mamadou


matou et la petit aichatou















lala




















bintou et mamadou

Malidenw (Mali's children)

One (kelen). Today I spent a few hours with my friend and Malian professor Lamine. Lamine loves teaching his two little boys about manhood, proving to people that Malian men can cook, saying things are funny without laughing, laughing at things that aren’t funny, and reciting Malian proverbs. I decided to shoot a few videos of him saying and explaining his favorite proverbs – which I would include here if the internet connection was better. One proverb Lamine told me was “Tegedenw goni kelen te se ka bele ta” meaning “One finger can’t lift a stone.” The words translated literally are “hand children one no can stone lift” – and this reminded me of one of my favorite things about Bambara – the use of the word “denw”.

Two (fila). “Denw” (pronounced day-oon) means “children”. It’s the plural of “den” (child) which kind of sounds like “dang” if you take off the ‘g’. “Denw” is used all over the place to describe the “children” of something. “Tegedenw” (from the proverb) literally means “hand children”… fingers. “Kalandenw” means “learn children”… students. “Yiridenw” means “tree children”… fruit! Pretty cool, no? Beyond making the language a bit easier to decode, the frequent integration of “children” is one of the things I find really beautiful about Malian culture.

Three (saba). This goes hand in hand with the idea (here) that every child is the child of everyone. Chez nous, our families are separate. I have my mom and you have yours. Here, any adult can yell at, pick up, hold, feed, or even slap any child (and they do this a lot). On the Sotrama (the Malian minibus), a woman entering with three children will hold one on her own lap, while two complete strangers will pick up the other two children so they don’t get tossed around during the ride. It’s pretty incredible.

Four (naani). I have learned that Malian children will either shriek with excitement or run for their lives at the sight of a white person. This makes walking down the street in Bamako a pretty eventful experience. Beyond stares, kids here will not rest until they have done at least one of the following: (1) screamed “tubabu!” (literally meaning “French person!”) at the top of their lungs, (2) run up to you and cautiously touched your skin (usually your hand), or (3) run away in fear to the closest thing they can hide behind.

Five (duuru). As I walk down the red dirt roads in my rubber flip flops and ankle length “pagne” (wrap skirt) – my thoughts linger between adoration and frustration at the children chanting in my direction. The fact that I can make them laugh and jump up and down just by waving at them or greeting them in Bambara is pretty great. But when it’s about 10,000 degrees out and you’re hot, dirty, and fed up with the constant marriage proposals from random men you’ve never met (really), the last thing you want to do is draw attention to yourself. At times like this, the screaming and chanting feels like someone has just picked up a handful of dirt off the ground and rubbed it into your face. Bah!

Six (wooro). Many people would gape at the sight of a 4 year old girl carrying a baby on her back, a bowl of mangos on her head, barefoot, crossing a busy street – but this is a common sight here in Mali-ba. It is hard to see. The children here are amazing.

Seven (wolonwola). Despite the endless and inevitable chanting of “Tubabu! Tubabu! Tubabu ye tubabu!” in the streets of Bamako, I find solace in the evolution of the chant when I turn the corner to my neighborhood in Hamdallaye. Almost instantly the “Tubabu” fades and I begin to hear “Biiiiintou!” (my Malian name). I hear it more and more as I get closer to the house. On my block, the faces I see are my little friends. They are full of life, energy, and spirit. We share handshakes, songs, dances and games. We communicate without a lot of talking. They have the capacity to turn my frustration into joy like no one else.

Eight (segin). When I sit down in the courtyard at my house, the neighbor children surround me and show off their favorite songs and dances. I wish you all could see them. Their dances are really hilarious and adorable and entertaining and actually really really good (you should see the way these seven year old girls move!). Mamadou (my five year old host brother) has discovered that when he dances I laugh uncontrollably, so he has been doing it more and more often (I have an amazing video that I will share when I get home). Mamadou has also started a joke with his friends where he comes up to me and says “Cherie n b’I fe!” (my dear I love you) and then he gives me a kiss on the cheek. I think this makes him look cool to his friends. It’s a win win.

Nine (kononton). Malidenw are the heartbeat of this city.

du mali!!

Aw ni tile from Mali!

8 hours of air travel (accra-lome-abidjan-bamako) and one lost suitcase later, i found myself bartering in bambara for a taxi to hamdallaye - the 'cartier' where i once lived during four months that have ingrained themselves in my memory for three years as if they were yesterday. the driver took me across down, across joliba (the niger river), past the elephant statue, along the 'goudron' (paved road) through a city that felt somehow like home. i navigated as if i had never left - "go straight past the harlem store, turn right at the michelin man painting, turn left at the 'coiffure'". a herd of goats ran in front of us and red dirt was rustled from the ground, past women with babies on their backs and buckets on their heads, past men drinking tea in circles to the sunset. 'tu peux me deposer ici... n be jigin yan" (you can let me out here) i said, a few blocks from the entrance. i wanted to walk the final stretch to the house. as soon as i jumped out some kids yelled "ey! toubabu!" (hey! white girl!) and then "Bintou!" from behind me. the voice was Matou - my teenage host sister coming back from the market.

i've had a few opportunities to return to mali in the past 2 years that i've decided not to take because they would bring me here for a very long time. each time that i've deliberated these opportunities, the image that i've replayed in my head endlessly (the image that has made it hardest to say no) was my reunion with my malian family. i've imagined turning the corner to their road and seeing a mix of boys playing soccer, herds of goats, and lots of women and girls carrying things (babies, plantains, wash basins) amidst the mango trees. i think i've imagined this scene a thousand times - i've even dreamed it.

last night that scene was real. i came in to a courtyard full of familiar faces - aida et maimouna (my big sisters), aboubacar, abdallah, et mohamed (my big brothers), matou (my teenage sister/cousin), and mamadou - my little host brother that was 2 when i left. as soon as mamadou saw me he ran up and hugged me although we all agreed ["i hakili be n na?" (do you remember me?)] that he probably doesn't remember me. he's five now and the sweetest, most adorable little troublemaker you can possibly imagine. lala came in soon after - she's 7 now, though she was 4 when i left. she's gotten taller and more shy, but is warming up to me again. there is also a new 'bonne' (house maid) named asanatou and... a new baby! maimouna delivered a beautiful baby girl on valentines day - named aichatou. she's soooo tiny and sooooo cute and sooooo quiet. mamadou loves to shower her with kisses.

what has amazed me the most since i arrived last night is the fact that everything is exactly where i remembered it - both in the house and in bamako more broadly (the map in my head is unbelievably accurate!). i noticed a new wall that was put up next to part of the local marketplace, and a new boulangerie that opened near the goudron - but otherwise its all pretty much the same. this, by the way, makes me really happy, because this place and this culture is so beautiful.

all the neighbor kids are in and out of the courtyard all day - playing mostly with a jump rope, a half-stack of playing cards, and hand games. "biiiiiintou" they call. or "toubabou!" to which i reply "ne te toubabou ye" (i'm not a white person) to confuse them and make them laugh. mamadou still loves kicking things, putting on shoes that are too big for him, and pretending to ride the motor bike. last night he kicked around a plastic bag for like 30 minutes. he's about a foot taller than last time, but has the same face and is sweeter than ever. he talks now and pretty much just wants to climb me all the time so i end up holding him a lot. i love it. aboubacar gave up his career dreams of working in refrigeration and is now training to be a comedian at the local art school. he says he also plays a drum that is like a small djembe and i want him to teach me. everyone still watches latino soap operas dubbed in french and the mud wall across the street still has "hot men" graffiti-ed onto it. many of the kids and adults that have come in are people i recognize and some of them even remember me.

since i have no clothes here yet (all my luggage is somewhere else in west africa), i went to the grande marche (big market) today by moto with my host brother aboubacar. i got a new "tafe" (wrap skirt) to serve as my skirt/dress/towel etc in the meantime, and found myself completely comfortable in the marketplace. i remember a lot of bambara, surprisingly, which makes malians laugh and high five each other. i dont think there's any other country in the world (other than the US of course) where i feel so at home after no time. it's really amazing.

have you ever woken up to torrential rain pounding on a corrugated tin roof? this is one of the most relaxing sounds you can imagine. after a sweaty night (~95 degrees) under a bed net with a fan blowing full force, the rain this morning brought a certain calm and a certain coolness that gave me chills. i laid there for a long time before getting up to wash. in mali, you have to wash your hands and face before you're supposed to greet anyone/say good morning.

now i'm in the cyber cafe i used to come to everyday. later (maybe tomorrow) i will climb the old hill behind my house (lasa / la colline des rastas) and visit the farming cooperative where i once worked. i'm hoping to find some good music around town and maybe take a trip to another city or village for a day or two.

i hope you're all well and i'm thinking of you lots - wishing i could share this special place with more people from home.
love, rain, and rhythm,
bintou

photos to share

i have some photos to share from our adventures west and middle and you can see them here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2149874&id=3108376&l=a6ddb5d444. if you like them and feel that you would like to see 1040 more, i can send you the link to all the photos. you know, photos don't really do it justice at all.

even though i'm home now and have lots of clothes to wear, i still just want to wear the things ive been wearing for the past month and a half. i think its a metaphor or something.

louie louie

3 days have passed since i arrived at night to a city of my past and found tolu and alex and meshuggah coffee and freshly painted walls. it was strange to play visitor in a city so familiar that i sometimes feel i haven't left. for one day, it was very difficult. today i'm happy because the sun is really warm and a slightly wobbly front bike tire did not prevent tolu and i from riding to local harvest for brunch or forest park for a few hours of grassynaprolling. this weekend is flooded with festivals and we've partaken in a few. its been great seeing familiar faces and some special spots like the farm and the coop. and of course meshuggah. if anything was superbly weird, it was the feeling of the wash u lawn in my toes as i walked barefoot towards mcmillan, the things you've dropped from memory altogether are perhaps the hardest to rediscover.

yesterday tolu showed me a tree that covers the whole street with its branches and touches the houses on one side. it was cool.

birds mountains cities tea

its suddenly the last day of my trip out west and im flooded with a zillion stories and memories everytime i try to instarecap. it was an entire month of moments. lots and lots of moments. a month of them. (but, you know, its saturday night, soooooo yeah)

today i hiked with john on mt rainier which was beautiful and cold and sunny and windy and great. and it reminded me of hiking last week on mt seymour in vancouver where you can see all around you from all three peaks and the last one is spiritual and it was also sunny. that was the day a small plane like one from the 60s flew past us and it was yellow and we were so close we could wave at the pilot and he waved back. that was also the day we met colette and christian and spoke french and spanish as they shuttled us down to the busstop before our night out with the couchsurfing hosts and the hungarian busmates we met on a greyhound from seattle.

that was probably just about a week after we sat on a hill, me and tolu, and watched a million or so birds (vaux's swifts aka "the swifts") funnel into an old chimney of an elementary school one at a time over an hour and a half. they filled the sky and some of them got pecked off by hawks and falcons. which reminds me of a million birds that stood on the pacific shore we found at the end of a long day hiking through the redwoods that are so big they could swallow you and really truly understand silence. and we walked through fern canyon with walls so high and covered with ferns you feel as though you are prehistoric. that was the day before we met deb and emma and they made us tea.

2 days ago we drank tea with an old taiwanese woman for 3 hours and learned about tea more than i ever thought was possible. we met a young white guy who was a monk in a past life and dropped everything in this life to drink tea all day and share its peace and wisdom. in a thai restaurant yesterday where you sit so close to the stove that the fire heats your face and makes you sweat, we saw a woman hold up a picture of herself on her phone wearing only lingerie and marveled at technology and (dis)illusions of privacy.

i'm suddenly reminded of the light coming into ted and chris and dereks house in arcata and how that song by bon iver (stacks?) was playing and the sun was hitting the garden just right and it hit the wood floor just right and we felt just right there. which reminds me of pottery and wood tables, and homemade tomato sauce and dairy-free vanilla frozen yogurt and chickens and walking and parks and farmers markets.

like the one oliver and kristyna took us to in arcata our first day where there was so much produce and music and dancing and color that we lost each other and reappeared with delicious things to cook and made an outlandish meal that night. and bread. that we made with them and i just made it again last night and now i want only to make bread and never to buy it because it is so much better that way.

tomorrow im flying to st louis to continue the journey.

inspired by a post-birthday email from gramps, i'm blogging again, though spottily i imagine...

im back on the go... traveling for a month in the pacific northwest with my friend tolu.

so far this trip has been great... tolu and i met up in san fran last saturday and ran around the city for a week with aida for almost the whole time. we saw many an old friend, ate many a cheap delicious meal, and saw many a sight on the twenty-something budget! san francisco is an amazing city... super vibrant and diverse. it feels like every few blocks you walk you're in a completely different place. china town feels like the closest you can get to asia without leaving the continental US, hippy hill in golden gate park (and haight ashbury for that matter) is pretty much the closest you can get to the 60s without leaving 2009, and the mission feels like some mix of brooklyn and a city in mexico (keith is making a list of reasons why the mission is like a third world country, although we've decided not to call it third world because that is so on the out).

there are too many stories from sf to try to fit in the blog right now... but i will say that some real highlights were seeing old friends from st louis -- staying at kacie's amaaazing house in orinda, crashing with jake in the filmore, spending a day with colin, kacie, deb, and stephen, and a night at colin and stephen's warehouse in an old cookie factory (those really good pink cookies with rainbow sprinkles!), and of course, a cozy night at keith's new home in the mission.

yesterday we split on a greyhound bus, saying our farewells to aida who is off to korea. the bus was full of characters, and a few fights may or may not have broken out, but overall it was pretty beautiful despite getting in 3 hours late. now we're in eureka, ca with kristyna and oliver. this town is great -- the perfect combination of a small community and a place with lots to do. we went to the farmers market in arcata (aka. hippy heaven) this morning, took a long walk on the dunes by the ocean... and then played in the ocean!, made hot cocoa, explored a few used book stores, and went to the local co-op to get some last ingredients for the big meal we're making tonight. speaking of which, it's time to cook.

mrf