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Published: September 25th 2008
When I had left off before, we were in the process of arranging for and moving into our new house. We settled that up the following day (Sunday), but, wow, what a chaotic day! Things started off at a brisk pace with an early breakfast and a visit by Georges, who wanted to see the house we were to rent. Whilst checking it out, I suffered immediate stomach distress. Fortunately we were not much over a half-mile from the hotel, but lurching slowly over the deeply rutted dirt roads nearly ruined me. I made it to the hotel and Nora took off with Georges again (to do what, I no longer remember). As I waited for her, I typed up our rental contract (don’t ask me why we were charged with this task), after which we took a taxi to the ATM to withdraw money for the first couple of months’ rent and our hotel charges. We returned to the hotel, packed up all of our belongings and sat out on the patio for Georges to pick us up. By then I was feeling weaker and weaker, as I felt no desire to eat or drink anything. We went back to the landlord’s house to deliver the signed contract and pay the rent, which felt like a painfully long process, and then we went back to the new house, so that he could tell us what work would be done. By the time that was over with, I was in a horrible condition. I was barely able to stagger back to Georges’ car to be rushed to his wife Panda’s restaurant. It wasn’t even noon yet.
The horizontal car ride to Panda’s restored me enough to make it into her restaurant without falling on my face, but I managed to sit down at the table for all of five minutes before my head began to swim. I hastily stumbled to a screened-in corner of the restaurant where there was a sofa to lie on, no matter the intimate lunch between an older white man and a young African woman that I was interrupting (Nora later insisted that she had to be a prostitute—I guess that I’m naïve). Panda fed me a couple of cups of warm sugar and salt water and then led me to a room off of the patio with a bed where I could convalesce.
The next couple of hours I was in a fog, alternating between shuffling to the bathroom and lying dazed on the bed. During this time, Nora managed to negotiate the purchase of a bed, a table, a desk, some chairs, and other household items from Panda. By mid-afternoon, a truck was parked in the patio with workers loading these items up. By 3:30, I had recovered from my dehydration enough to ride to our house and help unload our things. We spent the remainder of the evening thoroughly cleaning out the house, which was covered in dust and grime from the red dirt outside. That night, we received a visit from a Peace Corps volunteer who picked up the medical supplies that we had brought with us. I unfortunately had to lie down not long after she arrived, but I could here snippets of her conversation with Nora in the other room. From what I gathered, she was in love with Mali, although she found Bamako to be a bit overwhelming (she lived just a few hours to the north in a small village). She left with the open invitation to visit her—we definitely look forward to taking her up on it.
Since then, we have begun to adjust to our new house and lifestyle. Although few could tell by the poor condition of the road and the mildewing concrete walls lining the streets, we live in a moderately upscale part of town. Our house has four rooms, a large main room that resembles the garage of a southern California villa, two bedrooms, and the bathroom. The floors are all tiled, and though the yard is amply shaded, there are enough windows so that sunlight sufficiently lights the house during the day. Directly across from our small front porch area is a small building. On the street side is the garage, and on the back side, facing our front door, is the kitchen. It’s small and humble—until Panda gave us a propane stove, only the sink distinguished it as kitchen—but it’s rat-proof (and that is important, given the large number of rats, mice, and little ferret-looking rodents that we’ve seen here). In front of the house and beside of the garage and kitchen is a small shaded yard. Unfortunately, it looks (and smells) like it’s been under water for the past few months. On the side of our house are the concrete washbasins for the laundry and a clothesline (as in Mexico, I’m back to washing clothes by hand). Behind that is an outdoor latrine, which is now being used by our “guard”, because living in a moderately upscale neighborhood means that we are obligated to employ others for their services, whether we need them or not (does this legitimately make me a socialist?). So, now we pay $60/month for a guard to chill outside of our gate all night with the other guards in the neighborhood. We also pay a couple of guys to sweep and collect the trash twice a month. Even the neighborhood kids look for handouts via errands. We have learned quickly that we will burn right through our money if we’re not careful!
Other than that, we’re slowly learning the ropes. We’ve ventured to one of the big markets a couple of times. It’s pretty intimidating, and I have to rely on my elementary Bamana for a lot of it, but the prices there are much better than the nearby mini-markets and stands, where a pot can cost $50. We’ve also been hanging out with our landlord’s nephew, Sory, quite a bit. Unlike his uncle, he doesn’t seem the least bit sleazy, and he has been quite helpful with letting us know where to go to get the best prices for things. Just about every afternoon he comes over to read over my Bamana textbook with me. I’m teaching him English, and he is helping me with Bamana. It’s a pretty sweet deal. It’s also hilarious to hear the way he contorts his voice speak English. We must sound so strange to the people here!
Aside from that, Nora and I manage to get a few hours of work done each day, she on her public health projects, and I on my translating the materials for my research. We take breaks from time to time, to wander down the main road to the bakery to get fresh croissants, or to visit with the large group of boys who are eternally playing in the street outside of our house (we don’t see many girls playing in our neighborhood). Like the kids in Mexico, some are eager to help me with my slowly developing language skills, whereas others engage in subtle mockery and not-so-subtle plotting to bilk us for money. However, they are super-helpful when needed. There’s a clear hierarchy amongst them, with the older kids dictating orders to the younger kids. All we have to do is ask one of the older kids where we can purchase something or other, and immediately he’s calling a younger kid and telling him to go and purchase the items for us. And now that they know us, they’re in the habit of bringing us tea at night.
Everything is so different here that most things feel pretty surreal, from negotiating minor exchanges in French and Bamana to our new guard, who sleeps in the garage during the day and hangs out at night. Even the passage of time is hard to perceive clearly. Our days are packed with activity, but time seems to pass slowly. It’s interesting for sure, and by the time that we get used to things we’ll be off again—apparently Save the Children is sending Nora off on interviews during most of the month of November. I’ll be with her, so I want to make sure to strengthen my language skills so that I can engage in more nuanced conversations with people.
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Sarah Wilson
non-member comment
yay!
glad to hear you are both settling in well!