And the real deal begins...

So I’m finally settling into my new village, Farakala, in the Sikasso region of Mali. One thing that I am unexpectedly spoiled with out here in Sikasso is the beautiful green colors, rolling hills and magenta colored flowers. The only thing that’s missing is the MN lakes. This region is known as Mali’s green belt … I got pretty lucky being placed here.

So far at site I’ve been wandering and greeting and that alone seems to fill up my day pretty well. I like greeting and drinking tea with people I just don’t really like how Malians shake your hands. Their hand shakes are all limp, like grabbing onto a fish fin or something. My favorite parts of the day are probably the very early morning and just before bed when the stars are out and the air is crisp. In the morning, I wake up around 630 and drink a cup of tea outside my hut before taking off for a run. As I sit there I see the ladies heading out to their fields with baskets stacked on their heads. My wall is high enough that it covers their bodies so it looks like tons of baskets are floating by outside my concession. I also have a lot of flowers around my place so there are always tons butterflies dancing about my yard. My house is comfortable and peaceful and although I’m deep into the village, I feel pretty damn safe there.

When I run in the morning the men that sleep under their trucks on the side of the road usually follow me for a while mimicking my seemingly strange behavior. One time I actually took off to race one of them and he beat me by a lot. They’re all very friendly they just don’t understand the concept of exercise. I tried to introduce yoga to my host dad the other day and I’m pretty sure he actually thought I was joking. He told me that soccer was the only real sport. Soccer usually brings bundles of howling men together around tiny, battery powered TVs in the village. I always know when there’s a game going on because they’re clumped around and noisy. You hear a lot of “ehhallah!” When the game is over the sound of the mottos are out.

My next-door neighbors dry their peanuts in my yard and they also use my nyegen (shit hole) because the storms took theirs down. They are a family of four and sometimes I go over there at night to cook or chat. Tene, the 19 yr old daughter, comes over a lot with her friends and we pastel and listen to bluegrass. She also tried to hide her boyfriend in my house once when her dad was home and I was out. I told her she was a ‘sketchball’ and now she uses that word a lot. At the end of everyday her and her mom give me a bucket of peanuts, which I usually fry, salt and eat the next day. One of my favorites snacks nowadays. I also got a huge tub of peanut butter from a stranger I met on the street. I greeted her and somehow we got to talking about how much I liked peanut butter and the next day she showed up at the my house with a tub full of peanut butter on top of her head.

One of my host moms, Kadiatu, is an amazing cook and recently I’ve been going over to her house in the evening to sit with her and watch her cook. I tried to help a few times but realized she doesn’t need my help so I just kinda hang out, eat peanuts and we chat over tea when the meal is over. The other day we showed me the various spices she grows in her garden and then I told her about constellations and space. Her 3 yr-old son, Lucien, is always hanging around us too. At first Lucien was scared of me but now were buds. The other day, he came into the boutique that my host dad owns and saw me sitting there by myself so he set down the plastic bottles he was carrying and came over to greet me with a high-five and then sat down on my feet. It made me miss Marley.