I will try to update this photo album as I get more pictures, so check back from time to time:
Pre-Ameriki Bamako
Friday, May 15, 2009
Bamako Zoo
Ever since the departure of Jeff and Abbie, I have basically been laying low, reading (almost done with Satanic Verses), surfing the web, and cooking. Today, however, in an effort to not go completely stir crazy, I went out to lunch with my friend Spencer. We hit up the Broadway Café, where I had one of their delicious cheeseburgers and a piña colada. Afterwards, we decided to brave the zoo.
We both expected the worst. I mean, Mali can't get a lot of its human life together, so how good could the zoo possibly be? While there were certainly depressing aspects, it wasn't as bad as we anticipated. First, it only cost 50 CFA to get in (about 10 cents). For that price, we weren't expecting much. But they had some nice enclosures with gazelles, artificial streams, storks, etc. There were also dismal cages containing baboons with hideously deformed rear ends or lone chimpanzees breaking your heart with their stares. There were cages of lions and hyenas, which are scarier in real life than you think they should be; I wouldn't want to meet a pack of them in the wild. One of the scariest parts of the zoo, however, was their serpent building, containing aquariums with vipers and pythons and other deadly snakes. I just don't trust Malian cages. We high-tailed it out of there pretty quickly.
As promised, there was indeed a broken tank containing a rotting manatee carcass. It was comically horrifying. I mean, why was it in such a tiny tank to begin with? Was it ever alive in there? Why didn't they dispose of the carcass? All questions calling for answers. But among the cooler animals were a panther, some ostriches, and the cutest little baby elephant, sadly without a mother.
We more or less enjoyed our visit, though, then went to the café at the national museum to get some sodas and hibiscus juice to cool off. Now I am back in my SIL purdah, back to the internet and my book. Not too shabby.
Pictures of the zoo trip shortly.
We both expected the worst. I mean, Mali can't get a lot of its human life together, so how good could the zoo possibly be? While there were certainly depressing aspects, it wasn't as bad as we anticipated. First, it only cost 50 CFA to get in (about 10 cents). For that price, we weren't expecting much. But they had some nice enclosures with gazelles, artificial streams, storks, etc. There were also dismal cages containing baboons with hideously deformed rear ends or lone chimpanzees breaking your heart with their stares. There were cages of lions and hyenas, which are scarier in real life than you think they should be; I wouldn't want to meet a pack of them in the wild. One of the scariest parts of the zoo, however, was their serpent building, containing aquariums with vipers and pythons and other deadly snakes. I just don't trust Malian cages. We high-tailed it out of there pretty quickly.
As promised, there was indeed a broken tank containing a rotting manatee carcass. It was comically horrifying. I mean, why was it in such a tiny tank to begin with? Was it ever alive in there? Why didn't they dispose of the carcass? All questions calling for answers. But among the cooler animals were a panther, some ostriches, and the cutest little baby elephant, sadly without a mother.
We more or less enjoyed our visit, though, then went to the café at the national museum to get some sodas and hibiscus juice to cool off. Now I am back in my SIL purdah, back to the internet and my book. Not too shabby.
Pictures of the zoo trip shortly.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Rebirth in the city
Perhaps the recent rains were the catalyst, or perhaps some subtle cue from the shifting light, but the last twenty-four hours have seen the explosion of some delicate-winged species of insect. They hang in the air like cottonwood seeds, drifting harmlessly past as you walk. For others, their appearance is a celebration. Orange-headed lizards leap into the air to snatch them in their jaws; barefoot children swat at them with an old piece of cardboard; adolescent chickens peck at their fallen bodies. Their existence will undoubtedly be short. Twenty-four hours? Forty-eight? Long enough to lay the foundations for next year's rebirth. Then their wings will blanket the ground with a petal-like mosaic.
These insects are certainly more pleasant than some of the other bursts Mali's summer has to offer. Blister beetles waiting to excrete acid onto exposed skin, giant grasshoppers ramming into you as they hurl themselves towards the light, water scorpions just looking appalling (more like cockroaches)... But I will miss all of those. Instead, I just get the nymph-like insects going through their yearly incarnation.
Here's another video from Douentza, more of the market:
These insects are certainly more pleasant than some of the other bursts Mali's summer has to offer. Blister beetles waiting to excrete acid onto exposed skin, giant grasshoppers ramming into you as they hurl themselves towards the light, water scorpions just looking appalling (more like cockroaches)... But I will miss all of those. Instead, I just get the nymph-like insects going through their yearly incarnation.
Here's another video from Douentza, more of the market:
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
La vie bamakoise
First off, here's a video I took in the streets of Douentza driving out of my house:
Minkailou indeed arrived Sunday night, at around 1:30 in the morning. I had dozed off and felt like a zombie when he got in, but he got in safe and with my suitcase, so that's what matters.
The next morning, we went to the grocery store, where I stocked up on a week's worth of groceries: ground beef (which has unfortunately already spoiled), eggs, cereal, beans, flour, milk, yogurt, etc. Then we got produce at a little stand outside: potatoes, tomatoes, green peppers, cucumbers, onions, bananas... I love Bamako. When we got back to SIL, he took me to the little boutique around the corner, where there is another woman who sells produce. I finished my kitchen stock-up there with lettuce, carrots, peanut butter, garlic and ginger. And then the boutique owners speak Fulfulde, so it's like I never left Douentza!
That afternoon, I went to the embassy to try and use their computer to insert some final fonts into my slideshow. When I got out of the taxi, I realized in horror that I'd forgotten my passport. I called the Public Affairs Officer, and she said I could get in with my driver's license, which (thankfully) I could. Unfortunately, after a lot of hanging out with Casimir, a Dogon who works at the embassy, and insulting a Songhay guy (since that's what Dogons do), it turned out that there wasn't any computer I could use. Fail. I went back empty-handed, but that's all right.
To feel productive, I made... meat pies! I saw the recipe in my Mali cookbook and felt the need to try it out. I amended the filling recipe a bit--curry ground beef with potatoes instead of beef and greens--but otherwise stayed true. Much to my disappointment, my yeast was dead, which I didn't find out until I'd made my dough and it didn't rise. But I folded them up and backed them anyway, like little curried beef-filled calzones. They looked beautiful and were quite delicious.
Around 8, Minkailou and I headed to the airport to meet Jeff. It had started to rain a little, and we had to wait for an hour in the rain for Jeff to get his bags and get out of the airport. It was good to see him, but strange as well, since it brought back a lot of memories from the summer. We went back to SIL and hung out for a little while before going to Amandine, Jeff's usual haunt, to stay awake until Abbie got in.
He asked if I was planning on coming back to Mali, and I said probably someday, but I wasn't about to make any plans before I saw where grad school took me. He seemed satisfied with that.
At 2AM, we got back into the taxi and headed back to the airport where we waited another hour for Abbie to get in. I was exhausted by then, having not slept too well the night before, and napped on the waiting room chairs for a bit. Abbie eventually got in just fine, and it was so nice to see her. She really is my "grande soeur". We chatted non-stop all the way back and stayed up until after 4AM chatting some more. Eventually, we both had to hit the hay, since my presentation at the embassy was the next morning.
9AM came early, and I rolled groggily out from under my mosquito net to prepare for the talk. I called Stephanie (the PAO) to make sure Abbie and Jeff could get into my talk, which she arranged. I headed over there myself around 11, wearing the same Dogon indigos that I wore to my presentation in Leiden back in August. Casimir and the Dogon tech guy, Timothé, met me and helped me set up my PowerPoint. Everything came through just fine.
People started to trickle in somewhere before noon. It was a pretty decent showing. The American ambassador even came! The PAO honored Jeff with an introduction as well and I launched into my talk, which had three goals. 1) Introduce the audience to what it is that you actually do when documenting a language, i.e., how do you learn a language for which no materials exist? 2) Introduce our Dogon Languages Project and what we're all about. 3) Talk about aspects of the culture I learned about through doing this work. People responded really well, both during my talk and during the question period afterwards. I felt really positive about it. Jeff even complimented me much later that night (I thought he never would).
We ate at the embassy (bacon cheeseburger) with my Fulbright friend Spencer, who had come to see my talk. Afterwards, we went back to SIL, where Abbie and I caught up and talked until we both crashed for naps. That evening, I worked through some receipts with Jeff, then we braved the then near-torrential downpour to get to Amandine for dinner. Abbie and I split an avocado salad, then I had Nile perch with bananas and broiled tomatoes. Yum. Not to mention another mango milkshake.
This morning, Abbie and I went out to Broadway Cafe to have brunch with Paul, another Fulbright that Abbie went to school with and had Bambara class with. It was fun, and I stuffed myself full of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. When we got back, it was time for her and Jeff to hit the road. She wanted to stay another day, but Jeff was weird about it and wouldn't let her. I saw them off to the bus station, then headed back. Jeff was uncharacteristically complimentary, telling me I had done terrific work this year. It made me feel really good.
I've been on a mission to make banana bread the last few days, but I can't get my hands on baking soda. Small stores here have no idea what it is, the pharmacy was out of it, and the big grocery was closed. I might try to go to another pharmacy later in the afternoon or to the grocery store. I just have all of these overripe bananas and nothing to do with them.
Minkailou indeed arrived Sunday night, at around 1:30 in the morning. I had dozed off and felt like a zombie when he got in, but he got in safe and with my suitcase, so that's what matters.
The next morning, we went to the grocery store, where I stocked up on a week's worth of groceries: ground beef (which has unfortunately already spoiled), eggs, cereal, beans, flour, milk, yogurt, etc. Then we got produce at a little stand outside: potatoes, tomatoes, green peppers, cucumbers, onions, bananas... I love Bamako. When we got back to SIL, he took me to the little boutique around the corner, where there is another woman who sells produce. I finished my kitchen stock-up there with lettuce, carrots, peanut butter, garlic and ginger. And then the boutique owners speak Fulfulde, so it's like I never left Douentza!
That afternoon, I went to the embassy to try and use their computer to insert some final fonts into my slideshow. When I got out of the taxi, I realized in horror that I'd forgotten my passport. I called the Public Affairs Officer, and she said I could get in with my driver's license, which (thankfully) I could. Unfortunately, after a lot of hanging out with Casimir, a Dogon who works at the embassy, and insulting a Songhay guy (since that's what Dogons do), it turned out that there wasn't any computer I could use. Fail. I went back empty-handed, but that's all right.
To feel productive, I made... meat pies! I saw the recipe in my Mali cookbook and felt the need to try it out. I amended the filling recipe a bit--curry ground beef with potatoes instead of beef and greens--but otherwise stayed true. Much to my disappointment, my yeast was dead, which I didn't find out until I'd made my dough and it didn't rise. But I folded them up and backed them anyway, like little curried beef-filled calzones. They looked beautiful and were quite delicious.
Around 8, Minkailou and I headed to the airport to meet Jeff. It had started to rain a little, and we had to wait for an hour in the rain for Jeff to get his bags and get out of the airport. It was good to see him, but strange as well, since it brought back a lot of memories from the summer. We went back to SIL and hung out for a little while before going to Amandine, Jeff's usual haunt, to stay awake until Abbie got in.
He asked if I was planning on coming back to Mali, and I said probably someday, but I wasn't about to make any plans before I saw where grad school took me. He seemed satisfied with that.
At 2AM, we got back into the taxi and headed back to the airport where we waited another hour for Abbie to get in. I was exhausted by then, having not slept too well the night before, and napped on the waiting room chairs for a bit. Abbie eventually got in just fine, and it was so nice to see her. She really is my "grande soeur". We chatted non-stop all the way back and stayed up until after 4AM chatting some more. Eventually, we both had to hit the hay, since my presentation at the embassy was the next morning.
9AM came early, and I rolled groggily out from under my mosquito net to prepare for the talk. I called Stephanie (the PAO) to make sure Abbie and Jeff could get into my talk, which she arranged. I headed over there myself around 11, wearing the same Dogon indigos that I wore to my presentation in Leiden back in August. Casimir and the Dogon tech guy, Timothé, met me and helped me set up my PowerPoint. Everything came through just fine.
People started to trickle in somewhere before noon. It was a pretty decent showing. The American ambassador even came! The PAO honored Jeff with an introduction as well and I launched into my talk, which had three goals. 1) Introduce the audience to what it is that you actually do when documenting a language, i.e., how do you learn a language for which no materials exist? 2) Introduce our Dogon Languages Project and what we're all about. 3) Talk about aspects of the culture I learned about through doing this work. People responded really well, both during my talk and during the question period afterwards. I felt really positive about it. Jeff even complimented me much later that night (I thought he never would).
We ate at the embassy (bacon cheeseburger) with my Fulbright friend Spencer, who had come to see my talk. Afterwards, we went back to SIL, where Abbie and I caught up and talked until we both crashed for naps. That evening, I worked through some receipts with Jeff, then we braved the then near-torrential downpour to get to Amandine for dinner. Abbie and I split an avocado salad, then I had Nile perch with bananas and broiled tomatoes. Yum. Not to mention another mango milkshake.
This morning, Abbie and I went out to Broadway Cafe to have brunch with Paul, another Fulbright that Abbie went to school with and had Bambara class with. It was fun, and I stuffed myself full of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. When we got back, it was time for her and Jeff to hit the road. She wanted to stay another day, but Jeff was weird about it and wouldn't let her. I saw them off to the bus station, then headed back. Jeff was uncharacteristically complimentary, telling me I had done terrific work this year. It made me feel really good.
I've been on a mission to make banana bread the last few days, but I can't get my hands on baking soda. Small stores here have no idea what it is, the pharmacy was out of it, and the big grocery was closed. I might try to go to another pharmacy later in the afternoon or to the grocery store. I just have all of these overripe bananas and nothing to do with them.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Three new photo albums
Here we are:
Solar panel installation
Final Douentza-area photos
Going away party
Coming soon: videos of Douentza and around.
Solar panel installation
Final Douentza-area photos
Going away party
Coming soon: videos of Douentza and around.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Goodbye, Douentza
I am on my way home. I have already left Douentza, spent a night in Sevare, and made it to Bamako.
My party on Friday went well. A lot of people showed up, a lot of whom I didn’t even really know. But Fatimata was one of the first to get there and the last to leave, along with the two bartenders from the Tango, my tailor, the neighbor kid Hamidou, his dad, and my Peace Corps friends who were in town (Dave, Phil, Ashley). We ate goat and drank sodas at around 4:30, and just hung out in my courtyard listening to music, taking pictures and talking. I was quite pleased (and the goat was delicious).
Later that night, Oumar and Ashley and I went to the Tango for one last time. Dave and Phil were supposed to come, but they were “too tired”. Lame. I helped Minkailou import his pictures into what’s now his computer (and not mine), then went to bed.
I didn’t sleep very well. It was sort of the Christmas Eve syndrome—too excited to sleep well. I spent the morning packing and sweeping out the AC room. Ashley came over to help me, then around 10 am, we got ready to walk to the freeway to meet our transportation. I had to say goodbye to Ramata then, which was pretty sad. I wanted to just envelop her in a huge hug, but it’s not totally Malian. We held hands and grasped each other’s shoulders, and I think she was as sad as I was.
Hamidou walked with Ashley and I to the freeway, carrying my bag, as is respectful for someone who is leaving that you like a lot. Oumar came with my big suitcase on the moto after us. We ended up getting to the freeway much earlier than need be, but that’s okay. I was getting antsy sitting at home. About an hour later, the Peace Corps 4x4 drove up and we loaded our stuff. Ashley didn’t go—she was just saying hi to someone passing through in the car—but Dave and Phil went. I was saddest about saying goodbye to Oumar, since he was probably my best Malian friend here. You could tell he was really upset but couldn’t show his feelings.
And with that, we pulled out of Douentza. I just watched the well-known scenery slide by me, disappearing into the distance. The only time I cried was walking down my street leaving my house. The feelings are just too mixed. And I don’t think the reality of it has hit me yet.
The car ride was good. It was a little cramped, but much faster and much more pleasant than any Malian bus could be. When we got into Sevare, we went out and got lunch (yassa rice—rice with a delicious onion sauce) at a little place called Chez Damou. Afterwards, some people went to the bar, and I went and checked into the Mankante where I stayed last night.
This morning, I got up at 6 am and ate my delicious Mankante breakfast. Just as I was packing up, Phil called me to make sure I was on my way to the burea, since the bus was about to leave. I hustled over there (it’s just around the corner), and in the process accidentally took my room key with me. Oh well, I’ll send it back up with some PCV.
It turns out that in addition to the minibus, the 4x4 from the day before was also going down to Bamako. And we didn’t have that many people. This meant that there were five of us in a minibus meant to hold twenty, so we each had a row to ourselves. It was by far the best transportation experience I’ve had in Africa. I napped, listened to music, chatted with the volunteers, and watched Mali roll by. We stopped in San to get gas and then in Segou for lunch, finally arriving in Bamako around 4 pm.
As soon as my baggage got down, I hailed a cab and came to the SIL guesthouse. They gave me a room on the third floor, so I had to haul all of my luggage up the three flights of stairs. Not so great. Since it’s the weekend, the hostess’s office is empty, so I couldn’t ask for an internet access card. But I am crafty, and here I am on the internet now. First, I saw a young woman coming out of the apartment next door and I asked if I could borrow her access card, which she let me do. She’s an American who’s been here working with SIL for about three months. Perhaps we’ll chat more later.
I took my prize back to my apartment, ready for some quality internet time, only to find that there was no Ethernet cable. I gave up my internet dreams for a while and headed out for dinner at Amandine’s. When I was on my way out of the compound, I heard a woman greet the SIL guard in Tommo-So, of all things! I started talking to her in Tommo-So (much to her surprise and joy) and we chatted all the way until I found a cab. I think she might come by tomorrow and we might chat some more. Go figure that I come to Bamako, the city where I feel linguistically useless (since I don’t speak Bambara) and then I find not only a Dogon speaker, but a Tommo-So speaker. Who knew TS was such a useful language.
I had a mango smoothie and pizza for dinner, half of which I brought back for lunch tomorrow. I also brought back a couple croissants for the morning and an apple tart for later this evening. Mm mm, civilization tastes good.
Minkailou is coming in tonight (hopefully) with my other suitcase. That was when I realized that SIL had also left his and Jeff’s keys out, so I figured it was only questionably dishonest to take them and get the Ethernet cable from their apartment, which I did, and now I’m in business. Here commences my ten days of waiting until I come home. I will probably get pretty bored, but oh well, I can wait it out, since the light at the end of the tunnel is growing ever brighter.
Happy mother’s day!
My party on Friday went well. A lot of people showed up, a lot of whom I didn’t even really know. But Fatimata was one of the first to get there and the last to leave, along with the two bartenders from the Tango, my tailor, the neighbor kid Hamidou, his dad, and my Peace Corps friends who were in town (Dave, Phil, Ashley). We ate goat and drank sodas at around 4:30, and just hung out in my courtyard listening to music, taking pictures and talking. I was quite pleased (and the goat was delicious).
Later that night, Oumar and Ashley and I went to the Tango for one last time. Dave and Phil were supposed to come, but they were “too tired”. Lame. I helped Minkailou import his pictures into what’s now his computer (and not mine), then went to bed.
I didn’t sleep very well. It was sort of the Christmas Eve syndrome—too excited to sleep well. I spent the morning packing and sweeping out the AC room. Ashley came over to help me, then around 10 am, we got ready to walk to the freeway to meet our transportation. I had to say goodbye to Ramata then, which was pretty sad. I wanted to just envelop her in a huge hug, but it’s not totally Malian. We held hands and grasped each other’s shoulders, and I think she was as sad as I was.
Hamidou walked with Ashley and I to the freeway, carrying my bag, as is respectful for someone who is leaving that you like a lot. Oumar came with my big suitcase on the moto after us. We ended up getting to the freeway much earlier than need be, but that’s okay. I was getting antsy sitting at home. About an hour later, the Peace Corps 4x4 drove up and we loaded our stuff. Ashley didn’t go—she was just saying hi to someone passing through in the car—but Dave and Phil went. I was saddest about saying goodbye to Oumar, since he was probably my best Malian friend here. You could tell he was really upset but couldn’t show his feelings.
And with that, we pulled out of Douentza. I just watched the well-known scenery slide by me, disappearing into the distance. The only time I cried was walking down my street leaving my house. The feelings are just too mixed. And I don’t think the reality of it has hit me yet.
The car ride was good. It was a little cramped, but much faster and much more pleasant than any Malian bus could be. When we got into Sevare, we went out and got lunch (yassa rice—rice with a delicious onion sauce) at a little place called Chez Damou. Afterwards, some people went to the bar, and I went and checked into the Mankante where I stayed last night.
This morning, I got up at 6 am and ate my delicious Mankante breakfast. Just as I was packing up, Phil called me to make sure I was on my way to the burea, since the bus was about to leave. I hustled over there (it’s just around the corner), and in the process accidentally took my room key with me. Oh well, I’ll send it back up with some PCV.
It turns out that in addition to the minibus, the 4x4 from the day before was also going down to Bamako. And we didn’t have that many people. This meant that there were five of us in a minibus meant to hold twenty, so we each had a row to ourselves. It was by far the best transportation experience I’ve had in Africa. I napped, listened to music, chatted with the volunteers, and watched Mali roll by. We stopped in San to get gas and then in Segou for lunch, finally arriving in Bamako around 4 pm.
As soon as my baggage got down, I hailed a cab and came to the SIL guesthouse. They gave me a room on the third floor, so I had to haul all of my luggage up the three flights of stairs. Not so great. Since it’s the weekend, the hostess’s office is empty, so I couldn’t ask for an internet access card. But I am crafty, and here I am on the internet now. First, I saw a young woman coming out of the apartment next door and I asked if I could borrow her access card, which she let me do. She’s an American who’s been here working with SIL for about three months. Perhaps we’ll chat more later.
I took my prize back to my apartment, ready for some quality internet time, only to find that there was no Ethernet cable. I gave up my internet dreams for a while and headed out for dinner at Amandine’s. When I was on my way out of the compound, I heard a woman greet the SIL guard in Tommo-So, of all things! I started talking to her in Tommo-So (much to her surprise and joy) and we chatted all the way until I found a cab. I think she might come by tomorrow and we might chat some more. Go figure that I come to Bamako, the city where I feel linguistically useless (since I don’t speak Bambara) and then I find not only a Dogon speaker, but a Tommo-So speaker. Who knew TS was such a useful language.
I had a mango smoothie and pizza for dinner, half of which I brought back for lunch tomorrow. I also brought back a couple croissants for the morning and an apple tart for later this evening. Mm mm, civilization tastes good.
Minkailou is coming in tonight (hopefully) with my other suitcase. That was when I realized that SIL had also left his and Jeff’s keys out, so I figured it was only questionably dishonest to take them and get the Ethernet cable from their apartment, which I did, and now I’m in business. Here commences my ten days of waiting until I come home. I will probably get pretty bored, but oh well, I can wait it out, since the light at the end of the tunnel is growing ever brighter.
Happy mother’s day!
Friday, May 8, 2009
Last full day in Douentza
Today is officially my last day at the Douentza internet. After hundreds of times of coming here, it’s now over. I will miss it nostalgically, but not technologically. I am certainly ready to move onto the greener pastures of Sevare, then Bamako, then the US.
We slaughtered my goat this morning. I was awoken at 7:30am, first by the sounds of “toobob, ca va?” out in the street, announcing the arrival of one of my friends, then by pounding on my door. When I opened it blearily, I was met first thing by the sight of goat carcass. Always a good way to start the day.
Fatimata came over to get the hide (she’s going to make a pillow out of it), and her mother was there too. I’m confused, however, because this was a different old lady than the one I met in Petaka. Perhaps it’s her mother-in-law? She was a wrinkly old woman with light skin and twinkling eyes. She gave me a bowl of eggs and a ring.
I gave Fatimata her presents: my bottle of ibuprofen, a necklace of mine, and 2000 CFA. I think she was quite pleased with all of it. They stayed until the liver was done being grilled, ate a few pieces, then went on their way.
Afterwards, Phil (the mystery toobob from earlier) and I packed the kitties into a basket, covered it with a sheet, and set out through the market to deliver them to Ashley. Poor things, they were so scared, trying to break out through the sheet. It was a stressful walk. When we got to Ashley’s, we let them out, and they looked around themselves in confusion. “Wait, this isn’t our house.” Well, soon enough it will be. I hope they’ll be okay.
Down to the final things to do—clear out the files on this computer so I can leave it for Jeff, give the rest of my presents, have a party. I think that’s about it. Oh, and clandestinely film the streets of Douentza. That’s also on the agenda. It’s off to Sevare tomorrow!
We slaughtered my goat this morning. I was awoken at 7:30am, first by the sounds of “toobob, ca va?” out in the street, announcing the arrival of one of my friends, then by pounding on my door. When I opened it blearily, I was met first thing by the sight of goat carcass. Always a good way to start the day.
Fatimata came over to get the hide (she’s going to make a pillow out of it), and her mother was there too. I’m confused, however, because this was a different old lady than the one I met in Petaka. Perhaps it’s her mother-in-law? She was a wrinkly old woman with light skin and twinkling eyes. She gave me a bowl of eggs and a ring.
I gave Fatimata her presents: my bottle of ibuprofen, a necklace of mine, and 2000 CFA. I think she was quite pleased with all of it. They stayed until the liver was done being grilled, ate a few pieces, then went on their way.
Afterwards, Phil (the mystery toobob from earlier) and I packed the kitties into a basket, covered it with a sheet, and set out through the market to deliver them to Ashley. Poor things, they were so scared, trying to break out through the sheet. It was a stressful walk. When we got to Ashley’s, we let them out, and they looked around themselves in confusion. “Wait, this isn’t our house.” Well, soon enough it will be. I hope they’ll be okay.
Down to the final things to do—clear out the files on this computer so I can leave it for Jeff, give the rest of my presents, have a party. I think that’s about it. Oh, and clandestinely film the streets of Douentza. That’s also on the agenda. It’s off to Sevare tomorrow!
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