sarah in bamako

How is it already Thanksgiving?

There is one week left to finish my research. As much as this freaks me out, I am trying to make peace with the idea of making do with what I have and just trying to crank out a solid paper. I fear that I may have forgotten how to write well. We’ll see.

It’s beautiful out! I mean, it’s still hot but there is a cool breeze and sometimes I even wear a long-sleeved shirt at night. The other night, I went to see a pretty well-known griotte named Saranba Kouate sing. She was so fabulous, and dressed in hot pink sequins from head to toe. Oumou Sangare has a concert next today at the big stadium downtown, and my sisters and I are going to try to get tickets. Yesterday was another holiday-Tobaski, and in honor of the holiday every family slaughtered a goat as a sacrifice. There were goats everywhere. I think they knew their destiny, too, but my friend said that they are happy to be sacrificed because then Allah will look favorably upon them. Ok.

I’m  borrowed my older sister Fanta’s bazin, too! Did I already tell you about bazin? It’s this shiny, crisp material that everyone wears for special occasions. There are different levels of it, and the higher you go the more expensive it is. You can take it to a woman to have it dyed the color of your choice, and then to the tailor to have it crafted into a complet, or an outfit. If you think I’m making this sound more intense than it actually is, you’re wrong. People literally take days off from work to prepare their bazin. I originally thought it was pretty ugly but it has definitely grown on me, and I wanted to be a vrai Malienne (a real Malian). 

I also want to tell you about rasta culture here because I think it’s so interesting. First of all, pretty much anyone with dreads is said to have “rasta hair,” and anyone considered to be a “rasta” is assumed to be a drug addict. So there are two different types of rastas, one generally comes from Senegal and is part of this weird cult and they wear really wacky multicolored clothing and walk up and down the street asking people for money all day and talking about how everyone should learn Wolof and join their cult and be saved. It’s so weird, apparently some guy in Senegal just started calling himself a Marabout (it’s kind of like a prophet) and people started following him. Like Jesus, I guess.

Then there are other rastas who ok yes, they smoke pot but they are more low-key and into music and sometimes sketchy but sometimes not. For example, my friend Yaya is a “rasta” but he’s super serious and not at all creepy, and he makes a living as a musician which is worth something considering the outrageous amount of unemployment in this country. Not to mention he has this one dread with three cowrie shells and one of those little silver pieces of metal. I mean, that’s not at all significant I just think it’s super cute.

Anyway, the point is that rastas are so stigmatized here! Also, I found this article on JSTOR but haven’t had a chance yet to read called “Rastafari in the Promised Land:  The Spread of a Jamaican Socioreligious Movement among the Youth of West Africa” and I am dying to read it. If anyone gets a chance to, take notes and send them to me!

I have a bad cold, but still no malaria. As a result, this is the exchange I have twenty times per day:

Allah ka nogoya ke.

Amiiiiiiina!

Winter is coming. It’s like 80 degrees today— brrr!

Research is going well, and as a result I’ve been exploring a different part of the city. There are a few neighborhoods clustered together where most of the cool places to see music are located, plus I’ve made a bunch of good friends who live around there. So between my interviews and hangin’ out, I’ve been spending a lot of time in Tomikorobougou, Lafiabougou, Badialan, etc. Oh and I met Toumani Diabate the other day, no big deal.

I’m still struggling with the idea of doing research for the sake of doing research, but I think I am slowly making peace with it. Somehow, my project turned out to be prettty feminist. During and after my interviews, I often detect a change in the women whom I am speaking with. I think that they feel really good to know that their experiences and opinions are legitimate enough to be included in a research study. Plus, they are super interested in the types of activism that I am involved in at home. It’s great.

Hm…what else is up? How about that health care bill? I read a really good editorial in the NYT that explained a few tweaks that would make the Senate version of the bill not at all too shabby. On va voire, (we’ll see).

Meryl I can’t believe you wouldn’t save me in a tumblr fire. ;)

Finals are over and I am in the middle of a tour of Mali. So far, the group has traveled to Segou (once a powerful Bambara kingdom), Djenne (contains the famous mud mosque), Dogon Country (with its cliff villages and magical traditions) and now we are in Mopti, a cosmopolitan city on the Niger River. The vacation has been really wonderful and relaxing, but I am ready to return to Baltimore and be finished with tourist traps and bumpy bus rides.

Meryl told me in an email that she wants to hear about my research, so this is a special request. After many changes in direction and changes of heart, I will be focusing on girls in youth movements in Mali. I have already conducted two interviews, one in Segou and one in Bamako, with girls who are active in youth associations. One is the president of the Parliament African des Jeunes and one is a member of the administration for the Association des Eleves et des Etudiants du Mali (AEEM). The AEEM played a major role in the military coup of 1991 that brought democracy to the country. Both of these interviews were super inspiring, and I have been getting a lot of encouragement from my classmates, professors and interviewees. I am getting the impression through reading scholarly literature and from my interviews that many people worldwide are paying attention to Malian youth as indicators of what the future will bring to the country’s social, economic and political future. It will be rewarding for me to document this phenomenon from the perspective of women, who currently play an important role in the development of Mali.

I just received a text message, but I haven’t yet quite cracked the text messaging code that young people use in Mali. During my voyage, I have been receiving phone calls and text messages from my family and friends in Bamako asking about my well-being and my activities. It’s pretty cute.

When we get back to Bamako, many of the other students will be leaving to conduct their research in other parts of the country. This includes two of my three closest friends on the trip; one is going to the Western region of Kayes near Senegal and one is going to a village about 50km from the city. C’est pas grave, though (No big deal). We will all reconvene at the end of the semester to present our findings to the rest of the group. Also, I feel as though I have a pretty solid social network and a supportive family to keep me occupied. 

I have extended my trip until the 22^nd of December. I am already trying to figure out a feasible way to come back to Mali.

I hope all is well in the U.S.

Biz! (kisses!)

Listening to: Leaving Home by The Mountain Goats

Listening to: A Different City by Modest Mouse

Listening to: Africa by Amadou and Mariam

Listening to: Massaké by Habib Koite

Listening to: [Everything] by Salif Keita

Listening to: Yere Uolo by Rokia Traore

Listening to: Bolon Jazz (myspace.com/bolonjazz)

Listening to: Live reggae music every Friday night at Djembe.

There is this symbol from the film Hedwig and the Angry Inch that has always held a lot of meaning for me. It looks like two halves of a circle, with two strange eyes. Whatever the specific reasons for my gravity toward this symbol and the concepts associated with it in the movie, the basic significance for me is the notion of being, or becoming, whole. I have been thinking about this a lot lately and especially since my arrival here in Mali. As a result of my trip thus far, I have noticed three major changes in my life. My language skills (French and Bambara) have flourished, I have adapted to a completely different culture, and I have grown emotionally. I think that in order to understand yourself, it is important to observe environments that you like and ones that you don’t. My immediate love for Mali has helped me to realize a lot about who I am and what makes me feel comfortable. Because of these realizations and the wonderful experiences I have been having here, I feel so much more whole. Not bad for a study abroad trip, huh? My journey has solidified a lot of my beliefs and parts of my identity. It has also opened up many new and important questions for me in terms of cross-cultural organizing, development, and geopolitical hegemony.

I just got back to Bamako from spending a week in a village called Sanankoroba. From what I understand, the village is much more typical of Malian life than Bamako and it was enlightening to see the stark contrast between the two regions. I was only thirty minutes outside of the city, and yet so much of what I have learned and read about Mali was astronomically more salient in Sanankoroba than it is in Bamako. The sense of community in village neighborhoods is stronger, and decisions are made by consensus among villagers. Most of the work is done in the fields, and gender roles seem more egalitarian. There is less to eat, yet people seem happier. The sky at night is so covered in stars that you barely need a flashlight to walk around. My friend and I lodged together with a family in Sanankoroba, and we spent a lot of time with our host brother. Each night, he took us to the spot where he and his peer group hang out and drink tea. We taught them some English, and they helped us with Bambara. We had discussions for hours about Malian politics, American rap stars, Barack Obama, war, and their past girlfriends. Our new family and friends welcomed us warmly, and after only one week we were heartbroken when we had to leave.

Oh, and I finally (finally!) have a topic for my ISP. It is almost ridiculously obvious: GIRLHOOD! I think that I am going to focus on girlhood in terms of youth organizing, or youth movements in Mali. I couldn’t be more excited about it. When I got home today, the little kids in my house came running toward me singing my name. My Tonton and two aunts complained about how much they missed me. Thinking about leaving this place is overwhelming.

Allah ka tile here caya. (Have a peaceful day.)

I came here to do research. Each student in my program has one month to complete an Independent Study Project (ISP) on a topic of her choosing. Initially, I had this grandiose idea to study elements of women’s oral traditions in contemporary Malian music. Soon after I arrived, however, I wrote that off as some esoteric nonsense that would contribute nominally to a body of knowledge with the potential to bring about positive social change. Then I became fascinated with abortion—do women have abortions in Mali? Why, when and how? Where? Who has them, and who provides them?

Returning to the idea of ostensibly proactive and “ethical” research- I am struggling with this. I checked a book out of the library at my school called Women’s Words: The Feminist Practice of Oral History, and I read an article in it by Daphne Patai titled U.S. Academics and Third World Women: Is Ethical Research Possible? Everyone should read this article! It begins: “The short answer to the question posed by my subtitle is, in my view, “No.” Ok, so doing research on human beings who occupy a rung lower than me on the ladder of geopolitical and socioeconomic hierarchy is inherently problematic. I still need to do this research project. In her article, Patai articulates many of the internal struggles I have been experiencing while thinking about research, and she provides some helpful advice for those engaged in academic feminist research. “No controversy attends the fact that too much ignorance exists in the world to allow us to await perfect research methods before proceeding,” she suggests, “Ultimately we have to make up our minds whether our research is worth doing or not, and then determine how to go about it in ways that let it best serve our stated goals.”

So, in an effort to minimize the ethical and personal obstacles involved in doing this project, I have naturally been thinking a lot about privilege. Why do I have the right to quench my academic curiosity about Malian women’s experiences with abortion? Can research really contribute to change, or does it inevitably perpetuate the power dichotomy between the so-called first and third worlds? During one of my first classes here, my Academic Director Modibo explained to my class that in order to understand the world, one must first know “what goes on.” Indeed, it is important to know what goes on in the world in order to understand the world, and it is essential to understand the world if you want to change the world. Right?

            I recently befriended a doctor who works at a very prestigious hospital in Bamako, and he has been very encouraging and helpful so far in the process of hashing out my idea. He did some research for me (unsolicited- people in Mali are so extraordinarily kind) and found a few theses in the hospital university library on abortion. Although this topic might prove to be too difficult, the information that he gave me definitely provided me with some ideas about how I am interested in conducting my research.   

            I think that I am always going to feel uncomfortable about doing research. I also think that, like one of my classmates thoughtfully pointed out, this is what makes me the right person to do this research. I expect that the results of my research will reflect the fact that I acknowledge the power imbalance inherent in this project, that I will attempt to always be aware of the ways in which I interpret and represent my subjects, and the fact that I ultimately hope that my thesis will, in some and indirect way, change the world.

            Stay tuned for a more general and less philosophical blog post. Walai! (I swear!)

Today is Independence Day! It’s the grand finale of a five day string of partying; the fête never stops here in Mali. I’m super bummed that I am one year short of being in Mali for the 50th anniversary of independence; I guess I’ll have to come back next year.

One of my favorite things to do here is take the Cotrama, the big green vans that transport folks to the downtown area and back. It’s basically the equivalent of riding the subway, the one difference being that I stick out like a sore thumb. I don’t really mind people staring at me though, and I’ve had only positive experiences interacting with people on the Cotrama. There is generally an elderly woman to help me find my stop or make sure that I receive the correct change. When I rode to the boite last night, there was a group of young girls in their complets- gorgeous outfits made of colorful fabric- giggling and conversing in rapid Bambara. It was really, really cute.

When you tell the conductor- who is basically hanging out of the side of the van -that you want to get off, he bangs on the side of the vehicle and the Cotrama comes to a screeching halt. One time a woman climbed on and starting screaming at the top of her lungs at the conductor for who knows why. Things got pretty heated, and the woman sitting next to me and I were shooting glances at each other the whole time. Oh, Mali.

Next weekend I will be travelling with my classmates to a village called Sikasso. I don’t want to leave Bamako, but it will be nice to see another part of the country. While Bamako maintains the distinct culture of Mali, it is indeed a big city and thus not an accurate representation of the entire country.

Sort of like, you know, that other city that I really love. (hey everyone in bklyn- send me emails!)

On god, etc.

First of all, I am a little miffed because I think that The Retriever Weekly published the first draft of an article that I sent in, which I revised and thought was not going to get into the paper. Oh well. The second one was better. Sorry everyone.

So… le moi de Karem, or the month of Ramadan, is about to come to an end. This means that Muslim families in Mali (about 85%) are going nuts trying to prepare for the upcoming celebration, marking for many the end of a long and difficult month of fasting, praying and contemplation. The celebration, or fête, will either occur this coming Sunday or Monday depending on when the Commission of the Moon (no I am not making this up) sees the moon and declares the holiday officially over. The grand marché is a circus right now, with everyone buying new clothes for their family members and other goods for the fête. Local tailors are working day and night, pumping out intricately embroidered outfits and pagnes (traditional skirts) made of fancy fabrics. Aside from eating, which I understand is the main event of the fête, the chef de la famille (head of the family) will visit neighbors and extended family members, bestowing upon them benedictions as it is the day one hopes to be pardonned by Allah.

Coinciding with all of this holiday preparation is the Jewish holiday of Rosh Hashanah, followed by Yom Kippur roughly one week later. Tomorrow I will be going to the Niger River with some other students to throw bread into the water, a traditional Rosh Hashanah practice. What I have been thinking about a lot amidst this overlap of my former and present cultural surroundings is the idea of, and my own views on, god. Many people I know in America, and on this trip with me, consider themselves Atheist or Agnostic. I include myself in this group of “non-believers,” although I don’t often identify myself as an atheist unless I have the opportunity to qualify my stance. I do not believe in god, in the sense the he or she is a force watching over us, making decisions about our lives, and pulling the strings of history. However, I can get behind many of the personal implications of believing in a god like the ones I have noticed here in Mali.

For example, yesterday I was at the grand marché when - true the current season - a terrential downpour commenced. I asked my new friend Amadou how long he thought the rain would last, and he replied in French, “Only God knows.” Duh. I think I have a proclivity for this kind of thinking, a concession to the fact that we don’t control the world and that one ought to take things in stride. It has also been interesting to observe the tolerant brand of Islam practiced here, one that incorporates many aspects of Malian culture. The version of hospitality that I have experienced here is like nothing I have ever known. And on and on. I guess my point is that the loss of god is an interesting phenomenon, and I am curious about the trend. Is it a privilege to eschew the notion of organized religion and an almighty god? Is there something inherent to my generation that provides us with the rational thought to see beyond these notions? Do my mostly white, middle-class and educated friends and I have something to replace the notion of god, something to help us cope and understand the world? Are science and logic enough? Do we have each other? Do we really have each other?

There is so much else to say, but I need to weed through my email and get back to my day. I am currently working on a photo assignment for class which is to choose a theme, shoot 10 photos related to the theme, and then write a short paper explaining my experience and rationale. I chose to take photos of the Obama merchandise, paintings, graffiti, etc., that is all over the city. My assignment is appropriately titled “Obamako” thanks to my girl Djene, creative genius. It’s really fascinating to talk to people here about what it means for them to have Obama as president of the United States, and what their views are of the country in general.

I am still working on uploading photos. I promise they will be here soon.

Still couldn’t be happier here in Bamako. Missing you all, but already dreading leaving my new home.

Ka tile here chaya. Kan be sooni. Have a peaceful day. See you soon.