Funteni Be (It's Hot)

Happy October! (October, really? But it’s 90 degrees out!)

Life in Bamako is getting easier and easier every day. I finally feel like I understand the basic layout of the city which simplifies a lot in terms of getting around. I am not completely lost when my family bickers in Bambara, nor when they speak to me in French in their very not-Parisian accents.

We also did several things in school this week that (finally) felt great and worth my time. On Wednesday after school we visited an organization called the Groupe Pivot Santé Population in Hippodrome, a neighborhood in northern Bamako. The organization is essentially a collective of NGOs in Mali that focus primarily on healthcare. The purpose of the Groupe Pivot, which is financed primarily by USAID but also by other bodies, is to provide funding, assistance, and coordination to Malian NGOs. Our meeting with the leaders of this organization was great; the director spoke to us about the challenges he faces (such as resistance to family planning and illegality of abortion) and how the organization attempts to handle them. Overall, it appears that this organization does important work in an efficient and successful way, which is truly refreshing in a country where efficiency is certainly not an important factor.

On Thursday, we visited the country’s one public orphanage. I was very nervous about this excursion. Orphanages are by their own nature depressing places, and visiting one in a country that does not have high standards of hygiene or a great deal of funding for public institutions made me very anxious. However, I was really, really happy with the visit. The orphanage only holds babies younger than about a year and a half and handicapped children of all ages. The building itself was quite nice – very clean and painted colors you would expect for a nursery school. I was most struck by how well staffed it was; at least two women were in every room, holding and playing with babies. However, it was upsetting that most babies were lying in their cribs or on the floor when they really need to be held. When we talked to the directors about adoption in Mali, they said that most adoptions occur internationally (as I mentioned before Malians are wary to adopt because they care so much about family lineage), and that it is Mali’s law that a couple prove their sterility prior to adopting, which I found distressing. They equated this law to the fact that in Mali, couples marry to have their own children, and if they adopt a child along with having children of their own they will most certainly give less care to the adopted child. Thus, the directors believe that the only cases of Malian couples loving their adopted children to the fullest extent are when they biologically cannot have children of their own. I really don’t know how true that is.

Friday after school we had Kara, our beloved van driver, drop us off at the Grand Marché downtown. It is a crazy, crazy place. A huge amount of traffic, people, and tons of stalls selling food, cheap plastic backpacks and sandals, hand-me-down T-shirts and stuffed animals from countries like the United States, and traditional medicine (which includes some very unappetizing things such as monkey skulls) crowd up the streets. There are so many noises, smells, and near-death experiences crossing streets that it is really overwhelming. However, we did visit the Artisanat, an indoor market selling beautiful handcrafts, which was exciting, though I had to exercise my bargaining skills which is not my favorite thing. (Ask my mother who saw me break down in tears multiple times in the souk in Morocco.) After that overwhelming experience, we were able to decipher the map in my Mali guidebook and find a charming Thai restaurant on a shockingly quiet street near the river. What a treat! Though it was a bit pricey (by Malian standards), it was worth every penny for spring rolls and vegetarian curry. We arrived quite early since we were so hungry; by the time we left we looked ridiculous covered in dust and dried sweat, since all of the patrons around us were toubabouw (white people) sipping wine and wearing their finest. Where do all the white people come from? I very rarely see them, except when I go to one of the three grocery stores in the city. However, I know there are tons of them here – Bamako is a dumping ground for foreign aid.

Tomorrow we depart for our village homestay, which lasts until Saturday. I’m very excited to get out of Bamako, but a little nervous about some aspects (namely the food). I won’t have internet access all week, but I will write about how it goes next weekend!