Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Bonne Fete!


March 14th was officially my first month at my site. Now only 23 more months to go! The Peace Corps staff and former volunteers all said that the 1st month is the hardest and I believe that statement now that it has passed. I'm at a place where I'm not doing a countdown when I will return to the states. I feel more like how am I going to do everything I want to do in such little time.
We are not allowed to do any projects the first 3 months at site, making integration within the community a priority. So far, the village is starting to recognize me as Fadima Kouyate (my Guinean name) and not as tubabu (white person). I am able to fool people into thinking I speak their local language, Malinke, by knowing a few salutations. I am able to find my hut in this maze of huts after recognizing landmarks such as the big mosque, the marche, and the video club. I can wash my clothes in the Niger River in less than an hour depending on factors like load and number of petites fighting over my underwear.
However, there are some things I don't think I'll ever adopt or get accustomed to. I don't think I'll ever get comfortable with the sounds of crying children or the natural tone of hostility in the Malinke women's daily conversation. I don't think I can ever swim in the river topless like all the other women...especially when seeing how they react to the skin color of my back! I doubt I will ever come to terms with a women's role in a predominant muslim culture.
I have learned so much about myself since I left the states. The experiences one has here are truly once in a life time opportunities, aka self evaluations. This is what I have discovered about myself in 4 months:
*I think it's a contradiction when the nice primary school teacher holds a whip while teaching his students
*I don't mind getting my water from a pump or a well
*I can eat with my hands and don't see utensils as necessity
*I prefer the water method and my pit latrine
*I get frustrated learning 2 languages and release that frustration in English profanity to whomever is present
*I cry to my best friends about being sick and/or homesick
*I vomit immediately after witnessing donkeys mating (not a joke)
*I pinch every child's cheeks regardless of how dirty they are
*I love filling bags with improved soil for a tree nursery
*I don't mind sitting quiet for hours among muslim men speaking in Malinke
*I bond with the crazy women best by learning their hysterical dances around the fire
*I get annoyed when men do the finger poke while shaking your hand insinuating they want to sleep with you
* I find hope that a project can be sustainable through my villages' gardens
*I get sad about the female to male ratio in the overcrowded private schools
*I still shave my legs and underarms as well as paint my toe nails
*I can't believe I can make little kids cry and run away in fright just by the sight of me
The list goes on and will only continue to grow. I imagine the next time I write I'll be able to describe my increased understanding of the muslim religion which I have expressed interest in participating in by going to the mosque every Friday. Allowing myself to be open has given me the strength and patience needed to do what I'm doing. But I promise you that I remember everyday who I am and where I come from in order to experience this. I am happy. Je suis Fadima Kouyate.