Mali Journal

Back to the Land of Everything!

2007-08-09T17:26:00.000Z

After realizing I was headed out of Mali within the week, I started to get eager to make myself a malian outfit, to spend time with people, and to purchase gifts for my family. I had a good last week in Mali; it was sad to leave but GOd is faithful and I had a good send off! Tasha came with me to Bamako to help me shop at the artisan and just because she's a quality friend and wanted to see me off.

Shari-the missionary that runs the AVANT guesthouse in Bamako-took me to church and out to eat that night and then to the airport. As she was walking me up to the bamako airport we were talking about my flights and layovers and as i told her I had 6 hours in Paris she told me that should be enough time to get out into the city and see some sites if I was feeling adventurous. Little did either of us know--I was feeling adventurous when the plane landed in Paris.

I got 90 euro out of the ATM ( I still don't know how much that is in dollars) and I got several people's help with instructions, train stations, etc. and somehow made it out of hte airport and onto a train. After trying to find a boat like I had previously been instructed to do by a tourist lady in the airport, I found another way to the Eiffel tour by the metro or M-6 as us experts like to call it. SO anyway I"m traveling the Metro and I get off and find the street (not as easy as it sounds) and decide to just look for the Eiffel Tower (I knew it was at least close) anyway I walk around a building and there it was!

It was so exciting for me to realize that I had the bravery to venture out into Paris by myself with no clue what to do and find the Eiffel Tower (at this point it wasn't known if I was going to navigate back to the airport in time to catch my flight but step 1 had gone well.) So I relished in the moment, took some pictures and bought so Eiffel TOwer keychains- 2 for 1 Euro (no idea how much that was but it sounded like a good deal.) The guy also offered me an umbrella but I told him that I liked the rain and didn't need one (this is a bit of foreshadowing.) So anyway it was sprinkling but i had a coat on and was find with getting a bit wet. So I decided to walk on down along this path toward the tower. It was a fairytale moment for me walking around the Eiffel Tower in Paris in the rain.

But it did begin to pour rain and I was getting rather wet. My pants and coat were soaked but my only worry was my bag that had my computer. So I had an african skirt in my bag that I wrapped my computer in and I was good to go. I saw most everyone had ponchos or umbrellas but I was not worried--i would dry and I liked the rain.

The next part of my story is called "Why I need my lucky cricket." On Mulan there is a cricket that is supposedly lucky and we decided that Tasha was my lucky cricket in Mali because she saved us both on occasion. So back to Paris, Eiffel Tower, pouring rain, Courtney faceplanting in a mud puddle. that's right. mud puddle. and I was covered. clumps on my hands, mud all over my pants, all over my coat, and all over my bag. for real it was exciting. I fell about 30 feet from the Eiffel Tower so there were several tourists around and one chinese man in particular. He first gave me the "ooh poor person who fell in the mud while all alone and looks very pathetic" then he began to laugh as I got up and started taking pictures of my mud puddle. Here it is:

After falling in the mud my spirits sunk a little but not too bad. IT was what it was. THe only real tragedy was that all my clothes were checked and I couldn't get to any of them til I got back home. I had that African skirt to change into but had to wear my wet, muddy white t-shirt the rest of my trip. But I didn't let those thoughts get me down. In fact I decided to continue my tourism by walking up the stairs of hte Eiffel Tower. the lines for the elevator were outrageous and I didn't really want to pay for that anyway. But the stairs were only 3.10 Euros (no idea again how much that really is) and so I went for it. I was sure tired and my legs felt like jelly. my cavs are still sore actually. but it didn't occur to me til later that I hiked up and down 668 stairs all wet, muddy, with a big computer/book bag that was full and my full purse/bag.

So i climbed the Eiffel Tower and then walked back, got on the metro (missed my stop but got straightened away with little trouble), found my train, had to jump a little gate thingy to get back into the airport (not sure what that was all about but my ticket wouldn't work and there was no one to help me but this girl who told me to just jump it so I did.) I got back in and made it through security with about 20 minutes to spare before my plane to Chicago began boarding. My flight to chicago was about 10 hours and I didn't envy the man sitting next to me. I was wet, muddy, my coat and purse were soaked, and I smelled like it. but he was nice enough (though he was french and we didnt' hardly speak to each other.)

Arriving in Chicago I soon began to appreciate something about Mali that I hadn't ever in the same way before. In Mali, no one really cares about appearances. They were what they came and they don't judge each other. They aren't afraid to be themselves and no one really looks twice at what you are wearing, unless you look really nice it seems. Anyway, in line for customs at Chicago I had my Heena tatoos on, my african skirt, and mud. I got a lot of looks and began to feel uncomfortable. I made it thorugh customs and got a luggage cart b/c I had to pick up and then re-check my bags. As I approached the carosel I saw one of my bags. As i neared it i noticed its main zipper was completely open and most of my belongings were falling out. I grabbed my bag and a lady helped me retrieve my belongings from the conveyer belt.

I had to file a something with Air France and then tie my bag in a plastic bag for re-checking. Once that was all done I ate supper and waited for my next flight--my last flight, to OMaha. it was a long couple of hours and as I moved around the airport I noticed my purse/bag would leave a trail of mud and dirt everywhere I set it down. There were some complications with our gate and so we had to switch gates around the time of boarding. We ended up boarding the plane about an hour late b/c of this problem. Also, several peopel had stand by tickets and so it took a while for the whole plane to fill up and get everyone on board in the seating that made everyone the happiest. It was about the time I was supposed to be landing in Omaha when we were told to prepare for take off. I was a bit frustrated b/c I was tired and I knew my family was waiting at the airport. Then a man got sick and threw up and had to leave the plane--he was drunk. IT took a long time to clean up. A little 5 year old was sitting behind me kicking my seat and throwing a fit and I remember being tired of that plane and we hadn't even left. We prepared again for take off and actually taxied to the runway. we sat there a long time til the pilot said we were still in line to be given the okay to take off but it shouldn't be too much longer. We were told to prepare for take off again. We then sat a while longer until finally the pilot told us all west bound traffic had been grounded due to a storm and it could be 30 minutes or more at least til we could leave. people got up and waited in line for our one toilet and i was really not happy. it was almost midnight and i was so tired. we didn't leave too terribly long after that and headed south around the storm. I got into Omaha about 1:15 am or so and met my family, gathered my belongings and we drove back to McCook arriving at about 7am. I took a shower with warm water (strangest sensation i've had in a while being that I hadn't had any warm water in a long while) and ate some cereal with real milk and went to bed where I didn't stir until like 3:45 pm. that is my trip back from Bamako. I was nervous about traveling alone, but I think it went rather well--a little excitement never hurt any body. thanks for keeping up with my trip to Mali and all your encouragements and support! My team is still there until November so keep them in your thoughts and prayers.

The Ram

2007-08-02T11:27:00.001Z

So two days ago I emailed everyone I know, all the people I care about and their dogs, and told them I was decided to go home. I told everyone I love that they had to deal with not seeing me for 3 more months. I told people I had made commitments with that I was going to have to back out. That is very much against my people-pleasing character and it was very, very difficult.
Last night, Mike got to Bougouni. As he greeted the team and we all interacted he found a moment to talk with me to tell me that he had been unable to get my ticket changed. He told me that he hadn’t even thought about this being an issue and had never really encountered anything quite like that before with the airlines.
Then he shared with me some of his thoughts about the situation and all that has been going on and he mentioned the story of Abraham. He talked about how Abraham didn’t really have to sacrifice Issac but God just wanted to know that he was willing. I told him how funny that really was in light of the fact that I had really been thinking about that story in light of this whole situation. How funny it was that I had not a week earlier been lying on a cement floor crying and praying for a ram. How funny it was that I had really taken the last few days to really realize that praying for a ram was not a way to be still in the Lord and truly trust him. I realized that trusting in him means truly trusting, resting in him and letting him have his way—whatever that is; whatever, whether what I want or not.
I told him how funny it was that I had seriously just reached a point in the last day or two where I was really excited again to stay here and was okay with it; that I was ready to take this time and let God work. It was hard but I was finally willing to let go of my desires about going back home and just let God have his way in me. I finally stopped waiting in my heart for a ram.
And then I got a ram. I don’t really know how much I should identify with Abraham’s story or really what God is doing or going to do. But I do know that this whole situation taught me to really trust God and to really put him above everything else.
I feel like I am in an emotional tornado. I’m not staying, I’m maybe staying, I’m definitely staying—I leave in 3 days. I now fly out of Mali for good on Sunday and I feel very unprepared. I am doing my best to try to get in the shopping I have been saving until the end, trying to get in the time I thought I had with the people here, and enjoy Mali for the next two days.
I feel really silly now for having emailed everyone and elaborately explaining everything and breaking the news that I am not coming home, only to two days later write with a “Psyche!” Life is crazy, God is funny. But he is sovereign, he is good and he really does have it all worked out. I really laid myself at his feet and he has done exactly what he said he would do; not because I am going home—either way he would have been faithful—but because he had me in his hands and he never let me go. I really gave him myself for the first time in a way I never had before, and I will never be the same.
I guess I will see you soon and hopefully can explain things better but please at the least I hope this whole situation has been encouraging for you. it’s definitely been a good lesson for me in faith, trust, and really submission the God, regardless of the costs.

“You are my God and I will give you thanks.
You are my God and I will exalt you.
Give thanks to the Lord for he is good; his love endures forever.”
Psalm 118:28-29

july 30 2007

2007-07-31T13:37:00.000Z

So I am not sure how long it has been since I have updated my blog. I have done a lot. I am not sure what to share so I will just tell you some random interesting things. We went to a camp in a place called Koutiala. We used squatty potties regularly and I showered outside with a bucket. It was a camp for people like 15-25 and we were campers. It was all in French and so we had a translator for every session.
I learned to make Malian tea—a three round, 2 hour process. We like it better when the tea is weaker though and the sugar is in greater ratio so we even made 4th and 5th rounds this week!
I danced Malian style and learned songs in French. I sang a duet with Hannah (team member) in front of 200 people—sang “Heart of Worship” and I soloed verse 2. isn’t that about the craziest thing ever?
The biggest news of my life right now however, is that I have made the decision to stay in Mali rather than come home next week. My team is planning to fly back into Omaha on November 17th and I will be on that flight as well.
It sounds very sudden and very rash and it probably really is. I have been considering it and praying about it since not long before we got to Mali, but I am still a bit shocked by this decision. It hasn’t come easy.
Early on in my thinking about it I was excited about the different opportunities that presented themselves by my being able to stay. This fall each of us on the team is going to get the opportunity to get involved with an individual ministry at work in Mali and get to do it daily. My semester this past spring at Grace was very very busy. I was creating the yearbook, playing basketball, preparing for Mali, trying to be a good team leader on my hall and taking 20 credit hours. I was overwhelmed and spread too thin. It really excited me to think about getting spend a whole semester of time getting to serve the Lord in another culture. I have really learned and grown a lot by my interactions with the people of Mali as well as my teammates. It is exciting to know that those relationships are going to deepen and continue to challenge me.
I knew it wasn’t really that logical to think about staying considering I am in a new culture and my frames of reference and perspectives are all messed up. But since the idea had come to mind some I decided it couldn’t hurt to pray about it. So I prayed and I sought wisdom from the Word and I sought to “give heed to instruction” (Proverbs 16) by talking with my parents, trusted friends, missionaries, and instructors. This was one of those decisions that required quite a bit of plan altering. That being the case I had to being making plans to stay even before I had any firm resolve to do so.
I am not sure what all happened exactly but a couple weeks ago I found myself at the point where the only thing I had to do was say the word and my plane ticket would be changed and I would be staying here. I freaked a bit and I didn’t feel ready to make that decision. My family and friends had given me their opinions and thoughts but told me that they supported my decision. I found myself seeking the Lord in prayer—a LOT. I really didn’t know what was right. So many people have so much confusion about finding God’s will for your life and what it looks like and how you know what God wants for you. I guess I knew better than to expect a clear black and white answer from God, but I didn’t see the harm in petitioning him for it J. I prayed a lot and sought the Word a lot for several days. I didn’t really know what to do at all.
I found myself reading the story of Jonathan and his armor bearer. An encampment of like 600 Israelites found themselves in hiding from the Philistines and were not equipped at all to fight, only two had swords—King Saul and his son, Jonathan. So Jonathan one day says to his armor bearer “let’s not tell anyone but let’s go over to the Philistines and show ourselves to them. If the call to us to say we won’t go up there but if they ask us to come up we will—that will be our sign that the Lord is with us. Maybe God will work on our behalf—what do you think?” (Courtney paraphrase)
His armor bearer responds with “Sure Jonny, I am with you heart and soul.” So they go. And the Philistines call to them and they come up to them and kill 20 in the first ½ acre. That story really meant something to me because Jonathan didn’t really know what God wanted or if his decision to go attack the Philistines was a good one. But he had the idea and he was willing to give it a try. He said “perhaps the Lord will act on our behalf because nothing can hinder the Lord from saving, whether by many or by few.” He knew that God was in control and he simply did his best to put himself in a position to be used by God. He submitted his life-as well as the life of his armor bearer-into the hands of God. And God delivered the Israelites through Jonathan (read 1 Samuel 14.) He brought back many of the Israelites soldiers and he sent the Philistines into a confusion where they began to kill each other.
When I think about what Jonathan did I don’t think he had to do it. Nothing says that God told him to and in fact he didn’t know if God was even going to support his decision. He says “Perhaps the Lord will work on our behalf…” I think that deliverance for the Israelites could have come from somewhere else. Like in the story of Esther. Mordecai tells Queen Esther of Haman’s plan to kill the Jews and asks her to petition for her people. She is afraid the King will kill her and he says “If you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place....” (Esther 4.)
I also thought of the story of Abraham and how he was told by God that he would be a chosen race and that his descendents would be very numerous. He was told all of this when he was very old and without a child. But God finally provided him with a child, a child of his wife Sarah, Issac. God really does provide even if it doesn’t seem possible, God shows up. Oh but then remember God then said “okay Abraham, take Issac and sacrifice him on the mountain.” If I am Abraham I’m doing the “are you serious God? Can you really be serious?” but Abraham goes. And he raises his knife to his son, to kill him in sacrifice to God.
No doubt that was a pretty incredible and difficult act—no doubt. But I am all the more impressed with Abraham. He truly trusted in God and he knew that God was God; that God could do what he wanted. That he could raise the dead or provide another son or whatever—he had faith that God would take care of it.
As I think about these incredible stories, I think about what I can learn from those men of faith. Do I have a faith like that in my God? Have I ever lived out a faith in my God like they did? It’s so easy to say that I have a faith like that, but when does the rubber hit the road?
I think of those men that Jesus turned away. One guy is like “Lord, my father just died…let me bury him and then I will come and follow you anywhere.” And Jesus said “you are not committed to me.” Jesus says to us, “whoever wants to follow me must take up their cross, deny themselves and follow me.”
I think I have always been very good at reading those verses and then not really dwelling on them. Basically being like “yeah, that’s good” and moving on quick enough that I don’t have to be too convicted. What kind of a follower am I? I have to ask those questions. It seems harsh for Jesus to say, that wanting to bury your father is not acceptable. I have never agreed with this idea—I love my father. But that isn’t Jesus’ point. His point is, to put him first in life. TO really say, “Lord you are first, no matter what.”
That is the conclusion I came to in this whole situation. I didn’t know what was right to do and I don’t know that there really is a right. But I knew that it would be right to put my trust in God, I knew it would be right to put my Jesus first and to lay myself at his feet. So I prayed and I prayed and I said “Lord I will trust you.” I really said, “Lord take me. Lord I want to follow you and I don’t care what that means. I kneel at your feet and bow my head before you; I bare the nape of my neck before you. if you chose to reach out your hand and bless me—I trust you. If you choose to chop off my head—I trust you.”
And so I told my parents all of these things. and I called Mike and I told him all those things (Mike is our instructor and organizer of this trip—Mike is the guy that changes my ticket.) It was so hard. It was so hard to tell my family that I was going to disappoint them by not seeing them and not getting to interact with them for 3 more months. It was so hard to think about giving up volleyball, letting my Coach down and abandoning my teammates. It has been so hard to think about my friends and not being able to be around them and not being able to be a part of their lives for another 3 months. It has been hard to think about missing out on my classes, yearbook, and dorm life.
Right as I was making all of these thoughts and talking with people and deciding towards staying here, my mom called and told me that my cousin Brady died. She told me that he had been in a terrible car crash and hadn’t made it. It was really hard to hear that and to not be home with my family. His death really shook up my whole family and it was especially hard to hear them sharing with me how difficult it has been on them and how much they just wanted me home, right around the time I felt the pull in my heart that said I needed to stay here to truly trust God. The rubber was hitting the road and I really wanted to rebel.
I really found myself wanting to go home. I really found myself desiring to eat Mac’s Drive Inn mozzarella sticks, really found myself wanting to run a mountain in volleyball, really found myself wanting to hug my family, to hold my nephew. I really found myself aching for home and desiring to be going home as I had planned. In the midst of these feelings, I knew I couldn’t.
I had made the decision to trust God and more than my feelings, more than my pain, I wanted to truly honor him with this decision. It was incredibly hard and I remember one moment of lying on the floor, crying and telling my friends about how much I was praying for a ram. When Abraham was about to sacrifice Issac, God provided a ram and spared his son’s life. I prayed for a ram. I thought of different rams—Mike couldn’t change my ticket, I would get really sick, leprosy or something, I would one morning wake up partially paralyzed, my parents would call and force me to come home somehow. I did pray for a ram. There were times when I had a text written to Mike saying “don’t do it…I changed my mind.” I had every desire to go home, I really think I did.
But then it occurred to me. If my desire to stay was based in a desire to really make a gesture toward my relationship with the Lord, to tell him he was my first priority, to place all my trust in him, should I really be lying on the cement floor praying for a ram? What type of trust does that display?
In John 14:1 Jesus says “Do not let your hearts be troubled; trust in God, trust also in me.”
I was letting my heart be troubled and I was not trusting. So I finally decided, “you know what God, I’m really am yours. It’s hard. It really is. And I have never done anything like this before. I have never had to hurt all the people I care about near like I am doing right now and I have never shirked so many of my commitments before. But I really do trust you. You are a big God. You can do anything and you are so much bigger than me or my life. I place myself in your hands, I really do lay myself at your feet. And right now you have me in Mali. For some reason you let me work it all out to get to this point where I am staying in Mali. If you didn’t/don’t want me here, you’ll take me home. I don’t need to worry about that. I don’t need to do anything, but rest in you.”
I don’t know what I am doing. I don’t know what I am going to do. I know that there are times when I think about what I am missing out on and I hurt. No doubt it is not easy to truly follow the living God. I am not even killing my only son or directly placing my life in front of a bunch of Philistines. I am just deciding to live in Mali another 3 months. None the situations matter however. It’s not about what we do or how extreme it seems to the world. Circumstances don’t matter. What matters is God. What matter is that what I do, I do for God. I think I could have said that to you a month ago, I could have said that to you 3 years ago. I really would have believed it too. But now I know it. Now I live it.

July 10, 2007

2007-07-10T17:24:00.001Z

I have been in Mali something like 6 weeks. I am learning so much and my perspectives of the world and of myself are definitely different than they were. I am getting a much larger view of God and of his people. He is challenging me and working in me in ways and areas that would probably not be tested in the States.

We live in a missionary’s house and it has electricity and running water—it is pretty nice and pretty western, but right outside our compound are mud huts and kids peeing in the street, which in places, happens to be the sewer as well. Right outside are donkeys, goats, sheep; I can hear a rooster right now. Actually I killed a rooster on Saturday, plucked it, gutted it, and ate fried chicken. I do my laundry in a bucket with a washboard and I eat lunch out of a communal bowl with my hand—the right hand only because the left hand is considered gross (we have a Malian making us lunch after we have class in the morning and we eat out of a few bowls together with our hands. She cooks on the pastor’s family stove which is made of mud and sits outside their house.)
We go shopping in the market which isn’t a building, it’s an area. An area with “booths” on both sides, most of them made of wood. On the left might be a lady selling okra, cucumbers, and onions and on the right might be a lady selling garlic, tomatoes, and some other things. There might be a little structure in front of you with a few cow carcasses hanging in it—the meat market section. (It smells pretty bad around that area, especially later on in the day.) If you walk around the area long enough you will probably be able to find everything you need if it can be at all found in Bougouni. Some things you cannot buy, like carrots, brown sugar, spices, milk, cheese, etc.
There are, I think, 3 or 4 paved roads in Bougouni (it is 35,000 people.) They all are roads that lead you to another country. We live right next to the road that will take heads to the Ivory Coast. In the times I have ridden in Joseph’s car places or in a van or walked around, I have seen 1 stop sign and no street lights. We have driven on roads that in the States I would not feel comfortable taking my Envoy. They narrow and rocky with large dips and crevices and I am not sure how Joseph’s station wagon manages sometimes.
This week there is a big conference (not really conference but I don’t know what word to use) going on. The church is holding special type events in this soccer stadium every day this week. I went yesterday and we sang and a couple of us girls went down front with some Malians and danced to the music. There was a message and there were a few people that committed their lives to the Lord (these events are evangelistic for the most part.) There is a pastor coming tomorrow (Wednesday) which supposedly has the gift of healing. The church here in Mali has disputed a bit with this pastor about his practices but the latest from a pastor in Bougouni is that this man really does work by the Holy Spirit. I am excited to go tomorrow to see what happens. Yesterday there was probably, maybe 100 people in attendance at the stadium and maybe the seating was about 20% full (this is hard to describe.) Also, the whole area with the field and all was probably not even 5% full. But Joseph said when this man comes on Wednesday he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole area was packed with people!
The church is hosting this conference, in part, to get people prepared for a Muslim leader that is also coming to Bougouni this week. I guess he is known not only throughout Mali but all throughout West Africa. He is very prominent and popular and it will definitely stir the town for both of these men to be here at the same time. Joseph (the pastor we live with) is supposed to debate with this Muslim leader at the end of this week, if everything goes to plan. There is no doubt a spiritual battle going on in Mali. We are studying World’s Living Religions in class right now and this morning we had a guest speaker to talk with us about animism and fetishes. This guy was very into fetishes and animism before becoming a believer. He shared a lot of interesting things about fetishes and demons and satanic things that I had never been exposed to before. Mali is supposed to be like 90 or 95% Muslim, but a lot of them in actually (it is said) are syncretistic, holding a combination of Islamic and animistic beliefs. Joseph said he has heard the percentage of true Muslims might be lower at like 50% or some even say 20%. It is interesting and important to remember the influence of fetishes and the animistic religion for all Malians.
Definitely there is a lot going on in Bougouni right now. It is difficult to understand it all, since I don’t speak very much Bambara, but it is very neat to just be able to hear about it and to see how God has worked and he will prove himself faithful in his works to come.

July First

2007-07-10T17:14:00.000Z

Yesterday after church I didn’t really have anything to with my time so I went walking around our little area to take pictures of things b/c my parents wanted to see what it looked like where I am living. As I was walking I saw the pastor-we-are-living-with’s sister and another girl that stays with the family heading out. They don’t speak English but through gestures and my limited Bambara I was able to figure that they were headed to go get the girl’s hair done and that they wanted me to come with them. I figured there was no reason why I couldn’t follow them on this excursion…so I went with them.
It was immediately awkward. I was carrying their radio that was blasting their Bambara music and they were chatting and dancing kind of as we walked. It was very relaxed and they were trying to talk with me but to no avail. As we arrived there were 4 boys and an guy of around 25 years old sitting under a tree hanging out and making tea. I recognized a few of them from church and actually the Pastor’s 9 year old son was there as well.
The 25 year old immediately got up and gave me his chair which I was somewhat shocked by b/c girls aren’t as important as men in this culture, but I guess I am obviously a guest (I’m white don’t you know.)
After sitting a while, a girl came out who was to do Kariato’s hair. She brought out a mat for Kariato to sit on and it was all situated. She asked if she could do my hair and so I got my hair done in a couple of braids (this wasn’t as simple as I make it; in actuality, a lot of English and Bambara was passed around before we really understood each other.)
The tea was served and I got served first I think each round. (They normally do three rounds. It takes about 2 (ish) hours total and I was there for all three.) After I got my hair done I sat back down in my chair. The chairs they make here are unique and very comfortable, but I felt somewhat guilty b/c I had a good chair and everyone else was on benches because they only had two good chairs (Bama, the elderly woman who seemed to be the “woman of the compound” had the other decent chair.)
I recognized Bama from church, she had sang a song with the pastor’s wife. She is a fairly old woman I would say in her 60s or so. She and I exchanged small conversation (basically I know each to get through the greetings and caveman a few random objects and phrases.) As we were sitting there a couple of girls walked through with plates of mangoes on their heads. Bama stopped them and bought a couple.
She then got up and walked over to me with two mangoes. I smiled and pointed at one—I figured she was trying to be interactive or something by having me help her pick out a good one (in hindsight this thought is ridiculous b/c I have no clue about mangoes)—she said something to me and kept holding them out to me, trying to place them in my lap. The thought crossed my mind that she had bought them for me but I really didn’t want to believe it actually. The pastor’s son and the 25 year old who spoke some English explained to me that she had bought them for me and I should put them in my bag. I was reluctant but knew it was best to be grateful and thank her and smile. I hope I thanked her well enough.
I had emotion at this point. Here I was sitting in their best chair, drinking their tea, enjoying their shade, getting my hair done and being given mangoes. Why? Because I was their guest. I didn’t know any of them before this point really and the ones I did know I have only known for like 1 week. Yeah I had emotion. I sat there looking around me at this place. A compound area of about 50 X 50 ft (I’m not really that good at sizing up places so it’s very approximate) that was defined by a three foot mud brick wall. It had about 4 or 5 mud buildings with straw or hay or whatever it is for roofs and tin for doors and windows. These mud buildings are probably about 6 X 6 ft each (so not big k?) The area has several chickens in it, a couple of trees for shade, a goat or two, a mud stove for cooking, and a large tire which I later realized was covering their well water source. Also a bathroom which I hopefully have a picture attached here. O and here’s what the other side of the walls look like out on the street….not appealing.
Anyway here is this family, in this compound that probably cost less to build than the couches in one of our house’s three living rooms. And here I am sitting there accepting mangoes from these people who have no idea what spoils I have in my life. How do I think about that? What do I do with that? I don’t know. What responsibility do I have to be guilty about that? What does that demand of my responsibility as a steward of what I have? It’s either in the Bible or on Spiderman where it says “to whom much is given, much is required.” I guess it might kind of be both. Anyway it’s something to chew on.

I have since that day found out that this woman is a widow and really struggles to get food she needs because she looks after several grandchildren and I guess they cause her some trouble. She has been getting food from the church.

Bougouni Time

2007-06-28T15:41:00.001Z

6.25.07

So I had nothing planned to do today….at all. None of us did. So here is the Malian way to spend a day.

I slept til like 9am and then I laid in bed for a while and then read my Bible. Then I got and was dressed by around 10am. I went and ate some bread and honey for breakfast and then went and sat outside with the rest of our girls. We are very Malian already…guys sitting one place, girls another—and sitting outside is very Malian. It is too hot to sit inside at all during the day, so they do everything outside.

After a while I got up and washed some dishes because they were there and I was there and I felt like I ought to do something. I then went with Sharon over to see where Joseph’s mom was planting an okra field. We watched her for a while. I wanted to help but I wasn’t really sure if that was polite or if I should ask or what. So I didn’t. We watched her do that and some guys were plowing a field right next to her field so we watched them too. O by the way, when I say she was planting okra she had a hoe which is a piece of wood like 2 feet long with a blade attached to it and she hoes and plants bent over. Her field was probably like 20 X 75 ft. There were three guys plowing and planting. One boy in front of the 2 oxen to keep then in line and then a guy behind pushing the metal hand plow; the third walking behind with a pale/bucket planting the seeds.

We watched this all go on for a while and talked about how interesting it is that in the US the machines we have to greatly speed up all of the Malian processes—plowing, planting, laundry, dishes. Though we didn’t speak of it like we thought they should use what we had….we concurred that we felt lazy and spoiled and ungrateful for what we have.

A few of the kids came over and hung out and played with us for a while. That was entertaining and I enjoyed it. We moseyed back to the Camara’s place and sat with the cooking ladies for a while. We helped Joseph’s sister (I always forget her name) make meat balls. It was fun to get involved and feel like I was helping them. After that I went to the house because it was time for them to eat.

I ate lunch….a couple sandwiches with peanut butter, honey and bananas but I am not sure what each had. Then I started to write my culture shock paper but I didn’t feel like it so I didn’t get very far. Then Brent came to tell us that Sharon was making tea so I chose to go partake in that. That was about 1 or 130pm. Yup. So I went over there and sat and waited for the tea and had tea and hung out. I came back to the house once with Tasha to wash my skirt (I had sat on some type of mango earlier and gotten it all juicy.) Other than that trip to the house, Tasha and I were at the Camara’s sitting under the mango tea until about 6:30pm. Yup. We sat. We drank tea. We ate meat balls and some type of fried fruit thing (I can’t remember) and coconut and we talked, hung out, etc. It is the Malian way J. It was quite relaxing.

Then I came back to our house, ate dinner and did a workout---jump rope and bicycle ads. Then I wrote this and waited for Tasha to take a shower. Yup. Fun day. Malians take tea twice a day and it takes about 2 hours each time. They make 3 rounds of tea. The third is the best b/c they start it out really strong. Today the kids made tea after Sharon was done so I had 6 glasses. It is a fun experience.

10:43pm

Honestly, life here is relaxed but busy and simple yet educated. It’s like they take time to sit around and they take time to be with people and to enjoy each other’s company. But yet they have a lot to do just to keep life going. They guys today for example worked in the field planting the corn. They ladies did laundry and made the meals and but even while they did those things they were willing to interact with me, let me help, talk with me. They don’t have all the “high-tech” machines that we have to plow their fields for them, wash their dishes for them or do their laundry for them so they have to spend the time to do that. In the states we are much busier because we can be. We don’t have to spend the 5 hours doing everyone’s laundry (the girls got up today and did laundry from 4 until 9am.) So we fill that time with other activities on top of that. It makes things much busier.

I think I like the way that they spend their time. I am not sure I would want to just sit under a tree all day every day, but I wouldn’t have to. Like if I could plant an okra field or do laundry and stuff for a while or something and then go sit under a treeJ.

orphanage

2007-06-21T00:21:00.001Z

I've tried several times to journal about a trip that Tasha and I took the orphanage, but I am struggling with it. I don’t know how to capture what I experienced and I don’t know how to relay it.

She told me that it was the cleanest, nicest orphanage in the city and no doubt I can imagine that there are those that have worse conditions. I have heard of orphanages in India that would love to have facilities like this three story structure I went to on Monday. But as I walked up the steps and looked down at the dirty tile, the gunk and trash that filled the corners of the stairs I couldn’t help but wish conditions were better. I couldn’t help but wonder if there were any government regulations or requirements over these orphanages and how strict they are followed.

I reached down to pick up one of the kids sitting unattended on the floor. Not lying, my gag reflex kicks in even now as I think about the feeling on my hands and the smell in my nose and the realization that this kid’s pants and clothes were drenched with his own excretion. They don’t wear diapers-the orphanage doesn’t have diapers-- and I don’t know how long he had sat with wet pants, but every other kid that even had pants on was in the same situation as he. The lady immediately took him from me to change his clothes and I remember standing there looking down at my goo-ed, wet hand disgusted. Even now I don’t know which is more disgusting—having a sickly random kid’s excretion on my hands or being so stuck in pride and vanity that I care.

I held this boy for a while. As I held him the ladies cleaned the floors and lugged the other babies in and out of a room in order to put them in their cribs. I use the word lugged because their method is to grab each child by the arm and carry them no different than they would a basket or a high chair.

As they were moving the kids around a few were crying on and off but one girl stole my attention as she screamed. She was attempting to crawl and not very good at it. I knelt to try to calm her by talking to her. She crawled over another kid in desperate attempt to get somewhere—I don’t know. She had a sore of some sort on her upper lip and she had white snot from her nose down to her lip. I tried to shoo a fly away from her bare butt because she only had a shirt on. She screamed and I reached out toward her. I rubbed her back and then her arm and her hand. She grasped onto my two fingers and held them. She was still and quiet and I could not swallow. The image of me looking down at this child in this moment is still with me.

It’s tough to go to an orphanage. The kids own nothing, they have no family, they have no hope and no love—it is a bare existence. At this moment I still can’t decide how to help out at all. What can I really do for these kids? How can I really help? What do I do with their faces that are in my mind? However, in that moment—when I knelt next to this little girl, when I looked at her sickly, solemn face, when I put her small little hand into mine, when my eyes met her stare….I felt like I was making a difference. I felt like at least for that small little moment I was bringing love and peace to a little girl who had nothing else to claim as her own. For that small second, she had my attention and it was near to her only possession.

I couldn’t make her smile, though. I made a feeble, skinny little boy smile—he had a neat spirit about him and a cheerful temperament. I made the other little boy smile as I held him and dipped him up and down, but I couldn’t make that little girl smile. I can see her right now staring at me. Her face looked gross with snot and scabs, but I didn’t even think to wipe it for her. I talked with her, I played with her, I smiled at her, I entertained her, but I couldn’t make her smile. Her eyes held the same expression. She was fixed on me and no doubt enjoyed the attention, but her eyes would not cheer up. How can I blame her? I can’t imagine. She’s probably around 10 months old…living in a room with 15 other kids, sleeping on a crusty sheet that other kids have excreted on, drinking out of the same bottle as 4 other sickly kids (the ladies give them water first and then milk so they are fuller and won’t cry as much.) She sometimes sleeps on the tile floor, sometimes she isn’t fully clothed, when she is…they are the same clothes another girl wore the day before and the same a third will wear tomorrow. Nothing is hers. She has few toys—she shares an old fisher price and a small giraffe with 10 other kids.

Several ladies take turns caring for her throughout the day. They all have familiar faces to her and she likes when they come to her, but they don’t have time to give her real attention or love. Sometimes people like me come in for an hour or two and sometimes we chose to hold her. Sometimes she watches as we hold other kids and as we try to make them smile. She watches as we sit with them for an hour and then set the kids down and walk away. She sees me walk out of the building and down the stairs and back into my life. She seems me pull out a disinfectant wipe for my hands and neck and face…everywhere that a kid touched me. She remembers my touch and lets its memory linger as she is so starved for love and I wipe hers off as I leave so as to not get her germs. It sounds terrible but that’s what I did, that’s what I feel I had to do—I mean I don’t want to get sick after all right? What do I do with life? What do I do with myself? Something is obviously out of balance. Listen to me! I came back and took a shower. I still felt like I smelled like the orphanage. The smell was so bad. It was in my nose the rest of the day. These kids are forced to survive in conditions I wouldn’t let Kalen spend a day in. This was the cleanest, nicest orphanage in the city. It was humbling to go there, it is humbling to think back on it, it is humbling to write about it…but so what? What does that mean for that little girl? So what that I felt a bit more humility! Does that change where she sleeps right now? It is tough to go to an orphanage.

today

2007-06-17T00:29:00.000Z

I am good. I'm a bit humbled by something I see at least every day. Today we were at the grocery store (its actually a grocery store like well a small town one is probably most accurate--like Cambridge's or something.) Anyway Tasha and I were upstairs buyin plastic cups. we couldn't decide which cups b/c they didn't quite have the right size and then we didnt know if we should get the 50 count or the 100. We made that decision and headed down the stairs (this section of the store was upstairs.) On the way down the stairs there are windows. Out the window of this Air conditioned grocery store where we were buying 60 dollars worth of food/stuff for our team, Tasha and I saw three little kids playin in some gravel in a trashy lot. all the one kid had on was a pair of underwear. we stood there for a moment, watching the kids play. One kid was climbing on the rusty metal fence and the other two were digging in the gravel. I scanned the yard they were in and saw piles of random sands and gravels, large pieces of all kinds of waste and trash, and a man and i can't remember what he was doing. there seemed to be no parent around, no one to feel shame for the way these kids were dressed or how dirty they had to be. No one but me I guess. I felt shame. I felt shame as i looked at myself wearing "old" clothes that I felt okay bringing to Africa; I felt shame carrying bills and coins and I didn't even know how much I had--I didn't even really care because I didn't need to; I felt shame about having debated over 50 or 100 plastic cups, as if we even needed them. I felt shame about what I worried about this morning; I felt shame that I felt like I deserved to be standing in AC at that moment and that I deserved to relish in it a bit. Yeah, I was humbled again today.

Araba Zuwenkalo tile 13 san 2007

2007-06-11T22:43:00.000Z

So it has been longer than I wanted to post because a lot has happened and I can't give the last few days the justice I would like without going overboard :). There have been so interesting random events that I would like to share but on top of that, I want to share about our field trip to the "bush" yesterday.
To summarize the last few days, we went to a Malian wedding. It was similar to American weddings in some ways, but quite different as well. If you want to know more about it, write me and I will give you more information, but I don't want to blog about that right now. I will say that we got there and were told that they had decided to push it back an hour last minute. that was my first clue that we were not in America.
Monday the missionary here from Costa Rica came to visit us and to share her testimony with us. She only speaks French and Spanish so she shared through a translator, but I really appreciated her testimony. It brought tears to my eyes as I thought about her boldness in coming here and her experiences with her life here and her life back in Costa Rica. She definitely has a heart for the Lord and I can see how he has really worked in her and through her in Mali to grow both her and Malians. One thing she said that really stood out to me was an experience she shared about her missionary training. She was at some Indian village in South America (well that region) and she was with that tribe eating with her hands and she said she remembered realizing that for her vanity and pride were finished. She found herself realizing that these people were not worse than her just different. This part is something I find myself being challenged with (I don't want to say I've learned that yet) and so it really meant something in hearing her heart regarding other cultures.
Our field trip started out toward this town called Kolokani. It took us about two hours to get there from Bamako. This was our first trip outside the city. Bamako is very busy--especially where we live right down town--and so I was a bit excited to see a quieter setting in Mali and to maybe gain a better understanding of Malian life that is less influenced by outside culture.

At Kolokani we first went to the pastor's house and sat and spent time with him and his friends/family. This is a picture of some of the girls under a shade shelter (I actually have no clue what you would call it) made with wood and millet stalks in the Pastor's compound area. Behind them you can see the radio station we toured and another building made of mud (not sure what it is..)

We probably got to the pastor's at around 10:30 or 11 pm. We toured the radio station and then the church and World Vision building that is just across the way as well.

To my Right is a picture of the baptistry in the Kolokani church. It's basically a whole in the cement floor on the "stage" near the pulpit. You can see the boards off the the side that normally rest on top of it to keep dust and I suppose chickens out :).
To the Left is a picture of the lunch we had at the pastors after returning from our tour of the church. It was millet that they had done something to :) and then a dipping sauce made of a type of tree's leaves. I didn't mind the millet though the texture was a bit sticky and strange. I had several handfuls. These two bowls you see in the picture were shared by 6 of us. In the group of about 20 (ish) we had 3 bowls of each. You see the method of simply reaching in and then eating with your hand. prior to eating they passed around a tin can filled with water where we all proceeded to wash our hands :). there were 3 cans we all shared to wash our hands in. I do not feel sick yet. (I know my parents were probably wondering that question so I figured I'd say that :) Love you guys!)

After the meal and so more time of hanging out and talking under the millet shelter thingy, we got back into the van and headed toward another pastor's house in a place about 10 minutes from there. we sat and talked with the men there for a while as well. We then left that place and headed to go see a lake that wasn't too terribly far away, about 6 kilometers (could have been more I don't know.) I didn't time how long it took to get there, but I wish I had. This was the beginning of our seemingly offroading adventure. If you can imagine a van where there is a bench seat that wraps itself around the inside walls of the van (so we are all 12 of us sitting circularly around this pretty rickety van. We bounced and bummed along the roads as we headed toward the lake.
As we drove we passed several small villages. You can see one in the picture on the left. You can see the land looks pretty barren and dry and dusty. On the drive however it is filled with a lot more vegetation that you would expect. A good deal of bushes and rocks are all across the landscape.

I should mentioned that on our way to the lake, we had to stop at the last village and ask their permission to go to see the lake which I found interesting. all the kids around seemed thoroughly intrigued by us--no doubt they don't get groups of 12 white people coming to see them every day.

When we got to the lake my first reaction was...where's the water. It was a great amount of desolate dry ground. here is a picture of a steer (bull?) walking around on the area. Our guide told us that it will all fill up during the rainy season. Which brought up a lot of questions for me regarding the amount of rain they get and how greatly that must contrast to the amount they get in the dry season. There were little pools of water that we made our way toward in the center of the lake. There were several people in most of the "pools" either kids playing or fishing or what I don't know for sure.

This boy in the picture was one of the boys we happened to interact with at the lake. He was with some other boys trying to catch fish in the water. In this picture we had just handed out some chocolate chip cookies to the kids around. They seemed to be appreciative of the cookies, but I guess I don't know. I want you to notice his shirt. When we walked up he didn't have a shirt on but he went and got it and put it on. I watched him as he tried to put it on. There were so many holes in it, that he couldn't find the head hole for a long while. You notice it has a big rip down the middle of it. I wished I had been able to give him the shirt I was wearing. It was humbling.

After that we left the lake and stopped back at that village to thank them. I took a picture of some ladies working with the well to pump water. I also took a picture of some of their huts and structures.

After this we had one last place to stop. It was about 5pm at this point and I should say that before we left we hadn't planned on packing supper b/c we figured we'd be back before really needing it. I wasn't sure how excited I was about this extension of our trip, but I knew;it would be a good thing and the town we were headed toward-Nonkon-is where our guide (and Bambara language instructor) grew up.

On the way to Nonkun, we got a flat tire. Honestly I am not sure how we managed to go as far as we did, on the roads we had and not lose every tire. But so we had a bit of a break to switch out the tire. It gave new meaning to being "broken down" (though we weren't really broken down) in the middle of no where. This was the middle of no where.

But we got it fixed before too long and we were on our way.

We reached Nonkon and it was what Phil (missionary we've been interacting with) later said is very bush and very much like the essence of the African, Malian tribal (village) life.

We met our guide's mother right away and found that he was related to most (if not everyone) in the village. In those cases, the men have to marry women from other villages. His mother looked very old and he told us that his father had passed 3 years earlier. he also said that his father's other two wives had both died as well. Polygamy is a Muslim practice and being that Mali is around 90% Muslim, that is something we encounter here.

Our guide is a Christian and I guess I do not know for sure about all of his family, but Nonkon does have a church and a pastor and I got the impression that most (if not all) were Christian in that village. Christians in Mali do not practice polygamy but it does happen that some people come to know the Lord while already in a situation of a polygamous marriage.

When we first arrived at this place, we went and sat down (which is what we did everywhere-that is what you do; you meet someone, they shake everyone's hand and greet each person individually, and then you sit. They are intentional to make sure that we all have chairs, even if it requires every seat they have in the area and even if we are only going to be sitting there for 5-10 minutes. This picture is of a portion of the house that I saw. If you look you can see the bed laying inside the room. It is humbling to compare it to my bedroom, here and back home.

The kids throughout the day seemed very curious of us and the kids at Nonkon were no different. However, these kids seemed especially fascinated by our cameras. Sarah was using my camera and she showed a girl the picture on the screen of what she had just taken, and the kids started to all get really excited and everyone wanted to see. They then wanted their pictures taken and to see themselves on the screen.

This is them and I as they all tried to crowd in to be a part of the picture. It was fun to see their excitement and made me feel a bit more connected with them. Notice that one girl who is making a face in our picture :). I apologize for my own appearance, it was quite a long, hot tiring day. My dad asked about me wearing glasses. It was very dusty the day before and so we all wore our glasses because the dust can be too much for contacts.

We left Nonkon after it was dark and got back to Bamako about 10 or 1030pm. It was a pretty long day, but as you can see, we learned a lot and got a lot of unique experiences that are unlike anything I have ever had. It was humbling and challenging. i keep thinking back to what Evinia said in her testimony "at this point vanity, pride...they were finished for me." I have only been here a couple of weeks, but my perspective is no longer what is was--of the world and of myself.

One random thing I wanted to mention. During the trip at one of the pastors we picked up a chicken. I don't know why, but we had a chicken riding on the floor of our van for the rest of the trip. It seems pretty pleasant and we tried to keep from kicking it. I honestly don' t know why we had it-if it was a gift or something-and we really don't know if it ever got taken out of the van :). kind of funny.

Juma Zuwenkalo tile 8 san 2007

2007-06-08T23:10:00.001Z

Before I write, let me explain the title of my journals to you. This is the date as written in Bambara, the language of the people group in this area. the numbers are 8-seegin- and 2007- ba fla ani wolonwula. Juma is Friday, Zuwenkalo (June) so to say the whole date you would say: Juma Zuwenkalo tile seegin san ba fla ani wolonwula. I realize you probably aren't too studied in Bambara to know the pronounciation really, but at least now you can know a bit better what the date is all about.

Today was a long, tiring and not very exciting day. We started off with a morning full of cultural anthropology class which was followed by me taking a 20 minute nap and then lunch. We ate kini ni tigadega na (rice and peanut butter gravy as written in Bambara) a common food in Mali. After that we had a bit of a break where I read/napped again (I was tired :).) Then at 2 pm we had Bambara class until 4. At 4 myself, Karlee and Brent began to cook dinner. We cooked dinner until like 7pm and then ate. We had cultural anthropology class again at 730 until about 1o45pm. so basically i was in class today for 8 hours :(. It was kind of long.

a couple of girls on our team got to go to an orphanage this afternoon instead of Bambara class. they said it was a very interesting experience and so I am planning to go at some point however today only three were allowed to go.

Tomorrow we are attending a Malian wedding. All i know is that it begins at 9am and could last any where from 1 to 7 hours depending on how excited the people get---at least that's what we are told :). It should be pretty interesting. I have no idea what it means to get so excited at a wedding that the people don't want to leave for 7 hours. In America, yeah....we leave weddings and the first thing said is "the ceremony was over an hour long!" or "that wedding was only 15 minutes, I like that" or something to that effect.

Courtney's Assignment for tomorrow: Observe the difference between the way Malians view time and the way Americans view time.

not really an assignment, but I'll report back with what I discover. :)

Arimisa Zuwenkalo tile 7 san 2007

2007-06-07T22:05:00.000Z

Today was an interesting day. We had part of our class for today last night, because we had such a full day today. We had class this morning from like 8-9:30 and then we went to SIL for a presentation. SIL is an organization that works with translating the Bible and gospel stories into other languages. They are working throughout Mali and their headquarters are in Bamako. It was very interesting to hear about their methods of translating and all that they are doing. It can take up to 15 or 20 years to get a translation out of a New Testament through their system. They said their system is a bit slower than some places like, but they try to maintain accuracy, naturalness (flow in reading), and clarity. (By the way SIL and Wycliffe are basically the same.) It was really cool to think about what type of dedication one has in spending that long to create a translation in another language. But to have the Scripture in your native language is an invaluable thing. I can't imagine if the best I could do would be to read the Bible in Spanish or something...think of all I would miss out on.

After that we went to eat at Evinia's, who is a missionary here from Costa Rica. This was a very interesting and multicultural experience! Evinia is from Costa Rica living in Mali. Her native language is Spanish and she has learned French and speaks Bambara some as well. No English. Stephen Jones (our cultural anthropology instructor) speaks Spanish pretty well and some of us have had classes in that as well. So that is how we were able to communicate with her. On top of that there was friend of hers there from Switzerland whose first language was French but knew Spanish b/c of serving in Columbia for 11 years. She spoke a little English we came to find out. Also, Evinia had invited a Malian friend of hers. He is fluent in Bambara and French and also is a professor in Bamako teaching English.

It was very interesting. Todd, Caleb, and I ate at a table with these three individuals. Todd and I both speak a little Spanish but neither Caleb nor Vi (the Malian man) do. And the three of them spoke French but none of us do. And Evinia knows no English. So there was no language we could speak that everyone at the table would understand :). It was almost bizarre as our table tried to converse with each other, all of us trying to stretch ourselves to speak languages we don't know very well. It was good for me to practice Spanish and it was almost relieving to have something that familiar in comparison to French and Bambara. Who would have thought that I would find speaking with a Costa Rican that knows no English comforting!!

Her house was cool though, she had this awning that was made of like dried branches of a vine...can't really describe but it was cool. We were at her house from around noon to about 5:30pm! We ate Zuma which is a Malian making it that i will hopefully post later. It was like fish with vegetables and rice. We eat a lot of rice here in Mali. The fish was alright, course I lucked out cause mine had neither eyes nor a tail (I'm not good when my meat still looks like it does in the wild.) But I ate my full so that is a pleasing thing. After we ate we had cafe con leche (Spanish for Coffee with Milk--more of a South American/Spanish thing that a Malian thing...Malians take tea.) anyway we sat around doing that all afternoon which was a good experience in how to visit people in Mali...it's a day long affair.

O and I saw my first monkey today :)

I am learning about patience through this trip. When working and cooperating with a group it is often necessary for me to remindmeal prepared by Malian cooks..I took pictures of them myself to relax and just be patient. Also, when working with Malians when we don't understand each other's language, patience is needed. For the most part, when you are living, eating, and working with 14 other people-patience is handy. :) but it's good. I'm really enjoying getting to know the team and interact with them. It is always hard for me to know how to start to open up to others b/c I never knew if they really want to hear from me or not (I naturally assume the latter) but it takes time.

To my left is a picture of the sewer which runs alongside just about every road in Bamako. it is not really covered at all like you can see, and can smell pretty bad in certain spots. Just so you know I have already decided that if I ever fall in one I am coming home immediately :). Just kidding but for real it's not the cleanest thing I've ever seen.

anyway I took some pictures of where we were at today. I am starting to become more sneaky in how to take pictures and when to do that so it's good. I'll pick some good ones and put them on here hopefully. Thanks for reading :)

**All photos were taken without permission by Courtney Moore

Bamako

2007-06-06T23:45:00.000Z

Tarata Zuwenkalo tile 6 san 2007

2007-06-06T17:14:00.001Z

We have been in Bamako for almost 10 days. Which seems crazy to me because I feel like I am already starting to find my way around and figure some things out...slowly of course. Some girls and I treked to the market today. We went out on our own and successfully navigated to the cloth market and the artisan (the artisan is like the place where they sell crafts and things of that nature.) The largest source of pride in this is that we were able to take what Bambara we know along with what English the sellers might know (if any) and buy what we wanted without getting ripped off. It is important to barter here, to negotiate your price which is an interesting experience especially when you are working with CFA. the exchange rate is about 475 CFA to the dollar right now.
It was a good feeling to get out and be able to accomplish those things. In America we do not consider buying something too difficult but here where the culture is so different, the "store' is so diffferent, and the language is different....we struggle. But it feels good to use the Bambara we hae been studying. to say "joli don?" which means "how much does it cost?" and then to be able to interpret the numbers. "Dorome keme saba" or 1500 CFA which is about three dollars.
The next task with the cloth is to take it to the taylor (by the way, Sheri-the missionary living here-took us cloth shopping our first trip and also has taken us to the taylor.) It is exciting to think that I went to a foreign country got an authentic African outfit no differently than the natives would.
It is so crazy here though. Walking down the street-especially as Americans--we have a sign on our heads that reads "I am American. I am rich. Sell me something." So basically our job as we are walking is to ignore everyone. Well not really but it seems like it is the best strategy sometimes. If you even look at them, or at their stuff or glance in their direction they will not hesitate to walk beside you and try to talk you into whatever they have. And sometimes they will follow for several blocks. It hasn't really happened to me though. Tasha and I have decided we are professionals at completely ignoring them :).
But yeah if you show any interest they just hound you. And so the Malian way is to say "I don't want to buy anything Today." or to say "Today is not a good day to buy something." to not commit to never buying it but to get them to leave you alone basically. So that's been my style.
I think I am starting to get more used to the heat. and our food so far hasn't been to abnormal to what I am used to. We are cooking our own supper meals but we have a Malian cooking our lunches and so those have been more African I think. Basically it is a lot of rice with some type of stew or juicy thing to pour on top of it. Generally there are meats in there or onions or vegetables. We've been eating a lot of french bread which is the only kind you can buy here. it is cheap though..our whole team can eat bread for just a couple of dollars.

We went to the grocery store last night. There were a lot of non-Malians there it seemed. Probably b/c it is the closest thing I have seen to a normal American store. It's not a Walmart by any means but its nice....like a No Frills (or Schmicks ) only much smaller and the foods are all similar to American things but always with a bit of a twist. I bought a Kit-Kat for 500 CFA.

araba, mekalo tile 30, san 2007

2007-05-30T17:45:00.002Z

5.30.07
4:56 PM

I want to journal about a certain part of today, but I will journal about all of it at least a little.
This morning we got up and went on a tour of the other site for the AVANT missionaries in Sogoniko. They have a literacy center that has been there since 1972 that produces Christian literature and tries to keep it cheap so Malians can afford it. They also have a radio station that broadcasts Christian programs and music. We say video studio for Christian television as well as the Campus Crusade for Christ branch that produces things like the Jesus film. This was kind of a long tour and very detailed in some areas (the radio station) and it was very hot also. There were places that had air conditioning and that felt very good for us. That was our morning.
We came back and had lunch, a salad that Sheri had made. Then I came back and relaxed/rested for about an hour before our Bambara class that meets from 2-4 pm. We went a little long today like 15 minutes because we were just learning some different food vocabulary. I am excited about the language study and hope to be able to use it and interact more with the Malian people.
After class I went with Jones, Todd, and Caleb to buy paper and then we came back past the pharmacy and through one of the markets. This is the part that I wanted to journal about.
I have only been here like what…3 days almost…so definitely I haven’t had much time to process. As we have spent time walking around the city I have tried to think about how to describe it. Obviously it is poor, obviously it is different than America. But I have struggled to think about a way to give it a total and accurate description. It seems like a scene right of our one of those action movies. Like with secret agents or thieves…you know where the movie takes them to a scene in some foreign city and you watch them walk around in it a little bit and not that you think it’s fake, but it really doesn’t resonate as real either. I’ve never looked at one of those cities in those movies and thought “wow so that’s what it’s like.” I guess I’ve never really even thought about it. I’ve always just focused on the plot or the character and the scene tends to be something I barely notice.
Here, I am beginning to notice it. I don’t know. The first time I was out in it, it was somewhat like I expected. I expected the capital in the 4th poorest country to be poor looking, I expected a city in this climate to have dirt (like dirt streets) and I expected to see a lot of people doing foreign things and for me not to fit it. So it wasn’t too new.
And I notice as I walk around, I look and it’s like my mind has been trying to act like I’m watching a movie. But today I realized kind of that it’s real. I’m really here. The streets are filled with people, venders, kids, dirt, and crazy traffic like I’ve never seen. The air is hot and dirty. The ground has trash all over it and people are everywhere…walking down the street, carrying things on their heads, driving cars, riding in van taxis, riding bikes and motorcycles, sitting by their mango stand, sitting by the road in a lawn chair.
There really are people that come to the market in the early morning and sit by their stands all day, in the heat and in the sun; people who carry baskets of toothbrushes or candy on their heads all day to sell to those in the streets. There really are kids who run around in underwear, playing in the dirt. They wave at us as we walk by and try to talk to us. We were just in the market, passing through, the three guys and I and there were I think 4 little kids. Three boys and a little girl. They talked to us but we didn’t know what they were saying. We smiled but kept walking and then we heard someone across the street yelling. Yelling because their child had his hand in Jones’ pocket.
I wonder the desperation those kids much feel, the hopelessness of growing up in an area like that. no doubt there are people in Bamako who do well for themselves and are professionals; no doubt there is some access and opportunity it seems for schooling and jobs. But so so many people walk the streets or sit by the road; vender after vender after vender after vender. Many with buildings no more than a few feet in depth and width (I would say around 5 feet X 3 feet ish). Side by side by side, shop after shop and then there are those selling with simply some crates or a board that display their items and an umbrella for the shade. How can you grow up in this place, knowing nothing but this place and understand when an American like myself comes and says “God is good.”
How can I as an American, as Courtney Moore—who I am, what I am blessed with and what I have—how can I say to them “God is good.” How can I look them in the eye…how can I smile down at a little girl with a dirty green and white dress and snot running down her face, dirt plastered to her skin….how can I look at her and understand anything? How can I look at her and keep walking? How can I look at her at all?
But you know what we do? What we as Americans do? We not only look at her, we take her picture. We videotape her in her environment, get snapshots of what she wears, where she lives, and her parents workplace. And then we walk away and saw “wow, what a shame that there is such in the world?” That is what I do….then I take a shower, take out my contacts, brush my teeth, read my Bible and go to bed.
I saw her today. How can I look at myself in the mirror tonight?

Pre-Departure Thoughts

2007-05-21T05:13:00.001Z

So I still haven't left yet. It is Sunday night and my parents and Shannon, Dan and Kalen and I will leave McCook on Thursday for Omaha and then I fly out the next morning. I don't know how this time has gone as fast as it has. I have spent some time thinking back to when I was first thinking about going to Mali with this team, and all that has happened since that point. I don't need to go into all those details, but a lot has happened. I struggled a lot with this decision because no one in my family has ever done anything like this and no one has ever even expressed the remotest desire to :). Frankly I was terrified to even bring up the idea because I was so scared of how the conversation would go. I guess a lot of people are like this also, but I get so much more worked up about things when I see that they upset my family than when something is upsetting me. I hate thinking about my family being upset or worried or whatever--especially if I am the cause of it. It's funny because I care about 1/2 as much about my safety as theirs and I know that if you ask them, they care 1/2 as much for theirs as they do mine. that's family I suppose.
Anyway what was my point? O yeah so I haven't left yet :). I guess I could bore you with the fact that I haven't packed yet and am not even fully unpacked from coming home from college. I could go into painstaking detail about how I have spent my days or how I am determined to shoot under a 45 at Heritage Hills before I leave...but (wow I just realized how much of a journal this really has become. I'm just thinking and writing here....not my intention and not very professional or efficient for reading--but I guess if you made it to the blog site you must be someone interested in my life...You've probably begun to skim by now if you're not too captivated-which I totally support by the way.)
However, for those of you skimmers..this is the point where you should begin to tune back in because I think I might actually make my point. CAPS (to bring the skimmers in) anyway...as the days have drawn near for my trip i have noticed something. This whole time I have been pretty laxidazical about the idea of me going. No doubt i know it will be intensely different and that I will never be the same; that it will be hard and scary and that I have no idea what to expect--but all this time I've been very keen on my family and how they are taking the whole trip. I notice when they are scared to bring up the topic or timid when we discuss issues regarding it. I have also noticed how they ahve seemed to become more confident in the idea lately. I think they're prepared themselves as much as possible for me to go. So I feel really good about at least getting that vibe (whether fact or fict). anyway it also occurred to me that I don't think I've prepared myself as much as possible for my departure. interesting realization as I sit days from leaving. :) No doubt i"ve done a lot of prep and a lot of work and thought and prayer and and and. but I' m not ready. and that realization has made itself more and more evident as I have talked with different people about it. You know the dialogue, I've had it with 1/2 of you:
"hey Courtney, getting excited for Africa?"
"yeah...nervous and excited"
"that sounds about right probably. When do you fly out?"
and on. anyway the point is a few of my conversations have also gone to where the other person has said "you're braver than I am" or "I could never do that" or something to the effect that i had to have more courage than them to be doing this. It really took me no time as I walked away from those conversations to realize that was dead wrong. They might not think so, you might not think so ,but you don't know me inside my head and my heart and I'm a coward. :) anyway yeah..that's the point. I'm not any more of courageous or bold or equipped to go on this adventure than the next person. I think we (myself and "the next person") are equally aware of our shortcomings and weaknesses. The only difference might be that I somehow have chosen to proceed into this venture knowing I am incapable of being ready for it and am secured only in that I will make mistakes and find failure.
**clarification--in that past sentence I used the words "i have chosen" and I want you to realize that I don't use them to mean I boldly decided or I declared to do something bold. I htink the best meaning here is one derivative of an ignorant decision or perhaps one made in blind stupidity.
actually taht is too harsh. I can tend to be too harsh on myself. whatever...the bottom line is that I didn't choose really at all. GOd chose me. God allowed me to somehow make the decision to do this with the knowledge of my weakness in dependence upon him. That's the whole point: CAPS FOR THE SKIMMERS--I guess I have fully realized my inadequacies and I embrace them only because I know that as I proceed on this adventure they will thrust me into the arms of the Almighty God on whom I so often fail to depend.
I am excited to be forced into situations that challenge me and that challenge what I believe and who I trust. I am excited for myself to fail in so many ways that I can't help but depend on God. (know that I dont actually look forward to those moments of failure, but at least I am allowing them to come.)
I know this was a very long post...too long probably and unnecessarily...but I want to thank you for taking this journey with me to Mali. as a supporter in prayer and with financies, you are serving the Lord in this mission and I know I will be changed, hopefully Malians will be changed, and hopefully you will too.
One thing I know about my life right now and when thing I hope that this experience will help remedy in my life, is what John the Baptist says of Jesus: "He must increase, I must decrease."

May 14, 2007

2007-05-14T19:22:00.000Z

Hi Everyone!

I have never done one of these things, but I thought it might be a neat way for you all to stay up to date on what I am doing and thinking as I am in Mali throughout the summer. At this point, I am not certain how often I will be connecting to the internet because I pay a fee for every use, but I plan to do so as regularly as is appropriate to help stay connected with you all.
I am sending out email updates regularly, but those I hope to keep very short so that you can get the basics without having to hear what color of skirt I am wearing. But I do want to give you all the opportunity to hear more if you are so interested. This is the avenue for that and I hope it works out well.
Thank you again for your support and for what you mean in my life! My team leaves in less than two weeks!