So, that one time...

I’ve realized that a lot of random things have happened to me in the past two weeks, and since my PCV friends enjoy my stories via text as they occur, perhaps the blogging world will enjoy them as well. Here are a few stories from the past two weeks – they seemed bad at the time, but now just make me laugh.

- Last week, I caused an accident with two motos and a donkey cart on my way into Sikasso. I was on my bike, and it was the morning of market day – meaning, that the streets were very crowded with donkeys, bikes, and motos. I was coming up to a donkey cart full of wood, and when I looked in back of me to see if I could pass it, I saw that two motos were approaching on the left side of my bike. My brakes are getting worse as they days go on (because I bike around 60K or more each week, and sometimes, I do ride the breaks), so I had to screech to a halt to avoid hitting the donkey cart and motos. The motos, however, must have thought that I was going to pass the donkey cart and not break, so they both swerved into each other to avoid me, skidded across the road, and dropped the short-wave radios that they were carrying into the street, where they promptly shattered. I looked back, smiled an “I’m so sorry I caused you to skid across the road and break your radio,” smile, and kept going. Oops. It didn’t look like any injuries occurred.

- For some reason, whenever I am in large crowds of people (which is all the time) the women always hand me their babies. I think babies are great because I can always give them back when I get tired of them, so I always hold them. I was holding one baby that belongs to some unknown woman in my concession (since the dugutigi has three wives, I never really know who belongs to who), when I not only feel it pee on me, but hear and feel it’s tummy a-rumblin’. So, I got peed on and shit on by a baby, but apparently, this is good luck in Mali. I then gave the baby back to the woman I assumed to be the mother. However, she did not hold the baby, but instead, put the baby in a bucket. Picture a two month old baby being plopped down into a small bucket, surrounded by blankets so that it doesn’t fall out of the bucket – this is what I refer to every day as, “baby in a bucket.” Maybe American women should start putting their crying children in buckets, too? Who even needs a high chair when you have baby in a bucket?

- As I was wandering around the streets of Sikasso the other day, I noticed that a child riding a bicycle was trying to sell something to me and the other PCV I was with. The child kept shouting that it was 5,000 CFA, or about $10 US for this mysterious item. I had no idea what was happening until I turned to look at the kid to see what he was selling – and, he was selling a monkey. That’s right – this kid had a monkey tied to the handlebars of his bike and was trying to sell it to the white people that he assumed to be rich. Only in Mali…

- My host sister tried to pop a pimple on my chin this morning. Without saying a word, she just leaned over, put her dirty fingers on my face, and tried to squeeze. I stopped her before she could complete the action, but it was still surprising to have this happen at 6:30AM, right before breakfast. I just laughed, shrugged, and walked away to my mouse-infested hut to eat some sugary porridge for breakfast.

Oh, Mali… I really do like this country.