The month of November has by far, been my most challenging month, and I am very pleased that it is over. I have been more overwhelmed this month than at any other time, and it’s hard to process everything that happens when I am A.) The only white, American, English speaker in my village who understands American customs and traditions; B.) Still only at an Intermediate High level of Bambara; and C.) Thousands of miles away from the family and friends that I care most about and want to be near. Let me explain further:
- To be completely honest, my Chef de Poste (my boss, the “doctor” [AKA, nurse with three years of school training) is a complete asshole. As bad as this may sound, he knows that, as a Peace Corps volunteer, I should be treated like royalty here and not made to do the traditional “women’s” work. I am here to help the village develop from a health education perspective, and should therefore be asked only to do tasks that deal with health education or, in my case, water sanitation. He should not be making me bow to him, fetch him water, get his shoes from inside his house, buy him tea, make him tea, get hot coals, sweep a room, bring him hot sauce, or clean out his tea set – however, he has been making me do all of these things, like a traditional Malian woman. At first, I pretended not to understand anything he asked me, but my lies became problematic when he started learning select English phrases like, “Bring me the water,” and saying them in front of the CSCOM staff. It became awkward for me to refuse by “not understanding” (as it is disrespectful to flat out refuse), so I just did as he asked. I did NOT bow, though, and I explained that I would only bow to him if he bowed to me – in America, women do not simply bow to men because they are men. However, once I found out that all of this was unacceptable, I told my Peace Corps Volunteer Leader, we had a meeting with a well-respected man in my village, and I was told that this well respected man would talk to both my homologue (who is an AWESOME woman) and my Chef de Poste and fix the situation. Even though I was out of village for a few days for Thanksgiving, I came back a while ago, and, as of a few days ago, my Chef de Poste was still an asshole trying to make me his bitch (although my homologue understands and intervenes before I actually have to do any of the work). Someone from Peace Corps came to my village, and we had a meeting to discuss my role as a volunteer – specifically, how he is not my “boss” but my “work partner” who should help me integrate and be helpful to the community. Apparently, when they look at me, all they can see is the former volunteer, who was very well integrated and who spoke really great Bambara. They forget that I have only been at site for about two months and that when the previous volunteer left, she had two years of experience. I honestly think that the excuses my Chef de Poste gave were complete bullshit (like, that the previous volunteer used to just bring him water voluntarily or that they just assume that I am bored and need something to do when I am watching them work… when, in reality, I am just doing my job these first three months!) These gender roles are so frustrating for me every day, and I still have not figured out how to work productively within a culture that I completely disagree with, yet, at the same time, cannot change at all. I have to take it one day at a time, I guess. I will never, ever, EVER understand why having a penis grants a person a sense of entitlement, but I am going to keep an open mind and try to work productively in my service.
- The sick children at the CSCOM and in my own concession with the dugutigi literally make me cry every week. All of the children have malaria, and all of their parents wait to take them in to the CSCOM until they are on the verge of death – vomiting up water, foaming at the mouth, glassy eyes, and not even enough energy to cry. I talk to the parents over and over again, but I will never understand why they REFUSE to buy a mosquito net in market for 2,000CFA, but will spend 10,000CFA or more on medicine to keep their child alive. And, at the CSCOM, we give away nets to all pregnant women and children who finish their (FREE) vaccinations! This is all especially hard on me because, when we are short staffed at the CSCOM, it is my job to hold down the children so that the nurse can stick the IV needle into their veins. This is usually a 20 minute process because the kids are so dehydrated that no one can find a vein. It’s emotionally draining because I don’t know how to help someone that doesn’t want to help him/herself. They all know where malaria comes from, yet they refuse to help themselves! All I want to do is help, yet I feel so helpless. Again, I have to take it one day at a time and look for small solutions. It’s not the quantity, but the quality that matters, and I just need to keep that in mind.
- In my village, people are always asking me to give them my belongings – my clothes, my earrings, my shoes, my bike, etc. At first, I didn’t mind that they were joking around or that they wanted all of my treasures. However, now they physically grab at my items and surround me to ask for all of my things, and this is unacceptable. At first, I tried to be “culturally appropriate” and ignore that they were making me upset. But, because part of my mission here is a cultural exchange, I have started telling them “NO!”, “I will never give you anything,” and “If you give me money, then I will give you this.” The volunteer I replaced was not afraid to be sassy with them, and I think I just need to channel the real Jess Soja and let my village know why I am here. I am here to help them develop by teaching them sustainable, long lasting skills – I am not an NGO giving them freebies that do nothing in the long run. Once again, I have to take it all one day at a time.
- Lastly, and probably the worst part of my month, can be summed up in one awful, saddening, and deadly word – cancer. Two people that I really thought I would see again in two years were taken by cancer in the past few months, and that is something that no village Malian understands. Luckily, I was able to Skype the people I wanted to talk to, but more than anything, I wish I could be at home with my family and best friends. I hate being so far away from the people that I want to hug and drink away the pain with, and it’s really challenging to deal with two unexpected deaths while living all alone in an African brousse village, barely speaking the language, and trying to make people stop grabbing at your bike as you ride it down the “road” (dirt path filled with rocks). I know that this is all a learning experience and that I am here for a reason, but I just wish that reason would show itself in more clear ways sometimes. I am okay, but I wish I could be at home with everyone I love and care about right now. Sometimes, taking it one day at a time is really challenging.
It’s been a long month, so I’m sorry if I haven’t written back to your emails, letters, or text messages. But, thank you all so much for letting me know how much you care (and for letting me know that you were worried for not hearing from me for a while!) I will definitely write back to you all, but I just need some time! And, THANK YOU TO EVERYONE who has sent me a care package!!!! You have no idea how much it brightens my day!! And, of course, thanks for reading this extremely long blog entry. I promise to make a more uplifting entry next time!
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