On to Greener Pastures

We just got our first substantial rain two days ago - and the villagers are breathing a collective sigh of relief. June was a tough month; normally the rains start early in the month, and our area didn't see a drop until mid-month, and even that wasn't enough to allow for planting. But the storm yesterday sent everyone out to the fields, and I expect that when I return to village at the end of the week (I just came down to Bamako yesterday), everything will be greening up, and the village will feel like a ghost town with everyone busy in the fields.

But I will have my own fields to go back to as well. Now that the well is finished, I can begin to plant the trees that will be used for live fencing in the garden, mark the plots for the women, and begin planting my demonstration garden. I couldn't be happier. I love going out to the garden everyday to check on the progress of the seedlings, watch the water creep up the well (the water is at least two meters deep - and that was before the big storm the other day), and just enjoy the quiet that has replaced the chaos of the past few months.

I don't want to go into too much detail because it is upsetting, and I just want to move on to the work that lies ahead for the garden, but I will quickly touch on how the well work ended. No surprise, considering how the entire job went, the project ended poorly. The masons denied ever speaking to me about a salary issue (where they wanted more money and I showed them the budget to let them know that it was not a possibility), and because in my stupidity I spoke to them without a third party present, they just said that the conversation never happened, put words in my mouth, and left me with few options. The real kicker was that my former homologue took their side and said that all of the problems with the project were my fault. He also said that the only reason that I was in village or was integrated was thanks to him, and that he is the sole reason that the garden project even got completed. When I asked him to leave my house, he refused, saying that it was more his house than mine. This is coming from a man who chooses to speak in Bamabara in village because he doesn't know the Dogon dialect well enough to converse comfortably, and has spent approxiamately 85% of my service living in another county. What an asswipe. And the cherry on top was that the masons, after all of this, stole $100 worth of tools and explosives from the worksite. Tools that the village still needs to use for the unfinished valley well.

So this, along with unforseen project expenses, left me financially drained, but surprisingly okay otherwise - I think that it was just such a relief to be rid of the masons and all of the accompanying stress that they brought with them. The rains helped to wash all of that away too. It is a start of a new season, and there is still work to be done, so I feel really positive about my last few months. I am eager to see the garden full of healthy green things that will grow if I feed them and won't cheat me out of money or call me a liar.