big news, and i need your help.

MHOP COULD WIN $100,000 THIS SUMMER, and needs your help.

Caitlin Cohen, my peer/co-worker/the founder of the NGO I’m currently working for, is one of 9 finalists for the $100,000 Do Something Award. It’s given at FOX’s Teen Choice Awards (August 4), and the winner is determined strictly by VOTING. Basically, it’s a popularity contest. So we need to get anyone and everyone to VOTE FOR CAITLIN! THIS MEANS YOU!!

Go here: http://www.dosomething.org/awards

Click “vote now” and vote for Caitlin.

Limit one vote per email address per day. You can vote every day and with every email address you have.

As it’s for the Teen Choice Awards, voters must enter a birthday between ’89 and ’96.

Thank you for helping MHOP! Please spread the word, and tell me if you know any teens who might want to be a Get Out the Vote Captain for us – top prize is a VIP ticket to the Teen Choice Awards pre-party in LA

interactions

So I was trying to upload photos, but this computer is too slow. I'll do it next time I'm at the speedy (but far away) internet cafe.



I think it’s worth recording the many different kinds of interactions I have with people here.

One big category: communicating with the host fam. I’m staying in a compound that houses about 35 people. Though I haven’t yet figured out the exact relations between them all, I’m pretty certain that they’re all related somehow. Only a very small percentage of them speak French – one of the dads and two teenage girls. Everyone else speaks strictly Bambara. I’m taking a course in Bambara 3 days/week, but my skillz aren’t quite where they need to be for easy conversation. Give me, like, 6 more months. Anyway, I talk to the two girls a lot. Their names are Aisha and Kadya. They explain a lot and teach me words in Bambara. Very helpful.

My interactions with the women of the household are a little different. Both parties are acutely aware of the language barrier, but I feel like there’s a mutual desire to “bond” or what have you. We exchange a lot of smiles, greetings, and handshakes. Sometimes they say something complicated to me in Bambara, and I respond with a quizzical look. Then they repeat themselves, maybe a little more slowly, and wave their hand around. It’s actually the most frustrating thing ever because the vague hand motions DON’T HELP! I would appreciate something a little more sign language-esque. At least I have a better understanding of how foreigners feel when American tourists yell at them in English.

The little kids in the homestay are adorable but can be downright devilish. Sale is a 2 year old (maybe) girl who runs around in a pair of white underpants all day. She’s very outgoing and has the most adorable smile, but… The other day I was working outside with a bottle of sunscreen next to me. Sale came up next to me and starting playing with it, which was fine. Then she snagged it up, let out a cackle, and ran across the courtyard. Clearly she wanted me to chase her around, but I was like ‘bitch please’ and stood there looking angry. After several minutes – a pretty long time to wait for something like this! – she finally brought the sunscreen back. Sale also pesters my roommate, Cari, to no end. Recently C. had to lock herself in our room to keep the 2 year old from bursting in. Even with a locked door, she continued to make a racket by shaking the doorknob and knocking. Dear lord.

Another big category of interactions: people on the street. Again, the kids are so cute but irritating as well. If you’re white, one of the first things you’ll notice here is that children love to yell “Tu-ba-BU! Tu-ba-BU!” after you wherever you go. Tubabu technically means French person, but it’s come to encompass all of us whities. I’m still figuring out how to react to this. Sometimes I ignore it, sometimes I’ll say “Ayi! N togo Djeneba!” which means “No! My name is Djeneba!” I think the latter response has actually worked – walking around my neighborhood I’m starting to hear more “Djeneba! Djeneba!”s and fewer “Tu-ba-BU!”s.

Random kids also like to run up to you and shake your hand/give you a high five/“pound it” (ie pound your fists together). This is adorable and so fun, and I feel like a celebrity…a celebrity who’s at huge risk for pink eye or some other disease transmittable by touch. Fear not Mom and Nanny, I always keep hand sanitizer nearby.

Other kids will yell out to me “Bonjour madame!” This can be as annoying as the tubabu taunt, so sometimes I ignore it as well. Other times I’ll reply in Bambara and ask them how they’re doing: “I ka kene?” Usually they don’t respond, probably because they’re too shy. (Or too taken aback by a white girl speaking Bambara? Yeah, I’m that badass.)

Most random adults don’t make a spectacle out of my presence, thank the lord. Sometimes store owners will call me over and strike up a conversation, ask me my name, etc. Usually they speak French so I can at least communicate what my deal is. Taxi drivers ALWAYS honk at us white people because they think we’re too lazy to walk…pfff.

Obvi I could write a ton more about the people who I’m living with and around. I’ll save some for later.


Photos to come, I promise!!!

sikoroni is technically a part of bamako, uncle mike...

...but it would be a kumquat.

Hello, blogosphere!

So I’m starting to keep a list of unique situations I’ve gotten myself into in Bamako. To give you a taste:

- The other day I was carrying half of a broken fan through a narrow marketplace. You’d never realize how unwieldy fans are until you try to squeeze them between two rows of stands 3 feet apart. We were on a shopping spree to get things for our homestay rooms –the list also included mattresses and cell phones. (Luckily, we decided to get mattresses another day. Even though they’re way lighter and more fold-able than American ones, they still would have caused trouble in the tight alleyways of the grand marché.)

- One of the sisters of my first host family started giving me cornrows, as we watched a popular Spanish soap opera on Malian TV. If she had finished it would have been HOTT – I mean, as hot as a white girl with corn rows can get – but she took them out because she wasn’t done by the time I had to leave.

- A local mango vendor held her baby up to my face, and he started bawling. I assume he was upset because he didn’t recognize my skin color. The woman, on the other hand, found the situation extremely funny. It made me feel uncomfortable – to state the obvious. I kept walking, while making a face that combined sadness for the kid and amusement for the mother…I guess it must have looked unnatural. I thought this would be enough to end the interaction, but no. She decided to follow me down the street of Sikoroni, holding the poor crying child in front of her. At this point I decided my best plan of action would be to ignore them. So I did, and they went back to their fruit stand, thank God. Seriously though, what would you do if the mere sight of you made babies cry?!? Okay there's a funny joke in there somewhere.

Gotta jet to Bambara class. This list will certainly grow as the summer continues, and I’ll be happy to share it with you.

scattered thoughts

I already feel much more comfortable in the city, and I’ve been here for less than a week. Some snippits from the past few days:

- I got a cell phone!! FYI, the number is 223-693-0304. There’s probably a Malian country code that you have to dial first, if you want to call. It’s funny, though: it's list of contacts already has a ton of names entered in it, none of which I recognize. And, every once in a while I’ll get a call from one of them, pick up, and have a very confusing/short conversation with a mystery person who apparently thought they were calling someone else. A little sketch…but the phone works so I’m not complaining.
- I learned that Malians have their own versions of Sir Mix-a-lot’s Baby Got Back. These pop songs are called “Bobaraba”, and you MUST look them up on YouTube. Bobaraba, for those of you not yet fluent in Bambara, means big butt. We were dancing to them with my host family the other night, and the little girls were shaking their booties quite a bit. In comparison, Katie’s and my moves looked pretty stupid.

Oh, so, I’m here with 4 other American students. Caitlin is in charge; she founded MHOP and graduated from Brown this spring. Ben and Cari both go to Brown. This summer Cari is in charge of a trash collection program, while Ben is working on a public health outreach thing. He’s collaborating with a Harvard student named Katie.

Katie and I are staying in the same homestay right now, in a house outside of the area where we’re working. It’s in a nicer part of town called Hippodrome, but it’s not too swanky by American standards. Either way, we’ll move into Sikoroni (the “slum”) on Thursday. I’m looking forward to the move a lot. I want to be closer to the action, and the family who I’ll be staying with seems wonderful. It’s made up of 30 people, many many many of which are children. The father’s name is Siriki, which I think is appropriate for my last name.

Actually, not many people who I’ve met here call me “Julie”. I’ve been christened with a Bambara name: Djeneba Coulibaly. This happened on our first day in Bamako, at the first outdoor vendor stand we went to. A few men were sitting around, talking to all 5 of us “toubabous” (white people) asking who we were, where we were from, etc. They decided that our American names were not appropriate for living here, and that we needed more familiar ones. Apparently, this is something that Malians do for most toubabous who come to live here. So from now on, it's Coulibaly. Djeneba Coulibaly. (Incidentally, Siriki's last name is also Coulibaly. Meant to be!)

I should note that the above interaction, and in fact the vast majority of my interactions here, have been taking place in French. At first it was a little difficult to get into the groove of speaking and understanding it, but by now it’s already gotten much easier. Almost no one here speaks English, and when they do they can only say things like “How are you?”. Anyway, I love being able to get by, for the most part, in a foreign language.

I want to apologize for the scattered format of these posts, and for the fact that they’re not very well written. If you find yourself itching for more, check out the blogs of Ben and Katie – Ben’s is livingitupinsikoro.blogspot.com (or maybe livingitupinsikoroni.blogspot.com…not sure) and Katie’s is deux-mois.blogspot.com. Yay!

Keep in touch. I just stocked up on postcards, so if you want one send me your address. I'd also love to make a skype date with you. Tell me when you're free.

A bientot,

Djeneba

if casablanca is a pineapple, bamako is a sweet lime

so i had a really great post all typed up yesterday...but it's on my laptop, which i don't have with me at the moment. time to improv.

reasons why i don't like bamako:
- it's HOT, all day and all night. as in, i've been sweating constantly.
- it smells bad, especially near the open sewer-y things that line most roads.
- i don't speak bambara! but i'm workin on it; just came from my first lesson.

reasons why i do like bamako:
- mangos are delish, way better than what i've had in the states.
- the kids are so so cute. i'm making friends with the 5 or 6 who live with my homestay family, and i have photos that i'll upload asap.
- the marketplaces are bustling! started exploring them yesterday and today. though a bit intimidating, i love the excitement and color and people everywhere. many-a-souvenir (as well as fabric for my new malian clothing) will be bought there, have no fear.
- i'm not 100% comfortable by any means. but yes, this is a reason why i AM enjoying myself. i like the challenge of being here. it's building character, or at least some major endurance. i also like the idea that by the time i leave, i'll have grown accustomed to a lot of this.

looks like the pros outweigh the cons. my internet cafe time is about to expire. i love you all! until next time...

(thanks to caitlin for analogy in title)

i ate camel meat

10 June 2008, 10:45am

Made it to Morocco! Katie, Caitlin and I just checked into Atlas Airport Hotel – a classy, classy place let me tell you. Actually, not a sarcastic remark. Good news: it’s nice. Bad news: we have to take a train to get to downtown Casablanca. Our flight to Bamako doesn’t leave until tomorrow night, so we have a day and a half to explore/beach it up here.
On the plane I sat next to a man from Cuba, on his way to meet up with his wife visiting family in Morocco. He’s a doctor, a karate competitor (once he was stabbed in a fight), and a born-again Christian. Nice. He told me that I had to try baklava and shwarma in Casablanca...are either of these Moroccan foods?! Needless to say, his stories and conversation made the 8 hour flight go by quickly.
More updates to come, once we actually get outside the hotel.


11 June 2008, 11:23am

We found the free wireless corner in our hotel! Still in Casablanca, planning to spend the day on the beach. Yesterday we took a walking tour of the Ancien Medine - the old city/marketplace area. We also visited the world's second largest mosque, right on the ocean. For dinner, we met up with an American friend of Caitlin's who took us to a small roadside restaurant where we ate CAMEL TAJIN! It was a clay bowl of camel meat in an oniony-tomatoey sauce with a fried egg on top, still boiling when it was served. We ate it with bread and our hands. (The owner offered us forks, but we declined.) It was absolutely delicious. Something else that's a great local specialty: sweet mint tea. (Haven't had the baklava or shwarma yet, but maybe I'll get it in today.)
Okay cool. I should pry myself away from this wifi and go see more of the city.

where are YOU eating all weekend?

So. I've got the visa, the malaria meds, the travel insurance. I've got a pile of stuff to bring sitting next to my bed, waiting to be packed. I'm getting close to being ready, but still tons to do. Like, for example, clear out my entire room!! The parents are renting out our house this year because they're temporarily relocating to Cambridge, MA. The renters may or may not want to live in my humble quarters. Tomorrow's big task: putting all of my stuff in boxes - including posters on the wall and books on the bookshelf. It will be a sad, sad occasion.

On a more Mali-related note - I'm putting together a big fundraiser for MHOP this weekend. The Seven Stones Cafe, my trusty place of employment/the coolest coffeeshop ever, is donating 7 PERCENT OF SALES ON SATURDAY AND SUNDAY to my project. 7%, 7 Stones - get it? Anyway, you should definitely come buy a lot. One microfinance loan is $75, an amount that you'll raise if you ring up just $1000!!! Haha...but seriously. This is a great chance to have amazing coffee and top notch food, PLUS feel good about yourself because your purchase is going towards a very worthy cause.

To recap: COME TO THE SEVEN STONES CAFE THIS WEEKEND. Plum Street Courtyard, Media, PA.

(Pardon the shameless self-promotion.)