The visitors

My house has become the popular neighbhorhood hangout spot. I think its the combination of Rex and the internet connection. It's fairly hot and I don't have a fan in my "office," so I generally sit and work on the couch with the doors open and celiing fan running. So, 7-8 times a day various kids from the neighborhood come streaming through the gate and into my house. They are fascinated with dog training and usually come in to ask me how to get Rex to do some kind of new command. The most recent request - what do we say to get Rex to attack someone?

One grouping of kids lives by my host family's house. They must have heard about Rex and then they just started coming over. They are Malian, but grew up in Congo - so they speak excellent French. They were a bit upset that Rex's commands were in Bambara and not French. As an American, you need to learn to pace yourself through the cycle of interupptions. However, I appreciate my gang as they keep Rex very busy and entertained. I often look at my door and laugh as kids run circles around the mango tree with Rex chasing their heels.

Usually they bring some kind of toys. As I type right now, two kids are rolling matchbox cars underneath me. (There is no school today so the kids can spend extra time here). Often they crowd around behind me and watch me use the computer. If I am trying to do work, I will try to change to the most boring window I can find, usually a word document, to try to get them back to car-rolling and dog-training. Last night about 5 or 6 popped in around 10:00pm. I was conducting English lessons with Drissa's brother, an older neighborhood kid, and one of my research assistants. I decided to entertain their internet fascination and did google searches for various breeds of dogs. After looking at Zumana, pugs, bulldogs, sharpeis, and irish wolfhounds - I decided to call it a night. It was about 11:00 pm. I wonder where they tell their parents they are? We were off training dogs....or I was at my American friend's house.... Or if their parents even ask?

I'm working on this relationship - trying to encourage quiet, independent play and figure out how to activate my army of followers to do some good deeds (or at least household chores).

Progress

In Mali, I have found progress to be a stop and go kind of enterprise, which requires a lot of patience. You wait until the right rythym comes along and then you try to hold on. Finally, things are starting to line up.

Thank you all for voting. Our puppy is now named Rex. I, along with a contingent of neighborhood kids, are working rather diligently on her training regimen. Rex can "sit (sigi)", "come (naa)", and is learning "down (daa)" she knows that she isn't allowed inside the house and must wait until we say so before attacking her food. We wash her once a week, which due to the dusty season - is less than effective. She, like my feet, is permanetly covered in a red/orange dust.

After two weeks of interviews, I've selected two research assistants (recent sociology and economics grads) and an intern (still in college). We embark on a six week training next Monday. I am scrambling to get the materials together. The first week we are covering theories of statebuilding, education, nationalism, and citizenship as well as looking more specifically at Mali's education sector in the context of the global campagin for "Education for All." This will be covered in the morning. In the afternoon, they will take the lead - teaching me Bambara. I'm hoping that we will all learn a lot.

I coach basketball 3 times a week. It's the same team that I have been playing with in Kalabancoura since 2002. The other coaches are amazing - they put in at least 3-4 hours a day, 6 days a week - unpaid. Right now I am helping with the beginners and the girls team (about 30 kids - 20 girls). Slowly we are moving from a lot of chattering, gossip, and laughing to more focus, concentration, and intensity. I have to explain moves and correct players using a combination of French and Bambara - very good practice for my language acquisition.

Simple Pleasures

In addition to the puppy, Drissa and I have made two other very important acquisitions. One is a 1985 Diesel Mercedes (190D). The Mercedes affords us accelerated mobility – we had been confined to borrowing cars and motorcycles and/or pulling our taxi off duty to give us some rides or paying rides in sotramas or taxis. Drissa looked at 30 or so cars before buying this one, and has already started to try to sell it for a higher price than what he paid. Bamako – has no “Craigslist” and thus flipping cars (without doing any extra work on them ) is time-consuming, yet possible. It does feel great to zip around the city, slicing through waves of motorbikes listening Malian radio programs – “learn Russian and explore diverse Russian contemporary music” or a Malian remix of some of Lil’ Wayne’s recent beats. I compare Mali to Chicago in that it is a city of neighborhoods. We live in Magnambougou, Drissa’s family is in Niamokoro, and I coach basketball in Kalanbancoura. Luckily, Niamokoro is sandwiched between the other two “quartiers.” However, these are only 3 of 8 or 9 neighborhoods on this side of the Niger. The other side of the city has another 10 or so neighborhoods and is continuously expanding farther out.

Our second acquisition is a kerosene cooking stove. I cannot tell you how liberated I feel. Any domestic talents that I might have acquired over the last 6 years or so were rendered worthless due to my inability (or at least unwillingness) to create a charcoal fire, wash clothes by hand, or skin and gut poultry. I used to ride past roadsides, eyes desperately searching for a new whole in the wall restaurant to test. On my research budget, I have allotted $10 a day for meals for Drissa and me. This will not pay for fancy meals at toubab restaurants and even a splurge at a mid-range faux Lebanese patisserie would eat up most of the budget. So, we usually eat most meals at my host family’s house and/or make do with yogurt/laughing cow/bread or an occasionally meal at one of these hole in the wall $1 a plate Nigerian/Senegalese/Togolese spots. Eating at my host family’s entails gender segregated eating – boys eating out of one big plate and girls out of another. While this is fun and social, sometimes I want to eat a meal with Drissa. Also, I get no input on what is being cooked (clearly) nor can I predict what will be there when I show up – except for riz au gras and fish – which is always a Sunday meal. However, now with my stove – all the produce that was formerly street decoration now looks like food. I can boil anything and eat it! I can cut and boil potatoes, fry fish, make salads, cook green beans, and even buy canned lentils to cook. Last night I baptized my stove with one of my rations of Kraft macaroni and cheese brought from home. I peeled carrots and cucumbers and was ridiculously pleased with myself. Tonight I might try potatoes with garlic, butter and cheese with a side of green beans.

Borrowed Puppies and Inauguration

After hearing the stories about election night in Bamako, I think I was expecting inauguration to induce all out rioting and partying in the street. Luckily for Malians, the inauguration coincided with day of the Army - which represents the day the last French soldier left independent Mali. However, of course things were a bit mellower than I expected. Two former co-workers from Winrock (www.winrock.org) came to watch with Drissa, me, and our friend Derek - recently returned from a freezing vacation in Senegal. We went over to a local bar and waited for TV5 to start covering the inauguration. It was cool because we got to explain to the other 20 or so Malians in the bar - the who's who of the inauguration (Tipper Gore, etc). In the hour leading up to the oath - TV5 paraded a series of French "specialists on the United States" who gave color commentary. This was followed by some weak French translations of the speech, oaths etc which managed to block out the actual speech - this was very frustrating. We walked over to my host parents home (they have satellite) and were able to finally put on CNN live. My host parents were having their 26th anniversary party and there were about 30 of my host father’s friends over gathered around the TV as well as a group of Malian expats who live in the US.

In other news, we have borrowed one of my host family’s dogs. It is a three month old puppy. The dog had a rather tragic first couple of months. It was taken from its mom too young (it tries to nurse everything) and managed to fall three stories from the top of my host family’s house and broke its leg. Luckily, my host mom is a vet and managed to set it, however it still has a bit of a limp. The puppy used to be tied to a two foot chain, but now enjoys free roaming around our enclosed home. After a bit of stumbling – it is now flying around the front yard – destroying insects and chasing plastic bottles. It is a very smart dog and has already learned how to come and to stop at the entrance way of our house because it’s not allowed inside.

We are not sure what to name her. The dog resembles Benji a bit, but my puppy seems a lot tougher. I remember going to see Benji the Hunted with my dad, and even as an 8 year old I could tell that the menacing wolves were edited in and were nowhere near Benji. We are trying to choose between 2 names – Cab 3 and Rex. Cab was the name of my Granny’s dog; when Cab 1 died and she got a new puppy she was in her 80s. She couldn’t think of a good one syllable name – so she decided to name the new puppy cab, too. This dog – rather shaggy – resembles Cab 1, so we thought we might continue the Cab legacy. My friend Derek suggested Rex and I think the dog looks like a Rex. I have a habit of giving many of my friends pet names with dinosaur endings. ___________ saurus or __________dactyl. We thought it would be funny if I had a Rexasaurusrex. I am setting up a poll on the blog so people can vote (scroll to bottom of the page).

The Housing Game

Our housing search began about three weeks ago when Idrissa first arrived in Bamako. It seems straightforward enough – responsible American/Malian couple with steady income would like to rent a small house for a whole year. For some reason, I thought the prospect of steady rent would be enticing for Bamakoise landlords. I was wrong. After analyzing the rental system here in Bamako, there seem to be little productive incentives for future tenants. First of all, in order to see vacant houses, you need to go through middle men – let’s call them real estate agents. Their job is to show you vacant properties, but their responsibility ends there – they cannot tell you how much the house rents for, who lived there last, if the electricity works, or how to get the keys. All of these questions are greeted with – “well you will have to make an appointment with the owner.” The wacky thing is that these guys make commission not on houses they rent, but on each house they show. So, they have an incentive to show you the dirtiest, most haphazard, misfit houses possible, or worse, houses that have been already rented. On top of all this, cleanup and general maintenance/repair is the responsibility of the new tenants – so the houses tended to be missing crucial appliances (ceiling fans/lighting fixtures) and in complete disarray. This made it very difficult to visualize the Bamako Living headquarters.

After viewing more than 30 houses of all varieties (apartments, multi-level, and ranch) in 5 different neighborhoods, Drissa and I were very frustrated. We made a couple of offers – and in some cases we were denied – or we watched an additional fifty dollars rent appear on top of the initial quote. We were prepared to leave for the desert without any good prospects. Then, my host brother – Alou – spotted a vacancy three houses down the block from my host family in Magnanbougou. While in the desert, we got the news that we had secured the home.

Upon our arrival back in Bamako, we explored our new house. A three bedroom/ 2 bath ranch with a mango tree out front and stair access to the rooftop. All the rooms had been freshly painted with a Miami Beach colored teal. It has tile floors and faux tin patterned ceilings. After a day of scrubbing the whole thing clean, we finally moved in. Drissa had some furniture made – so our house is now complete with a bed, mattress, nightstand, and bamboo couch set. The floor is still littered with suitcases, but with the help of some Ikea organizers we brought over – things are shaping up. Neighbors have been popping in at all hours to check in on our progress. Little kids seem especially fascinated to see how the Malian/toubab couple have set up their house. People are sincere and welcoming.

Festival in the Desert

Essakane:

This is my 5th time in Mali, but it will be my longest stay. The plan is to set up camp for a year here in Bamako to conduct my dissertation fieldwork. After finishing a freezing semester up in Ithaca, I decided to celebrate with a trip up past Timbuktu to the Festival in the Desert (www.festivalaudesert.com). What better a way to start dissertation fieldwork than a roadtrip up to the middle of the desert to watch some live music?

So, me, my husband - Idrissa, my little brother Tommy aka Zander (www.zanderbleck.com), his photographer friend Michael, our college friend Derek, and his friend Wanja rented a 4X4 and drove for pretty much two and a half days - through Mopti then Timbuktu - all the way to the village of Essakane. Zander and Michael were straight from Manhattan, while Derek and Wanja are working in Southern Sudan '- so we had quite an ecletic posse - led by our fearless and well-connected leader- our driver Papa. Despite state department warnings of threats against Westerners at the festival - we decided to brave it.

Essakane was one of the coolest sights I have ever seen. After hours of driving and waiting for 40 something car in front of us to take the hour long ferry across Niger - the last stretch through sanddunes - we arrived at a festival sight -littered with traditional Tuareg tents, camels, and the giant mainstage. We were feeling pretty action adventure for making it up there until we saw that the dominant tourist demographic at the festival were 60 something Westerners. I cannot explain this phenomena - former hippies love of live music or empty-nesters with enough resources to pay the tour fees to come up there? However, it was amazing to watch Salif Keita and others on the main stage and then look out to the throbbing crowd full of these adventurous babyboomers, Tuareg teenagers, craft vendors from Southern Mali, soldiers off their shift, and all of the other musicians that made up 3 great days of music. The stage was set in the middle of a series of sanddunes, so people could sit on all sides and watch the music. During the evening, there were camel races and traditional dances down this ravine. Then as night fell - they lit charcoal fires in chicken wire baskets along the dunes so you could huddle around it with your friends and take in the music, the full moon, and the vast expanse of sand.

Our accomodations were less glamarous- we rented a tent from a Tuareg family- which was covered above and below with spur like vegetation called cram crams. So after the music ended around 2, when we were tired of after parties and such we would lay down in the freezing cold tent and try to sleep without acknowledging the painful presence of these cram crams. We arose to the sounds of camels bleating into our tent (they sound and look very star wars).

It was an amazing trip - now our friends have left and we are back in Bamako trying to set up camp. As I am signing off, a cell phone went off in the internet cafe next to me- the ringtone was nothing other than Barak Obama^s acceptance speech. Five days away. Its a very exciting time to be in Africa.