My Tribute to Grandma

 

Her name is Margaret Ellen Saczko, but to me she is “Grandma.”
She was born August 28th, 1924 and she lived a long life of 88 years until last Friday night when her soul parted and left her worn out body behind.  
Because Grandma lived either with my family or just a quick bike ride away all my life, the thought of “grandma” is almost synonymous for me with the thought of “home.”
I only knew her for the last 32 years of her life.  I can only remember Grandma as an old lady, but I know she was in fact young once upon a time, and I did learn a bit about her earlier years from the stories and photographs she would share with me. 
She was born in West Virginia and moved to Detroit, Michigan when she was still small, but she continued to pronounce the word wash as “warsh” for the rest of her life.  She was the firstborn child of deaf parents.  They went on to have 5 more children, and only my grandma and one boy were hearing. 
When I was little she taught me the sign language alphabet along with me learning to say my ABC’s.  When I was little we also played a lot of card games, and she would often sign the numbers while saying them.  “Do you have an 8?” while touching together thumb and middle finger. “No, go fish.”
When I was about 10 I really liked teddy bears.  Grandma picked up on that and I think I got teddy bear stuff from her for the next 5 birthdays and Christmases.
In her youth grandma developed a love for reading which continued throughout her life.  She used to visit the library and check out an enormous pile of books each time.  When her eyes couldn’t see well enough to read anymore, she listened for hours each day to books on tape with her machine from the Society for the Blind.  She was ready to tell about the story she was reading to anyone willing to listen.  Sometimes when she was ready to put the headphones back on she would say “well, I’m off to Scotland again” or “I’m going back to New York” or wherever the story in her book took place. 
During World War II my grandma worked in an airplane engine factory.  After that she spent many years working as a waitress, and she had stories from those days such as the time her customers in a fancy restaurant didn’t know what to do with their “finger bowls” of water, meant to be used to clean their hands, and they drank it, much to her amusement. 
At age 20 my grandma had her first baby and she gave birth to the last of 6 at age 40.  Somewhere in there she met my grandfather and there was a sweet love between them until my grandfather died shortly before I was born.  My mom is a middle child of the 6 kids and she and all of my aunts and uncles turned out to be exceptionally wonderful people.  Grandma’s eyes would shine with pride whenever she would talk about any of her kids or grandkids (or great-grandkids.)  She said that her legacy of her children and grandchildren was what she was most proud of and her greatest accomplishment in life.
After my grandfather’s death, my grandma earned a university degree and then moved from Detroit to join my family in Minnesota.  She kept herself busy with countless craft projects and by spending time caring for some of her 13 grandchildren and later some of her 7 great-grandchildren.
During my junior high and high school years Grandma lived on her own in a small apartment about a mile from our house.   She was always ready to welcome me over for a visit and even let me spend the night whenever I wanted.  Grandma never got mad or yelled; Grandma was there to give hugs and smiles and newton cookies.  She let me listen to her collection of old music and taught me silly songs like “Mairzy Doats.”  She loved old movies; especially the ones with lots of singing and dancing.  Sometimes she would ask me if I knew who so and so actor was, and I would have no idea who he was, I’d have to say “no Grandma, I think so and so was in the movies like 25 years before I was born.”  I watched every movie Shirley Temple ever made because Grandma had them all.
When I was in college Grandma moved in with my mom and lived with her in the big white house on 5^th Street for the last 12 years.   
A lot of things about Grandma made me smile.  Her standard outfit was pants, a shirt, slippers on her feet, and the ever present cobbler’s smock.  It was rare for any of the colors or patterns to match.  She smelled like Noxzema and baby powder – both of which she applied daily in large quantities. 
She enjoyed animals and sometimes would talk about pets she’d had before I was born, like Tiki the dog.  I do remember her big grey cat Smoky and how sad she was when he had to be put to sleep.  When I left for Africa my dog Rascal stayed behind with my mom, and at first she seemed kind of indifferent to him.  That didn’t last long and soon they were good buddies and Rascal was one of Grandma’s favorite topics of conversation.  It made me happy to see them playing fetch or tug of war with Grandma sitting in her chair by the windows.  Grandma gave him plenty of treats like the last bite of her daily peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white toast cut into squares.  She always drank instant coffee, chocolate Ovaltine, and lots of milk.  For dinner she wanted loads of butter put on everything, even the meat.  When I commented to my mom that it probably wasn’t good for Grandma to have quite so much butter every day, Mom replied that at 88 years old Grandma can do whatever she wants.  She took her dinner into her room to eat while watching the news or Wheel of Fortune. 
My grandma was entertained by moving musical toys.  Anyone who came into the house was likely to be shown the kicking leprechaun, the piano-playing snowman, or the birthday ScoobyDoo.
Strangers quickly became friends; anyone who came into the house was also likely to be hugged by Grandma before leaving.  This included people there to visit my mom, workers from Senior Friends, delivery people, and repairmen.  Grandma had enough hugs and enough love to go around.  She was called “Grandma” by many that weren’t her actual grandchildren.   

My mom told me that Grandma prayed with her and found peace with God 2 days before she passed away.  I rejoice to imagine that one day I will dance with my grandma on the streets of gold in heaven. 
Grandma was always there for me.  Things will never again be the same for me in going home.
She is no longer here with us, so I can’t hold her in my arms for any more hugs, but I will hold her forever in my heart.  I am proud to be part of the legacy of Margaret Saczko, my grandma.
I love you Grandma.

monkey business

Twice a month there is a small English meeting at a guesthouse.  It is nice to be able to get to know others this way, and nice to have an evening in English sometimes.  There is a monkey, Bella, who lives at the guesthouse (outside the guesthouse) and I am pretty fascinated by her.  I am fascinated, but at the same time I am a bit afraid of her.
I saw a thing on tv once about these crazy people who have pet monkeys - some of them dress them in clothes and treat them like their babies.  The program showed how some people would have these monkeys for years with no problem, and then suddenly one day the monkey would go crazy and bite their owner's face off.  It was pretty disturbing.
In the bottom photo the monkey is checking my friend's leg for bugs or at least lint to pick off.  Some people let Bella sit on their shoulder, and then she searches in their hair for bugs.  It is kind of cute, but I don't want to have my face bitten off, so I don't let the monkey climb on me.

Party at English School

After 3 months of English classes and some big final tests we celebrated the end of the semester on May 4th at English School.  All of the students who had sufficient attendance in class passed their final tests (written and oral) and were awarded completion certificates. 
It was a really fun morning to celebrate our accomplishments.  I didn't get a certificate but I felt like it was a bit of a graduation for me too, I made it through teaching my first 2 classes!  And it was even fun and I'm ready for more!

One of the teachers made the fabulous cake, and besides looking amazing it tasted great. 
The different colored tied up bags are frozen juices.  The red is bissap, a common drink here made by boiling some kind of hibiscus flowers, the orange is orange flavored juice, and the white is pinapple/coconut.  We were talking about ideas for the party and I said frozen juices would be nice (these are often handed out at weddings and parties) and I was put in charge of making that happen.  I thought I could order them from some lady, but I wound up making them myself.  To enjoy one of these frozen juices in a plastic bag we bite a little hole in a corner and drink what melts or kind of bite frozen bits out.  Its like a popsicle but less messy.

I made some good connections with some of these students.  Many of them will be continuing in their English studies at the school, so though I won't be teaching the same students next semester I will likely see them around.  We have 5 levels they can take.  I taught levels 1 and 3 and that is what I will do again when we start the new semester next week. 

 

picnic at the new land

Here are a few photos from the picnic we recently had with our group at the land that will one day be our base in Bamako.  It is a nice big piece of walled-in land with some good shade trees.  The first building is being built now and it will be for storage.  The land is still being paid for so that will be the only building until it belongs free and clear to our mission.  Up until now the base in Bamako has rented a building to serve as a base.  It will be so nice when the base can move to this land and we'll have all this space and there won't be rent to pay.

Here is Jean-Patrick (middle) with some others hanging out and cooking fish over a little charcoal grill for the picnic.   Ok, its really only Tantie Deborah who cooked the fish, the guys helped by eating it when it was ready. :)
JP is usually always at school and doesn't get to attend a lot of our meetings and activities.  The picnic was on Malian Labor Day so it was a day off work and school.

It was a nice day for a picnic, but I again managed to get myself sunburned.  It really isn't that difficult of a concept: very white folks like me need sunscreen when they will be out in the sun for more than a few minutes.  Hopefully I'll catch on to this one day soon. 

dog school

One of my English students mentioned that his dog is at dog school.  Huh?  Dog school?  Here in Mali?  I wouldn't have imagined that there was such a thing here. 
When I got my dog in the states I took him to obedience classes; a couple hours a few nights a week for a few weeks.  But the dog school that my student took me to visit is something quite different.  The dogs live at the school for many months, but my student was picking up his dog to take it home for a weekend visit.  He was going to bring it back on Sunday night. 
The dog school is within a large police/military compound in town.  The top picture shows the rooms the dogs are kept in, two to a room.  It seemed clean enough, like they hose the place down regularly, but it smelled pretty nasty over there.  The dogs are mostly German Shepherds and mixes of Malian dogs with German Shepherds.
The bottom picture shows one of the trainers giving a demonstration with one of the dogs.  Usually the dogs stay in their rooms during the hot hours of the day.  They do training early in the morning and after sunset.  But they made an exception for us and showed off what the dog could do.  It was mostly just sit, down, stay, come kinds of tricks, but we were shown that the dog will obey voice and/or hand commands. 
I've never seen police officers on duty with dogs here, but it seems like that is what most of the dogs were being trained for.  But my student is an accountant, so I guess the school is open to anyone ready to pay to have their dog trained. 

riding in taxis

 

Living in the big city and not having a car means that I take taxis pretty often.  I go to about 3 meetings a week outside of my neighborhood, so that makes for 6 taxi rides, 6 different taxi drivers.  It is kind of a drag having to walk the 1/4 mile to the paved road and wait for a taxi to come by and then discuss destination and price.  The taxis are not usually in great condition, and there is never air conditioning, so the windows are open and I have to wear a scarf on my head while I inhale dust and exhaust fumes from all the other vehicles on the roads.  But I try to think of it as an adventure (and if you know what traffic is like here you know that it isn't just simply getting from point A to point B, but it is in fact an adventure!)  And I try to chat with the taxi drivers and that can be at least interesting if not entertaining.  Sometimes they don't speak much French at all, so I try to communicate with them in Bambara, and that is always good for a laugh!
Probably every week I could share some kind of strange taxi story, but I'm not sure if everyone would find them as amusing as I do.  There are a few that I can share now though:

One time I opened the door (front door, it is normal to sit up front with the driver) and saw that there was a towel on the seat.  I touched it and it was pretty damp, so I got into the back of the taxi instead.  There was no towel there, but in sitting down I discovered that it was also wet.  I went to my meeting with a damp skirt that day.  They taxi had just been washed, not vacuumed, but washed with lots of water, and it hadn't quite dried yet.

In getting in a taxi I noticed a beeping sound coming from the dash.  It kept beeping, so I asked the driver what the problem was.  He laughed and said it just does that.  I had to listen to it for my 15 minute ride, and I got out very thankful that I didn't have to listen to it all day long like the taximan.

More than once I've been asked by a taximan if I am French.  This is kind of a compliment to my French-speaking ability, but more so it is a confirmation that French is not this guy's first language!

When I got in a taxi one day this week the taximan was smoking a cigarette.  He asked me if it bothered me and I said "no big deal."  The windows were all wide open, and I figure I am already breathing in plenty of nastiness just by being on the road!  He finished smoking and then proceeded to explain to me how terrible smoking is for one's health, that is gives people cancer, and that it is a waste of money. 

Also this week I took a taxi ride and the only money I had was a 10,000cfa note - equal to about $20.  This is the largest note and often very hard to break. The taximan did not have enough change (the price for my ride was 1,000cfa) so we had to stop near my destination so that I could buy some eggs and get change.  I walked into my meeting with a bag of eggs (no cartons here) but no one seemed to think that it was strange.

clogged up

 

There are a lot of un-magical moments and unglamorous chores to be done in life.  Cleaning out the shower drain for example.  I have to search for the pliers and pull out this drain cover thing to clean it every month or so.  The water starts draining really slowly and then I am standing in the shower with my feet in dirty water and I know that the solution is a quick and simple one, but disgusting. Most of what gets stuck seems to be white people hair.  Since I am the only white person in our apartment, I am the only one to blame (and the one who gets stuck with the gross job).  I look at the amount of hair on the drain cover and wonder how I am not yet bald.  Somehow I still have a very thick head of hair, like a hot blanket covering my head and neck in the heat.

Sometimes it seems like there are just days on end of things to do that are equally unexciting (though at least usually less yucky).  Day after day of extreme heat and power cuts becomes really exhausting.  And it’s just all of the little things that add up and then something suddenly becomes too much.  The other evening, after the power had already been out for 5 hours that day, it cut again.  It was around 8pm, so we had to do a pitch-black scramble for matches and candles.  It was now at 95 degrees in the house and the fans were not moving.  After having already endured 5 hours of being too hot and not having power I had just had enough for that day.  “Can we please go stay in a hotel?”  I asked Jean-Patrick.  Nice hotels have generators that run during power cuts so there is always air-conditioning. They also have nice swimming pools and restaurants.  Nice hotels in Bamako cost around $100 a night though, and we both knew that there wasn’t an extra $100 to be found in our budget.  JP offered to bring one of the plastic lawn chairs in from the veranda and put it in the shower for me to sit on and let water fall on me.  I didn’t take him up on that offer but instead went to sit and pout.  When I focus on all of the crummy stuff – like the nasty hair in the drain – it is easy to sit and pout.  It takes a conscious effort to remember and be thankful and change my focus to all of the good things – like a clean drain cover.  I choose to make that effort today.