My Parent's Visit (2 of 2)

In Mali, as in most sub-Saharan African countries, the human being is more important than anything. When people meet, hands are shaken and held while talking to the person in front of you. A long string of life-giving greetings, wishes, questions and answers follow. They ask about health—our own, our respective fathers', mothers', families', villages' and even questions about the health of the United States. Wishes for a long life and many children and that Allah might be with us and protect us, guide us and allow us to live another day are exchanged. Billy is an expert at these customary greetings.

The Malians have the marvelous tradition of giving the foreigners they host native names. In this way, it is easy to enter this rich society that asks nothing more than to be discovered. It is an honor for them for a foreigner to have a Malian name. Billy’s original host family during his training gave Billy his name; Younoussa Samake . Billy’s host father gave Bill his first name; Mamadou and he gave me the first name Fanta. Later in our trip a tailor in the market in Kenieba gave Bill the same last name as Billy and gave me the last name Sy, since women are still called by their maiden names even after they are married. Yes, that means my Malian name is Fanta Sy.

The soil in Africa is clay that has been enriched with Iron and aluminum that has been developed over long periods of time by the heavy rainfalls and the intense heat. Sometimes the material is rock hard but when scuffed by vehicle wheels it becomes a choking red dust. The iron is the origin of the red color. The red dust is everywhere in Kenieba. It is a never-ending battle trying to keep the dust out of your things. It covers your house and the contents of your house and covers your body daily. It reminded me of the character Pig Pen in the Peanuts cartoons. You feel like you have a dust cloud surrounding you most of the time. Pig Pen referred to the cloud that surrounds him with pride as the dust of ancient civilizations. That is exactly how I felt.

Growing up my mother used to tell me not to eat with my hands. In Mali they only eat with their hands. They have a communal bowl and everyone uses their hands to scoop the food into their mouth. You only use your right hand; the left one is used strictly for personal hygiene. The food is usually rice and sauce and some sort or meat, fish and/or vegetable in the center. A particular favorite of mine was Yassa Chicken. It is chicken with a lemon onion sauce. After a meal they enjoy a small cup of very strong sweet tea. You see them everywhere in Mali, groups of men and boys grouped around a tiny kettle over a small fire stove brewing ataaya, a bittersweet strong tea that has a lot of sugar in it. It is a social ritual and it takes hours to brew the tea. It is served in small glasses. There is a froth that forms on the top of the tea. I found it too sweet and potent for my taste.

As you travel through Mali you notice that children, garbage, cattle, sheep, goats, dogs, abandoned old cars and motorcycles are everywhere. Sadly, the garbage is thrown on the streets and in the streams. A very small percentage of rubbish in Africa (approximately 10 percent) makes it to dumps, with the rest left to rot in communities or burned in acrid bonfires. Plastic bags are truly the environmental scourge of the developing world. It is unbelievable how many landscapes have been trashed throughout Africa. Especially in nations that are more developed and thus can afford to throw out their plastic bags rather than re-use them. Along the garbage ridden streets there are often children playing, standing or walking. To my eye many of the children seem way too young to be out on the street unattended. Family sizes are very large, often there is extended family living in the same house. The young and old live together in the same household. One reason that women give birth to many offspring is because the infant mortality rate. More than one in ten babies will die. Many women understand the prevalence of infant mortality and give birth to many children, an average of 7 per Malian woman. It seems like most women had a baby on their back or a child at their side.

While we were in Africa Sargent Shriver died at the age of 95. Sargent Shriver, the first director of the Peace Corps, was an inspiring figure who had a unique perspective on the world, getting to travel to so many remote places and inspiring young Americans to give up two years of their lives to live in these corners of the world. Thanks to his great leadership the US Peace Corps is a viable and sustainable organization. Billy has had an excellent experience as a PCV in Mali. He is learning to live outside his comfort zone and appreciate the mundane and simple things in life. He is committed to the mission of the Peace Corps which is to promote world peace and friendship. Through his work with the Shea Butter Women’s cooperative, the Women’s Investment club, the school gardening project and his daily interactions with the many vendors and native people, he is providing opportunities to people to make the world a better place to live. He is realizing that it’s not what you get out of life that counts, it's what you give and what is given to you from the heart. It was great to have the opportunity to venture beyond the more typical African tourist routes. People know a lot about South Africa and the African safari. But Africa is a very diverse continent. Our journey to West Africa showed us a slice of the “real Africa”, Billy’s home away from home for two years. We miss him very much but we are extremely proud of him and his dedication to making the world a better place to live and promoting world peace and harmony.