids didn’t really understand malaria even though everyone they know has had it at some point (themselves included). They also study it in school. It’s disheartening, but the education system here is in shambles.

Most kids here grow up learning Bambara. Some, like my Bomu babies, also learn a minority language as a mother tongue. But school is in French. They study it as its own subject and all classes are also taught in French. But the classes are so big that most kids can “graduate” 9th grade without really having a grasp on basic French. Try to talk to a 14-year old in French in most places in Mali and you likely won’t get far. I taught my lessons in French because I didn’t have a Bomu script and still don’t feel confident enough in my language to improvise, but they seemed to have gotten the just of what I said. They teachers were happy that I came, but mostly because they knew there would likely be question about malaria on the end-of-year exams and the kids needed a refresher.

I’ve done four HIV/AIDS lessons so far. I showed up to the school only to discover that a man from an organization called Right to Play (they use sports to teach kids about health) happened to be in town that week. So we co-taught the lessons and he taught me a lot about ways to interact with a classroom so large. He spoke in Bambara when it was clear the kids really weren’t getting it, which was helpful. But one of Maimouna’s family members, a 7th grader, after the lesson, asked me, “Mougnoussi, why did you come to our class today?” I didn’t really know what to make of that question.

I will hopefully finish the HIV/AIDS round this week (all alone; I’m a little nervous!). I may be able to get in another round on hygiene before the end of the year, but the staff is a little hesitant because they want the kids to study. In any case, after the lessons are over we are having a mural contest with the kids. They are (hopefully!) going to design a mural related to a health topic. The teachers will select the best drawing and we will turn it into a full-size mural at the school! I am very excited to see what the kids come up with. I hope someone participates!!

In other news, I have had a baby named after me! The night I got back to Fangasso from Senegal I went over to Maimouna’s house for dinner. I noticed that Bebe, her second son’s pregnant wife, was absent. So I figured this meant she had given birth recently. (Because Malian women really aren’t allowed to rest except for the few days after they give birth. Ridiculous.) So, after dinner, Maimouna brought me into her house and brought me over to Bebe and her new bundle of joy (I was right, the Sherlock that I am). I was excited right off the bat because Bebe’s son, Sounké, is my favorite boy in all of Mali. I know that any baby she ever has will be awesome. Including this one, obviously. But when Maimouna told me that they had decided to name the baby after me, I got a little teary. You’re not allowed to cry in Mali (although for Americans they would probably let it pass a little) but it was dark so I don’t think anyone saw me!

Soon I think I am going to start planting moringa trees (the miracle tree that could “save Africa” with its vitamins and whatnot) and start giving them out to people and teaching them about moringa and its benefits (nutrients, mostly) and how to properly care for the tree (pruning, fertilizer, etc.). I really don’t know what else to do with my time. I want to start some sort of summer girls’ group, but this is just an idea I have.

I will sign off for now, sorry for the incredibly long delay in posts. Life just seems, well, not-so-newsworthy, here. I still like writing letters and hearing news from home (of course). I miss you all and hope everyone is doing well in all of their endeavors. Happy Easter!!!