kicking and screaming

There wasn't actually any screaming, but I kind of felt like I wanted to scream.  I have just experienced frustration of a sort that I feel a need to write about it to let it all out.
It is the morning.  First I got myself all dressed up in a nice outfit - that is, an ankle length wrap skirt and a matching top sewn from brightly colored and not at all stretchy African cloth.  Then I spent time putting on makeup and doing my hair in the hopes of looking nice for my meeting.  After packing my purse with the long strap that can be worn across the body, I grabbed the key to our motorcycle and locked the door of the house.  This is when the trouble started.  Our motorcycle has a nice little start button (not what you see pictured, I just pulled that off the internet) but it hasn't been working for a while.  So it needs to be kick-started.  However, that is certainly easier said than done while wearing an ankle length non-stretchy skirt and a pair of plastic flip flops, even under normal circumstances.  The motorcycle hasn't been used a lot since JP is out of town, but even if I am not going to ride it I make sure to start it and let the motor run a bit every few days. The last time it was started up, a few days ago, a friend was over so he started it for me.  He commented that it was hard to start and the battery seemed weak.  He did manage to start it though.  So this morning I hiked up my long skirt and tried my very hardest at kick-starting the motorcycle.  Over and over again.  I gave it all my effort.  I think I may have discovered a new exercise routine!  Attempting to kick-start the motorcycle was actually very physically demanding.  And the temperature, even at 10am, was at least 80 degrees, and right now the humidity level is also at least 80%.  So after many minutes of failed attempts I had sweat streaming down everywhere, including my face, making the nice fresh makeup look I had applied only a memory.  The meeting is only a 20 minute walk away, but by this point if I walked I would have been about 30 minutes late.  And I would have gotten there dripping with sweat.  Yuck.  And I was really too frustrated to be able to calmly sit for a few hours in the meeting.  So I went back in the house and took a shower.  I think that the motorcycle just needs a new battery.  I hope that is all it needs.  What I need is to wear a stretchy t-shirt and a pair of shorts while I stay in the house and read a bit, and then maybe I'll even make a cup of tea.  Yes, that sounds calm and soothing. 

big rain and my post office tour

We aren't out of the rainy season yet.  It isn't raining every day now though, so there will be a few very sweaty humid days between rains.  This morning it RAINED.  Here is a picture I stole off my friend's fb page from when they went out to drive somewhere this morning in the big rain.  Usually you can see a paved road where all that brown muddy water is.  On the right side there is a gutter, but it has overflowed. A lot. 
We stay home when it rains if at all possible.  To get a taxi I have to do a 5 minute walk out to a main road, and before today I didn't even have an umbrella.  Besides, its pretty hard to find a taxi when its raining, so its just not a good plan to go out.  Sometimes there will be light rain for a while, but typically when it rains, it really comes down hard.  And you can see in the picture what a lot of roads here look like when that happens.  So its just better to wait out the rain like most Malians do. 
Well, the rain stopped this morning by 11 and it was still clear at 3pm when I decided to go downtown to the post office to get the package that my mom sent to me.  She sent it 2 weeks ago and I figured it must be here by now because previous packages she sent to us here in Bamako had arrived in 8-10 days. (there are dates stamped on them when they arrive at the post office)  When we lived in the small town the postman knew my name and he would give me a phone call if a package came for me.  That's pretty good service - not as good as home delivery like in the states, but I was quite happy with that system.  Here in Bamako they put a notice in your post office box when a package arrives.  The problem with that is that the post office box is for my group and I might not get the notice for quite some time.  Someone from the group (not me) checks the box periodically.  If there was a notice they would bring it back to the base with them and give it to me the next time they saw me I suppose.  I knew when my mom sent the package and I thought it must be here already.  Plus, there are some things in it for my English classes that start on Monday. 
So I got dressed in a nice Malian outfit and walked the 5 minutes to get a taxi.  The rain started up just after I got in the taxi and we started heading downtown.  The rain continued until I was in the 2nd taxi to head back home again. No joke.  The whole time I was downtown it was pouring rain. 
I got dropped off across from the Central Post Office.  It was my first time there.  I ran across the street and up the steps and I was basically soaking wet just from the few seconds it took to do that.  Inside the post office there was some random man who asked me a lot of questions and then told me to follow him to the package place.  I ran behind him, jumping over puddles and getting even more wet, to another building.  In that building a woman looked in a register book to see if she could find my name/my package listed.  This is the Central Post Office in the capital city of a country with 16 million people, and the woman is looking at a hand written ledger to try to track my package.  I guess there are bigger problems here that need to be tackled before getting a computerized postal system, but still...  The woman said that my package hadn't arrived yet.  The random man (who was waiting there with me) told me to follow him to another building.  I had no reason not to, so I ran through the rain again with him.  He asked where my umbrella was and I said I didn't have one, that I needed one.  We entered a door and could see nothing but P.O. boxes.  I've never seen so many P.O. boxes.  Then we went upstairs and there were more.  He found a worker behind a little window and I talked to him.  His name was Augustine and he was really nice.  He told me he was Catholic.  I don't know if that was to explain where his name came from or if he is just really proud to be Catholic or what.  He looked in our box to see if the package notice was there, but it wasn't.  He gave me his phone number and took mine and said that he would call me when my package came.  Isn't that nice?  The random man told me we could go check somewhere else, but I figured it was pretty sure that my package has really not arrived yet, and I didn't really want to keep running around in the rain.   Back on the first floor of the P.O. box building, random man found some guys sitting around seemingly doing nothing.  I guess they were waiting for the rain to stop, but I bet they do a lot of sitting there seemingly doing nothing even when it isn't raining.  One of them was wearing a uniform and the others were in regular clothes.  Random man started telling me about how he has some lovely umbrellas to sell to me for a good price, then he stepped out in to the rain to go find them.  I was left with the doing nothing guys and I waited there and wondered why random man didn't think to try to sell me an umbrella before we did all of that running around in the rain.  Random man came back with a small selection of umbrellas and quoted me some ridiculous prices.  I told him I simply didn't have much money with me today so I couldn't buy an umbrella.  There was then, of course, a whole lot of discussion and negotiation interspersed with some joking between me and my new "friend" random man.  I kind of felt obliged to buy an umbrella from him after he had given me such a nice tour (though in the rain) of all of the post office buildings.  Beyond my feelings though was the fact that I could really use an umbrella!  I finally bought one for about 40% of his original asking price, and I probably still overpaid a bit. 
By this point it was only drizzling, so I didn't even open my new umbrella as I went outside and found a taxi to take home.  (I did open it to test it before buying it though, I didn't get here yesterday after all.)  Once I was in the taxi to come home the rain stopped.  But I got to see all the puddles, or rather small lakes and rivers, that were now the road.
I could be upset that I made a trip across town and back and didn't achieve my purpose of collecting my package.  But honestly, it was kind of a good time.  I have been doing too much work with my books and papers and computer in the last few days, so it was a nice break for me to get out and have some interaction with some interesting characters.  My mind needed a chance to think about other things for awhile.  Things very often don't go as I plan or as I wish, that's just life, and maybe especially life in Mali.  If I can accept it with a smile and find something good in the situation, I think I'm coming out ahead.  After all - I got myself a nice new umbrella today!

three years

We just celebrated 3 years of marriage!

Since JP is away doing his school internship now, I made the long bus trip to go visit him for a few days.  I hadn't been there since Easter, so it was nice to see a lot of our friends and colleagues again too.  One friend let us stay at her house for my visit, and that was so nice.  Jean-Patrick is living at the mission base and it is kind of like dorm life, so I was thankful to stay in a house with all its amenities. 
If you've read this blog for a while you might remember that we've had some challenges trying to celebrate our anniversary well the past 2 times.  I hadn't wanted to do difficult travel again this year, but it was unavoidable.  To read about what last year was like, or just to get a good description of what a bus trip is like here, check out this post:  a nice relaxing weekend away   
This year I spent around 11 hours traveling each direction!  Exhausting!



Here is a picture of what can be seen from a bus window when the bus makes a stop at a small station.  You can see a couple trays of yellow apples (imported) and a lady with bananas on her head, bottled beverages (sometimes real Coke and Sprite, sometimes reused bottles filled with juice), there is a man with a cart trying to sell random plastic goods, and in the middle there is a woman who has a tray of meat, fried potatoes, and bread and she is ready to put it together to make a quick sandwich.  Its always a crowd of people waiting there.  Usually there are a couple of beggars too.

On this trip there was a guy at one stop who asked me where I was from - I was the only white person to be seen, so I guess he did see me!  I said America, and he said he was from America too.  Clearly he was not, but this is typical of the friendly Malian joking that I enjoy with strangers on a daily basis.

I got to spend 4 days visiting JP.  On our actual anniversary day (September 3) we enjoyed a dinner out.  We borrowed a friend's motorcycle and went to a roadside shop.  In the evenings they serve roasted lamb and rotisserie chicken with all the fixings.  You can choose to fill your plate with fried potatoes, fried plantains, beans, onions, tomatoes, and hot peppers.  Then you sit outside at a plastic table and enjoy the food.  It wasn't fancy but we enjoyed it!
JP will still be gone for quite a few more weeks and I've come back, still home alone.  I'm keeping pretty busy though, so I think the next 3 weeks will pass quickly and then JP will come home to visit for a long weekend.