Thanksgiving

Well, we’ve hit a milestone of sorts, our first major holiday in Mali. The Malians don’t seem to put too much importance on Thanksgiving, oddly enough. We ended up having a huge dinner with a bunch of other volunteers. It was big and noisy and people ate until they were about to burst, so that was as it should be. The turkey was chicken but the rest of the meal was the same as at home with mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce, etc. Try to picture a bunch of Americans who are typically cut off from others with to whom they can relate to or even communicate. Now picture that those same people often have the same meals everyday, meals they do not enjoy and sometimes cannot even identify (Jake finally figured out yesterday that the mysteriously translated “dog size, lion-like leopard monkey-man that steals peanuts” which was caught in the fields and which he had been fed was, in fact, a jackal). It’s hard to put into words how truly thankful one can be to have familiar faces and a familiar meal on Thanksgiving but you get the idea.

Things continue to be interesting in our village. The amazing number of languages spoken by the inhabitants continues to hinder our ability to pick up anything but we try to keep our patience. When we return we should be able to speak a rather odd mishmash of Bambara, Sonnike, Peul, French, Moorish, Arabic and other languages that will only be decipherable by us. A secret language indeed.

We try to take up our time with many small tasks. One of those is list building. Sam’s lists often have a similar theme. They may be something like, “Reasons why Disney World is the greatest place on earth,” or “Rides at Disney I’d like to be on right now.” Sometimes she’ll allow us to branch out and fantasize with a list like “Places to see before death but after Disney.” One can actually pass the time quite effectively debating what might be a good country addition to Epcot Center or laughing about the blatant ethno-centricism of a ride like It’s a Small World (I think they are redesigning this one because it is possibly the least politically correct display ever. Picture a message of world peace and unity…as long as everyone is white!).

The lists go on and on. “Why you should always wash your hands with soap.” “Things that can puncture your bike tire.” “Why sit down toilets are good.” “Why sit down toilets are bad.” “Less effective colonial powers than France (very short one).” “Foods I’d like to eat right now.” We need a list of the lists.

One of the favorite lists is the “Best t-shirts seen in Mali” list. This one requires a bit of background explanation. Malians are former subjects of France. They referred to the white Frenchmen as “toubabs.” They see no difference between euros, so all white people are “toubabs.” Due to the amazing number of charities around the world that collect old clothes to be sent to the developing world, the area of West Africa is flush with old t-shirts. People here are pretty sensible and don’t throw out their clothes until they simply fall apart. In their perfectly logical reasoning the obvious explanation for all this toubab clothing is that the former owners have died. Thus, this clothing is known as “Dead Toubab” clothing.

Reading “dead toubab” t-shirts here is a great way to spend time. The people wearing the shirts seem to have never considered that the writing might carry some message, which makes it even funnier. Seeing a colossal guy carrying a fifty pound sack of rice on each shoulder down the road while sporting a pink tee shirt with the word “SLUT” spelled out in glittery sequins will put a smile on your face any day of the week. The toothless lady who looks so old that she was here to greet the first European explorers wearing the “I’m too sexy for this shirt” is good for another chuckle. I particularly enjoyed the cryptic shirt that said “12/31/99” which I could not figure out until I read the back: “The Last T-Shirt.” “The Barking Spider” shirt had such a pleasing cartoon spider (complete with cartoon fart) that it was reproduced by our fellow volunteer Jared and now is on display on the fridge of the stage house. The little girl in our village wearing the “Penobscot Bay YMCA” one hit a little close to home. Of course, the best one was spotted in the market on the banks of the Senegal River. It message was simple: “Boston College.” We are also noting a number of restaurants and bars across the States that we want to visit. It will be fun to go in and say “We’ve been meaning to try this place. We saw it on a t-shirt out on the edge of the Sahara.”

It’s getting to be cool season here. In our village that means it still hits 100 degrees. During the evenings, however, it can get down to an almost comfortable sleeping level…almost. At least it doesn’t rain anymore. We are expecting a front to blow through around May. Picture, if you will, Sam standing with a hand shading her squinting eyes. She sighs as she takes in the imposing visage of an approaching sandstorm. It’s a wall of sand that gobbles up the landscape as it approaches. Almost to herself she says quietly, “ski season starts next week.”

Oh yeah, my mom will be happy to know that the famous chanteuse Quebecoise, Celine Dion, has quite a following in French West Africa. Other famous, well-loved western singers: Michael Jackson and Tracy Chapman. One can never hear Thriller too many times.