...This Bus Is CLEAR

-I returned to my village to discover that a man had been murdered. I still haven't gotten the story totally straight, but this is what I have so far. 3 men went out to their fields to do some work because the rains are coming early this year. Two of the men were from my village of Cinzana and the third man was someone passing through working odd jobs. For some reason they were arguing about shoes. (when I say shoes I mean really cheap flip flops not Air Jordans or Bruno Magli's) Apparently one of the two men from Cinzana had hidden the third mans shoes. I guess they thought it was funny, the third man didn't. After an argument and brief scuffle in the field the stranger headed back to Cinzana to gather his belongings and continue his search for work somewhere else. The man with whom he had an altercation sought him out in the courtyard across from my house and brandished both a club and machete. Well, the third man managed to get both the club and machete away from him and...I am sure you can figure out the rest. The stranger fled the scene and was found the next day, in a village called Kondja, hiding in a tree. This is the first murder I have been aware of in my three years in Mali, and it is odd to find myself involved in a situation in which I didn't know how to act. That night a mob of lantern toting villagers passed my hut hunting a crazed murderer armed with a machete. Just another crazy night in Mali.

-So, after an interesting visit to Cinzana Mary and I climbed aboard a Bittar bus heading to Segou. We almost got on a Bani bus, but it was loaded with goats. (A little word to the wise, don't get on a bus with a roof packed full of goats, and if there is no other option, don't sit by the window) We found a seat near the back of the bus between two older gentlemen and a handful of chickens. We greeted everyone and we began moving. About 10 minutes later in the middle of nowhere the bus stops and picks up 2 women. The older woman was dragging a girl, of about 20, onto the bus. The younger woman's head was covered in a bright orange sheet and all you could hear were loud chants and screams coming from under the covering. I didn't even give this a second thought and continued to read my book. (I have spoken of a numbness before, and it is something you couldn't understand unless you've been in a foreign developing country for a long period of time. Things like animal slaughters on moving buses, children playing with knives while cooking over huge pots of boiling grease, mass circumcisions, people poohing on the street, etc...don't even bother you after a while, because you know if you think about one thing you have to process everything you have seen and that would take months of serious therapy.) A few moments later I noticed the young lady wasn't singing any longer and I noticed the old man sitting next to me had moved. I heard rumblings from behind me and turned to see what was going on. I turned to Mary, "Hey I think there's an exorcism going on in the back of the bus." The old man was now leaning over the girl picking her up by the chin and slapping her forehead, while he and the other passengers were screaming, "Djene Djigi! Djene Djigi! " (Leave Devil!) I had to chuckle to myself, there was no way this was happening. Only in Mali could they have mobile Exorcisms, and I get in trouble for not wearing a bike helmet. I mean what are the chances that not only was I on a bus with a possessed girl but also a licensed exorcist. The odds are staggering! After a few choruses of "Leave Devil" we made it to the police checkpoint. The exorcism is still going on in the back of the bus as vendors get on to sell phone credit and silly hats. I tried a hat on and it looked ridiculous so I decided against it, opting instead for an orange soda. Honestly, whats a good exorcism without refreshments right? Just then a soldier got on the bus and walks straight up to me asking for my Passport. He doesn't even glance in the direction of the religious ceremony in the back as he holds my passport upside down and examines it. He must of thought it was OK because he handed it back and we continued on to Segou. The last time I saw the bus it was on the Markala road heading north and the chants of "Leave Devil!" fell out the windows. I got on my bike, put my helmet on, and headed for the office. "Time is on my side" played through my headphones as a tail wind pushed me forward to the next crazy experience in Mali.

Not bad for government work...

I was told by someone who reads my blog, "I have a suggestion, less text more photos." So, here are some pictures and descriptions of the work I have been doing over the last 2 and a half years.

The Tongo School Project

The Tongo School focuses on sustainable design and environmentally friendly building techniques. Cement is the main building material used in most Malian schools. Because cement is not produced in Mali, it must be shipped in from Cote d'Ivoire by truck, which makes cement a very expensive component of the budget. By using a technique called compressed earth bricks, the amount of cement utilized in the Tongo School project is less than 25% of the average school. We have also incorporated an innovative rainwater harvesting system into the design, which during the rainy season, will be able to collect as much as 4200 gallons of water to be used for garden irrigation during the dry/hot season. This project has taken over two years to get funded but is finally underway and should be completed by the time we leave Mali. We have partnered with an NGO called BuildOn to help with fundraising and overall supervision of the project.

The Cinzana School Garden Project Part 1

The Cinzana School Garden project was my attempt to incorporate every sector of Peace Corps in one project. I acquired a piece of land, put up a fence, cleaned and repaired a well, rebuilt a pump, and purchased seeds and gardening materials. (That took me over a year) The children are responsible for every aspect of the garden from planting and harvesting, to selling the produce at the local market. It will allow them to learn new agricultural techniques as well as standard business techniques and mathematics. My hope is that the health of the students will also be improved by making fruits and vegetables available all year round.

The Cinzana School Garden Project Part 2

Pumps are a blessing and a curse. They make the act of getting water from a well much easier, but they break very often and are expensive to repair. Many good wells sit unused because the pumps can't be fixed by the village. The problem is that they require routine maintenance and care that aren't provided on a local level. If a pump is used properly it could last for many many years. However, the people of Mali are not gentle people and when they grab a well handle they start slamming that thing up and down like it stole something from them. I truly believe they think the harder they pump the faster the water will come out. So, inevitably the pumps break and they return to the wells with their ropes and pulleys.

The Cinzana School Maps Project

Maps are the default projects of volunteers.

Cinzana Water Sanitation Project - Wash Station 1

This is a wash area in the middle of my village. The women of Cinzana like to gather several times a day and wash dishes while they gossip about the village. Before this wash area the water would collect in puddles in the street and breed mosquitoes and other diseases. The wash area now drains into an underground pit that lets the water soak back into the soil.

This is my homologue(work partner) Adama trying to prove to me that he's still a young man. Behind him, you see the young men digging the area that will become the soak pit where the water run-off will soak back into the soil.

Cinzana School Well Cover Project

This project was to cover the well at the school in Cinzana after I observed a child standing on the edge of the well pulling up a heavy jug of water. It is common in Mali for children to fall in wells and die. The wells in Cinzana are anywhere from 10 to 30 meters deep.

This was a large project over several months where I helped people improve the drainage of their latrines. Like the women washing dishes, most latrine run-off collected in the streets and provided a breeding ground for mosquitoes and another diseases. On several occassions I watched children playing in these puddles and animals drinking from them and the thought of the diseases that were being spread horrified me. So the concept is the same, the water drains out of the latrines into a covered hole where it soaks back into the soil.

This was just a photo Op for the SEC. After this picture was taken we quickly ran for shade.

Beautiful friend...the end...

I hate hot season, but I really hate rainy season. In hot season it's just hot. When you walk outside it's like opening the oven to check on your cookies, and that heat just blasts you in the face, but in this case you don't smell the cookies you smell hot garbage. In rainy season it's just as hot, it's 100 times more humid, and the roads are ankle deep in "mud". So, when we arrived in Cinzana on Thursday to find that a freak rainstorm had washed over the village I was not in the best of moods. We arrived with the brick press, two wheel barrows, two shovels, two bicycles, our baggage and ourselves. We were uncertain how we would get to Tongo with all this stuff considering the brick press itself probably weighs over 300 pounds. We spoke to my homologue, Adama, and he suggested we speak to a man in Cinzana who has a truck he uses to sell Mangoes throughout the commune. We sent a runner and the chauffeur arrived approximately 15 minutes later. As he approached and began speaking I could smell alcohol on his breath. This is not very common in Cinzana and I was startled for a second as we spoke. He said he could take the brick press to Tongo for 12, 500 CFA (about 25 dollars). It was a ridiculous price considering I can get from Cinzana to Bamako (A six hour bus ride) for 2,500 CFA. The longer I'm in this country the less likely I am to bargain. I am truly tired of bargaining, I've been in Mali for over two years, the guy has seen me here, he knows I'm not a tourist, but he still wants to bargain. In my mind when you give a ridiculous price you are basically saying, "you're and idiot you have no idea what this costs, so I am going to put the screws to you." I wasn't having any of it and after we yelled at each other for a few minutes he walked away and there I was in a soggy field with a brick machine sinking in the mud. We decided to wait until morning, haul it to the road and try our luck with any cars that might pass on the way to the market in Katiena. We woke at 6 and put all our gear on a donkey cart and headed for the road. We waited for an hour before we decided it would be easier to pay a donkey cart to take it to Tongo. Mary and I would leave and Adama would put all our stuff on a cart and make sure it got on it's way. We probably wouldn't be able to set the press in cement until the next day, but at least it would get to Tongo. We caught a ride and headed for Tongo. Just as we were leaving, we saw a huge truck pull up covered with men. as we turned down the Tongo road, we saw them hoist the machine on the back and come up behind us. We would arrive in Tongo at the same time, and it only cost us 4,000 CFA.

We arrived in Tongo tired and dirty from the ride. We left all the gear by the road and headed into the village to get some water. As we arrived in the village square we noticed all the men milling under the hangar where village meetings take place. We headed over to greet the men and tell them the brick press had arrived. As we approached, I swear I could hear The Doors playing in the background..."This is the end... ". The dirt in the village was stained dark red and the rusty smell of blood hung heavy in the air. As we got closer we saw the men hovering over an entire dead bull carcass. The head had been lopped off and tossed to the side. Hundreds of knives worked over the meat as it was cut in to small chunks and placed in large wash basins. As they were filled, women would put them on their heads and head home to prepare the feast. As the women walked away I could see the blood overflowing and running down their arms. The men were all very busy, so we did a quick greeting and told them we would begin setting the brick press when they were ready. We went to Mary's house and began killing the spiders and scorpions who had taken possession of her house. After an hour or so, the men who were going to help set the press showed up and we headed to the school site. Once there we explained what we were going to do and began mixing cement. we set the press fairly quickly and headed back to Mary's house. We sat there for a little while and then we heard the village square began to come alive with movement and laughter. We stood up and looked over the wall to find the entire village was sitting in the square about to eat lunch. So, we did what any self respecting volunteer would do, and went looking for free food. It only took a second before we were invited to sit down with a group of old men. We washed our hands, and a huge bowl of couscous was placed in front of us. We were told to eat and we obliged. A minute later a man walked up to me and said, "Seydou, Sogo". I stuck out my hands and at least a pound of meat was placed in my palms. I threw it in the bowl and picked out the good pieces. There were a couple young boys eating with us and I gave them the liver, stomach, and brains. You never can tell what you're eating in this country. We finished and sat among the old men until they had finished. We were told to join them in prayer and listened as they asked for peace in the village and a good harvest in the coming season. We held our hands in a bowl shape and repeated after them, then as if splashing water on our face we swept our hands over our head three times completing the prayer. We turned and shook the hands of those surrounding us and thanked them for the food. We headed back to the brick press and put a second layer of cement on the machine. We returned home, passed the day reading and talking to those who came to call on us and then went to sleep under a full moon. We awoke the next morning and closed up Mary's house. Pumped up our tires and rode our bikes back to Cinzana. It was a difficult ride into the wind on a bad road. We arrived at the paved road just in time to see a Peace Corps vehicle passing. We tried to flag it down, but they just kept driving. They must of thought we were just some really excited white bikers, or he just didn't want to have to put our bikes on the roof. Anyways, we had to sit on the side of the road in the sun until a car finally passed and we squeezed in. We made it back to the Segou bureau around two o'clock and fell asleep until the sun had set. We woke up and began figuring out how we would get 14 truckloads of sand and gravel shipped to Tongo on Tuesday. As our COS date approaches the work picks up, a dozen times a day I do the math in my head, "if we start building on June 1st, the first 3 classes will be done by the end of July, then the second block the end of September. that gives us a month to build latrines, built the cisterns, water harvesting system, paint, big party, COS, fly to Spain, delete the Three Dog Night song from my I pod, get on a big boat, eat a lot of food, arrive home, find a job...".