After Tabaski

In Mali last week (December 8 to 10), we celebrated the religious holiday, Tabaski. Like most Malians, we had been anticipating and preparing for the holiday for the past few weeks. Unlike most Malians, we did not plan well enough in advance to have new 'complets' (outfits with a matching top and bottom) made especially for the event, but we did wear traditional Malian clothing. During our visit to the market the weekend before the holiday, we bought tea, sugar, and candies to give to our hosts as holiday gifts. Since we have access to a gas oven (at the PC bureau in Kayes), I made snicker doodle cookies for my homologue, Zenabou, and the families in her concession (her immediate neighbors) as well as for the family of one of Steve's co-workers, Awa. In Kayes, it is rare to find any sort of cake like dessert. Also, our local language tutor, Labas, taught us some 'blessings' in Bambara. (In Mali, it is extremely common to throw out blessings for any and every occasion. For example, after every purchase it is common to bless the vendor, 'Ala ka sugu diya' 'May God increase your market.')

During the week preceding the holiday, my homologue was especially busy. As the female head of the household, her expectations were many. First and foremost, it was her responsibility to prepare the children for the holiday. She must buy or have made new complets for the children. She must make sure the boys have new hair cuts and the girls have new braids. In addition, it was her responsibility to plan, buy ingredients, and prepare the meals for the entire three days of the holiday.

We were at Zenabou's house for lunch the day before the first day of the holiday. After lunch, Zenabou announced that she still must buy the sheep for her family. (It is tradition during Tabaski that every family make the sacrifice of a sheep, if not another animal (perhaps a chicken) according to the family's financial means.)

First Day of Tabaski

On the first day of Tabaski, we arrived at Zenabou's concession around 9:00 or 10:00 in the morning; we realized we were right on time. Upon arrival, the five or six families in Zenabou's concession were already hard at work. All of the men and even the boys were in the middle of preparing the sheep, while all of the women were in the middle of preparing the breakfast for the morning. I enjoyed observing the gendered work. Of course, Steve was invited to help with the sheep, but politely declined... there was a lot of blood. As for our family's sheep, it was prepared by Zenabou's brother and two sons. It was the first one finished. Sitting in a circle together, we watched Zenabou and her brother divide the different parts of the sheep (for our family and to bring to his). In English, to be discreet, Steve and I tried to identify each of the parts of the sheep. We ate the liver for breakfast.

Like many holidays I have observed in the States, the women were busy the entire day preparing the meals. I rarely got a chance to chat with Zenabou or any of the other women in her concession due to the chaos of meal preparation. (In Mali, all cooking is typically done over either a wood or charcoal fire, therefore requiring constant attention.) I did however get the chance to spend time with the children. We strategically brought two decks of cards to entice the children to play '151' with us (our favorite Malian card game). It worked! Immediately after Zenabou's youngest son had completed his work, he rushed over to play with us. In no time at all, all of the children were by our side. With Aisha, I played a regular 9-year-old girl's game of patty-cake, while she sang the chant in Bambara. With the other girls, we threw butter scotch candy wrappers (that we had brought) into the air and let them fall on us as we pretended it was 'l'argent' (money). I also did my fair share of tickling.

After an afternoon of playing around with the kids, we finally ate lunch around 3:00 in the afternoon (late lunches are not atypical). On Malian holidays, it is also not atypical for each of the women in a concession to prepare a different meal so that all families can share with all the other families. Of course, we were given three different lunches from three different women. First, we ate the ribs of the sheep with a barbecue-like sauce and french fries. Second, we ate 'zamay' or fried rice, vegetables, and sheep (Zenabou's contribution). (Actually, 'zamay' is a traditional Senegalese dish, but one can find several variations of it all over Mali. With fish, it is arguably Steve and I's favorite dish in Mali.) At this point during lunch, we were absolutely full. We gave our blessings to the chefs, 'A barika.' And luckily, we were told we could bring our last lunch dish of vermicelli and sheep home with us to eat later that night.

Next, we biked across town to Awa's house, one of Steve's co-workers. We arrived at Awa's house around 3:00 or 4:00 in the afternoon. During the days of the holiday, it is extremely common to travel to one another's houses (family, neighbors, co-workers, etc.) just to greet and wish them a good holiday. Unfortunately, so late in the afternoon, Awa was the only member of the family still at home, her husband and sons were all out greeting. We sat in her living room, just the three of us. (I enjoy spending time with Awa because she is very patient with our language skills.) We brought pictures of our family and friends to show her. We also brought some of the snicker doodle cookies. She told us that she had seen cakes like these before only in Bamako and Egypt. (Unlike most Malians we have encountered who have never left Mali, Awa has studied abroad in Egypt.) She ate three cookies in a row before hiding the rest to keep for herself. After some conversation in the living room, we were presented with yet another meal, a plate of liver and onions. (In Mali, it can be considered rude to turn down food.) I was so full I could only eat one bite, while Steve ate a few more to make it look like we had made an attempt. After yet again another lunch, we congregated outside for some tea. Since Steve was the only male present, he was in charge of the tea's preparation. The first pot was on the heat a little too long and turned out a little too strong, but we all drank it anyway. During tea time, some of Awa's sons started coming back home. Of course, they are all in love with Steve. He was greeted with hugs and secret handshakes. Just before dusk, it was time to say our farewells so that we could begin our bicycle ride home .

Second Day of Tabaski

Over the past few months, we have formed a relationship with our neighbors, Vieux and Djiveril. We drink tea with them often and bought tea to give them for the holiday. On the second day of Tabaski, we had tea with them in the late afternoon after our language class. To our surprise, they invited us over for lunch the next day. Apparently, they were saving a second sheep to slaughter together on the third day of Tabaski. According to Djiveril, they bought the second sheep this year so that it could be prepared the way they liked it (the women not the men typically decide the menu for the other meals).

Third Day of Tabaski

We were to meet at Vieux's house at 10:00 in the morning. Because Steve's stomach was not agreeing with him, I went alone. Although we had drank tea outside of Vieux's house many times, it was my first time inside his house. I greeted the crowd of women who were outside cooking and was directed toward one of the cement dwellings close by. I pushed my way through the sheer curtain covering the entrance to find Vieux and Djiveril with two other of our neighbors. All the men were patiently waiting inside for lunch. In the living room, the walls were lined with over-stuffed couches. I noticed an open seat near the door, however was quickly encouraged to sit in an open seat in the middle of the room. (I was a guest of honor.) We talked for a while... questions about the many differences between the States and here. 'What was my favorite sport in the States?' After some conversation, it was already time for tea. In Mali, the tea is served strong, hot, and extra sweet (sometimes with real mint leaves) in a small glass about the size of a shot glass. We also started listening to a cassette tape referred to as the 'slow forty' with artists such as Bob Dylan and the Beatles. For the before lunch meal, we ate from two common plates, sheep ribs and sheep steak and liver. It was a highly unusual scenario, I ate with the other four men. I was bullied by Djiveril into eating my share as well as the portion Steve would have eaten. I was stuffed! After the before lunch meal, I walked back the few blocks to our house to retrieve Steve for lunch. Although he was still feeling a bit under the weather, he agreed to come. As Djiveril urged, Tabaski only comes once a year. We returned together for lunch. After some more conversation, tea, and some banana ginger juice, it was finally time for lunch. We ate fonio with a red sauce (a couscous-like dish made with millet grain) and watermelon for dessert. Our after lunch conversation was the most stimulating, it was about giving, service, and change. At one point, Djiveril referred to the quote to exemplify his point by former U.S. President John F. Kennedy, “ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.” I became a little choked up when I told him that Kennedy started the Peace Corps. As the time for my language class approached, we agreed we would continue our conversation another time. It was another successful holiday.

Trip to Kita

Thursday, October 30, we along with seven other volunteers departed by train for Kita. Just as the stories suggested, the train was ridiculous. We paid the equivalent of $10 per person for our one way trip. I am not sure words could describe the state of this train. (First impression, it looked like an angry lion was let loose in the passenger car and ripped a few pieces from every seat.) Steve's 'seat' (as were many others) was without any sort of padding. He sat on bare coils that bounced when the train did. Before the train pulled out of station, we all decided to wager a little bet (25 cents per person) on who could most accurately predict our time of arrival. (It is a known fact that public transportation in Mali is riddled with delays and often unreliable.) According to other passengers, the train from Kayes to Kita should take anywhere from six to seven hours. While both Steve and I's estimates for time of arrival fell in early afternoon, Mark, another volunteer, estimated 7:11 AM the following morning.

Along the route, the train stopped often at all of the small villages. It really was beautiful to see the countryside by train. At every destination, there were street vendors who walk the sides of the train selling anything and everything from water to hand fans (a typical scenario when traveling by public transport). By mid afternoon, Steve had already eaten five 'street food' sandwiches (from fish ball to roasted meat). All of us were enjoying the trip, until at one of our stops (with one hour left to go) we wondered why we had been waiting so long. Out of nowhere the woman who had been sitting in front of Steve and I informed us that the track ahead was being repaired and that the train would be stopped for at least two to three hours.

Just for clarification, time is different in Mali (trust me it's true). An estimate of two to three hours most likely translates to at least four to six (things tend to move more slowly here).

Sure enough, within a half hour another passenger informed us that the track ahead would not be repaired for another five to six hours. In the meantime, several of us walked around the village to explore and greet the villagers. We inquired about an alternate route to Kita, however were informed that there were no paved roads nearby. It seemed that our best course (and only course) of action was to wait with the train. We all started searching for snacks (for some, egg sandwiches for others canned meat and onion sandwiches), buying extra water, and laughing at what an adventure spending the night in this village would be. A few of us were sitting under a tree by the side of the tracks chit chatting when I noticed a 'bashee' drive up. (In Mali, the 'bashee' is arguably the most common source of public transportation. In most cases, it is an over-sized green van with benches along its four sides for public seating. Most of the time, the bashee does not have a passenger limit, the more the merrier.) Another volunteer, Sam, and I decided to walk over to find out the destination of this bashee (the first means of transportation other than the immobile train we had seen all afternoon). To our surprise, the bashee was on its way to Kita. At this point it was already early evening, the sun was starting to set and the train showed no immediate signs of departure. Although the driver wanted $5 per person, our decision was simple... get to Kita. We were only about 60 km from Kita, we suspected the bashee ride should take about a hour. We decided to make another wager on the estimated duration of our bashee ride. After the day we had had, surprisingly, our bashee ride was pleasant. It was dark out and cool (luckily the vehicle was equipped with headlights) and although we were traveling on a dirt road, the trip was fairly smooth. It took us 101 minutes to reach Kita, Steve won.

Our time in Kita was nice. It gave Steve and I a chance to relax a little more than usual. For Halloween, the Kayes-kow (the people of Kayes) dressed as players from the Malian soccer team. (In Bambara, adding -kow to the end of a place refers to the people of that place. For example, shout out to the Effingham-kow! Oh yeah, Malians love shout outs too.) By far, the most exciting part of our trip was our exploratory hike up the hills/cliffs of the Kita skyline.

We only planned on spending three full days in Kita. On the second to last day, Steve along with two other of our travel mates, Mark and Luis, went to the train station to purchase our return tickets. Despite our previous train experience just a few days before, we knew the train would be the quickest means of transportation between Kayes and Kita. (In fact, a paved road between the two cities does not yet exist.) At the train station, Steve was informed that there had been a derailment the day before and that it was unclear as to when the train would be up and running again. (Again, public transportation in Mali is often unreliable and at this point potentially dangerous.) At this point, it became clear that an alternative mode of transportation back to Kayes would be necessary. Our only other available option was to take the bus from Kita to Kadi (near Bamako) and then take another bus from Kadi to Kayes. (Unfortunately, this route is a much longer trip about 12 hours and far more expensive $25) At the Gana Transport bus gare, we were only able to purchase tickets for the first leg of our trip. We were informed that we could purchase tickets for the second leg of our trip at the gare in Kadi. An extremely personable Gana transport worker in Kita even offered to call ahead to Kadi to reserve tickets for the 10:30 AM bus passing through there. We would find out later that all of this information was in fact a fabrication (1) there is no bus gare in Kadi and (2) there is no 10:30 AM Gana Transport bus passing through.

Bright eyed and ready for a long day of travel, we woke up at 5:30 AM on Monday for travel back to Kayes. Our first bus left Kita at 7:30 AM, we were anticipating a two hour bus ride before our switch at Kadi. Of course, we decided to make another wager on total travel time from Kita to Kayes. (Steve, the winner again, correctly placed our time of arrival in Kayes to be 10:30 AM the next day.) We arrived in Kadi (on time) only to discover there is no bus gare in Kadi and no more Gana Transport buses passing through the rest of the day. During the three minute stop in Kadi, we were not brave enough to get off the bus in fear we would end up stranded in Kadi. (In reality, we could have exited the bus at Kadi and negotiated to get onto any other bus passing through on its way to Kayes.) Instead, we stayed on the bus and headed for Bamako. We knew we could easily get a bus from Bamako to Kayes. We arrived at the Gana Transport bus gare only to discover that all of the buses to Kayes had left for the day. Immediately, Luis, another travel mate, started negotiating with a man from another transport agency (lurking in front of Gana Transport) for a way to Kayes. We were informed (from this man) a bus from Benso Transport would be leaving for Kayes in 30 minutes (11:30 AM). We called ahead to reserve tickets and jumped in taxis for the Benso Transport bus gare. As we pulled down a side street, I did not see the sign for Benso Transport, but we stopped anyway. Steve and the other male volunteers hurried to the ticket counter and purchased our tickets. As it turned out, we were not at the Benso bus gare. We just purchased 'no name/off brand' bus tickets with 'Elou Trans.' (In Mali, the bus companies with unrecognizable names are most likely a single bus operation.) We were quickly escorted down a busy market-esque (venders galore) side street. I could see two 'off brand' buses ahead and I prayed we were getting into the one on the left. We did. (Some aspects of public transport in Mali are extremely fair and logical, for instance, bus passengers board the bus (choose their seats) according to the order in which the tickets were sold. In our case, we had just purchased our tickets so for this leg of the trip, seat selection would not be on our side.) We were the last passengers to enter the bus (or so we thought), the only available seats were together in the very back of the bus. Luckily, we all had seats next to one another. The bus did not have air-conditioning (not uncommon), so Steve quickly bought himself a hand-fan from one of the vendors on the street through the bus window (25 cents). As the bus turned the first corner, we immediately hit a parked car. We were off to a good start. We didn't know it at the time, but this incident would be the first of our many delays. After we got moving again, we stopped again at a gas station for gas for the bus (naturally it wasn't full when we all boarded) and bathroom breaks (already). By the time we finally left the city limits of Bamako, it was already 1:30 to 2:00 PM. (We bought these tickets thinking the bus left at 11:30 AM.) During these first few hours, Steve and I noticed that the seat directly in front of him was broken and constantly stayed in the reclined position. In fact, very gradually the seats started falling further and further back until basically the back of the seat in front of Steve was nearly laying on his lap. As we stopped back through Kadi, we noticed we were picking up more passengers. Steve quickly decided he had better switch to one of the two open seats (and fast) before he was stuck in this uncomfortable position (of the seat in front of him laying on his lap) for the duration of the trip. Within minutes, one of the workers came to the back of the bus to assess the number of open seats available for sale. The worker motioned for me to move into the broken seat that Steve had just vacated. Naturally, I refused to move. (No worries.) Within minutes, the seat was sold to a Malian man who literally had to lift the seats in front of him (while passengers occupied the seats) just to squeeze into his seat next to me and then lay the seats back down on his lap. Clearly, he was the most uncomfortable passenger on the bus. Not only was every seat on the bus sold, but the isle and exit stairwell space was sold as well. At least ten Malian men sat on yellow water jugs in the isle of the bus and at least five stood in the two exit stairwells. (One thing is certain, 'Elou Trans' made sure they received the biggest bang for their buck on this voyage.) At one point, we stopped along the route to let yet another passenger aboard (who would be our final passenger). Our final passenger was made to stand in the isle surrounded by men sitting on yellow water jugs while hovering over another seated passenger. As you can imagine, this seated passenger was not happy. He stood up and started to protest. In Bambara, he started yelling at the workers that 'he was suffering' (translation from Bambara) from the amount of passengers. He kicked (not literally) the man who was hovering over him off the bus. However, the workers just squeezed him back on somewhere in the front. It was as if 'Elou Trans' was selling the air space around us as well. (You know it is miserable when even a Malian is complaining.) After all of our initial delays and small stops along the route, our trip home was very slow going. Contrary to what we had initially suspected, we discovered we would be traveling through the night. It was a good sign that our bus had working headlights, however were skeptical of our driver from the beginning (remember our first accident). Around 11:00 PM, we were barreling along the paved road when all of a sudden we must have hit a series of potholes. For what seemed like an eternity (probably only 30 seconds), it felt like the driver had lost control of the bus. We immediately stopped. Surprisingly, both Steve and Jared admitted that they thought it was 'the end.' They were positive the bus almost flipped. We all described the fear we had for our lives, when Luis decided to stand up for our safety. He turned to Jared and asked, 'How do you say 'slow the bus down' in Bambara?” Of course Jared's reply was, “I don't know.” After a few seconds of thinking, Luis stood up and yelled to the front of the bus, “Monsieur, donne donne.” (Mister, slow slow or small small). I am fairly certain a Malian or two laughed at his request. It took a good 30 minutes for the workers to examine the bus at which time it was decided we would continue. As soon as we started moving again, we could smell burning rubber and could hear and feel something wrong with the back left of the bus (where we were sitting). Also, the bus only seemed to be rolling at about 20 kilometers per hour. We yelled to the front to stop. Obviously, something was seriously wrong with our bus after our pothole fiasco. It was now after midnight and we received word that we were only 80 km outside of Kayes. During our wait, Steve made several trips outside the bus to talk with the 'repair' workers. It seemed the problem could not/would not be repaired, regardless, we would continue. After three hours of attempting to repair the unrepairable (at least without proper supplies), we started our last 80 km to Kayes. Unfortunately, our broken bus was only able to manage about 20 kilometers per hour. It took us four more hours to get there. We rolled into the 'no name/off brand' bus gare (filled with many other 'no name' buses) around 7:30 or 8:00 AM. We were hungry, filthy, and exhausted. It was a great trip!