Traveling Alone in SE Asia

"Yeah, traveling alone can be like that - sometimes amazing, sometimes uninspiring." Spoken by a great friend who I'm sure, like many of us, has traveled on his own. This isn't my first time traveling alone, but it is - so far - my lonliest and most uninspiring. I'm in Thailand for the moment and I can't think of a place I'd rather not be. Nothing about the country has excited or thrilled me to the point of wanting to stay. I counter in my head, well, it'd be different if I were with someone else, but I don't think it would be. I think I chose the wrong places to visit, I think I wasn't positive of what I wanted to see while here, and in the end, it has been uninspiring and almost regretful. Another friend told me, "Skip Thailand, go to Laos instead." I had barely even heard of Laos, but I had heard all of these amazing things about Thailand. Next time, I'm going to Laos.

I wanted friends and/or family to come along, and several people were interested in coming, but the timing just didn't work out. I'm one of the only people I know that had a little bit of money and more time on their hands than she knows what to do with. I couldn't miss the opportunity to take this trip now, not knowing what the future might bring. My plans of going home to the States and working and starting a family in the next couple of years will certainly thwart any month-long vacation to some secluded corner of the world. Plus, with the international economic situation, who knows what the situation of my bank account will be. It really is the perfect time for me to be here - except, I'm alone.

So, how do I get out of this alone funk? How do I 'make the best of it' without reminding myself how much cooler Southeast Asia would be with a friend from DC or Mali or my Mom or sister? I have a lot of hope for Cambodia considering I based my entire trip around going there, and I know it will be better than Thailand has been. Seeing the amazing ruins of Angkor Wat and then immersing myself in dark history that has fallen upon Cambodia during the Khmer Rouge years - though a bit depressing - is interesting to me. I'm also going to the beach in Cambodia. We're not talking white sands and crystal clear waters, but we're talking about a place that not many tourists go to - a definite plus.

I'll write more about my travels in Cambodia and Vietnam and hope that things will change. In the end though, I think I'm just so used to life/culture in Africa that this is a completely wild experience for me. Maybe I should have traveled to a new region of Africa, like southern Africa. Next time, I probably will.

Talk to My Hand

So, in teaching Baba English, I've started teaching him some common phrases. But while walking around in Dakar, I remembered back to the day when we used to say "Pshaw" or "Talk to the hand." So, I taught him "talk to the hand" which he transformed into "talk to my hand" with a dictatorial accent. Hilarious. Enjoy.

Dakar - The Paris of Africa

Dakar is the Paris of Africa. I’m not kidding. People are dressed to the 9’s, very fashionable. Skinny jeans and tight shiny tshirts that cling to only one shoulder. Designer bags and sunglasses add to the shine. It doesn’t matter that most of the stuff is knock off – it still has those shining double CCs or GA or Gucci plastered on it. Name brands, that’s all people really care about. The buildings are tall and constructed primarily out of cement, not mud. The roads are all paved and clean – the city actually hires people to sweep. The sewers are covered and there’s no chance of accidentally falling in. The ocean sits adjacent to the city offering a splendid breeze to take away the sting of the hot Senegalese sun. There are over and underpasses. There is a 4 lane highway. Simply put, there is money. Things cost the same price, if not more, in Dakar than they do in America (at least the last time I was there). A kilo of bananas, the equivalent of $1.25. 2 lbs of bananas in the States, last time I bought them, was about $1. But that’s just one example. We were told by the people we stayed with, friends of Baba’s, that a normal apartment in Dakar costs 600,000 CFA per month – that’s about $1,200! That’s ridiculous. Seeing that a nice apartment in Bamako is between 100 and 200,000 CFA, 600 is just outrageous to me. There are so few motorcycles in Dakar – everyone drives a car. I’m not talking about the cars from 1957 that have been rebuilt 39 times in Mali. I’m talking about brand spanking new SUVs, BMWs and Mercedes. I saw an Infiniti dealer in Dakar for God’s sake. Really?

But my main question is, where does all this money come from? It was Baba’s first time going to Dakar and he was blown away. I mean blown away. He kept saying how the only thing lacking in Dakar are stop lights and a metro and as soon as it has those two things, it’ll be on par with Paris. He kept saying how Abdoulaye Wade, president of Senegal, really knows how to work and that our own president, Amadou Toumani Toure (ATT), is zero a la base, meaning that he doesn’t do anything. Baba went so far to say that if a bunch of Malians went to Dakar and saw how developed and how built up it was, they would revolt against ATT. It was pretty amazing to hear him talking about it. But, on the other hand, those are his political views. If you look at Senegal as a whole, it’s in a pretty sad state. Even 15 km outside of Dakar, the roads are unpaved and there’s no development. Every penny that President Wade found has gone into the development of Dakar. Last year, when I was in Dakar, there had just been this big conference called ODI. Basically, this group of Islamic countries got together for a conference and Senegal took tons of loans – I don’t know the amounts, but in the millions and possibly billions – and interest free to help the development of Senegal. But as I said, it’s all gone to Dakar, not to the rest of the country that could really use it. It’s disappointing for me.

All of this is to create a background for an entry I want to write about the visa process and immigrating to the US. The two days that Baba and I were at the Embassy were very interesting and odd. I’ll write more about this soon.

Baba's Coming to America!

Baba's US visa!

I’ve just completed my 4th trip to Dakar, this time on my own terms - and with Baba in tow. We spent about 10 days there and had a great time. The main purpose was to go and have our interview for the immigrant visa to go to the US. I was so nervous about it, but in the end it turned out wonderfully! We arrived at the Embassy at 7 AM only to be told that the photos we brought were the incorrect dimensions, and therefore we would have to go find a photo shop open to take new photos. At 7 AM nothing was open and the first place didn’t open until 8. I was discouraged. 7 AM and problems already? Despite having a perfect set of documents to hand over to the Embassy officials, I felt that the photo issue was a foreboding warning.

We arrived back at the Embassy around 8:30 and were finally allowed to enter. Unlike the US Embassy in Bamako, I wasn’t harassed about why I wanted to enter my own Embassy, but things went rather smoothly. Then came the waiting. After three and a half hours of sitting and waiting they finally called Baba’s name. This was it: he was going to be interviewed and we were going to get our visa (insh’allah). He was asked to swear to the accuracy of the documents that we gave them and then the questions started. “Where did you meet Sara?” “How long has she lived in Mali?” “What are your plans when you go to America?” “What are Sara’s plans?” “Where are you living?” “Does Sara have any siblings? If so, where do they live?” “Have you met members of Sara’s family yet?” The questions were amazingly simple, especially compared to the questions that other Africans seeking their visas were being asked. While I could hear all of the questions being asked of Baba, we couldn’t see each other – which was probably for the best. Each time he would get an answer just a little bit wrong (ie, saying that I moved to Mali in August 2006 instead of July), I would cringe and I was sure that that was the end of our visa searching. After about 10 minutes of me cringing, I heard the interviewer say, “Okay, come back on Tuesday on 2.” Come back on Tuesday at 2? What does that even mean? So I immediately shot up from my chair and went to the window asking, “Tuesday? 2? What does it all mean? Do we find out Tuesday if we got it or?!?!” I was like a frantic animal, it was pretty embarrassing. She looked at me, very sympathetically and said, “You’ve passed the interview, don’t worry.” The proverbial 100 lbs were lifted off of my shoulders. We passed? Are you serious? I wasn’t sure I believe it all. We spent $800 on the visa alone and waited for almost 4 hours and we passed. Baba and I just looked at each other and smiled.

Once we excited the Embassy, I was practically jumping up and down with excitement and Baba was just as smooth and cool as ever. I kept asking him, “Are you excited? Are you excited?” “Yes, Fatoumata, I’m very excited!” was his response. I didn’t quite believe him at first, but I know that he’s stoked. I called my Mom and Sister and said, “Baba’s coming to America!” They’re excitement was awesome too.

I tried teaching Baba the art of the jumping photo - not too shabby! Visa in hand, it would have been better infront of the Embassy, but this is a start!

So, in a few months, we’ll be in North Carolina – now it’s for sure!

Last Day in PC!!!

31 Months
124 Weeks
868 Days
124 Malaria Prophylaxis Pills
2 Trips Home
84 Pills Treating Amoebas
~800 meals consisting of rice
Uncountable amount of mosquito repellent used
~500 Days of sleeping under the stars
3 Different Homes
7 West African Countries
300 hours spent traveling to Bamako and back
$6,975 – the amount of money I’ve earned in the last 31 months
Uncountable number of people I will remember and times I will cherish

These are just a few things I’m reflecting upon my last week and last day in the Peace Corps. Today, Friday, March 27, 2009 marks the end of an era in my life. I’m done with Peace Corps. That’s a pretty striking statement for me, considering this has been my life for the last 2.5 years. I feel extremely accomplished and satisfied with my time here, though much of it has had its ups and downs. I honestly can’t imagine where I’d be or what I’d be doing today if I hadn’t been in Mali. My friends and other volunteers have been asking me, “So! How do you feel?” On Sunday, after a 9 hour, sweltering hot bus ride my answer was, “My back hurts…” I had no idea what they were asking me. “No, how do you feel about being done?” “Oh, that…” I replied. It’s a little strange for me being done because normally when you Close of Service (COS), you fly out to America at the end of the week. I’m flying out, but not to America, and I’ll be back and forth in Mali until the end of June. So, I feel great, but I haven’t had to do the preparations for leaving my family and friends and I haven’t cried yet about leaving, which will happen. I’ve also had so much else to think about – Baba and I are flying to Dakar on Saturday to start our immigration visa process! Please keep your fingers crossed and have good thoughts for us all next week. When I know anything, you will too!

The good news and results that have been part of my COS week are keeping me pretty happy. I did language tests in both French and Bambara – though I was pretty sure my Bambara was about as good as yours – and I scored Advanced High in French and Intermediate High in Bambara. Just keep in mind I’ve never really been taught Bambara, it’s all been picked up by talking to people and spending time with them. Where else would learning some random African language have been so important? So, those two scores were very much to my liking. I also don’t have tuberculosis, which is a pretty positive thing! I also look very much forward to this afternoon when Baba comes to pick me up. Now that I’m officially no longer a PCV, I get to hop on his moto (with my helmet!) and speed off to some unknown destination. Alright, it’s not that exotic, but it’s making me feel pretty damn good.

Well, I just wanted to share a rather positive week with all you at home who have been so supportive throughout my time here. I promise I’m coming back soon! I sent out an email asking anyone about traveling awhile back, and I just want everyone to know that on April 28th, I leave Paris, France for India, Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam, and I can’t wait! It’s going to be an amazing trip. You’re all still invited if something were to change, like law school ended 2 months early. I know, probably not, but… I look forward to talking and seeing you in June!

MALI: Students left behind in race for education MDG

Mali stories are so few and far between that I wanted to share this...

BAMAKO, 6 February 2009 (IRIN) - As Mali's government makes strides toward the Millennium Development Goal of primary education for all by 2015, increased school enrolment and the resulting shortage of teachers and classroom space have blocked a growing number of students from secondary education.

In 2008, some 17,000 students out of more than 80,000 who passed their secondary school exams, known as the diplôme d'étude fondamentale (DEF), were not admitted to secondary schools, according to the Ministry of Education.
About 40 percent of the group is female.

Turned away

Mariam Coulibaly, 17, told IRIN she received her DEF in June 2008 in the capital Bamako. But she said her name was not included two months later on a list of students assigned to secondary schools for the 2008-09 academic year.

"The [secondary school] director told me that I had passed the age cut-off of 16 years," Coulibaly said. "I asked him what I could do and he said that he was sorry [that he could not help]." She told IRIN she had been forced to repeat a year because of illness.

Three criteria for secondary school admission in Mali are the DEF, the student's age, and the student's academic performance, according to the Ministry of Education.

Coulibaly's father, Arouna Coulibaly, told IRIN it is "unjust and paradoxical" that the government did not advance his daughter. "They [government] encourage us to send our children, especially our girls, to school.

"They [students] are then told to leave under the pretext they are too old. Can the school not teach students of all ages?" Arouna Coulibaly said. The student's mother, Rokiatou Sow, told IRIN the family was forced to enrol Mariam in a private school in October 2008. "She has become a burden for our family. If we did not pay for her secondary education, what would become of her?"

Coulibaly's parents said they are paying US$600 per year for the next four years for her to study accounting. Students do not pay to attend state-funded secondary schools.

The average salary in Mali was $500 in 2007, according to the World Bank.

The local non-profit, Coalition for the Defence of Children's Rights, told IRIN that not advancing students who receive their DEF, especially girls, is a "flagrant abuse" of the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, which Mali signed in 1990. "Children have a right to study to the end," said coalition member Almadi Cissé.

Coping

The government is aware of the "severity" of the problem, according to the Minister of Basic Education, Sidibé Aminata Diallo. "The number of students not advancing [to secondary schools] who have their DEF is becoming more problematic every year," said the minister.

"The growing student population is a result of the government's emphasis on increasing primary school enrolment."

Mali's government adopted the UN Millennium Development Goal, set in 2000, to increase primary school enrolment for all and basic education for young adults by 2015.

Basic Education Minister Diallo said there are not enough classrooms or secondary school teachers to accommodate the swelling enrolment. From 2002 to 2007, the percentage of girls enrolled in primary school increased from 56 percent to 68 percent and boys from 78 percent to 88 percent, according to the government.

Diallo told IRIN students who do not continue to secondary schools are not being "thrown to the streets." The minister said the government is constructing more vocational training centres to address the problem.

The minister estimated 35 percent of primary school students will not meet criteria to attend secondary schools in 2010.

A Return to Boidie

The sad circumstances of the death of Baba's mother brought our return to Boidie, a village and group of people I absolutely love. Baba called on Monday to say that Kadia was sick, but she got better. Tuesday night I received a text message saying she'd died. She was having pains in her head, that would move to her heart and then to her stomach. After some blood work and IVs, she got better, and then fell ill again. In Muslim fashion, she was burried on Wednesday at 4 PM.

Kadia was Baba's father's 1st wife. She was about 80 years old and a very sweet old woman. In Baba's house growing up, he and his brothers and sisters (those who had Oumou as a Mom) lived with Kadia and Kadia's kids lived with Oumou. It was a sort of way of easing the tensions between the two households because oftentimes co-wives don't get along. So, in most senses, Kadia raised Baba.

Though I only met Kadia once, all of her kids and everyone in Boidie spoke so highly of her. Because I didn't know her well, I feel like I've lost something more than normal. I've lost the opportunity to know the woman who raised my husband and I've missed the opportunity to hear about all of the crazy antics he got into as a kid. I've resolved that after my PC service is finished, I'm going to go to Boidie for about 10 days and just spend time with his brothers, sisters, his mother, and the rest of the village. I'll listen to the stories they have to tell me and parttake in their daily affairs. I really look forward to this.

Kadia - Allah ka nogoyake. Allah ka hine ala. Allah ka da yoro suman. We'll see each other again.