Since it is extremely difficult to write a letter home and stamps are hard to come by, I've been hoarding letters that should have been sent weeks ago to Evan. So since I skyped with Ev last night and read him my letters, I thought it also be nice to share the letter with my other family and friends.
November ....18th ?
Dear Ev,
I never quite know how to start off a letter. Given the conditions I am in living in, the appropriate questions seem, well, stupid for a lack of a better word. My days are long and tiring, yet I feel more alive than I ever have. I think that if I were you, I'd want to know exactly what in hell I was doing everyday in the middle of Mali. So that is what I will start off with.
Every morning at 4:30a, the call to prayer starts. It lasts exactly 7 minutes in which I curse the entire Muslim world. I live about 1,000 feet from the village Mosque and the call, even with ear plugs jar me from my slumber each morning. I tend to fall back into a light doze that is disturbed often by the donkeys, dogs, roosters and people outside my hut. Oh and do not be fooled, roosters/chickens do make noise at all times of the day, not just sunrise.
Around 6:00a I wake up and walk across the compound to take my sunrise poop. It makes the whole idea of pooping into a smelly fly infested hole almost bearable when the sun is rising over the hills. After that, I grab my bucket and make the walk to the water pump in the village. It's luckily rather close (5 minute walk) where I wait in line with Malians to get water. They are constantly amazed that I pump my own and carry it back. Have no doubt, that bucket is heavy as f@#$, but it's a good right arm a workout. Tomorrow my sister is going to show me how to carry the bucket on my head which is supposed to be easier. If not, I'll have some crazy Popeye right arm muscle by 2014.
Breakfast consists of tea (even when it is 90 degrees outside) and French bread (thank you colonialism!) I then grab my books and walk through town to get to school. Everyone calls my name (Kajatu Diarra) and I know now that I never EVER ever want to be famous. EVER. The attention is slowly dying down the longer I am in the village, but it takes a lot of getting used to. Especially because in Mali it is extremely rude to not greet everyone. So what would be a 5 minute walk to school turns into a 45 minute stop and go of handshaking, telling people my family is good and praising Allah for my good health.
Once at school, it is a bit more relaxed. We sit around a makeshift blackboard and study Bambara from 8-12p. I’m actually getting quite good at it considering I just started learning it last week. It helps that my homestay family only speaks Bambara and talks to me all the time, We break from 12-2:30p to eat and not much more since the heat is so bad. You sit and do nothing and sweat drips down your face. And get this, it’s the cold season!
From 2:30-5, we go back to class and continue to study. It’s boring and intense but exciting to be learning a language so quickly on the fly. I come home by dark (6p) and help to make dinner which usually consists of rice and a peanut sauce and one (literally one) vegetable. I’m lucky to be given pretty good food at homestay and have enjoyed almost everything I have had so far—especially since I cut meat out of my diet.
The night usually flies by between cooking, eating, writing in my journal and homework that by 9p I am ready to go to bed and fall asleep reading. But not before my 2nd bath of the day! I go get water once again, walk to the hole (yes, it’s the same hole I go to the bathroom in), stand under the Malian stars with no artificial lighting and take it alllllll in. (well, not the smell of poo, but the view at least).
So the days go by fast, but that isn’t to say it feels a lot longer than 3 weeks that I’ve been in country. Thanksgiving is next week and while I am not the least bit homesick now, I fear the emotions I will have come time to eat rice and beans as my Thanksgiving dinner will prove difficult. So that’s my everyday. My brain is exhausted, I ooze starch from my pores, but I can sit here and genuinely say I’m so happy. And by the time you get this and read it I could be in tears, know that today and for the past three weeks, I have been more than content with my life here.
So for the time being, I am truly living in each moment. I look at the stars each night. I laugh with my family every joke they make that I understand. And I tap my foot to the music of Kobalakoro, Mali. For I know that the day will come, when the burning garbage smoke will cloud the sky, my family will grow tired of the American and the music will turn to noise. And while that may seem cynical, it is the unfortunate truth. That while this life offers much beauty, there are alleys of darkness that I will undoubtedly walk through. So it is with this letter I will read and remember the beauty of Mali in a time when the sun may be too hot and the day may feel too long.
The frogs have arrived and the cockroaches are creeping which means even without a watch, it is time to retire to bed. Tomorrow is another day of language learning, visiting a health center, and learning to carry water on my head. I do hope you can make it here one day. I think you would find it most beautiful. The people are kind in ways I can only hope I am half of. And while you may not love the food (HA, may?!) I promise that other aspects of life in Mali make up for the culinary lacking. I miss you and I love you. Always thinking of everyone.
Lee
November ....18th ?
Dear Ev,
I never quite know how to start off a letter. Given the conditions I am in living in, the appropriate questions seem, well, stupid for a lack of a better word. My days are long and tiring, yet I feel more alive than I ever have. I think that if I were you, I'd want to know exactly what in hell I was doing everyday in the middle of Mali. So that is what I will start off with.
Every morning at 4:30a, the call to prayer starts. It lasts exactly 7 minutes in which I curse the entire Muslim world. I live about 1,000 feet from the village Mosque and the call, even with ear plugs jar me from my slumber each morning. I tend to fall back into a light doze that is disturbed often by the donkeys, dogs, roosters and people outside my hut. Oh and do not be fooled, roosters/chickens do make noise at all times of the day, not just sunrise.
Around 6:00a I wake up and walk across the compound to take my sunrise poop. It makes the whole idea of pooping into a smelly fly infested hole almost bearable when the sun is rising over the hills. After that, I grab my bucket and make the walk to the water pump in the village. It's luckily rather close (5 minute walk) where I wait in line with Malians to get water. They are constantly amazed that I pump my own and carry it back. Have no doubt, that bucket is heavy as f@#$, but it's a good right arm a workout. Tomorrow my sister is going to show me how to carry the bucket on my head which is supposed to be easier. If not, I'll have some crazy Popeye right arm muscle by 2014.
Breakfast consists of tea (even when it is 90 degrees outside) and French bread (thank you colonialism!) I then grab my books and walk through town to get to school. Everyone calls my name (Kajatu Diarra) and I know now that I never EVER ever want to be famous. EVER. The attention is slowly dying down the longer I am in the village, but it takes a lot of getting used to. Especially because in Mali it is extremely rude to not greet everyone. So what would be a 5 minute walk to school turns into a 45 minute stop and go of handshaking, telling people my family is good and praising Allah for my good health.
Once at school, it is a bit more relaxed. We sit around a makeshift blackboard and study Bambara from 8-12p. I’m actually getting quite good at it considering I just started learning it last week. It helps that my homestay family only speaks Bambara and talks to me all the time, We break from 12-2:30p to eat and not much more since the heat is so bad. You sit and do nothing and sweat drips down your face. And get this, it’s the cold season!
From 2:30-5, we go back to class and continue to study. It’s boring and intense but exciting to be learning a language so quickly on the fly. I come home by dark (6p) and help to make dinner which usually consists of rice and a peanut sauce and one (literally one) vegetable. I’m lucky to be given pretty good food at homestay and have enjoyed almost everything I have had so far—especially since I cut meat out of my diet.
The night usually flies by between cooking, eating, writing in my journal and homework that by 9p I am ready to go to bed and fall asleep reading. But not before my 2nd bath of the day! I go get water once again, walk to the hole (yes, it’s the same hole I go to the bathroom in), stand under the Malian stars with no artificial lighting and take it alllllll in. (well, not the smell of poo, but the view at least).
So the days go by fast, but that isn’t to say it feels a lot longer than 3 weeks that I’ve been in country. Thanksgiving is next week and while I am not the least bit homesick now, I fear the emotions I will have come time to eat rice and beans as my Thanksgiving dinner will prove difficult. So that’s my everyday. My brain is exhausted, I ooze starch from my pores, but I can sit here and genuinely say I’m so happy. And by the time you get this and read it I could be in tears, know that today and for the past three weeks, I have been more than content with my life here.
So for the time being, I am truly living in each moment. I look at the stars each night. I laugh with my family every joke they make that I understand. And I tap my foot to the music of Kobalakoro, Mali. For I know that the day will come, when the burning garbage smoke will cloud the sky, my family will grow tired of the American and the music will turn to noise. And while that may seem cynical, it is the unfortunate truth. That while this life offers much beauty, there are alleys of darkness that I will undoubtedly walk through. So it is with this letter I will read and remember the beauty of Mali in a time when the sun may be too hot and the day may feel too long.
The frogs have arrived and the cockroaches are creeping which means even without a watch, it is time to retire to bed. Tomorrow is another day of language learning, visiting a health center, and learning to carry water on my head. I do hope you can make it here one day. I think you would find it most beautiful. The people are kind in ways I can only hope I am half of. And while you may not love the food (HA, may?!) I promise that other aspects of life in Mali make up for the culinary lacking. I miss you and I love you. Always thinking of everyone.
Lee
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