As you can imagine, this attitude was not immediately shared by my family when they came to visit me for Christmas. They adapted quickly, though. By the end of the trip they were drinking fresh cow's milk, wearing Malian clothing, taking bucket baths with cold water, and eating communally with their hands (except for Dad, who we discovered was the high-maintenance one in the family. He brought a spoon with him to every meal and was dismayed when no one came up to him with a pepper grinder). We traveled all over the country and saw the various sites and traditions of Mali. We hiked up the steep cliffs of Dogon country, saw the cave dwellings filled with bones and talismans, watched a traditional Dogon mask dance, rode in a wooden pinasse (dugout canoe) down the Niger river, walked around the largest mud building in the world, and experienced the music and markets of Bamako.
We spent Christmas in my village, and I was incredibly impressed by the kindness and openness my family showed for all of my Malian friends and neighbors. Despite not knowing the language and environment, my entire family danced to the wooden xylophone music, ate goat's meat with my Malian host family, and cooked up pork presented to us by the congregation of Christians in the neighboring village. The members of Kadiaradougou, for their part, were ecstatic to have 6 fresh foreigners visiting. They chattered delightedly about them and commented on everything they did. I especially enjoyed this aspect of the visit, because I could translate everything they said in whatever way I chose. Example:
Fatoumata: "Tell your brother-in-law he dances like a blind field monkey picking oranges off a tree!"
Me: "Carl, they say you dance like a majestic king and the "robot" will become a village classic."
Just kidding family... everything I translated was completely accurate. And the greetings I taught you weren't rude "your mom" jokes or anything. But even if they were, you'd never know ...
Throughout the whole trip, I was incredibly proud of my family. Everyone in my village loved them. Every week someone tells me, "Your mom is such a wonderful dancer!" or "Your father is a good man," or "Marry me to your brother. He'd feed me Oreos every day." (Actual quotes, by the way). I cannot help but agree with them on all counts; my family is wonderful!
Mali's hot season has just begun, meaning people can't work in the fields and as a result have much more free time. It's the best time for working on projects and getting stuff done. We're working on getting a 2nd pump installed, creating two community gardens, improving shea butter production, and holding literacy classes. The members of my village never cease to impress me with their motivation and deep courage. Last year, only one out of my 5 best friends in village could write her name. The sense of shame they felt at being unable to write letters or numbers, as adults, was crippling. This year, of their own initiative, all 5 of them worked through their fear and signed up for a 4-times-a-week adult literacy class. Between taking care of their newborn babies, cooking for their families, and hand washing all the laundry, they diligently study their lessons by flashlight and practice drawing and identifying the letters of the alphabet. They say becoming literate will "bring them out of darkness" (ka bɔ dibi la). It's seriously inspiring to see them working so hard to become educated, and it's awesome to hear them talk about how they'll fight to send their daughters to school.
I miss y'all a bunch and can't wait to see you in another 7-8 months! I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and New Year, and let me know how everything is going in your lives.
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