Cencen helping me study for the GRE... we are going to ace it!
Traditional Dogon dancers in the Parade
The "Meat Cutters Association" in the Parade
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Photos from the 50th Parade
Cencen helping me study for the GRE... we are going to ace it!
Traditional Dogon dancers in the Parade
The "Meat Cutters Association" in the Parade
Some photos from Eid ul-Fitr
Mark and I with the Imam of Madiama (Marks village) and some of Fakoro's family members
Myself and Mark (in our matching Eid ul-Fitr outfits) and Fakoro, Marks co-worker
A traditional Fulani woman selling fresh cows milk from a gord on top of her head inside of Marks compound
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Eid ul-Fitr (end of Ramadan)
This year for the large holiday of the End of Ramadan I went out to Marks village to celebrate. Most Islamic (if not all) are lunar based so you don’t know when Ramadan is ending until the night before.
I cheated and looked up on line when the experts were speculating and used that to determine when to go out to Marks. Since I didn’t know a lot about Ramadan before living in an Islamic country let me give you some key notes.
-Fast from sun up to sun down (4:30 wake up to eat and drink water, and break fast around 6:45pm)
-Give thanks to Allah for another year of life
-If you miss a day of fasting you have to make it up before the next year
-Breastfeeding/pregnant women, children under 14 and people who are sick do not fast
-The month of fasting is about 28 days
The first morning I was there Marks Malian co-worker comes over early and tells us today is the grand celebration, we need to hurry and go to the mosque. Once we finished scarfing down our breakfast of peanut butter and plantain sandwiches we got dressed and went over to the mosque.
I was always told that in my Guinea village because I was a women I couldn’t enter the mosque and because I am Christian I am not allowed in the compound. I always respected that and sat outside for the large religious ceremonies waiting for everyone to finish and I would greet them as they came out. So to my surprise when Mark and I got to the mosque we were invited in. We asked if it was ok since we both aren’t Muslim and I’m female. They said to go in. We stood in the far back courtyard with our backs on the mud wall. It was so awkward. I was the ONLY woman inside or so I initially thought. After a while I heard a cough from behind and saw a small door and peeked in to my delight found women! I felt better but still awkward. I was also holding a giant bag of jelly bean to hand out to the kids after prayer too. (Thanks Aunt Betty)
Once prayer was over and all of the men started to leave the mosque we meet up with Fakoro, Marks co-worker again he helped us find our shoes and navigate over to the Imams house for more blessings. Once we were blessed again the three of us started to walk around a great people in the village. Each one wanted us to eat too. The kids were going crazy over the jelly beans. They all wanted to know what flavor it was going to be.
Around mid afternoon it started to look like rain so the three of us went back to Marks house and made tea over charcoal in this living room. The rain didn’t let up until late which is when we had to start making dinner.
The festivities were cut short by the rain but it was a good day. I have always wanted to go into a mud mosque and I finally got my chance.
I cheated and looked up on line when the experts were speculating and used that to determine when to go out to Marks. Since I didn’t know a lot about Ramadan before living in an Islamic country let me give you some key notes.
-Fast from sun up to sun down (4:30 wake up to eat and drink water, and break fast around 6:45pm)
-Give thanks to Allah for another year of life
-If you miss a day of fasting you have to make it up before the next year
-Breastfeeding/pregnant women, children under 14 and people who are sick do not fast
-The month of fasting is about 28 days
The first morning I was there Marks Malian co-worker comes over early and tells us today is the grand celebration, we need to hurry and go to the mosque. Once we finished scarfing down our breakfast of peanut butter and plantain sandwiches we got dressed and went over to the mosque.
I was always told that in my Guinea village because I was a women I couldn’t enter the mosque and because I am Christian I am not allowed in the compound. I always respected that and sat outside for the large religious ceremonies waiting for everyone to finish and I would greet them as they came out. So to my surprise when Mark and I got to the mosque we were invited in. We asked if it was ok since we both aren’t Muslim and I’m female. They said to go in. We stood in the far back courtyard with our backs on the mud wall. It was so awkward. I was the ONLY woman inside or so I initially thought. After a while I heard a cough from behind and saw a small door and peeked in to my delight found women! I felt better but still awkward. I was also holding a giant bag of jelly bean to hand out to the kids after prayer too. (Thanks Aunt Betty)
Once prayer was over and all of the men started to leave the mosque we meet up with Fakoro, Marks co-worker again he helped us find our shoes and navigate over to the Imams house for more blessings. Once we were blessed again the three of us started to walk around a great people in the village. Each one wanted us to eat too. The kids were going crazy over the jelly beans. They all wanted to know what flavor it was going to be.
Around mid afternoon it started to look like rain so the three of us went back to Marks house and made tea over charcoal in this living room. The rain didn’t let up until late which is when we had to start making dinner.
The festivities were cut short by the rain but it was a good day. I have always wanted to go into a mud mosque and I finally got my chance.
The Cinquant Anni Celebration
The Cinquantetheure Celebration
On September 22, 2010, Mali celebrated its 50th anniversary as a country. Back in 1960 while America was all about free love and worshiping the Beatles (MOM!), Mali was transitioning from the French colonialist power to become an independent nation.
Over the past 50 years Mali has had three presidents, paved several road spanning large parts of the country, and had the Chinese donate several hydro electric dams providing electricity 24/7 ish for several of its largest towns. However, Mali is one of the poorest countries in the world. Children suffer from malnutrition, clean water is hard if not impossible to find in most villages, and diseases go un-treated because medication is too expensive. Now I don’t mean to sound like a Debby Downer here because Malians are some of the over all happiest people I’ve ever meet. You will never hear someone complaining about having to walk across town to get water from the pump or women slumped over a charcoal fire preparing food for four hours a day. The kids will run around with their swollen bellies playing games in their free time. And the men at the end of the day will sit under trees making tea and talking about just about anything.
I was recently reflecting on the state of development here in Mali, it is years ahead of Guinea but that’s not saying a lot in the grand scheme of things. The thing that really got me thinking was how the Malian government spent some obscene amount on the celebration for Bamako (the capital). There were parades, marathon runs, jet fly overs and parachuter’s jumping out of planes. Also you can’t forget all the repairs that the city did trying to snazzy things up so the city looked good for the celebration. Now I’m all for cleaning up the streets but I find it ironic that this country is suffering from countless poverty stricken problems and can justify sending fighter jets all around the country to celebrate their independence.
All of this said, I did have a great time at the Segou parade. Everyone and their brother was there by ten in the morning to watch every single association walk down the street. There were groups of farmers holding corn/millet stalks, bakers with break, butchers with meat hanging off a truck (I couldn’t even make this up if I tried), and school children with matching t-shirts. And the grand finally of the parade there was the jet fly over. It was a dramatic ending to the parade indeed.
A very special thanks to:
-Mom and Dad
-Aunt Betty and Uncle Dan
-Grandma and Gramps
-Aunt Bonnie, Uncle Wes, and Kyle
-Aunt Mary and Uncle John
For all the birthday wishes and gifts. Thank you so much!
On September 22, 2010, Mali celebrated its 50th anniversary as a country. Back in 1960 while America was all about free love and worshiping the Beatles (MOM!), Mali was transitioning from the French colonialist power to become an independent nation.
Over the past 50 years Mali has had three presidents, paved several road spanning large parts of the country, and had the Chinese donate several hydro electric dams providing electricity 24/7 ish for several of its largest towns. However, Mali is one of the poorest countries in the world. Children suffer from malnutrition, clean water is hard if not impossible to find in most villages, and diseases go un-treated because medication is too expensive. Now I don’t mean to sound like a Debby Downer here because Malians are some of the over all happiest people I’ve ever meet. You will never hear someone complaining about having to walk across town to get water from the pump or women slumped over a charcoal fire preparing food for four hours a day. The kids will run around with their swollen bellies playing games in their free time. And the men at the end of the day will sit under trees making tea and talking about just about anything.
I was recently reflecting on the state of development here in Mali, it is years ahead of Guinea but that’s not saying a lot in the grand scheme of things. The thing that really got me thinking was how the Malian government spent some obscene amount on the celebration for Bamako (the capital). There were parades, marathon runs, jet fly overs and parachuter’s jumping out of planes. Also you can’t forget all the repairs that the city did trying to snazzy things up so the city looked good for the celebration. Now I’m all for cleaning up the streets but I find it ironic that this country is suffering from countless poverty stricken problems and can justify sending fighter jets all around the country to celebrate their independence.
All of this said, I did have a great time at the Segou parade. Everyone and their brother was there by ten in the morning to watch every single association walk down the street. There were groups of farmers holding corn/millet stalks, bakers with break, butchers with meat hanging off a truck (I couldn’t even make this up if I tried), and school children with matching t-shirts. And the grand finally of the parade there was the jet fly over. It was a dramatic ending to the parade indeed.
A very special thanks to:
-Mom and Dad
-Aunt Betty and Uncle Dan
-Grandma and Gramps
-Aunt Bonnie, Uncle Wes, and Kyle
-Aunt Mary and Uncle John
For all the birthday wishes and gifts. Thank you so much!
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