two for one special

I cannot leave you with such a miserable update. You want to know what is going on in village. You are thinking ‘whatever happened to that money I donated?’ ‘I don’t want to hear about Heather’s boils.’ Well let me fill you in.

So the first thing that I would like to clarify is that the reason that my project did not stay up on the Peace Corps website for very long is because it was funded very quickly. Most of the thanks for that goes to a fellow volunteer in Mali who raised $15,000 more than he needed for his project through a church fundraiser, and was generous enough to pass along some of what remained to me. Thank you Charlie. So my funding goals through Peace Corps were met quickly (thanks too to those of you who did have the chance to donate through PCPP). But it turns out that my PCPP (Peace Corps Partnership Program) money was not going to be enough for the project. After planning the budget and submitting it to Washington in October, I learned that we were going to need a higher quality well mold for the type of soil we were working in, as well as more cement, and equipment for digging through rock. So I was a bit ruffled. How was that going to work out if I’ve already submitted my budget to Peace Corps and the funding was set? Well because my PCPP money was raised so quickly, most people had not had the opportunity to give, including my mother. She had the idea for a fundraiser at Church Farm School, and continued to plan for it even though my PCPP funding goals were met. Since Americans cannot give money directly to a volunteer, I decided to approach a Malian NGO that works specifically with women’s groups in my region, to see if they would be able to help. I happened to see the president of the association, Fifi, in the bank shortly after I thought of contacting them. I told her the situation and she immediately walked over to the teller and asked for the account information for the NGO. And in five minutes time I had what I needed to insure that the funds would go towards the work in my village. Amazing. And pairing with this NGO means that when the women’s garden is finished, a representative from the NGO can come and talk to the women about gardening, working as an association, saving funds, and long-term planning. So good.
So back to my mom. At her end, with the help of some amazing people, she managed to raise almost $7000 in one day during a flea market/auction. Who knew you could get that much money with a flea market? So it looks like work can continue seemlessly. Thank you to everyone involved - you are lifesavers! And if by chance you would like to contribute and did not have the chance, contact my mother and she will be able to help you out. If you don't know how to reach my mother, send me an email. Or call me. Here is a bit of craziness: there is now cell phone coverage in my village! I had no cell phone in the States, but I can sit on the roof of my hut and text message 'til the cows come home.

As far as the work that is currently underway, the villagers have dug and cemented 30 meters of well in the valley. The projected depth was between 30 and 35 meters so they should be close. I’m placing bets for next Sunday. My homologue thinks it will be sooner. I hope he wins. The team consists of three teams of 8 villagers, as well as two hired masons, and one villager that they are training in masonry. The hired masons are incredible, and they have done spectacular work. They charge $10 a day – I can only imagine what kind of money a mason in a similar line of work in the States would make. The fact that they have taken on one of the young village men as an apprentice is great too, because later on he will be able to lead future well projects in our area. Each team works for two days, and then they switch out. Two days does not seem very long, but they dig the well by hand with picks and shovels, and then haul the dirt out of the hole with buckets on pulleys. At a depth of 25 meters the work can get pretty tiring. Especially because the guys that are down in the hole digging get hauled in and out the same way as a bucket of dirt. During one of my visits to the worksite the men asked if I wanted to descend into the well. I like rock climbing and rappelling, so I had not fear of doing it – I think at that point it was 20 meters deep. I think that they were a bit surprised when I said yes. So I looped the rope around my leg and held on as a group of 6 men slowly lowered me down. The well is a meter and a half in diameter, but once I got a little ways down it felt more like a half meter. And at the bottom it was so humid that it was difficult to breathe. But it was amazing – all done by hand. So I’m hoping that when I return to village I will have lost the bet and the village will be drinking some freshly drawn water in celebration.

Blazing Saddle

It rained this morning! The heat has been unbearable up until today. I’m sure, when I’ve written about the heat here, or the frustrations of hot season, you’ve read each word, given me adequate sympathy, but I bet in the back of your head was the thought, “Well at least it is a dry heat.” And for the most part that is true: 110º, but a dry 110º. I’m not quite sure what happened to this whole desertification thing that is supposed to be going on here, because for the past week it has been humid. Horribly humid. And let me tell you, 110º and humid is no picnic. All that I do is sweat. I shower as much as my limited water supply will allow, but that only helps when I am standing under the stream of water. As soon as I towel off and lay a finger on my clothes that feel like they have been freshly plucked from the dryer, I begin to sweat again. I don’t even need to put them on my body for the first beads to form. The worst part is that this humidity hangs around after the sun sets. So usually after dark, the heat relents a little, and I can shower and sleep in relative comfort. Actually sleeping outdoors during hot season provides me with some of my best nights rest. But with the humidity it never cools down, so you are free to lie awake all night feeling the tickles of sweat run down your body. When I was first installed, a volunteer told me that she wets her sheets during hot season before going to bed (with water, not urine), and she sleeps great. At the time I was horrified and thought that sounded disgusting. I can now tell you that it is a rather pleasant experience, and it buys me at least a solid half hour of comfortable sleep. But unfortunately that trick doesn’t work with humidity. I’ve thought a bit recently about what large-scale agroforestry programs would mean for Mali. More trees would mean more rain, higher water tables, and more vegetation in general. Less erosion and higher quality crop production. And all of these things would mean more humidity. So I’ve been thinking of making bumper stickers like “Keep Mali Sand” or “Trees are Overrated” to prevent this from happening. I’ll let you know how it progresses. Did I mention I’ve had two boils in two weeks because of the heat? On my butt. Yeah – hot season is fantastic.

More on Mariam

I left you hanging on the outcome of Mariam’s visit to the hospital, and since so much has happened since our departure from Mandoli via donkey cart, I will waste no time in jumping back into the tale. After typical transport we arrived at what I believe is probably a pretty typical Malian hospital in Bandiagara. It is a sprawling complex with a handful of one-story concrete buildings. We were told that before Mariam could be admitted, she needed to undergo blood work. So we slowly made our way over to the lab to get tested. After the blood was drawn, the technician told us we would wait an hour for the results. But he neglected to cover her vein with gauze, and as I’m watching the blood bead at the needle site, I asked him if he planned to bandage it. He told me that he couldn’t find medical tape, and it would be fine. I assured him that we would gladly wait for him to find the tape. Not such a good start to our trip to the hospital. It continued in a similar pattern from there. After receiving the results (HIV+ of course- even though I knew the sheet would say that, it still broke my heart to see it written down), we headed back over to the first building to get our prescriptions. A wonderful Cuban doctor helped us out and reassured us that the medications would all be free, and that we could now check into her room. So we headed off to our third building of the day to deliver the script and get settled in. Upon arrival I tried to find out who to give the information to and what to expect. As a gruff man took the drug list, he told me that these drugs were not free for patients, but it didn’t matter, because they didn’t have most of them anyway. I told him that I was under the impression that the medication would be free for her, and that I learned this from a government health worker. “Well they’re not, and you heard wrong.” Frustrated, we went over to her room – two metal bed frames with bare plastic mattresses and a ceiling fan, those were the entire contents of the room. When I asked about the bathroom, I was told that Mariam would have to use the outhouse on the other side of the medical campus. It would have been a long walk for me, let alone someone that could barely stand unassisted. When I told the doctor that she would not be able to walk that far, he stole a bedpan from under the bed of a sleeping patient and gave it to me. It didn’t take me to long to notice that there was no help there – it was just the doctor, and a few random men sitting around making tea. There were no nurses to check on the patients, no bedpan removal, no food. Nothing. As I watched the other patients, I realized that their families were doing all of that work for them. Which in Mariam’s case was me. Poor Mariam. After she was settled in, I set out on my first task – to find us some food. Mariam had requested To, so I headed to the market to see what I could find. To apparently was a hot item that day, and every vendor I went to was sold out. A very generous teenager, Bintu, helped me out in my search, and she spent well over an hour walking around Bandiagara with me. Bintu even returned to the hospital to help me serve up the rice and sauce that I ended up buying. Mariam had gotten up while we were out and accidentally detached her IV, leaving a big puddle on the floor, and her without vital fluids – strike one against me. Once she was settled back into bed with a new IV, I knew that I was going to have to go out again to buy her some basic supplies: a kettle to wash with, soap, sheets and blankets, and maybe a mat for me to sleep on. I was exhausted, and I had only been there for about 8 hours. Luckily I telephoned a family, the Guindos, that I am friends with in Bandiagara, and they came to my rescue. They came over with dinner for us, and spent some time just visiting. It gave me the chance to go out and buy the supplies that Mariam needed. I picked up the goods, tucked Mariam in for the night, rolled out my mat for bed, and was just relaxing with the other relatives/caretakers, when I heard people in the distance asking about the toubab. Since I was the only toubab around, my ears perked up to find out what was going on. Out of the darkness appeared an older gentleman that I didn’t know telling me that he had someone that would like to see me. I didn’t have time to wonder who it could be before Dende stepped forward. She came! She did the right thing. Just when I had given up on her, she showed up to take care of her daughter. I was so proud of her. (But don’t be too proud of her, because she goes on to let me down again – but at that moment, I was very pleased.) And for as scared as Mariam’s own family was to deal with this situation, the real heroes to me were all of the strangers that helped me out. I could not believe the support that she received from people in Bandiagara while in the hospital. Bintu, the teenage girl from the market, even came back the next day with a friend to pay us a visit. I was so impressed with her maturity. My friend Hama came by to check on her regularly, and the Guindos provided all of her meals while she was there. Even now, over a month later, people that saw us arrive in Badiagara that morning for the hospital still ask me how my sick friend is doing. And the best part is that I can tell them that she is doing well and mean it. All right – that is enough for today. I’ll fill you in on disappointing Dende next time; I want to end on a high note.

There is actually power tonight in Sevare, so I will continue while the going is good.

Okay, so you are wondering what Dende did right? The morning after she arrived, an amazing man from an amazing NGO in Mopti came to talk to Mariam about HIV/AIDS. He works with the organization that provides the free drugs that the grumpy hospital employee was trying to convince me Mariam was not entitled to. I’m not sure how that situation got straightened out, but I am very grateful it did. His name is Mamadou, and he works with a shelter that provides free room and board for women living with HIV/AIDS, as well as educating people in the area about the disease. The shelter works in conjunction with another NGO that provides free health care and medications to AIDS patients. So combined they are able to provide full care at no cost for people with AIDS. Now that is what I am talking about. At the moment the women’s shelter could only afford one building for all of their needs, so the patients sleep on the office floor, and then in the morning they clear out to make room for the employees. The situation is a little crazy, and has future-Peace-Corps-project written all over it. But one thing at a time.

So Mamadou informed me that if Mariam could get her strength up over the next few days in Bandiagara, that she could transfer over to their facility in Mopti, where she would have everything provided for her. This was a great deal, because not only would she get all of the drugs she needed, she would be fed three meals a day. The Guindos were incredibly generous in feeding Mariam, but it was a strain, and this was causing Dende much stress. Within 12 hours of her arrival, Dende was saying that she was going to take Mariam home, and that the hospital was doing nothing for her, and she did not see the point of this. So when Mamadou showed up and explained the situation, he provided Dende with a good reason to hang in there for a couple more days. When he left it was decided that they would stay at the hospital until Mariam was strong enough to make the trip to Mopti, at most three or four days. I headed off to Bamako confident that everything was under control.

When I come back up to the region a week later, I find out that the same morning that I left for Bamako, Dende and Mariam went back to Mandoli. The same fucking day. So Dende stood there the night before and assured Mamadou and me that she would stay in Bandiagara, knowing full well that she was going to jump on the first transport back to village that she could grab. Why? So Mariam could go back to wasting away, I guess. I was furious. All that work for nothing. I couldn’t even look at her. Well thank goodness Mamadou does not have my attitude about it. He paid Mariam a visit in village to see how she was doing, and he told her that she looked well enough to make the trip to Mopti herself. My friend Bertha was visiting me at the time, and she suggested that we accompany her to the shelter on her way back to her village. So just like that everything was sunny again; even more so because now Dende did not even need to be in the picture – Mariam was able to do whatever she wanted in regards to her healthcare. As scheduled, the three of us went to Mopti, and had the opportunity to meet the staff and tour the facilities. What a fantastic place. All three of us were given huge portions of rice and sauce, and Mariam ate it all. When it came time for Bertha and I to head out, I heard a staff member inviting Mariam to play board games on the patio. Is it any wonder that Mariam hasn’t come back to village yet? Do you blame her? I’m actually planning on heading to the shelter tomorrow to see if anyone will invite me to play some Scrabble. So I would say that things have turned out pretty well for Mariam. She unfortunately has to deal with the fact that her mother is no mother at all, but she feels good, is surrounded by amazing people that care about her well being, and she is kicking ass and taking names in Parcheesi.