Another Toubab in Kafara

7 August 2010

Ever since I showed up to Niang’s house last night around 20hr00 until midday today, rains have been coming and going. I shared with him the new Big Boi album, as well as my highest rated songs on my iTunes, along with the old photos from Dad and several on my laptop during my time in Mali. When he’d been packing up for his previous trip to Bamako, I had made note of his cologne. Niang asked if I had a specific brand I preferred, and I told him back home I exclusively wore any scent of Axe spray. After his bucket bath last night, he emerged from his room holding a can of Axe, leading to celebratory remarks in French from me before applying a bit for the evening.


8 August 2010

During my visit with Maman, she’d remarked about the particular requests of food to prepare from her Mauritanian hosts. Every night, for example, they eat spaghetti noodles, to the point the odor of such food makes Maman queasy now. When I called her last night, she jokingly asked if I wanted to come eat some spaghetti. In turn, I told her no, I’d prefer bananas, a food I know she doesn’t like even more than spaghetti at this point.
As if I’m not nervous enough for the arrival of my replacement this afternoon, my neighboring hut almost doubled that anxiety last night. While putting away my bike, the flashlight beam from my cell phone alerted me to walls covered with cockroaches and a floor soaked with rain spots. Already my heart is pumping and then I see a hug crack above the window that goes all the way down to the floor, the same beginning of the end that befell (literally) the hut in my host family’s concession.
Now as I’m writing this in the morning, it’s begun to rain. These next couple of days could make for an interesting psychological experiment, folks.
Sitting in my dark hut typing up this entry, little Ami arrived to collect my drawing pad and colored pencils. Shortly thereafter, Sori arrived to sharpen a pencil for his older brother Adaman, who’d just come by to pick up the notebooks he’d been drawing with during a past rainstorm. Adaman came to check up on what was delaying Sori’s return, and found me using my cell phone’s flashlight to search for the pencil sharpener, as Sori was distracted by the sounds of Big Boi on my laptop, clearly enjoying himself. Facetiously, Adaman asked whether flashlights should be used during the day, inquiring as to where I was that allowed for such necessity. I replied in kind, saying I was in the dark. It seems I’m becoming more and more strange to my host siblings, confusing what should be done during the day and night (remember Siaka’s comment about looking at a mirror in the dark?).
Sometime between 10-11hr00, several village children appeared under my gwa carrying large backpacks, cuing me as to the arrival of my replacement, who I saw immediately upon sticking my head out the doorway. Almost as surprising as this early arrival was the sight of Bakary among the crowd. It was still pouring, so we sat in the neighboring hut with Soumaïla and Muriama, ate peanuts, and I brewed tea and Tazo Passion. Emily, or Kafiné (a name exclusively for an elder girl twin, as is the case for Emily’s homestay namesake), speaks Bambara better than I remember I could during my site visit, and this may perhaps be due to the fact she’s not shy about speaking it. Once the rains subsided, and we’d each had a short nap, we went to greet N’Dia and Tia, the elder women of the host family concession, before eventually making our way to the village chief, as is proper protocol when a new visitor plans on spending the night.
As we arrived back home, Soumaïla presented Emily with her first chicken. We sat nearby the big mango tree, where we greeted host siblings upon their return from working all day in the fields. After a brief evening chat with Soumaïla, Mariam, Muriama, and Kadiatou, who made a quick impression on Emily, that was cut short due to spitting rain and cool temperatures (~70 degrees), I walked Kadiatou home and sat for a bit with her dad (the imam), a friend of his from Ouélessébougou, and Kadiatou before I became a bit embarrassed by how frequently I’d begun yawning, and head home for bed although it still was barely 23hr00.


9 August 2010

Today was the beginning of the introduction tour of Kafara with the new Toubab, who people in town would either assume was a relative or love interest of mine, never thinking it could possibly be another PCV. Soumaïla and I began by bringing Emily to the Med Clinic, where she had a chance to meet Dr. Niang, Kadia the matron, and Ba Kumba the pharmacist. Kadia’s little boy, Maga, was terrified of the new (white) face, but we all did our best to reassure Emily that soon he’d come around, as now whenever I stop by that place he runs to greet me.
The next place we went was the home of Moussa Doumbia, who is the vice president for the three groups of which Ba Samaké is president in village (the cotton co-op, the health committee, and something to do with the schoolhouse). After that, we walked to greet Fasogo Samaké, one of several advisors to the village chief, before making our way to the imam’s concession, where we found his younger brother, someone people come to for advice named Fatomo Samaké, farming a small section of corn. We found the imam himself across the way farming in his rice field.
During our midday break, Soumaïla wrote a list of the 30 members of his concession for Emily to learn the names. Dicko dropped by to greet and wish Emily good luck, as well as make her feel welcome to stop by the Med Clinic whenever she felt like it.
Later in the afternoon, we walked through several concessions on the southern end of village. A teenage girl from one of those we stopped by, Ba Coura Coulibaly, came by tonight to chat briefly with Emily and me.
Today was the two-year anniversary of my arrival in Kafara, for the site visit anyway.


10 August 2010

Since there was some sort of conference between parents of schoolchildren this morning, Soumaïla had Bakary walk with Emily and me to meet the important women’s association leaders, Bènè Mariko (garden), Kadia Traoré (cow corral), and Kunseko Traoré (who oversees all women’s activities). Unfortunately, none of them were home, but we did have the chance to greet their family members. The last concession we passed through, where Fatou’s parents live, were especially impressed and excited about Emily’s arrival. Walking around town in this manner led to it finally beginning to sink in that I’m leaving soon, but it was nice for villagers to know that someone else will be here after I’m gone.
While we sat waiting for the arrival of PC staff, Samba taught Emily the Fulfulde morning greeting exchange. Soon, Jajé Diarra and Seydou Keita from the Bureau came to bring us on a ride to the village chief’s concession. Once there, a very formal protocol took place to ask permission of the dugutigi to host Emily. Jajé proposed the idea to the chief, before the message was re-told to each of the villagers that had come, with either blessings or proverbs added along the way. Daouda Camara, Daouda Samaké, Soumaïla, and Samba Camara were all present for this ceremony. I was told to interpret and describe to Emily what had just taken place so she understood what I’m fairly certain, like I remember two years ago, had no clue what’d gone down.
This afternoon, back in the concession, Samba’s wife Umu invited Emily to help pound rice. Later, Emily could be seen pulling water with younger girls at the well. A couple of Soumaïla’s friends, Daouda Bagayoko and Yacouba Coulibaly, came by to welcome her as well.
During an evening visit to the butigi with Bakary, I noticed several men arguing about whether or not the moon had been visible, but apparently nowhere in Mali had it come out, meaning Ramadan won’t begin until 12 August.