An ye an yere ta...

On September 22, 2010, Mali celebrated it's 50^th anniversary of independence. We've had a lot of celebrations in my village over the last year, but this truly beat them all. There was a lot of anticipation for the day...the start of the school year was delayed 2.5 weeks so that people could focus on Independence. At least a month in advance, people started talking about the huge party we would have, frequently asking to make sure I would be in town.

My village is the commune seat (think: county seat), and representatives from each village within the commune met to plan and contribute money to the festivities. Our Mayor and Commandant were very clear in pointing out that no money was provided by the government for this to take place – everything had to come from the general population. When the day came, I was proud to be living where I am – they were able to do a lot with the money they raised.

The start of festivities began with the opening of a new “cultural centre” in my village. Dances (think: exactly like a high school dance, and just as corny, with just as bad of music) are very important to the youth in my village. During the dry part of the year, dances are held 2-4 times per month at the donke yoro (dancing place), and can be found around village much more frequently than that. A new donke yoro was built this year; basically a giant enclosed space for dances and theater to take place. On the night of September 21, a dance party was held to open the new dance hall. As part of all this I was asked to be the donba (mother of the dance) and to open the dance with the Mayor, who was the donfa (father of the dance). This involved dancing to a Celine Dion song while students formed a circle around us. All in front of 200-300 people...just my kind of thing, right? It was a lot of fun though, the new cultural center is great, and I had the chance to see many friends I hadn't seen in awhile at the dance. Unfortunately I don't have any photos. We danced unitl 2:30 AM, when the gas in the generator ran out. Probably a good thing it ran out when it did because we all had to get up for the real festivities the next morning.

On Wednesday September 22^nd, the town woke up with smiles on their faces. Neighboring communities had spent the night in my village and were parading through the streets drumming and dancing. The Mali flag had been draped in as many places as possible, and a crowd was gathering at the nyenaje yoro (literally: fun place). I walked over with my chair and got a seat towards the front in the “invitees” area. I was glad to get a seat there because I was able to take lots of photos. By now nearly 600 people had arrived, I wouldn't be surprised if the number was greater than that.

Let's step back and picture this for a moment...There I was, a little over half-way through my service as a Peace Corps Volunteer. And, at about half-way, you really start to question what in the world you're achieving by being away from your friends, family and things you know for 2 years. You wonder if your presence is doing anything to help the people you're living with, and whether or not it's worth it to stick through another year. As I sat watching the Malians of my village come together for this celebration, I was struck more than usual by how awesome this PC opportunity is, and how lucky I am to be here in mali. The depth of Malian culture and the generosity of Malian people has no bounds. This celebration of Independence displayed what Mali and her people are all about. A celebration of where they've come from, and how far they've come since gaining Independence. When Malians tell me how their country has no money and no work, I gety frustrated because I want them to understand the huge value of the assets they do have. As the theatric performances and dancing went on during the afternoon, I was proud to be “Malian,” at least for these 2 years. And, it's worth staying another year, not just to dig a well and help the shea association, but to continue to build relationships and understanding with these amazing people.

Moving on...the festivities began. The young men of my village raised the flag and sang the national anthem. Then, the Mayor and Commandant planted a tree and made long speeches about the importance of the day. Each village that is part of our commune paraded by the mayor to “greet” him. This involved drumming, dancing and singing. Men running everywhere doing flips, some dressed as clowns. The young women of my village wrote a song about how “An ye an yere ta,” (Kind of translated as: We took control of ourselves). 50 years ago that day, Malians were no longer under the control of a colonial power, and were able to take decisions into their own hands. They accompanied the song with dancing, both synchronized dancing and some amazing solo performances. Perhaps I' prejudiced, but my village made the best show of them all. The karate masters from our village also did a demonstration, which was a lot of fun.

In the midst of all this, the hunters paraded through the crowd. These men are part of the Hunter's Association, and are particularly known for their "nyenaje" (fun). The pace slowed as they came through dancing and shooting off their guns at random moments. There was a man playing a kora-like instrument and others blowing whistles and playing bells. All were dressed head to toe in bogolan, carrying their guns as they traipsed along. They came to the front of the crowd and sat down, while the leader of the group sang a song (I didn't understand a word). Others creeped around as if hunting, shooting off their guns when you least expected. Then, they got up and moved off as slowly as they had arrived.

To finish the morning's fun, there was a bicycle race, sack races, and attempts by kids to climb a greased pole to get candy. For the little kids, there was a blindfolded game where they tried to cut down candy that was hanging by a string. Unfortunately, the donkey races were canceled because the morning activities had taken too long, and it was too hot for a donkey race. After these games, everyone went off to eat - food had been bought and prepared so that everyone who attended received food.

After a couple hours rest, the day's celebration was ended with a soccer game: my village vs. all of the other villages combined. We won 3-1 in a good game, which saw the coaches nearly in a fist fight shortly after half-time. The mayor had to call them over and tell them to mind their manners in front of all of the dignitaries that were present.

And so the day ended, everyone ridiculously tired and satisfied with all of the activities that had gone on. Now, for your viewing pleasure:

This is my good friend Papou and I just before the celebrations began. Papou's last name is Kouyate, which makes him a Jeli, otherwise known as a griot in Mali. In Malian culture, the griots have many important roles, such as acting like an MC at funerals, weddings, baptisms and other special occasions, acting as third parties (when I eat lunch with the mayor or sit in at his office, he always has a griot with him. People who talk to the mayor will actually talk through the griot, even though everyone present can hear and perfectly understand what is being said. It's a hard thing to get used to as an American sometimes), etc. Papou acted as the MC for the Independence day celebrations, announcing all the activities and trying to keep people within their time limits (pretty much impossible).

Some of the performers parading through prior to the opening of the celebration.

Young men of my village raising the Malian flag and singing the national anthem of Mali.

Young women from a nearby village performing a dance for Independence day celebrations.

Some of the hunters during their performance on Independence day.

Another hunter...Playing a kora as he dances along (some debate among PCVs as to whether this is an ngoni, kora, or both, or what...forgive me if I am wrong).

This guy was responsible for most of the gun powder shots going off. Huge clouds of smoke would follow the shots of his gun as he skipped away smiling giddily.

And here come the proud young women of my village. They had the best dance and song by far...but I am biased.

Dancing mid air to the Djembe beat.

Trying to climb the greased pole to get the prizes at the top. This kid was lucky because a lot of the oil had been wiped off the pole by previous contestants...I'm pretty sure he won a bag of soap for his slippery efforts.

The bicycle racers lining up for the big race. Approximately a 4 mile “sprint” ride on a poor dirt road.

Have I ever mentioned that we have karate lessons in my village on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays? I should really take it up. Karate is hugely popular, especially with many of the younger kids. The karate masters demonstrated their sport shortly for the crowd.