It’s not my nature to fall in love with things quickly. As I reflect, my opinions grow and take root, but upfront, I sometimes find it hard to know how I’m feeling. I don’t visit places and know immediately that I’ve found my new favorite place on earth, and I never had a “this is my dream school” moment when searching for colleges. It’s tough for me to declare my favorite food, music, books, etc. and I need time to build trust and comfort within friendships. It’s true, I embrace certain risks and promote the benefits of living boldly, but I am not an impulsive person. There is a level of emotional caution embedded within me. That being said, there have been some exceptions recently. Despite my nature, I found myself very quickly very happy in some of the places I recently spent time in. I deeply connected with a few people and built trusting relationships, in a remarkably short timeframe. And through it all, I got a bit accustomed to the thrill of such experiences.
Two weeks ago, I left South/Southeast Asia for the first time in 9 months to venture over to Mali, in West Africa, for the final leg of this journey. Shortly after arriving here, friends and family wanted to know how it was. “Do you love it? Is it amazing?” While these questions are only natural, they made me feel expected to present a strong and decisive opinion. When I searched within me, I didn’t feel ready to gush and rave. There was a lot to adjust to and I didn’t yet have my footing. On a certain level, I adapt quickly and easily to new places, but to really feel comfortable with a completely new way of life, takes longer. As the days go by, I find myself more and more charmed, but there are certainly aspects of being here that remain difficult. Because I can’t give you a quick impression, I’ll tell you instead about the ups and downs as I’ve made yet another home.
This is by no means a unique observation, but there is absolutely a remarkable sense of openness and friendliness in Malian culture. Now that I’ve settled in and become familiar with more locals, I’ve come to appreciate how much this impacts me on a daily basis. As I walk to work, I’ve come in the habit of saying hi to certain street vendors, security guards, etc. and their beaming smiles always put a smile on my face in return. I befriended a woman, Hélène, who not only sells the best vegetables in town, but who will also make you feel like you’re reuniting with a long lost friend every time you come by her stall. An outing to Hélène’s always results in neighborly chatter, laughter, and embracing. I buy mangoes from a stall near my office every day (I’m fully enjoying mango season in all its glory), and even when I’m not buying mangoes, they all chime in to ask me how I’m doing as I walk by. For lunch, I often have an omelet at a stall near the local gas station, and the owner waves heartedly whenever he spots me, including when I drive by in a taxi. When I need a snack, there’s the women who sells peanuts on the corner near our house; and for all other fruit, there’s the fruit family who, after being introduced to me once through my friend, all recognize me and say hi even if I’m on the other side of the street. The list goes on and I’ve only been here 2 weeks. Rather than the often silent and robotic nature of shopping in a grocery store or picking up food at a restaurant, there is something incredibly pleasant about feeling so welcomed and engaged in the community, through the little moments in the day.
Malian friendliness is certainly unique to anywhere else I’ve lived and can create a very warm and positive atmosphere, but sometimes it can be invasive, especially as a woman. In contrast to the places I’ve lived in Asia, the way men are forward and persistent definitely makes me uncomfortable. It’s not uncommon for someone on a motor bike to pull up as I’m walking and follow alongside me, offering to give me a ride, asking about me, and requesting to meet up again. As if it was a completely normal thing to do, one man asked if he could drop me at home so that he could know where I lived and drop by periodically. And when I avoided that, he had a whole host of other ways to get in touch again. I managed to worm out of all of them, but I’m running out of excuses. I’m used to being said hello to or getting unwanted attention, that happens everywhere, but this kind of intrusion is harder to brush off or ignore. The sexism present within Malian culture feels different than what I’ve observed in other places, specifically due to the practice of polygamy. Men openly boast about how many wives they have, or how they’re looking to acquire more, which is both uncomfortable to hear in normal conversation and also means women are objectified in tremendously saddening ways. As much as I appreciate the friendliness of the culture, when it feels like this friendliness is used as a way to get away with behavior that makes me uneasy, it’s hard to be as awed.
In combination with adjusting to new social behaviors, it wasn’t immediately easy to figure out how to find the basics. Even though Bamako is the capital city, the state of development is far behind all the capitals in Asia that I know. Starting with withdrawing money, I spent 3 hours wandering around town one morning, tried over 15 atms, and found that they were all under construction, not stocked with money, or unable to complete the transaction. Turns out, there are specific locations and timings that my colleagues have figured out to be effective, but outside of those, it can be hard to track down money. When it comes to getting food, you can get some things in the few proper stores, but the best way to locate fresh produce is through street vendors. In general, I love buying from local markets, but initially it felt frustrating to feel like I was drifting around, haphazardly running into stalls but not being able to find them the next day, or following directions from colleagues, but not knowing the patterns for when stalls are open. Food options overall are pretty limited, which I don’t mind and it means you make friends with your favorite vendors, but it can be frustrating that at certain times of day, its near impossible to find food. To top it off, Ramadan started a few days after I got here, so just when I started understanding the rhythm of the city, everything changed. Even the proper shops changed their hours dramatically. But most of these little stumbles or annoyances got resolved as I paid more attention and got better at planning ahead. Within the first couple days, I felt pretty lost. But after giving myself two weeks, my day feels like less of a constant mystery.
On a more positive note, I’m enjoying the ability to communicate with locals at a much greater capacity than I’ve been used to. Bambara is the local language, but French is taught in schools and used as the official language, so even though only those with some education know it, I still feel less constrained by language barriers than during some of my previous adventures. But even beyond being able to have conversations with street vendors, the expats often speak French amongst themselves socially, and I rely on it (with the occasional Google translation) with many of my colleagues. I’ll go into more detail on my work in upcoming posts, but in essence I’m working to redesign an agricultural tool (a tool that makes seed and fertilizer application more effective and more time/money efficient) cheaper and accessible to the poorest farmers, often female. The tools team at myAgro is very small, so aside for some collaboration with Caroline, the head of the tools team, I’m running this project fairly independently. For implementation of tests and fabrication, I work with Nouhoum, a local on the team. We speak entirely in French, which is a good exercise for breaking down more complex thoughts into simpler phrases, but takes patience. Of course, I still have the privilege of reverting to English with many expats, but I still greatly appreciate the moments of communicating solely in a non-native language. Given how much respect I have for people who are constantly forced to rely on a foreign language to get by in society, I really value sharing in that experience, even if only partially.
Lastly, despite still figuring out how to exist within Bamako, I’ve definitely found comfort within the myAgro team, especially the diverse group of expats who seem to be each other’s support group even outside of work. I live with two of my colleagues/friends, Caroline and Karen, and I often spend time at the myAgro transitional house, where a number of new employees stay while they find other housing. The house I stay in is home to a number of different people, including a family with a 7-month old baby. In comparison to coming home to an apartment, I enjoy the feeling of coming home and talking with whoever is around. Over the past week, I’ve enjoyed eating my dinner around the same time that Maiga, one of the housemates, has been breaking his Ramadan fast, so we sit at the dining table together and talk about everything from work, to culture, to movies, and more. My evenings also often involve spending some time playing with André, the baby, which is a nice way to feel like part of the family and integrate into the communal experience of the house. Yes, I’m living out of my suitcase because I don’t have shelves, but I find that I like the simplicity and I enjoy coming home, which makes a world of difference.
Bamako isn’t terribly beautiful. The urban planning and infrastructure is almost zero, and the street garbage that has molded into the landscape is depressing. If you look past all that, the people and the culture have much more beauty to offer, but I still feel a mix of emotions. I’m looking forward to slowly feeling more settled in the community, and I’m waiting to see how my feelings of general comfort will evolve as I stay here. Maybe I’m not able to say I’m completely smitten, but I can tell you that I love many aspects to my life and work, and every day my relationship with Mali grows deeper.
I haven’t taken a ton of photos, but here are a few!
The first two rows are from my day-long adventure in Dakar, Senegal when I stopped there to get my Malian visa. I reveled in walking by the ocean and breathing the sea air, and was amused by the massive installation of exercise equipment on the bluff, with water on one side and with the highway on the other.
The remaining rows are from Bamako.
The first row of two is a view of the street that our office is on. Our office, and most offices here, are converted houses, so the neighborhood is very residential. The photo of the barber shop is just because I’m amused by it every day on my way to work, and because it’s pretty indicative of how little stalls and shops exist. The title photo is also an iconic spot on my way to work- the shed is the shop where I get buy omelets and in the background is the gas station and center of most commercial activity near the office.
The next row of two shows Caroline running a demonstration for how to assemble myAgro’s existing semoir, the planting tool I’m working on.
The blue tools are from a trip to the agricultural tools market, and the photo to the right shows an alternative semoir that we had made at this market. The person pushing this alternative semoir is Nouhoum.
The last row is from around our house/compound, showing off the lettuce fields and little farms that exist within the city.
