Fall Mali-style

It's October in Mali; the rainy season is coming to an end and soon "cold season" will be upon us. That means the temperature will dip into the low 80s or maybe even the shockingly cold high 70s. Accordingly, my Malian friends will be donning their massive puffy winter coats and wool hats with tassels. Oh, and if you ever wondered where your mom's neon pink and green ski onesie from 1982 went, here's your answer: to a 42-year old Malian man riding a moto.

In terms of my village, everything is going really well. My Bambara is continuing to improve, thanks in large part to one woman who recognized the fact that I was faking comprehension approximately 60% of the time. I had MASTERED the "un HUH" sound that Malians make to indicate understanding, and as a result I used it to successfully end many a conversation despite not understanding a word. Of course, I was out of luck if the person had asked a question... un HUH apparently doesn't work for that. I tried it. Anyways, along came my neighbor Wasa, who repeats things in different ways until I completely understand what she's saying. She also has an amazing knack for understanding what I'm trying to say, even if it isn't quite clear to me yet. Like when I say in Bambara: "Day before, market I take mint and now mint no water" she somehow understands that I actually mean "Wasa, guess what? Yesterday, I bought fresh mint leaves at the Siekroni market and dried them in my yard because I like to put mint in my tea."

Speaking of tea-drinking, it's a big deal here socially. Malians gather around several times a day to talk and boil a small metal teapot over a charcoal fire pit. They make 3 rounds of tea from one bag of leaves, a process which can take anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour and a half. There's a saying that, "The first pot of tea is bitter like death. The second pot of tea is hard like life. But the third pot of tea is sweet like true love." There are two small tea glasses, and they are filled and given to drink according to the social hierarchy (age and gender being most important). In other words, the village chief gets the first glass, then the next oldest man, the oldest woman, etc. I qualify as a sort of third gender because I'm a weird American woman who wears pants and reads books. I'm given the glass before other women my age and often before the men my age.