Except it’s not raining. In the time since my last blog entry, the weather in Mali has changed from the unbearably hot month of May to a decently rain-filled June, to a cool and dry July. The rain arrived early this year; we even had several big rain storms to break the heat in May. Farmers in my village were excited, thinking this was going to be a great year for rain – they were going to get a big harvest! Some began plowing their fields and planting seeds earlier than they might do on a normal basis. At the beginning of June, those who hadn’t yet started planting their crops were considered lazy.
Now, we’re into July. In the last 3 weeks we’ve had 3 rainstorms, only one of which was substantial enough to keep the ground wet for more than an hour. Everyone keeps saying “dugu jalendon” (the ground is dry). Millet and other crops that were planted in June are wilting and being destroyed by insects. I gave 10 farmers new varieties of sorghum to test in their fields (seeds from ICRISAT) 3 weeks ago. Most haven’t been able to plant their seeds yet; some haven’t even been able to plow the area in which they are going to plant the seeds! The ground is too hard and dry to work with. One friend came back from the fields before lunch time today, saying “There’s nothing to do until it rains – the ground is too dry.” Normally, people would be in their fields from morning through afternoon at this time of year.
Granted, this is only my 2nd rainy season in Mali. And last year in training, I had no idea what was going on, or what should be going on. This year, I still don’t know what a normal rain pattern is for the area, but I do know that people in my village seem scared and antsy. Hopefully the rains will return soon and all of this will be moot. I asked one farmer what he would do if the rain didn’t come, his response, “Nothing, it’s God’s will.” I guess there’s not much you can do when you’re entire livelihood is based on rain-fed agriculture and having a successful harvest.
Other than a lack of rain, things have been going well on this side. Even though it hasn’t been raining, clouds are rolling through every day, which drops the temperature to a livable 90-something degrees. We’ve had some beautiful, overcast, Seattle-like days over the last few weeks (except 30-40 degrees warmer.
My brother Ben and sister-in-law Kelly came to visit Mali for a week during June. We had a really good, although very short, visit. We spent a couple of days in Bamako, and spent most of their time at my site. Ben and Kelly were given live chickens on three separate occasions, which were all made into delicious dinners. We visited the fields the day after a big rain (this was before the rain stopped) and saw everyone plowing and preparing their fields for planting. Since both Ben and Kelly are doctors, we visited the health center, so that they could get an idea of what the health issues at my site are. Most of their visit was spent greeting my friends throughout the village; I hope I didn’t tire Ben and Kelly out too much. It was so good to see Ben and Kelly, it meant a lot to have family come to visit and begin to understand a little bit about what Peace Corps is about, and about my experiences in Mali. Thanks Ben and Kelly!
I’ve been working hard in my garden over the last 3 weeks. The early rain in June replenished the ground water to some extent, so I am able to get well water for my garden. I used a daba (hoe) to dig up all the grass that had taken over. This week, I’ve been preparing new beds and planting peppinieres (nurseries). I have a little of everything – peanuts, corn, beans, squash, cucumbers, tomatoes, eggplant, hot peppers, green peppers and a compost pile. I hope it works better than my previous gardening attempts. I harvested a lot of tomatoes, onions, green peppers and lettuce from my last round of planting, but I’ve also had huge problems with insects. I am slowly learning how to deal with all of the problems that come with growing a garden in Mali.
I forgot to comment about the hot season in my last blog entry. I dreaded the month of May starting in February, when the cold season seemed (to me) to end early. It got hot fast. From mid-February onwards it must have been above 100 degrees every day. As late April/May approached, the temperature was 105-110 degrees every day. That’s hot. It got even hotter in other areas of Mali. I think the hottest I experienced was ~115 degrees. When it’s that hot, you drink 7-8 liters of water per day, and learn to follow Malians' examples of showering 3-4 times per day, sitting and doing nothing during the hottest parts of the day, and eating mangoes – 4-6 mangoes per day! The most delicious mangoes you could ever imagine (available in all sorts of varieties) made sticking around through the hot season almost worthwhile. Mangoes may have trumped oranges as my favorite fruit, though it has been over a year since I ate my last delicious orange.
Hope you’re happy and healthy. I’ve been here a year now, and I appreciate all the letters, phone calls, notes, emails and packages that have helped me try to keep in touch with home. Thank you. I’ll leave it at that, here are some pictures for the road:
Some pictures from Ben and Kelly's visit. First, Ben and I on the Niger River:
Kelly and I on the river:
My good friend Oumou and her son Bu. All dressed up for the students vs. villagers soccer game. Oumou sponsored a big dance that was held the evening following the soccer game.
Here is the student side of the soccer game:
Ben and Kelly gave out lots of stickers to the kids in my village. Quite a hit, though it turned into kids trying to trick us into giving them more and more stickers. And, as we all know, stickers are meant to be put all over your face.
Ben and Kelly with one of their 3 chickens:
Papa, Ladji and Mamidou - my homologue's sons - plowing their field after one of the big rains in June.
Ben and Kelly's visit attracted more kids to my compound than are normally there. Kids I had never seen even showed up!
And, there were kids constantly standing in my doorway watching Ben and Kelly's every move (until I, ehem, politely, would tell them to get out of there).
