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Visiting friends in Sikasso, Mali
My village is comprised of three religions.  Christian, Muslim and Animists.  I've been exposed to Islam and Christianity in my life thus far, so there haven't been any mindblowing stories to share until this past Friday when I saw my first animist ritual in my village.

It happened as I was sitting with some women making soap to sell at market.  A large group of people banging drums, singing loudly walked past into a nearby concession.  Clemente (my homologue) saw my eyes flicker from making soap to the commotion that was happening across the way.  He eventually grabbed my hand and said to come with him.  I followed him knowing that in my past experiences of walking into some sort of function in mali, there are a couple of things were about to happen:

1.  I would be stared at.  Intensely.  Even if I know every single person who is there, for some reason everyone stares at me like I just got into town for the first time ever.

2.  Most likely, I will be pulled into a circle of dancing people in which I have to convince myself to forget any sense of American style of dance and dance like something has possessed my body (which if you know me, you know isn't too far off from that).

3.  I will be asked to eat something and will never find out what the said food is.

Knowing that, I took a deep breath and prepared for the worst--in which to anyone who loves animals, you should not read on.

While I would have been lucky to walk in on a baby naming, a wedding or even a funeral (as they are somewhat festive here), I walked into the compound to see the annual ritual of animists in my village.

Let me preface this by saying words don't generally fail me.  When inspired, which I definitely was after this, I usually don't have any hesitation describing in detail certain events.  Yet, here I am, simply unable to describe what I saw.  Men danced in traditional Malian clothing, all hovering around a single elder that was huddled around what looked like a a drum with several charred animals parts attached to it.  Still not understanding what I was seeing, Clemente took my hand and led me to the back of the group where he pointed and said "Wulu caman be" (lots of dogs here).  In which I glanced over and noticed several dogs laying down in the shade, which is not too odd of a sight to see in 95 degree winters in Mali.

Moments later, it all came together.  The peaceful dogs were now grabbed and I noticed they were tied up, pigs were brought to the center of the circle as well as chickens.  And in a matter of minutes, I was watching 4 dogs, 7 chickens and 3 pigs be killed in a haunting, yet almost peaceful manner.  There was no crazy screaming, the dancing has slowed and prayers were said as each animal was brought to be killed.

And for the first time since being in Mali, I sincerely felt like I was on a different planet.  And that to me, is the beauty of this whole experience.  It's going from seeing a traditional practice that has lasted hundreds, possibly thousands of years to sitting here now, posting a blog using wireless internet to my laptop for people literally across this Earth to read about.  It's the unbelievable ability to share cultures.  Not just from Mali to the States, but vice versa.  Because as I sat there afterwards, continuing to make soap with the ladies and contemplating how I would tell this story on my blog, I also told these Malian women about dogs and their role in America.  

So I know a lot of you have been asking about when will I start work, how much longer until I start making a difference--and here is your answer.  I already have started.  Maybe not saved lives, maybe not built a school that I can take pictures to show back home, but I'm aiding in a cultural exchange that would not exist if I were not here.  Ideas of buying a dog an actual bed to sleep in, letting a dog lick your face with love and most outlandish of all, being sad when your dog dies--that's part of my work.  Sitting here and sharing stories of a culture that some of you will never see--that's my job.  So I'm busy--relatively.  And I am working--also, another relative matter.  And I do hope to answer the question of what I am doing with a more precise answer, but until then, stories of animist ritual will have to do.