Seeing the "Colourful" Sites of Cape Town

Well, we're back from Mali and we've had two weeks to enjoy summer in Cape Town before our final trip of this summer break. (That's right, no moss is growing under these Pollacks' feet! Tomorrow we are off for 10 days to St. Lucia, Zululand, and the Drakensberg mountains...) But for the past two weeks, we've been in Cape Town, and have taken full advantage of the great summer weather to see all the tourist sites that we had not seen yet. Here are a few highlights.

Cape Point Lighthouse

Though we've biked past the entrance numerous times, we had never gone in to explore Cape Point National Park. This is the very southern end of the Cape peninsula, the spit of land that extends furtherst south and west in Africa. Historically, it has been called the Cape of Good Hope and the Cape of Storms. It's also the piece of land with the most shipwrecks anywhere in Africa, and there are dozens of wrecks all along this part of the coast.

While this area is known for incredibly high winds, the day we were there was gorgeous; a bit breezy, but really beautiful. We hiked up to the "old" lighthouse, which was so often covered in clouds that it did little good. It was replace in 1919 by a "new" lighthouse, which sits at the very tip of the peninsula.

We then capped-off the day with brunch at an old farm house just down the road from the national park. Ahhh...

New Year's Day Climb up Table Mountain

The most prominent feature of Cape Town is "Table Mountain." It rises 3,000 feet right out of downtown, and creates an incredible backdrop for the city. There is a tram that goes up to the top, and the one day we tried to ride it, it was closed for repairs. So, at 6:00 a.m. on New Year's day, we set out with a hiking club to make our first ascent to the top. We took the most direct root up, which is called Platterkloof Gorge. It is a 2 hour hike that zig-zags its way right up a narrow ravine to the top. Starting at 6:00, we were at the top by 8:00 --though Maya was with the fast group and made it up by 7:30, and Alex was close behind at 7:45. Once on the top of the table, we stopped for a bite, and to let all the stragglers catch up. From there we hiked another 45 minutes to McClear's Beacon, which is actually the highest point on Table Mountain. There, we had lunch, and climbed around on the pyramid that has been erected there. We had incredible views in all directions, and eventually hiked back around to the cable station at the top of the mountain.

Once at the cable station, we had an option to either take the cable car down, or... Well, Alex's knee was bothering her, so Naomi and her took the cable car. That left Maya and I to go back down the trail. While coming up was tiring, going down was downright painful! It is such a steep climb, that you are really working your knees and thigh muscles. By the time we were at the bottom, neither Maya nor I could hardly walk, as our muscles were just shot. It has taken a few days of major hot tub and sauvignon blanc therapy to get back to normal. We think we're almost there!

Minstrel Troupe Parade

Saturday January 3 was the day of the annual "Minstrel Parade." Historically, the day after new years day was the one day that the slaves in the Cape Town region had off! So, this has evolved into a huge party for the mixed-race descendants of these folks, known as the "Cape Coloureds." In seems that in the mid 1860s, the "minstrel show" made it from the U.S. to Cape Town, with musicians dressing up in "black face." Well, the locals adopted and adapted this "minstrel" get-up, and rather than putting on "black face," they paint their faces white, dress in outrageous outfits, and parade through downtown. Every neighborhood in the "coloured townships" has a minstrel troupe, and for the month of January, there will be music, dance, and marching competitions throughout the city. But January 3 is the one day when downtown Cape Town is taken over by the folks from the coloured townships, as they line the streets to cheer on the passing minstrel troupes in the parade.

While the outfits were incredibly colorful, and the dancing and prancing was full of life, two things really hit us watching the parade. First, this was the first time that we've seen so many of Cape Town's "coloured" minority out and about in downtown. You really got the sense that this was THEIR DAY! Second, we didn't bring any food because we were expecting to find all kinds of good parade junk food to be bought. You know, hot dogs, pretzels, snow cones, or their South African cousins. But amazingly, there was almost nothing for sale. We found one entrepreneurial guy who had set up a stand selling soft drinks. BUT, everyone was eating. It turns out, this is a major picnic event. Families cook food, and bring it all down to the parade route where the set up their tables, their tents, their chairs and cushions, and picnic. At first we couldn't figure out why no-body was selling food. Then we realized that people REALLY DON'T HAVE THE MONEY! Things are so tight for most South Africans, that rather than buying an overpriced grilled boerworst (local beef sausage) on the street, you'd rather make it at home yourself. Families really have to watch their pennies. So much for the parade-side junk food. (We did have a nice lunch at the cafe in the botanical gardens!).

So, What Color Are YOU Anyway?

As we were walking back to the car, we passed these two benches on the street. It took us a while to realize what was going on. If you can't read the writing, here is what they say:

"WHITES ONLY: From the Government Gazette registration of reclassifications, 1984: 518 Coloured persons were reclassified as White persons. 1 White person was reclassified as a Coloured person. "

"NON-WHITES ONLY: Edited from the Population Registration Act No 30 of 1950. A White person is in appearance White --and not Coloured. A Coloured is a person who is not a White or a Bantu."

It turns out, we were walking in front of the court house. And as another sign said, in an office inside this court house was the "Race Classification Board." This was the official administrative office where they determined what label you should have! (You see how ridiculous the criteria were!) As crazy as this sounds, this was reality from 1950 - 1991. The sign below helped us understand what we were seeing. It turns out that this was a "living history exhibit" created by the city. What a very fitting end to our day of watching "Coloured Cape Town" on parade!

Blog ya later,

Seth./.

Teaching and Learning Malian Style

I want to spend a moment singing the praises of "boronmuso", or big sister, Maria Diarra. But in order to appreciate her talents, drive and commitment to radical transformation, you have to understand a bit of the context, especially around education in Mali, and especially around girls education.

(Check out the Malian kids heading off to school in the photo on the right!)

First of all, imagine a school without books or handouts at all. Imagine 100+ kids squished onto benches, each with a small piece of chalk and a tiny board. Now, imagine that your home language is Bambara, that you hear Bambara all day long, that everyone you know speaks Bambara all-day-long, and that when you show up in first grade, the teacher says: "Bonjour les enfants!" And now, as you begin to learn to read and write in this foreign language, your day at school consists of either memorizing or copying and memorizing the lesson that the teacher has written on the board. Rote memorization is what learning consists of in most Malian schools. And what makes it even worse, is that the content is still largely based in the colonial French framework, with very few references to life as kids know it and live it in Mali.Now, add to that the fact that as a girl, you are expected to support your mothers (plural) with much of the cooking, cleaning and organizing of the home. Also, there are probably some home businesses that you need to be involved with --making shi butter from the nuts that are collected from the countryside; collecting and selling wood; making and selling herbal remedies. Clearly for your family, the time that you spend at school is seen as a loss to the family. Since the boys don't have these expectations of house work, it's not such a problem to have them spending time at school. But girls are just too valuable NOT to have at home. So, by the end of primary school, many girls have already dropped out of school.

Now if that's not bad enough, in the 1990's, the World Bank started a campaign called "Structural Adjustment," whose goal was to help third world governments and economies look more like the west. A key part of the strategy was to privatize state-owned businesses, and to reduce the budon of public sector employees. This meant privatizing education. Mali is a great example of this strategy in action, or in inaction. As a result, the government encouraged individuals to open private schools, with absolutely no money coming from the state. School fees are paid by the families, and from these fees, the school must pay its teachers, and purchase all that is necessary to run a school. Today, of the 12,000 schools in Mali, 6,000 are private.

My friend Baba runs one of these private schools. It is called "Ecole Sirido Baba," and it is located in a poor neighborhood of Bamako called Dianguinebougou. Unlike state schools, you don't need a teaching degree to teach in a private school. In Baba's school, Baba is the only person who has finished Lycee --the academic pathway to high school equivalency in Malian education. All the other teachers have a technical certificate of some sort, or part of a Lycee education. Also, they receive almost no training from the government, and so, they teach what they were taught, in the style that they were taught it. That means: the teacher writes lessons on the board, and the students copy it down, and memorize it. That's school.

l'Institute pour l'Education Populaire (IEP)

Maria started her own school, called "Chi Wara," which is the mythological symbol of excellence in Bambara culture. Now, she has an organization called IEP, and they have set out to transform Malian education; to end the process of "stupidification", as she calls it, which has been the result of public education in the post-colonial period. Maria's focus is to help schooling be relevant to the life and culture of the people of Mali, and to help the pedagogy be engaging and stimulating for the kids --to help them to be curious, to build on what they know, and to make sense of the world around them.

As we would visit classrooms in public schools, I was amazed at how Maria would step right into her transformative role. As if on cue, the teacher would immediately scare the children into statue-like obedience. Hands folded across the chest, faces expressionless --as if this was the posture of learning. More realistically, this is the posture of obedience, which is important when you have almost 100 kids in your class! From the beginning, Maria would start to get the kids engaged, slowly encouraging them to unfold their arms. She would ask them if they had any questions for us visitors. She would ask them what they wanted to be when they grow up? She would ask them if they had a song they would like to share. Slowly, the kids would come alive, as their knowledge and culture would for a moment be welcomed in the classroom. Unfortunately, these were French classrooms, and so the kids' Bambara knowledge and culture wasn't made to feel very welcome; as if their culture and traditions didn't have much value.

That is the work of IEP. Breaking the cycle of "stupidification." Helping Malian children build on their rich culture and values, and truly learn to make sense of the 21st century world they live in. Here are some images from our day visiting Baba's school, "Ecole Sirido Baba," and the public school up the road in Dianguinebougou.

Madu's Speech

I found that once in front of a group of kids, I would inevitably find myself trying to debunk the myth of the USA and the WEST being where its at! So many young Malians dream of going to the States, or to France, to "make it." I would tell them how much I have learned from them, from their culture and traditions. I would tell them how special their culture is, and how rich with humanity and respect and dignity it is. I would tell them that the "hadamadenya" (humanness) and "bonya" (respect) that exists in Malian society is worth more than gold. I would tell them that the sense of community and belonging that one feels in Mali is more valuable for their future than any sum in a bank account.

I would tell them all this in Bambara. Did they hear me? Not sure. Despite my language abilities, my white skin and American passport are pretty powerful.

Blog ya later.

Madu./.

Road Trip with Brahima Ouologuem (a.k.a. "Willy")

Road Trip!

After our first week settling into Maria's home in Kati, we spent 5 days on the road visiting Djenne and Bandiagarra in the north of Mali. Maria gave us her LandCruiser, and we were lucky enough to get to travel with Brahima Ouologuem. Ouloguem (pronousned Wiligem) and I worked together at Plan International in Banamba in 1985-86. When my folks visited in 1987, he accompanied us on a similar trip to the north country. Ouologuem is Dogon, and in addition to speaking Bambara and beautiful English, he also speaks Dogon and Fulani, two of the dominant languages in the northern part of Mali. Now, he works as a language teacher with Peace Corps, especially with volunteers in the Djenne, Mopti, Dogon part of the country. Luckily, Ouologuem was free, and so agreed to join us (and drive us!) on our trip north. I guess he's become the official Pollack-family tour-guide. He was the perfect guide!

The first day we drove 7 hours from Kati to Djenne. Djenne is the oldest city in Africa, situated in the Niger River delta, and home of the largest mud builing in the world (the Mosque of Djenne). We stayed at a great hotel on the outskirts of town, called Djenne Djenno, and spent a day touring the town. Unlike most Malian towns, Djenne is full of 2 and 3-story mud buildings. Their clay is so good, and they are such skilled builders, that they live in this very urban environment --16,000 people together on a pretty small island. It's amazing being surrounde by multi-story adobe buildings. Waling around felt very biblical. This is a picture looking at Djenne from the roof of our hotel.

The other exciting piece of the Djenne story was finding and visiting Jean Louis Bourgeois' house in Djenne. I met Jean Louis in New York in 1987, when he and Carrollee were finishing their book, Spectacular Vernacular, about adobe architecture in Mali and Afghanistan. Over the years, we've become good friends, and Jean Louis even introduced us to our little piece of sagebrush in Taos -- he has a gorgeous adobe on the mesa! In the past 10 years, Jean Louis has been going regularly to Mali, an was given a piece of land from the Chef du Village, and has built a gorgeous Djenne-style home. It wasn't too hard finding him, as our guide (whose surname is "Boss") is a grandson of the village chief, and knows Jean Louis very well. After a wonderful walk through town, we went by Jean Louis' home, and met his guardian "Cisse," who gave us a tour. It is situated right on the river, with incredibly beautiful roof-top sleeping. That will definitely be our home for our next trip.

After two nights at hotel Djenne Djenno (check out the hotel's website: http://www.hoteldjennedjenno.com/?page_id=10,) we drove up to the cliffs of Bandiagara, and Dogon country. The Dogon live only in this one part of Mali, which is very remote and protected by cliffs. As a result of their isolation, and their tenacity, they have stayed very indepenent, with a very strong animist tradition and unique cosmology. The land is very rugged, and extremely rocky. As a result, where the houses in Djenne are built with Djenne's incredible mud, the houses in Dogon country are built just of rock! No adobe bricks. Just stacked rocks! Dogon villages are collections of beautiful rock huts, and small mud graineries. Incrredibly picturesque. Since Ouologuem works with Peace Corps volunteers in the region, we got to stop and visit a volunteer named Kate in her village. We found her down at the village well, measuring. It turns out that her main project has been to deepen the well, not an easy task in the rocky terrain of Dogon country. She is finishing her second year, and enjoying every moment (believe it or not, she is 30 km on a dirt road from Bandiagara, and said she wishes she was placed in a more remote site... afterall, her village is on the tourist path to Sanga... and you know what those tourists do to the price of chicken...) We then walked with her down to the small river that flows next to the village. The Dogon are famous for growing onions in small plots alongside these small rivers, which are dammed up to provide water for a good part of the dry season. We went to see the volunteer's Malian counterpart, who was down in the onion fields, and got an up-close look at the onion fields. Very cool. Here's a picture of the volunteer, Kate, some village kids who tagged along as we showed up, and her counterpart (next to me with the t-shirt on his head).

Unfortunately, our trip in Dogon country was a bit slowed-down by Alex's stomach. She got a bug, perhaps some sour milk in Djenne, and just was feely crummy most of the time. The one day we explored the area, she had a terrible fever, and was feeling miserable. (In fact, one of the old ladies in the Dogon village took one look at her an said, "she doesn't looke well!" So, rather than hike the cliffs, we settled into our hotel in Bandiagara for some quiet downtime at our hotel, the Cheval Blanc. That allowed Maya and I to play some Dogon mini-golf. We have some cool video clips of that, but the blog site is not letting us upload them. Sorry...

So, that's a bit about our road trip in Mali. It was wonderful driving through the countryside, seeing villages enjoying a very successful farming season. It's amazing, but once you get outside the magnetic pull of the cities, the villages look really healthy. Adobe homes are well-plastered, gardens are well-tended, and people seem engaged in a variety of dry-season activities (shi-butter making; gardening; brick-making, etc.). The harvest had happened back in October, and was very good. We saw lots of people busily thrashing and winnowing the millet. Lots of millet stalks piled-up on rooftops, to serve as animal feed during the dry season. And we saw a ton of beautiful mango (delish!), baobab (leaves for sauce; bark for rope), and shi (oil) trees. It was easy to imagine how simple and good life can be, as we drove by at 110 km/hour. It was nice to be with Ouologuem, who would share stories of Peace Corps volunteers, who live in a number of the villages we passed. Perhaps some of that might have sunk it with Alex and Maya, though it's hard to tell. Nonetheless, it was a great road trip.
Blog ya later.
Madu (Seth)./.

Madu's 50th B-day Bash

Madu's 50th: The Birthday Bash to end all Bashes

It started in the morning, when the ladies from the Segou women's cooperative came, and were immediately put to work making donuts for the afternoon. It was quite the production, considering the size of the operation, and the open-air quality of the kitchen! Naomi and Alex joined in the fun, while Maria and I made a run to the grocery store, to make sure that the muslims and the non-muslims had the appropriate libations to celebrate. We bought 5 cases of coke/fanta, 2 cases of beer, and 20 litres of "chapolo" --locally produced millet beer (especially for the balafon players) --not to mention a couple of bottles of champagne to go with the cake! Later in the morning, another group of women arrived, but none of the locals seemed to know them well. It turns out they were a group of griotes (traditional praise singers), invited by the Segou women to help animate the party. They were hungry when they arrived, and Maria got her number one helper, Kafuneh (who we lovingly called "Cinderella" --though that's a longer story), to pull together a quick breakfast of coffee, bread and porridge. However, right when Kafuneh got back from the bakery with the bread, the cook announced that lunch was ready! So, the next thing we knew, we were all sitting down to big bowls of rice and sauce.

Griotes and Praise-Singing
Then shortly after lunch, amplifiers got plugged in, and the "stage" was set-up for the music. The griotes came out of the "dressing room" in beautiful gowns, adorned with lots of gold, and pretty soon the music began. Griotes ("jeli-ke" or "jeli-muso" in Bambara) are traditional praise singers and oral historians, and at any Malian celebration, their role is to honor the attendees by reminding each person of their familial lineage through song! At this party, the first song went to Maria's husband, Ibrahim Keita, as he is the "du-tigi" or "chef de famille" and official host. Keita is THE royal family in Mali, kind of like Kennedy, and so Ibrahim's story linked him right back to Sundiata Keita, the founding king of the Mali Empire! The next song was to Maria, as it is because of her work in education and women's development that we were all there. And then came my turn.

When your song starts, it usually starts pretty slow, almost like a ballad, as the griote sets the context. Then, she keeps heaping on the praise, telling the world of all the great things you have accomplished in life, and how you are such a great representative of the family clan. As this is happening, you sit there and soak in all the praise, taking it in in as dignified way as possible. As the griot sings, people are coming over to you, and raising your hand, an acknowledgement that what the griote is saying is true. Then, at some point, you just can't take it anymore, and you rise up and start dancing. Not wildly yet, but slowly and rhthmically, as the praises are still coming. As you start dancing, others join in with you, forming a sort-of conga-line dancing behind you! Still, people keep coming up to you to raise your hand, and at some point, someone gives you a shawl, which means, "you best be getting ready to boogie!" Then, the drum tempo picks-up, and at this point, you either go back to your seat in a dignified way, indicating that you are too old and/or cool to dance, or, you approach the drums and start to shake, rock and roll! And if you don't do the shaking, then some of your most loyal friends, and/or best dancers, will be out there shaking it up in your honor. On the right is a picture of the griote's last pleas and praises, before I couldn't take it anymore, and got up to dance. And the video clip below gives you a sense of what followed:


Rockin' Balafons

Before we had left for our trip to the North, I told Maria that I wanted to have some "balafons" at the party. While the griot music is appreciated by the elders, the more traditional folks, balafon music has a more universal audience. The tunes are very rhythmic, and not really directed toward one person, so they encourage everyone to get out there and shake it up! So after a couple of hours of the griotes, the balafons got set up. There were two balafons, and about six back-up drummers (and of course, the 20-litres of chapolo to keep them well-lubricated). The balafon music got everyone dancing, and by this time, the compound was packed with neighborhood kids and folks, who had heard the music and had to come and take part.

Of all the people who were dancing, by far the most energetic dancer was an old lady who Maria called Filani which means "twin." Filani is a neighbor, who makes a bit of money selling traditional medicines. It turns out that Maria's mother, who is a real character and party-animal, told Filani about the party, because she knew how much life she would bring to the party. She was right. From the moment Filani arrived, that is, once she put down her try of herbs, she was on the dance floor. The scene below captures a little of the action. As you will see, at one point one of the Griotes puts a shawl around a little boy, a sign of honor, encouraging him to shake it up with Filani. It was a great moment of inter-generational learning. Filani is in the green boubou, her energy was infectious:

The Real Party
The real party was supposed to begin at 7:00, but when 6:00 rolled-around, the compound was still packed with folks. So Maria made an announcement, asking all the folks from the neighborhood to kindly leave until the evening festivities would begin. She did it in a beautiful way, letting everyone know that they are not being chased away, but that we just needed to make space for the invited guests to have dinner! She told everyone to come back once they heard the music begin again!

We had about 60 people for dinner: roasted sheep, potatoes and vegies, served on large platters. Maria had bought plastic tables that were set-up in the courtyard, and all the "invitees" were able to sit at tables for the dinner. The guest list included: Mamdou Samake, director of the Peace Corps language school; Gaoussou Mariko, former PC language teacher and now Cultural Affairs Assistant at the US Embassy; Moussa Sissoko, former PC language teacher, and current superintendent of Education for the region of Kati, and his wife and kids; Brahima Ouologuem, a friend who I worked with at Plan International, who is now a PC language teacher; Idrissa Coulibaly, who also works at the US Embassy, and his wife and kids; and of course my friends from Banamba, Sambou and Haina and their daughter Mah Traore and her daughter Kadidiatou. Also, five of the women who I worked with in the women's cooperative in Bamako, La Paysanne came to the party. This is where I met Maria, as she was the Associate Director, and my role was to help this group become the first independent women's NGO in Mali. Many good times were had! Here is a picture of all of us together.

Before dinner, the dance group from Maria's school, Chi Wara performed a few numbers. They were wonderful, especially since we had gotten to know many of the girls during our time staying with Maria. Many were her nieces and other girls who she has adopted and who stay with her. The dancing was fantastic.

Then, we all feasted! After dinner, it was my moment to thank everyone. I had written a speech in English, and with Brahima, I had translated it into Bambara. In Mali, you don't really give speeches as we do in the states. Rather, you always have your griot next to you. You tell the griot something, and then the griot communicates it to the community. So, Cheik Kumar Coulibaly, who is Maria's associate director, offered to be my griot. I was really nervous, as it had been a while since I had done any public speaking in Bambara; but I didn't want to miss this opportunity to share with all my karamogow ("teachers"), how much I have learned from them, and how life-changing their lessons have been for me. And of course, how wonderful it is to now be sharing this all with Naomi, Alex, and Maya. (I've posted the letter as a separate blog, so you can read it there). After my speech, Naomi came up, and with Maria acting as her griote, gave a beautiful speech, thanking everyone, and saying how wonderful it was to come to Mali and not see lots of little 20 year-old "Madu Diarras" running around! She was awesome!

Then, the musical Grande Finale started. Maria's youngest son "Kumanjan" has a Bambara rap group. They are DJs at parties throughout the area, and have a pretty big local following. They use lots of American rap elements, but the songs are in Bambara and the social messages are all relevant to current Malian society. So, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, captured live from Kati, here is "DJ KJ:"

Sweetest Birthday Cake

By 10:00pm, the compound was still packed! But Maria made another wonderfully appropriate announcement, saying that it is better to stop when you are still having fun, than to overdo the joy. So, pretty soon, most of the invitees and neighbors had left, and only the family (all 20-some members of Maria's extended family) and my friend Idrissa Coulibaly and his family were there. So, it was officially time for the birthday cake. I know, this looks like a regular, ordinary birthday cake, but considering that they don't really do cakes in Mali, this was extra-special. Maria ordered it in Bamako, from a baking school. People were just blown away. And everyone, even the adults, had seconds! Even with seconds, we only were able to finish half of the cake, and so the other half was saved for our departure, which was the next day! I couldn't help but reflect on all of those Costco sheet cakes that we've seen at celebrations, and how I have come to take them for granted. Well, this was one cake that definitely brought smiles to dozens of peoples faces. (The words on the cake say: "May god keep us all together. Madu 50 years old")

What a party! All I can say is: buh, buh, buh, buh, buuuhhhhh! (Bambara expression for disbelief.) The biggest bummer was that you all weren't there to celebrate with us! We missed you!!!

Love to y'all. Blog ya later.

Madu./.

Mali Joy!

A ja tay say ka fo ka ban! (Words just can't express the joy.)

As we were just planning this trip, I remember talking to someone about the possibility of going back to Mali. In a moment of deep, honest, un-edited expression, I remember saying something like: "Going back to Mali gives me the chance to tie-up a major loose thread in my life. Once Naomi and the girls have been there and experienced the warmth and wealth of the Malian family, then it won't matter if I get hit by a bus! The torch will have been passed."

Well, the torch has been passed. I had incredibly high expectations for this trip. Reconnecting with old friends and family. Introducing Naomi and the girls. Exploring ideas about integrating service learning in rural Malian bi-lingual education classes. Celebrating my 50th birthday. AND, the trip surpassed all expectations. We spent the first week with my colleague and big sister Maria Diarra in Kati, just outside the capital Bamako. There, we visited her school, became a part of her extended family, and visited a few other projects and schools in the area. We also got to spend some time with another Fulbrighter, Rosemary Traore and her family. Then, we took a 5-day trip north. First to Djenne (home to the largest adobe structure in the world -the Mosque of Djenne), then to the Dogon plateau, and finally to Segou, the historic capital of the Malian empire. Finally, we came back to Kati, where we had the birthday bash to end all birthday bashes (more on that later).

San mugan ni kelen tay tilay mugan ni kelen deh! (Twenty-one years is not twenty-one days!).

Two weeks of highs! Where do I start? This was truly the trip of a lifetime. It had been twenty-one years since I left Mali; but amazingly my Bamanankan (the local language spoken by most people in Mali) came back as if it was yesterday. More importantly, reconnecting with people after nearly a quarter of a century, was incredible. Mah Traore, the 2-year old daughter of Sambou and Haina Coulibaly is now married, and has a 2-year old of her own, Kadidiatou. Baba Traore, who was a high school biology student living with us in Banamba, is now principal of his own private school, "Ecole Sirido Baba" (the tiny farming hamlet that he comes from is called Sirido). Moussa Sissoko, one of my Peace Corps bamanankan teachers is now the director of education for the region of Kati; and Gaoussou Mariko, another Peace Corps teacher is now working at the US embassy. Here are a couple before and after pictures, to give you a sense of what 25 years looks like:

Left: Sambou with his daughter Mah Traore, and my Peace Corps buddy Yakuba (1985). Right: Sambou and his granddaughter, Kadidiatou (2008).

And here we all are looking at old pictures on the computer: (from left to right: Haina, Sambou, Seth, Mah Traore, Kafineh, and Alex in the back).

Left: Baba Traore and Haina in front of our home in Banamba (1986). Right: Baba Traore and Seth in front of Baba's school (2008).

Left: Peace Corps teachers in 1982 (Moussa Sissoko is on the far right). Right: In Moussa Sissoko's living room in Kati (from l to r: Alex, Naomi, Moussa, Moussa's wife, Maria, Seth and Maya). (2008).

Things have changed in Mali in the past 25 years. Cell phones are everywhere, and you can get coverage throughout the country, even in Timbuktou! In 1987, there was only 1 paved road, running north-south, connecting Mali to the Ivory Coast. Now, there are many paved highways, connecting Mali to Senegal on the west, Guinea on the South-west, and Niger on the east. Also, as Alex and Maya found out, styles have changed. In preparation for the trip, I told them not to pack jeans or shorts, as I said that girls, especially proper girls, did not wear such items! WRONG!!! Truly, with regard to Malian fashion, I am a "man of the '80s." While Malian women do wear beautiful traditional clothes, they also wear shorts and jeans. Sorry Maya!

So, this is the first of my Malian blogs. Just to break the ice. I'll end with this last picture from our trip north with Brahima Ouologuem. He and I worked together in Banamba, and when my mother visited in 1986, he accompanied us on a similar trip to Djenne and the Dogon Plateau. Now, 21 years later, he is working as a Dogon teacher for Peace Corps, and was able to join us again on our trek north. He is now married --2 wives and 10 kids-- but that's a story for later. Here we are on the banks of the Niger in Segou.

Blog ya later.

Madu (Seth)./.

An taara Mali la! (We've gone to Mali)...

Tomorrow we leave for our 2-week trip to Mali. You'd think it was just around the corner, afterall, we are in Africa. But, to get to Mali from Cape Town, we fly 2 hours to Johannesburg, then 9 hours to Dakar, and then 2 hours to Bamako (after spending the night in the airport). This is one big continent...

For those who don't know, I lived in Mali for 5 years from 1982 to 1987 as a Peace Corps volunteer, and then as country director for the American Friends Service Committee. This will be my first time back since then, and I can't tell you how much this means to me. Afterall, when I left Mali, Madu Diarra (my Bambara name) was just a young, single buck. Not much social status in Malian society. But now, Madu is coming back as a real person, with a wife (though only one) and kids. Now, Madu is a somebody.

We'll be staying with my Malian big sister, Maria Diarra, who is the director of an NGO called "Institute for Popular Education." Here is their website: http://www.h-net.org/~ibrahimd/iep/index.html IEP works with schools to help students learn to read and write in their own language. In Mali, the official language, and the language of schooling, is French. But, IEP helps students transition into French by starting to learn to read and write in their own language, and with material that is based in their own culture: Bamanankan, Fula, Songhai, etc. Maria is doing some very exciting work. Here is a website that talks about their project: http://sites.google.com/site/malibooksproject/

This is really a dream come true. In addition to visiting with Maria, we'll be visiting a school that a friend is now the principal of, and also visiting the family that I lived with in Banamba, two hours north of Bamako. Finally, we hope to travel up-country to visit Djenne and Mopti.

And oh yes, I'll be there for my 50th birthday. There will surely be a fete happening, so if you hear the furious rhythmic sound of drums on December 20th, just smile and know that Madu Diarra is turning 50!

As there isn't great internet connectivity in Mali, not sure how much blogging we'll be doing. So, perhaps this will be

it for a couple of weeks. We will be coming back to Cape Town on 22 December.

Blog ya then. K'an ben (see you later).
Madu Diarra (a.k.a., Seth )

A Cape Town Wildlife Adventure

So, we woke up the other morning to some honking. And it wasn't a car. But it wouldn't stop, and it was 5:30 in the morning. Finally, Naomi got out of bed and went outside to check, and said, "They're back!" Well, it turns out that the previous evening, we heard a similar honking, and when we went outside we saw a large Egyptian goose, pacing back and forth near the pool, honking. We didn't know what the commotion was about, until we spotted three little gooslings swimming in the pool. It turns out, mom knows how to get in and out of the pool, but the kiddies don't! Begin round one of wildlife rescue! I got the pool net and gently scooped up the babies and helped them out of the pool! Success!

The next morning, they were back. And this time, we were able to catch all the exciting action on film. Enjoy.

Seth./.