First 3 months at site...it happens

No one word can better sum up my PCV life thus far than one of my 4-lettered favorites that apparently is such a regular part of my jargon here that local kids are asking me what it means. But since I know my mom and grandmother read this blog (and are probably the  only ones who still do–thanks, guys!), I’ll just delicately call it, “poop.”

Yes, poop. For the past few months I’ve had lots of it (though sometimes not enough, and most often the wrong color), smelled it, collected buckets of it, heard lots of it, and put up with more than my fair share of it.

Other than a week in Bamako getting treated for malaria back in January (and the occasional minor cut/injury)–which was actually a really fun break from site, post-symptoms–I’ve been healthy. Of course, that’s relative. “Mali-healthy” is just another way of saying, “my stomach didn’t completely turn inside-out today, and I wasn’t hit by a moto.” The amount of poop (humans, donkeys, cows, chickens, goats, you name it) around rural Malian villages is insane. Having a stuffy nose the past week has been a God-send…

As an ENV PCV, I get the pleasure of specializing in gardening/crop growth–which requires lots of the above poop. Collection is not a terribly long task….The other day, as I was gathering cow/donkey turds for low-water-tree planting (thanks, last year’s drought, for wreaking havoc on West African water/food supply), my host father’s 2nd wife (from whom I hear the most poop) was making fun of me for taking them with a plastic bag. After all, you eat with your right hand only; wiping (and apparently collecting) poop is why we have a left hand. Duh.

Hearing “poop” from villagers is starting to become more common now that they know me well and my Malinke’s improved (thanks to a very intensive week-long visit from a PC language tutor). It’s getting very frustrating to hear, everyday, that I don’t work or do anything. In PC, the first 3 months are all about learning your community, improving your language, and gaining acceptance; you can’t start projects or apply for funding during this time–and often PCVs aren’t granted funding at all during their first year. Also, Malians highly respect physical labor; studying/reading isn’t seen as work (yet another reason I find this country so backwards), so I constantly hear how Americans don’t work hard. Physically, Malians definitely have to labor harder than we do–but we definitely work smarter. Since I don’t take too well to anyone who criticizes either my intelligence or work ethic, this can be a challenge…I know Malians have a different sense of humor, and though some “jokes” would be seen as rude or offensive in the US, they’re meant to be taken lightly here….My favorite phrase to hear: “You don’t speak Malinke/Bambara [depending on where I am]“–because if that were true, I’m sure I’d have no clue you just insulted me…

All in all, I knew going into PC the first few months are the most difficult. I wasn’t anticipating this time to be a breeze, but it’s much more difficult in ways I hadn’t expected. The biggest challenges are definitely mental/emotional–and only by the grace of the new cell network at site have I not lost my poop on a Malian, as many others (including the 2 PCVs who were posted at my site in previous years) have–now I can just call up either my sitemate (in a village 3km away) or another Mad Hatter to bitch about Mali/ans, and to be reminded that I’m not the only one hearing a lot of the same Malian poop daily.

Just under 4 weeks left til Mad Hatter IST (read–2 weeks in Bamako with 40 other Americans)…just keep chuggin’…