The Beginning of the End

18 June 2010

At the surprise of everyone in my host family, Amadou arrived last night with his younger brother Soumaïla from Bamako. I’m not sure what his plans are for staying through rainy season in village, but people here are certainly happy to see him for the first time in six months. The murky circumstances behind his disappearance are becoming a bit clearer; apparently it had something to do with a loan he took from the local bank but never repaid.
My arrival in Bamako for USA’s match against Slovenia found Mamadou’s workplace supervisor Moussa on a mad search downtown for an American football jersey, a request I’d placed with Mamadou the night before over the phone. Moussa arrived just as the match was about to begin empty-handed, convinced after his torrid yet unsuccessful attempt that he’d checked every possible place. Mamadou and I were left with the slightly amusing conclusion that perhaps American jerseys hadn’t yet found a market in Mali.


19 June 2010

As of 23 June, there will be a new doctor at the Med Clinic in Kafara, in a most disheartening development. Dicko, it seems, has gone behind Keita’s back and stained his reputation with the MZC folks, enough so that they chose a replacement without anyone in Kafara’s input, except the party member in town that I’m sure claims more than his fair share of credit for MZC’s projects in village. In one of the most passive aggressive manners I can imagine, the replacement arrived to be given a tour of his new facility and basically inform Keita that his last couple of days at the post were few. The coup de grace came when the new doctor left a suitcase of his stuff in Keita’s room, then returned to Bamako, with no intention to come back until his contract began. For the past three months, Keita has been working at the Med Clinic neither on contract or receiving any sort of monthly stipend. The party member in town had the nerve to tell Keita that his last month of work would be paid, but said for the time-being he could only present Keita with a 5.000f bill. Keita had his suspicions that this type of messy situation was in the works, but the betrayal in brought to light from not only Dicko but also his friend Bissan, who Keita had been working in place of, left Keita cynical and distrustful of just about everyone. I’d been present for most of this day’s unbelievable turn of events, and talked with Keita afterwards, trying to convince him to remain positive.


20 June 2010

Programme Sorgho representatives arrived today at Soumaïla’s concession unannounced, expecting us to be prepared with last year’s data and ready for this year’s new protocols. I gave them my data from last year’s hybrid tests, and was told to email one of them photos of farmers in their fields.
This impromptu meeting interrupted Soumaïla’s main activity today, that of assembling sacks of zaban fruit piled under the entire area of shade beneath the mango tree outside my concession. A Senegalese guy and a woman from Kati are here to take these sacks to sell in Bamako. Those who collect the fruit were promised to be paid 1500f for a sack’s worth, so villagers (mostly children) were busy collecting the fruit from the forest most of the day.
Adaman Bagayoko’s second wife, Awa, came by today to present her newborn to Soumaïla. This happened under such circumstances, in the middle of an unexpected meeting with Programme Sorgho, and the chaos of zaban collection and sorting all around us, that I have no recollection as to even the gender of the newborn.


22 June 2010

My arrival in Daoudabougou and Mamadou’s workplace led to another surprise, that of his workplace being shut down by the mayor’s office for lack of tax payments. His coworkers and he were still working outside the locked door, and I suppose have worked out some sort of agreement with their neighboring businessmen to store their materials with them. Mamadou had already had a stressful morning getting his national identification document renewed, and I’m sure arriving at his workplace to see that posting on the door wasn’t too helpful in reversing his displeasure.


25 June 2010

I woke up this morning and went to take my bucket bath, but instead found myself having another bout of the worst diarrhea I’ve ever had, just like I’d experienced not two weeks ago in village. Slightly concerned, I called Dr. Dawn and told her whatever I’d had was back again with a vengeance. I’d originally intended to visit the Med Unit today to checkup on the progress of medication I’d been taking for a minor ear infection, but the return of this gastrointestinal bacteria gave me new reason to head across town. I’m now on my second round of Cipro in as many weeks, and can only wait until Monday for the results of the stool sample I left for lab testing.


26 June 2010

I arrived in Marako just after La’ansara (16h00 prayer) and made my way past the schoolhouse to Bantin’s concession, where I’d left my bike. She had me sit down and brew tea while she swept the concession, having just finished extracting nèrè powder from the pods she’d collected that afternoon in the forest right before I’d arrived. I took photos of an especially timid young girl who spent my first half hour watching me intently from her mother’s doorway. Finally, sensing I was not a threat, she moved closer and sat next to the basket of nèrè powder, unintentionally providing me with a perfect pose for another photo.
I’d barely sat down outside Dramand’s cabine in anticipation for the television to get setup to watch USA play Ghana when Batima called me over to her concession. She told me Kadia’s true reason for not coming during Rokia’s visit to Kafara. The excuse of being sick was actually due to her being pregnant! During my latest Bamako visit, she gave birth to a second daughter and the baptism will be this coming Monday. I remember receiving a call from Kadia during America’s match against Algeria, but when I answered with repeated lack of response, I was only left wondering why she’d called, as that was the first instance of such ever since she’d left Kafara. I figured if it were important, as I’d assumed it was given this circumstance, she’d call back later. She never did. Now, back in village, I was finding out two days beforehand, in similar fashion as to how I learnt of her marriage. I couldn’t believe this was happening again, and called Mamadou later to express my disgust with Kadia’s latest actions that left me wondering how things came to this. Kadia had been my closest Malian friend during my first year in Mali, but our split could not have left me more in the dark. Mamadou said he’d do his best to attend the baptism, but understood why I was so upset, agreeing what Kadia had done (or failed to do) was akin to insult. Even Batima got upset with Kadia when this news broke and Kadia said I hadn’t been informed. Batima told her this was not a proper way to treat one’s friends, first lying about the reason she’d fail to visit us for the first time since she’d left and now not informing us of her daughter’s birth or baptism. The speculation as to the reasons for this treatment only leaves us more frustrated.