A sad but true fact about life as a Peace Corps Volunteer: sometimes the people you are nicest to and closest with are the first take advantage of you. (Yes, there is a story here.)
Every Wednesday is market day in Fangasso. (Note: the town of Fangasso is the head of the commune of Fangasso, comprised of 41 neighboring villages. 29 of these villages report to the CSCOM (health center) in Fangasso for medical care.) Wednesday is also, non-coincidentally, the day when the women of these villages report to the CSCOM for their childrens' vaccinations and pre- and post-natal care. Every Wednesday that I have been at site for the last year (which has not been every Wednesday, but is still a lot of Wednesdays), I have assisted the vaccinator with his work. He is assigned the task of performing the actual vaccinations as well as recording them (in three places--the Malian version of efficiency). I do most of the recording (baby weights, vaccinations given, etc.) and he vaccinates. This work isn't ideal for me (and in fact I get bored with it quite easily), but I enjoy seeing the babies and talking to the women. I had hoped that by helping with paperwork, the vaccinator would have more time for counseling women on infant nutrition, which is part of his job.
So, when the women come to weigh their babies, I record the weights on personal growth-tracking charts. In most cases, the babies are heavy enough not to be a cause for worry. But every once in a while a baby comes in who is in need of help. This is obvious before you even check the baby's weight--sometimes they are just too small. When this happens, I tell the vaccinator that it is important to take a minute to talk to these women about the fact that their child is underweight; sometimes they aren't aware that it is something we can help them with.
The first time I brought it up with him, he told me he couldn't help because malnutrition consultations aren't given on Wednesdays because the CSCOM staff are too busy. This infuriated me but I tried to compromise with him by telling him to ask the woman to come back another day (nevermind that getting to Fangasso isn't easy for everyone, and who knows how far away she lives). The woman came back the next week (unfortunately on a Wednesday) and again he refused to speak with her. (And I do mean refused. Angrily.) So I sat down with her myself and talked with her about her child's eating habits and general health. She listened, but I knew this wasn't enough. She doesn't know me from Eve; a white stranger telling her not to feed her child what every other mother feeds her child isn't going to get very far. But I was proud of this woman for coming back. Her child was smiling and curious like babies should be. But unfortunately the CSCOM does not recognize or reward women for doing the right thing in cases like these. Really, she just got abused and yelled at by the staff and was forced to talk to me, in my bumbling Bomu.
This happened a few more times with other women, with the vaccinator's conversations with mothers being something like the following: Is he sick? Was he sick? Is he better now? Okay, see you in three months.
Besides never having been receptive to my attempts at improving malnutrition counseling at the CSCOM (which he is supposed to be doing already, mind you), lately I had been feeling that the vaccinator had not been appreciative of my help. This past Wednesday, another woman with an undernourished child came in and he refused to consult her, so she left the CSCOM without getting any help, except for a vaccination.
This did not fly with me. At the end of my fuse with him, I told him he was being irresponsible for ignoring a health problem. I said that if he didn't want my help, I would leave. And with that I left. I don't plan on going back.
To me, this is worth getting angry about. It infuriates me that the people who are in the best positions to positively influence villagers' care practices are the ones who are the least interested in helping. Whatever happened to people who care? If the one person who is most able to relay these positive messages couldn't care less, where does that put me?
To further prove my case: last week, two men from a neighboring village came to my homologue's house for lunch. Afterward, they asked me for money to buy three peanut shellers for their village. It seemed obvious to me to say no, but apparently this was the wrong decision, because my homologue became very upset. "You have to help them!", she said. (One of her favorite phrases. I have to help them, but she doesn't feel the need to help me.) Refusing to give people money but offering alternatives like setting up a savings system is unacceptable, I guess. Besides the fact that getting asked for money is always frustrating, the fact that my homologue, who has been "working" with Peace Corps Volunteers for three years, still doesn't understand what I/we are doing in Mali--and how Peace Corps is different from the NGOs in Mali--is almost heartbreaking. How is that even possible?
I like to think the problem with the health workers in Fangasso is bigger than me. Am I really so bad at this job that not even the people I work with most won't even pretend to listen to my opinion?
When I moved in I asked what the CSCOM's needs were, and they asked for a vaccination hangar. I said no. One year later, some NGO that not even the head doctor can remember the name of is funding the project. Is that a success? When we already have crystal-clear cell phone reception in town, do we really need another tower? Apparently we do, because one arrived not too long ago. When the water tower paid for by World Vision breaks, I should be the one to pay to fix it, right? And when the fence on the garden paid for by World Vision breaks, I should fix that, too, right? Ask anyone in village, and the answer is yes. I am a horrible, no-good, very bad volunteer for saying no. Apparently.
All this, combined with personal struggles like disrespectful neighbors and host family, is getting to be the straw that breaks the camel's back. With a job like this, it's almost impossible to separate work from personal life, and one thing can easily influence (ruin) the other. And when both sides of life are going poorly, it things that much harder. That said, I am still trying. Something needs to change. I am looking forward to the school year starting up again in two weeks--kids have always been the most receptive and willing to listen.
I will be in Bamako for the first week of October leading a committee to revise the PC Mali health curriculum, so check for an update then. Love to all!
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Things That Suck About Mali
1. Toh
This is toh. It is something I've complained about a lot in letters, but it hard to describe. My homologue's husband (essentially my host dad) thinks it's funny to call it "African cake". It's not funny. It does not taste like cake. It is boiled millet paste. We eat it with our hands, dipping each bite in leaf sauce.
2. When a child or other person you love moves away
This is Vinima. She is my homologue's granddaughter. She's (about) four years old, and as you can see, she is literate in English. Very smart. She and her mom came to Fangasso for some unexplained reason (people come and go around here all the time, usually with no more than a phone call). And I promptly fell in love with this little girl, and she shot to the near-top of my list of favorite kids. (Who's counting?) And then she promptly moved away. It happens all the time. One of my homologue's older children moved to Bamako shortly after I moved to Fangasso. We could have been friends, and now we will never know!
3. Creatures
I have already battled the scorpions of Mali, losing twice. I have also had mice in my house. And now a cat that sneaks in. But he ate one of the mice last month. So I guess it's not so bad. This is a picture of my cat friend eating a mouse behind my bed.
So, really, Mali's a pretty great place. Some good things:
1. Fat babies
This is my namesake, baby Mougnoussi Baya. She is six months old, and is jolly and obese. Her mother (pictured) is also the mother of my favorite boy, Sounké. I cannot describe this kid and do him justice, he is just a (very small) person you have to meet. Here he is. He likes to eat. He is always eating.
But anyway, Mougnoussi is well. Babies tend to lose weight around the six-month mark because this is the age their mothers start to wean them, and many lack either the means or the knowledge to do it properly. I am hoping Mougnoussi will stay healthy, or that her growing up will give me a chance to teach the women in her family how to properly wean a baby.
2. Successful projects
Sometimes a volunteer's biggest successes seemingly come out of nowhere (or out of frustration, failure, etc.). For example: several months ago, I was visiting a friend who owns a small store, selling things like oil, soap, peanuts, and other standard Malian fare. We got to talking and she ended up telling me about how sparse her store was, and how she wished she could have more things for sale...and then, that I should give her money to buy things. When I refused (along with giving her an explanation of why that is not a good idea), she was unhappy. So I offered to help her save money so she could do this on her own. I told her to save $1 after every market (every Wednesday), putting it away from her spending money and the money she takes in at the store. She still wasn't happy, but I checked back in every week to see if she was still saving. She said she was, and I admit I didn't really believe her. But out of the blue last month on another visit (they're regular), she told me she had managed to save $30 (15,000cfa) in the last few months. I was floored. And happy for her. Look, Ma, I made a difference in someone's life!
3. Visits
Recently my friend Sabrina (who I studied abroad with in Niger) swung by little old Mali for a visit. She was in Malawi for the summer and stopped in Mali on her way home. We stayed a few days in Bamako, headed to my site, went up north for a hike in Dogon country, visited a World Heritage site (the mosque in Djenné), headed to San (my regional capital), then over to Senegal to visit our friend Kayla who is in Peace Corps there. We stayed in Dakar until Sabrina left for the US, then we headed up north to a town called St. Louis (the former capital) then to her site in eastern Senegal. It was really interesting to see Peace Corps life in another country (and is a subject for another blog).
I realize that not all of these things are related to work, but (thankfully) life here is about more than just work. If it weren't, I think we would all go insane and feel like huge failures. But thankfully we have lots of kids to play with (if one is so inclined) and people to talk to: Malian, American, or otherwise. Things are going well here. It has been very good to be back from Senegal, back "home". I planted a "garden" that will probably all die, but hey.
This is toh. It is something I've complained about a lot in letters, but it hard to describe. My homologue's husband (essentially my host dad) thinks it's funny to call it "African cake". It's not funny. It does not taste like cake. It is boiled millet paste. We eat it with our hands, dipping each bite in leaf sauce.
2. When a child or other person you love moves away
This is Vinima. She is my homologue's granddaughter. She's (about) four years old, and as you can see, she is literate in English. Very smart. She and her mom came to Fangasso for some unexplained reason (people come and go around here all the time, usually with no more than a phone call). And I promptly fell in love with this little girl, and she shot to the near-top of my list of favorite kids. (Who's counting?) And then she promptly moved away. It happens all the time. One of my homologue's older children moved to Bamako shortly after I moved to Fangasso. We could have been friends, and now we will never know!
3. Creatures
I have already battled the scorpions of Mali, losing twice. I have also had mice in my house. And now a cat that sneaks in. But he ate one of the mice last month. So I guess it's not so bad. This is a picture of my cat friend eating a mouse behind my bed.
So, really, Mali's a pretty great place. Some good things:
1. Fat babies
This is my namesake, baby Mougnoussi Baya. She is six months old, and is jolly and obese. Her mother (pictured) is also the mother of my favorite boy, Sounké. I cannot describe this kid and do him justice, he is just a (very small) person you have to meet. Here he is. He likes to eat. He is always eating.
But anyway, Mougnoussi is well. Babies tend to lose weight around the six-month mark because this is the age their mothers start to wean them, and many lack either the means or the knowledge to do it properly. I am hoping Mougnoussi will stay healthy, or that her growing up will give me a chance to teach the women in her family how to properly wean a baby.
2. Successful projects
Sometimes a volunteer's biggest successes seemingly come out of nowhere (or out of frustration, failure, etc.). For example: several months ago, I was visiting a friend who owns a small store, selling things like oil, soap, peanuts, and other standard Malian fare. We got to talking and she ended up telling me about how sparse her store was, and how she wished she could have more things for sale...and then, that I should give her money to buy things. When I refused (along with giving her an explanation of why that is not a good idea), she was unhappy. So I offered to help her save money so she could do this on her own. I told her to save $1 after every market (every Wednesday), putting it away from her spending money and the money she takes in at the store. She still wasn't happy, but I checked back in every week to see if she was still saving. She said she was, and I admit I didn't really believe her. But out of the blue last month on another visit (they're regular), she told me she had managed to save $30 (15,000cfa) in the last few months. I was floored. And happy for her. Look, Ma, I made a difference in someone's life!
3. Visits
Recently my friend Sabrina (who I studied abroad with in Niger) swung by little old Mali for a visit. She was in Malawi for the summer and stopped in Mali on her way home. We stayed a few days in Bamako, headed to my site, went up north for a hike in Dogon country, visited a World Heritage site (the mosque in Djenné), headed to San (my regional capital), then over to Senegal to visit our friend Kayla who is in Peace Corps there. We stayed in Dakar until Sabrina left for the US, then we headed up north to a town called St. Louis (the former capital) then to her site in eastern Senegal. It was really interesting to see Peace Corps life in another country (and is a subject for another blog).
I realize that not all of these things are related to work, but (thankfully) life here is about more than just work. If it weren't, I think we would all go insane and feel like huge failures. But thankfully we have lots of kids to play with (if one is so inclined) and people to talk to: Malian, American, or otherwise. Things are going well here. It has been very good to be back from Senegal, back "home". I planted a "garden" that will probably all die, but hey.
Mission Accomplished
I spent a fair amount of time during the last school year giving health lessons to the 7th, 8th, and 9th graders at the school in my village. The children who attend the school come from my village as well as a few others nearby, and the classes are huge, so who knows how much they retain.
So, to put them to a test, I gave them a challenge. When our lessons were over (we covered HIV/AIDS and malaria), I asked the students to draw a picture with a positive message related to things we had discussed, with the goal of turning one of them into a mural: a contest of sorts. I put the teachers in charge: they were the ones to announce the project to the students, collect the designs, and pick their favorite. The winning design came from an 8th grade student named Papa:
The message says "To avoid malaria, sleep under a mosquito net". (To my French speakers: ignore his spelling error and my terrible translation!) Despite the perspective issues in the picture (I am not one who should be criticizing art), I agreed with the teachers that this was the best submission and we decided to paint it outside one of the 9th grade classrooms. My original goal was to have students involved, but because I put Malians in charge of the project it got a little delayed, and the students were out of school by the time we were able to start. (Now, this isn't a shot at Malian work ethic, just a fact: things rarely happen on schedule.) So, I enlisted the help of the art teacher. (He was one of the main supporters of my lessons and the project, and he is encouraging of my work in general. He also tutored me in Bomu for a while.) He had never held a paintbrush before, let alone painted a mural. Needless to say he was excited. We painted with the help of a few kids who wandered in and out of the school grounds while we were working, and this is the finished project:
Sleeping under a mosquito net is one of the easiest ways to prevent malaria, but it also involves a monetary investment that most Malians in my area are unable or unwilling to make. Most adults know that it is in their best interest to sleep under a net, but many times, even those who own nets do not use them, even in rainy season (peak mosquito season). Mosquito nets provided by UNICEF (I believe) are given out at my health center to all women who complete a child's vaccination...but no nets have come in months. The staff don't know why they stopped coming, or when they will come back; they also don't seem motivated to find another way to get them. Nets are also available in markets for around $3, give or take a bargain. Given the cost of malaria medicine, it seems like a bargain, but I don't believe that most Malians see it that way. It's an uphill battle.
I hope that the lessons had an impact on students, perhaps teaching them something new they could do to take control of their health. Maybe the mural will help. Or maybe it will just cover up the bad paint job at the school. In any case, it got students and teachers involved in community improvement. And taught me that you're never too old to learn to paint.
So, to put them to a test, I gave them a challenge. When our lessons were over (we covered HIV/AIDS and malaria), I asked the students to draw a picture with a positive message related to things we had discussed, with the goal of turning one of them into a mural: a contest of sorts. I put the teachers in charge: they were the ones to announce the project to the students, collect the designs, and pick their favorite. The winning design came from an 8th grade student named Papa:
The message says "To avoid malaria, sleep under a mosquito net". (To my French speakers: ignore his spelling error and my terrible translation!) Despite the perspective issues in the picture (I am not one who should be criticizing art), I agreed with the teachers that this was the best submission and we decided to paint it outside one of the 9th grade classrooms. My original goal was to have students involved, but because I put Malians in charge of the project it got a little delayed, and the students were out of school by the time we were able to start. (Now, this isn't a shot at Malian work ethic, just a fact: things rarely happen on schedule.) So, I enlisted the help of the art teacher. (He was one of the main supporters of my lessons and the project, and he is encouraging of my work in general. He also tutored me in Bomu for a while.) He had never held a paintbrush before, let alone painted a mural. Needless to say he was excited. We painted with the help of a few kids who wandered in and out of the school grounds while we were working, and this is the finished project:
Sleeping under a mosquito net is one of the easiest ways to prevent malaria, but it also involves a monetary investment that most Malians in my area are unable or unwilling to make. Most adults know that it is in their best interest to sleep under a net, but many times, even those who own nets do not use them, even in rainy season (peak mosquito season). Mosquito nets provided by UNICEF (I believe) are given out at my health center to all women who complete a child's vaccination...but no nets have come in months. The staff don't know why they stopped coming, or when they will come back; they also don't seem motivated to find another way to get them. Nets are also available in markets for around $3, give or take a bargain. Given the cost of malaria medicine, it seems like a bargain, but I don't believe that most Malians see it that way. It's an uphill battle.
I hope that the lessons had an impact on students, perhaps teaching them something new they could do to take control of their health. Maybe the mural will help. Or maybe it will just cover up the bad paint job at the school. In any case, it got students and teachers involved in community improvement. And taught me that you're never too old to learn to paint.
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