This is the true story of 80 strangers, picked to live en brousse, have their every move watched by villagers who have never seen a Toubab (“rich white person”) before, and live without electricity for two years. This is what happens when people stop being polite, and start being real.
I feel like I’m living in a Real World MTV scenario, and I have to laugh to get through my culture shock. I could write down every detail of what I’ve seen and done in the past week, but unless you have been to Mali, lived in a stifling mud hut, been rained on in the middle of the night as you sleep, and killed spiders on the way to the “nyegen” (hole in the ground) during your midnight diareahh run, then you won’t understand. But, I will try, because even though this is not easy, it is awesome – I’m 24 and I’m in Mali!!! Wow. I don’t think that many people are afforded this opportunity!
So, we literally got dropped off on the side of a “highway” (paved road) in my home stay village of Banankoro and watched the Peace Corps van drive away. We had virtually no language skills, but I knew I would be okay when I was greeted by my host mom, Caramel Diarra, and her two sons, who carried my heavy bags all the way to the compound. She held my hand, smiled at me, and told me, “Caramel…mama” and I knew that I was in good hands.
We walked about 15 minutes to the compound, where I was greeted and shown my room. My room had a broken lock on the door and screen, and the door did not even close all of the way. This did not meet Peace Corps standards, so I reported it, and the lock was changed the next morning. However, that night (and for the next 5 nights), my roof leaked on me in my sleep… and I caught a bacterial infection that caused me to run to the nyegen approximately 10 times per day. So, being leaked on and shitting constantly was not a fun time for me, especially when I could not communicate anything more than greetings and goodbyes. I started repeating, “I can handle it” every day to myself and talking to people even when I wanted to hole up alone and cry, and it worked. I’ve started to develop relationships with my family here, and I even communicated that I liked chicken and ate chicken for lunch one day! Plus, they are starting to give me fruits and veggies, which is awesome. I feel like I am slowly making progress, and I feel pretty stable right now. I like it! It’s amazing how much I cherish cucumbers and Laughing Cow cheese like I used to love margaritas and happy hours. Oh, how priorities change in such a short amount of time!
Here is what my average day looks like:
6AM – Get woken up by my “terimuso” (female friend, and namesake, because my Malian name is Korotun Diarra).
6:15AM – Take a bucket bath – one of my favorite times of the day, bathing and watching the sun rise.
7AM – Eat breakfast (bread and peanut butter with sugar).
8AM – Arrive at Bambara language class (the local language spoken here).
12:30PM – Break for lunch to go home and eat macaroni and fish head (sometimes rice with fish head, sometimes potatoes with fish head, but always fish head. At least it’s protein!)
3PM – Resume language classes.
5PM – Go home for the night, and have little children high five me down the street and shout my name on the walk home… which, I’m not going to lie, is pretty awesome.
7PM- Take my second bucket bath of the day and watch the sun set.
7:30PM – Eat dinner, which is usually rice and some type of fish head or goat intentine (or eggs with French fries… which I will never be able to eat again in the US. Sorry, Vishwa...but nachos would be AWESOME. I can't wait for avocados to be in season).
9PM – Retreat to my bed for the night.
Usually, I sit outside, drink tea, talk with my family, and journal my thoughts before going to bed. My bed is really uncomfortable and there are a lot of bugs in my room, but I am starting to sleep better. There is so much to say about homestay but so much that only PC Mali Volunteers can understand! The children are always covered in dirt but adorable, everyone talks to everyone and knows exactly who you are, last names are important because they signify your joking cousins (or, the people who you call “bean eaters”, like a fart joke), women work SO HARD, ALL DAY LONG, with babies strapped to them (props to ALL the moms out there, especially Jean), the donkeys sound like they are dying when they make noise, and everyone knows what time it is based on when the donkeys and other animals make noise. It’s crazy. Every day, I laugh and think, “Wow, this is Africa.” I’ve started to find it endearing how the children run around naked, squat down, and pee everywhere, all while screaming my name, “Korotun! Korotun!” However, contrary to what many of you might think, it is not Lion King-esk here at all - I've only seen some malnourished cows, goats, sheep, and dogs.
I go back to my homestay for three weeks on Wednesday, before coming back to the wonderful world of Internet in August sometime. Then, we are here for a few days, off to our actual sites for a week (the place where I will be living for two years), and then back here to hit up homestay one last time, pass the language test, and get sworn in! It’s going to be a crazy blur. Please send me letters and emails because I love to know about any and all updates (especially news… sometimes I can find BBC on my radio and it’s amazing)! Whenever I feel a little down, re-reading letters or emails saved on my IPod cheer me up. So, send away! (But, no pressure).
I have some phone numbers that you can call from Skype for 27 cents per minute, if you want to talk while I’m at homestay on Wednesday and for the next three weeks following. This is the number to use until Wednesday: 01122370010933. This number will work after Wednesday for the three weeks that I am at homestay: 01122366346367. My address is listed on my blog, as well.
So, all is well over here, and I will post something more in another few weeks after I come back from homestay!
I ni su! K’an ben!!
Koro
pics soon!!!!! <3 Vishwa
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