Return to the +223

Bamako living is back. It's been almost 2.5 years and four trips to Mali since my last post. A lot has changed: Timbuktu - a city, where we once conducted household surveys and was our launching pad to the incredible festival in the desert, is now being held by rebel groups, Mali's once lauded democratic institutions have fallen, and a close friend of mine of Northern descent has had to flee the country along with more than 300,000 other refugees and displaced persons. And yet, Bamako is eerily the same. Since the moment we landed on Saturday, I craned my neck - scanning the landscape hoping to find the differences that would help to understand the sum total of transition from democracy to not. The airport was uneventful - slightly more police, but the same old negotiations. One older policeman really wanted Drissa (my husband's) sunglasses. Crossing the old bridge at night, I noticed the vacancies in the larger, luxury hotels. However, it was not until we crossed to the center of the city, that reality set in. I saw the route to the central market barricaded off; traffick pushed over to one side of the road - usually reserved for those crossing over to "our side of the river." It felt dangerous, and almost unpatriotic, to be riding on the "wrong side of the road." After all, any sotrama that I had ever ridden in always ends in the very same route on the OTHER side of the road to reach its final destination in the center market. Then, we passed ORTM where there were more roadblocks and some military tents. However, after that - there was little residue of Bamako's recent political troubles. The current political situation is difficult to understand, even harder to explain. The majority of the country - living in rural locations - is getting ready for the planting season. Praying that this year will be better than last year's catastrophic harvest. That is the reality - that most people are far from Bamako or the North and consumed by a looming food crisis. Bamakoise appear to be hoping and praying that the current political change brings a better life. People are exercising enormous amounts of restraint despite the inevitable economic constraints. One wonders how long the stiff upper lip can hold. Malians are proud, they are elegant, and they are cautious. I can't begin to imagine what this type of political instability would bring in the US. In Bamako, the North seems worlds away. We don't really know how many people have fled. I can't imagine what people in Northern cities are experiencing. Tens of thousands of people are living in camps; many having travled thousands of kilometers, unsure where to turn, how to find food or work, or the condition of family and friends left behind. It's good to be back. Better to experience things here than over facebook or malijet.com or skype or telephone. It's great to be with friends and family. To buy mangos and peanuts at roadside stands, to be woken up by griots praising brides on a sunday morning, to hear the call to prayer, to hold my niece and nephews, to cross the brides and quartiers in an old mercedes, to work with my new team of young malian researchers, to smell the incense, burning trash, and smoked fish and feel oddly satisfied to be back. 5 weeks here - a lot to do and experience. Fingers crossed and prayers for peaceful resolutions in one of my favorite places in the world.

The Bamako Blitz: Countdown to Ameriki*

Wow - I've got 3 more days here. In a way, these three days seem like an eternity. I have prepared my mind and body for my departure, so I feel like I am walking through slow motion film as I tackle the small challenges that remain: getting final Ministry of Ed data, writing reference letters for my TAs, copying data on multiple drives, and then the extended waves of goodbyes.

I remember back in college, when I went home from Spring break - after multiple all-nighters, a season of basketball, waitressing: I would be so exhausted that all I would want to do is sleep. One memorable spring break, my college roommate Maggie came home with me, we curled up under a comforter in my bedroom, and I think we slept for 3 days straight.

That is sorta how the end of fieldwork feels. Your body finally gets to process 11 months of cold showers, trying to walk the line between your food budget and nutrition/health and happiness, living somewhere where the poverty is still ever present and there is so little you can do, every interaction being a cultural navigation, and constant linguistic gymnastics - french to bambara to english to french. It's easy to get overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by what's outside your door; overwhelmed by what you can't change; overwhelmed by what you have actually seen and done.

In a way - the almost year here seems like a 30 second movie trailer - images, conversations, and feelings pop up, mesh together, and cycle in and out, but it also feels like more than a year of trench warfare. For my own sanity and for your entertainment - I have tried to quantify some of what I have experienced here, what is dancing and clawing through my mind:

Visited 6 regional capitals (Bamako, Timbuktu, Segou, Kayes, Sikasso, Sevare/Mopti)
Trained 4 rockstar research assistants
Conducted 1000 household interviews (Well between me and my team)
Witnessed 4 fatal accidents (all moto drivers)
Learned lots of great new Bambara two-word words like muna-muna (turn) and walla-walla (to feel well/embrace life/attacking the day
Attended 1 wedding and 1 baptism
Danced in a record 3 nightclubs in one weekend - thanks Jessica
Passed 2 Malaria tests with negative results
Introduced 4 new people to Mali including my little bro
Taught English, coached basketball, cooked 4 dinners for in-laws/fake Malian parents
Talked my way out of 4 police bribes
Unable to talk my way out of 3 police "tickets"
Gathered voting data from 1999-2009 for 702 communes
Conducted 450 exit polls for the communal elections
Survived 1 sotrama accident where we hit lots of motots; 1 car accident where we rear-ended a donkey
Hosted 2 roof parties
Bought a car, sold a car, fixed a taxi, bought a bridal shop
Attended the Festival in the Desert, music/film fest on the Niger, Photo Biennial, and a crazy dance party/video installation exhibit in the old brickyard on the river
Learned how to "chi-ri-ry"
Played against the Malian 15 and under national basketball teams on local TV
Met and re-met some amazing folks: researchers, pilots, supportive spouses, teachers, coaches, students, NGO workers, peace corps, and students
Wrote 3 papers; 1 presented and 2 to go
Lost 15-20 pounds, 1 cellphone, and my favorite dress
Interviewed the head of the electoral commission, a anti-privatisation activist and the star of "Bamako," ATT's boyhood friend, Association of Koranic school leaders in Kayes, a WWII vet, and dozens of educators
Shared my home with 7 visitors
Recorded 200 interviews with university students
Became skype, web, facebook, internet dependent - wow Africa in 2009
Obtained 3 research clearances
Made a lot of Malians laugh

It seems silly to make a list. But it's also comforting as I am tired and I want to know that I did something while I was here. Mali and Bamako in particular continues to grow and expand by the minute - some problems remedied, others exacerbated. One feels a bit helpless, there for the ride, watching everything pass. Like when you learn a language - the better you get, the more you realize there is to tackle.

Going to try to make these last few days count. Then on to Kenya; then home in time for thanksgiving!

*Research Team Members and Drissa in the Sikasso Region

To Timbuktu and Back

Most Americans haven't hear of Mali. I think its imagined as a hybrid of Malawi and Bali. However, all Americans have heard of Timbuktu. I first remember hearing about it while watching bugs bunny cartoons as a child.

I sent my RAs up to Timbuktu to finish up the final surveys. I had wanted to accompany them, but given the summers' events (assassination of a British hostage by a group calling themselves Al Queada of the Sahel, supposed ties between that group and family disputes in Timbuktu region, assassination of a Malian military officer in his living room in Timbuktu ville) and my lack of language skills - I don't speak Songhrai, Arabic, or Tamashek - I opted to send them up alone. I was also reaping the benefits of months of training and mentoring my bright, capable research assistants. One of them was from the region and other has been with me since February. We talked extensively about budget management, site selection, and various logistics before they left on the bus to Douentza and then a 4X4 to Timbuktu.

I was fortunate enough to score a ride up to visit them. My rock-star pilot friend allowed me to "roadtrip" up with him to Timbuktu. I admit I was suffering from a bit of Mali malaise before my departure, but riding in the cockpit tracing the path of the Niger to the left of the plane - was a shocking reminder of where I was and what I was doing. After a brief stop in Mopti, we powered on the Timbuktu. My RA Youba sent a friend to pick me up on his moto. The city was relatively quiet and calm. As we road over the sand dunes -I remember how different it was up North. Bella make-shift huts were scattered throughout the city, there were no taxis, no jakartas - just lots of 4x4s.

I was dropped off at Youba's house. I spent the day with him and Guindo - reviewing the budget and talking about the surveys - voting rates are much higher in Timbuktu, ethnic and inter-ethnic coalitions appear to trump party identification, people have fewer government documents. I met the two assistants that Guindo and Youba had selected to help them with the surveys and I was extremely impressed. A law graduate and a education student - both were very interested in the intersection of education and politics. They joked that the survey brought them luck - in that very week one had been hired with an NGO and the other passed his university exams. We ate some amazing "dibi sogo." I spent the evening chatting with Youba's dad in the compound under the stars. He told me how much Timbuktu has changed - how tradition is weakening and how the content of someone's thoughts/intellect is less valued. I said goodbye to everyone and headed back to the hotel so I would be ready for the 5:30 am depart.

I rode back to the airport and standing up in the back of a pickup - breathing in the fresh air. It smelled like the ocean. I returned triumphant to Bamako - timbuktu and back in less than 24 hours, receipts and 100 surveys in hand - this is definitely the most efficient trip I've ever made.

Bamako Bride*

Less than a month to go in my Bamako adventure. My final month coincides with the opening our newest small business venture for his family - Bamako Bride. We are still proud taxi owners, but we figured it was time to diversify. We have opened a small bridal rental shop in the family's neighborhood -Niamakoro. It's a brightly painted (pink and blue) shop next to a newer Eco-bank with full length glass display windows in front. We have 14 wedding dresses (much thanks to my mom and wedding guru Viva Max!) and a whole bunch of "pret a porter" party dresses (many donated by friends and family- thanks!). We are shooting for a bride-friendly - queen for a day scene that mixes urban Bamako fashion with American bridal stamina.

Solo - my former driver - now mans the shop. Drissa's family brings him lunch everyday. Drissa's brother Yacouba helped us to secure and renovate the space. My neighbor, Nicole, and I arranged the display - wedding dresses along a long rack to the right and other dresses hung all around the left hand wall. We have a cheesy 1980s Macy's Dept style mannequin. Yacou and Solo bought an expensive mannequin and a wig and a hairnet that holds on the wig.

For our promotional shoot, Yacou asked his fiancee and her friends and his friends friends to come be in our catalog. I called on my friends Devon, who works for an NGO here, and Hillary, a teacher, as well as Nicole - to add some American models to the mix. I played photographer and stylist and all the girls worked together to model all 14 dresses. 8 models changing in a tiny room with one mirror. Trading jewlrey and dresses trying to to maximize both preferences and the the best fits. Everything accomplished in 3 hours - pretty amazing.

I used pics from that day to make a catalogue and business cards. I had limited photo-editing software, so I used old school "Paint" (an early 90s relic found in the accessories tab.) Those who took computer class in the early 90s will appreciate the way I used the eraser to delete the background images of this photo so that just Bintou (host niece) and the model remain.

Drissa has just started distributing business cards. My friend Sam is working on a logo (yeahhhhhh Sam)! Next step is posting fliers and sotramas that go to Niamakoro and a lottery for a free wedding dress rental for university students on campus.

So if anyone knows anyone who needs to rent a wedding dress in Bamako - send them our way!

*Rock'n crazy microsoft paint skills on this photo.

You're so 2000and late*

It's now been more than 10 months since I first touched down on Bamako soil - and I can say - the times are a changing. I would like to see the Western Union money transfer total for the month of Ramadan. Up until September, there had been a slow and gradual rhythm of a few more cars here and there, store facades sprouting up like mushrooms. But then in the month of Ramadan and forever after there has been this explosion of fancy cars (porche cayenne's, brand new bmws), fancy hairdressing shops, kids wearing jeans and designer t-shirts, men in super expensive basin. When I first came to Mali - there were no such things as hair salons or non-diesel, non government cars.

What happened? Why aren't we feeling the financial crisis in Bamako... I have a couple of guesses - 1 is that malians don't have access to credit. Credit has always been hard to get and expensive here (relatively). So - when there is a credit crunch - Malians aren't effected. Most Malians living abroad aren't citizens and therefore have difficulty creating a credit profile. The stuff that people buy is bought with cash and paid in full. My guess is that while the US has suffered this financial crisis, Malians expats have been scooping up stuff on sale and sending over here to Mali - where again - people buy stuff with cash.

Second, I want to talk to study people who study customs regulations in Bamako, but I have a sneaking suspicion that there has been a great deal of regulation and standardization this year. Sure, people who know people probably get out of most taxes, but I think the rules of the game are being applied more broadly and becoming more transparent - meaning more people can get into the import game.

Third, remittances, remittances, remittances, - western union and money gram - everyone is getting much more organized and Malians making money abroad can send it over here at their convenience. For just 8 euros you can send money from Europe and have an email receipt an hour later telling you someone picked it up. It costs about $2 to send money across Mali.

However, my observations apply to the capital city - BAMAKO. I just got back from the regional capital of Sikasso - near the Burkina/Cote d'Ivoire border and it was like being in Bamako 7 years ago. Tough to find a fan, a cool drink, or a working internet connection. We interviewed 100 respondents in Sikasso ville and then another 100 in 5 surrounding villages. It was a shocking reminder of the stark contrast between urban glitz of Bamako and rural poverty. Most shocking was speaking to female respondents from the villages. Mostly, men tried to prevent us from speaking to them (oh the women don't speak Bambara - meanwhile - they would greet and joke with us in Bambara as we walked past). When we did get a chance to speak to some women - they were so uniformed and unaware it was a truly overwhelming. The good news is that their daughters (for a large part) are going to school. Hopefully, if nothing else, school will empower them to observe and reflect on phenomena outside of the compound walls and feel capable of expressing their own preferences and opinions. It's hard to imagine that those rural kids reach high school and then travel off to university in Bamako, which seems like another planet.

*Research team with respondents in randomly selected village - Ntjibougou (Sikasso Region)

Dear Cornell - Admit Nicole*

This blog entry is an appeal to the Cornell Admissions Committee to accept Ms. Nicole Green:

First - a confession- my blog dedication and general Nicole-euphoria has been motivated in part by the fact that she unlocked Drissa and my i-phones (something that no one else in Bamako can do.)

Nicole is my bright and perky neighbor. She is an American exchange student here to do a semester at a Malian high school. A week ago, she celebrated her 16th birthday here in Bamako. Although, she is just learning French and Bambara - Nicole already speaks Chinese and Spanish. She plays many instruments. She has taken enough courses that she could graduate from high school early. Next year, She is hoping to study abroad in China for her "senior" year in high school.

This is my 5th trip to Mali and I still get overwhelmed. The language, the culture, sometimes I have days where it is all just too much. I want to curl up in my room with the AC watching English language movies eating kraft macaroni and cheese. I remember how crazy my first trip was. The poverty/the heat/the smells sort of slap you in the face and then you gradual adjust and start focusing on the kids smiles, the sweet tart taste of mangoes, the booming rhythms and silly lyrics of coupe decale....

Thinking of my slow, evolution, I am amazed by my new neighbor - Nicole. She is engaging Mali with a maturity and poise that I could never imagine at 16. She prefers hanging out with her host family than trying to learn french in the classroom. She has jumped in "free-fall" style. She is embracing everything and everyone. Everytime I tell another expat that she is here, they are blown away. Responses ranging from: "At 16?!" to "Why?" "Wow I was at another place at 16." But at 16 Nicole already seems to get it - to understand what Mali might offer. To be action-adventure enough to try a semester, the first time away from her family - in a foreign country, in a foreign language! But - she is still a 16 year-old - she likes vanilla milkshakes and plain peanut butter sandwiches.

Nicole hopes to major in Engineering with maybe a side of law. She visited google and loved it. After knowing Nicole for just a month, she seems like a perfect google employee. She is creative, she knows what she wants, she eschews formality for practicality and directness. When unlocking my phone, she worked for hours and hours, past vista blockages, and power shortages, trying different programs. She couldn't leave until she did it her way.

I wanted to honor her in my blog - cause I can't imagine many other 16 year-olds doing what she is doing. But, I hope she is not the last. I'd like to meet more quint-lingual, computer programmer- musicians.

Seriously Cornell, Nicole would be a great addition to the community. You will be lucky if she decides to join us in Ithaca.

*Nicole on her 16th birthday with host-sister Daly

Happy Eid

Yesterday was the end of Ramadan. After a month of fasting and abstaining from activites most young people would consider fun: dancing, fraternizing with members of the opposite sex - Mali exploded yesterday in a colorful, polluted mosasic of cars and people and food. Most Malians have special outfits made for Eid - for many Malians this is there only chance this year to get a new outfit. Hair salons have been packed wall to wall with women - literally 24 hours a day as clients seeks to create a spectacular "coiffure" for Eid. Malians like to get dressed up - and its common to see $100+ basin for weddings, baptisms, and funerals - however, yesterday - it was like the entire country was at a wedding.

During the morning - things were quiet. The non-residential parts of Bamako - markets and hotel districts were ghost towns. In the afternoon, the energy started building and never subsided. Traffic was crazy - the air was murky, tense, and excited. Drissa explained that many people drove cars that had been sitting in garages for months. As a result - streets were 4 lanes deep with cars, motos, and buses. Women in colorful outfits rode on the back of motos - carrying food to inlawS and breastfeeding babies. Bands of children in freshly made complets, faux suits with bowties, and chinese versions of "hip hop" gear paraded the streets in bands - going house to house - trick or treating for small change.

We visited Drissa's family. Each visitation includes each person giving blessings to everyone else and then getting them back. I shadowed Drissa and hung out with my niece and nephews as my Bambara repetoire was not up on the proper holiday greetings. We purchased a motorcycle from our friend Paul and Marie - who recently left for Europe - and presented it to Drissa's dad. He was thrilled. Unlike most motos in Bamako - Paul and Maries - came with two helmets, which makes me feel a bit more comfortable about my inlaws riding around in the chaos. Drissa's cousin Abou modeled a helmet that Marie had decorated in the form of a muppet fur bear head. Drissa's older, usually stoic Uncle put on the other helmet and was the first to jump on the moto. This post's photo captures the wonderful juxtaposition of the starchy white holiday boubous and the moto gear.

The celebrating continues until Wednesday as Tuesday is Mali's national independence day. I am sitting in my room - away from the chaos- trying to get some writing done. However, its overwhelming to think of the swirling masses of people, transport, and food just beyond my window.