So I've been absent from this blog - but don't be dismayed! - it's only because I've changed sites. I'll be updating from here on out here - www.triflesandtreasures.blogspot.com - hope you'll check me out there and thanks for reading!
Let me tell you something - I am one lucky lady. Never has it been more apparent than coming home to America last week.
After arriving in NY tired and with a heavy heart after leaving
my sweet love - Annette, a friend I met in Mali, not only welcomed me into
her home but also treated me to a delicious Indian dinner. What a
sweetheart!
Before
After
The next morning I woke up after a few hours of sleep to catch the train down to SoHo for my free haircut with Eli, a stylist in training at the Sam Brocato salon on Wooster Street. What a treat!
Then I met up with Claire, an RPCV from Cameroon, for lunch at Hampton Chutney which I found from perusing this blog. So lovely to catch up on our lives over naan and pumpkin chutney!
Dinner with treasures of friends I met at Monica's wedding in Lebanon
I worked up an appetite walking around SoHo looking for warmer clothes before meeting the four smiling faces seen above. Aren't they cute?? Michelle, Yamil, Brian and Aneesa all came to Monica and Samer's wedding in Lebanon this past summer and we hit it off instantly. I was so thrilled when they could meet for dinner at Le Zie (thanks for scouting the location Michelle)!
After dinner Michelle, Yamil and I headed over to Kittichai for some drinks and Bambara (many of the staff and bartenders are Malian!). It was fun to speak Bambara and have a few drinks in a fancy SoHo bar and pretend to be a grown-up!
Rabayah, another RPCV from Mali, welcomed me into her apartment after drinks. I loved getting the chance to catch up even if I was barely functioning at that point since I was so exhausted. You always have one more battery bar left in you when it comes to sweet friends, don't you??
Annette helped me pack up and kept me company until my metro left at 1:30 a.m. Thursday morning when I headed out for Richmond. So many sweet friends I am so thankful to have - thank you to you all!
"The road of life twists and turns and no two directions are
ever the same. Yet our lessons come from the journey, not the
destination.”
Don Williams, Jr. (American Novelist and Poet,
b.1968)
Abdoulaye and I
walk into the foyer of the Hotel Merinides and we immediately feel transported.
Richly embroidered couches line the perimeter of the lobby and
hand-woven tapestries blanket the floor. Shiny silver and gold tea
sets are displayed on wrought-iron coffee tables and royal portraits
of Mohammed VI, the king of Morocco, sit quietly in gilded frames by
the front desk and on open table spaces. Porters float by wearing
fez caps and gypsy suits as waiters expertly weave between the
furniture while balancing trays of pulpy, fresh-squeezed orange juice
destined for hotel guests on the terrace. We exit the lobby to soak
up the panoramic view of Fez at sunset and sigh into white patio
furniture as we order two orange juices.
Fresh-squezed orange juice on the patio
Our flight left
Mali this morning at 2 a.m. and we arrive in Casablanca around 5:30
a.m. Customs is a breeze since we are maybe 2 of 4 people not taking
a connecting flight to Mecca – our entire flight was filled with
Malians making their pilgrimage.
We catch the first
train out of the station (conveniently located inside the airport) at
6 a.m. and settle into our first-class seats (definitely worth the couple dollars more in price for air-conditioning and an almost-private car). We try to nap but are
too excited to sleep as the Moroccan countryside and city scapes blur
past us beyond the windows. Abdoulaye strikes up a conversation with
a Moroccan man headed to his home in Fez and asks what are the
must-sees in the city. “You have to visit the Hotel Merinides at
sunset,” he says. I nod and tell him I will not forget the name and Abdoulaye agrees. Our plans for our first night in Fez are made!
We drop off our
bags at our hotel in Fez and freshen up before heading into the city
to find lunch. After following the flow of mid-day traffic we find a
street side café prime for people watching and settle in. I tell
Abdoulaye how much I would like to find a hat and a pair of
sunglasses. A few minutes later a man walks by with straw hats and
bags; I buy one of each. Satisfied with my purchases, we order our
lunch and begin to people watch. A few minutes later a man walks by
selling sunglasses. I think to myself 'I could ask for a lot of
other things!' but I decide to keep my mouth shut – this game of
ask-and-you-shall-receive is getting to be too much!
After filling our
bellies we decide to catch a few z's before heading out for dinner.
For our first night out on the town I decide to get dolled up and
wear an exceedingly cute and equally uncomfortable pair of
espadrilles. I still have the blisters to show for them and their
cuteness.... We decide to walk to the hotel recommended to us by our new train-friend and find ourselves on a
street-corner that looks promising and with another tourist couple
looking lost. But tired of walking and with the sun quickly setting
in the west, we flag down a taxi and explain the hotel we are looking
for. “It's on the hill!” I say excitedly while miming a hill
with a panoramic view of the city for our driver since we forgot the
name, “and you can see all of Fez!” The taxi driver looks
unimpressed with my body language and begins to drive in the
direction of what he understands we are talking about. We pull into
the hotel driveway and I twist my ankle in excitement as I leap out
of the taxi to get change from the concierge. We are here!
We walk through the
lobby of the hotel and then sip our orange juices on the patio while
the sun sets on Fez. The moon rises in the east and our first day
traveling together outside of Mali has come to a close. As I sit on
the outdoor sofa next to Abdoulaye I think that life could not get
any better than fresh-squeezed juice on a hotel terrace overlooking
the former Imperial capital city of Morocco. And then Abdoulaye asks
me to marry him so I can enjoy moments like this with him by my side
for the rest of my life. Life just got better.
A carriage ride through Fez our second night in the city
See more pictures from our trip to Morocco here and here!
It is a Saturday afternoon in Bamako
and we are gathered in my boss Thelma's living room. Mom and I spent the
morning with the photography club at the National Museum and then met
Cassie for lunch in town. Abdoulaye and his mom, Foulé, spent the
morning shopping for bazin fabric in the grande marchée for
Foulé to take back to Guinea as gifts and for small commerce. Everyone is looking thirsty and so Abdoulaye and I excuse ourselves to the
kitchen to get some hibiscus juice for the crowd. I take his hand as
we enter the kitchen. I love these private, albeit brief, moments
with him after days that are so public.
Our brief moment is briefer than usual
when Bobo enters the kitchen behind us and says with a smile and a
shake of his finger “Vous deux, allez dehors!” You
two, outside! I look at Abdoulaye who purses his lips and nods his
head and I follow him through the living room; I guess the hibiscus
juice will have to wait.
Cassie looks up at
us from the couch as we walk by. Foulé sits with her hands in her
lap in a chair opposite my own mother who is perched on a loveseat,
playing with Bobo's baby girl, Aminata. Bobo takes a seat on the chair
opposite Cassie and subtly encourages Abdoulaye and I outside with an
exaggerated nod of his head towards the door.
Of course I know
something is up as Abdoulaye closes the glass door behind us and we
settle on the patio outside. I think Abdoulaye knows something is
up, too, but he is avoiding my questions and feigns ignorance of what
is going on inside. “Come on,” I plead in my usual, charming
fashion, “tell me what is going on!” He shakes his head and
segues the conversation to our respective adventures with our moms
that day. That boy knows how to switch my train of thought! Then Cassie
throws open the door and passes us baby Aminata. “Your mom needs
to concentrate!” she says before quickly returning inside. I turn
to Abdoulaye for an explanation but his attention is on the baby and
I find myself quickly distracted by her baby gurgles, too. Aissetou,
Bobo's wife, appears from behind the house and takes Aminata away for
a feeding. Then Bobo opens the door and waves us inside. I feel a
strange expectation build in my stomach and try to smile it away.
Abdoulaye takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
I re-enter the
living room and take a seat on the couch next to Cassie. Abdoulaye
sits on the loveseat next to my Mom who is wiping away tears that are
spilling down her cheeks. A few thoughts run through my head.
First, I definitely missed something. Then, 'Oh my goodness, I bet
someone in Guinea passed away and this is the culturally appropriate
way to share the news.' And then, wait a minute, how come Cassie got
to stay? I look from my crying mother to a solemn-faced Foulé to a
grinning Bobo and finally to Cassie whose face is giving nothing
away. “OK,” I finally say after the awkward silence becomes too
much, “somebody spill.”
Bobo begins the
conversation, situating his body and his words towards my mother. He
begins by telling her what he thinks of Abdoulaye. He says, among
other things, that he sees a lot of people passing through Bamako and
that Abdoulaye, who he did not know before coming to Mali (both Bobo
and Abdoulaye are from Guinea), is someone special. I have heard
Bobo's touching words before but they still give me a little thrill
each time; Abdoulaye really is someone special.
At
this point in the conversation I am pretty sure I also have something
to do with all of this but my Mom is still crying on the loveseat and
I still think someone may have died. Then, Bobo turns to me and my
Mom's tears begin to taper off. He talks about how in Africa a
marital union is not only between the couple – it is also between
families. I sit up a little straighter and try to make eye contact
with Abdoulaye who is looking intently at Bobo and only briefly
catches my eye. I definitely have something to do with all of this.
Foulé
begins to speak again in Susu and Bobo translates for me into French
while Cassie translates for my Mom into English. Foulé talks about
how pleased she is to see her son so happy and continues on with a
laundry list appraisal of what she thinks of me now that she has seen
Abdoulaye and I together this past week. The list is a good one and
I blush and squirm in my seat. Abdoulaye says nothing but looks at
me and flashes me one of his heart-melting smiles. I laugh awkwardly
at pauses in the conversation. Mom stands up to get another tissue
and I brush my hand against Abdoulaye's. “Won tannara,”
I mouth to him in Susu. We are together.
Foulé takes a
breath and Bobo clasps his hands. His gaze moves expectantly between
my mother and I whose own glistening eyes are moving between me and
Abdoulaye. Foulé starts up again in Susu and Bobo grins even larger
than before. I sense that the conversation is quickly reaching its
apex, at least, I hope it is since I am still unsure if the pauses in
the conversation are meant as opportunities for me to respond or
simply dramatic pauses meant as opportunities for Foulé's words to
settle in.
“As the
representative of Jenny's family,” Bobo continues in French while
looking at my mother, “do you accept for Abdoulaye and Jennifer to
join in marriage?” Mom looks at me and tearily shrugs her
shoulders and nods (Dad, Sheri and John – I hope you guys are on
board!). I smile until it hurts and give Abdoulaye's knee a squeeze
before standing up to give hugs all around. I thank our translators
– it means even more that Bobo and Cassie, two of the people
dearest to Abdoulaye's and my hearts, were there – before I give
Abdoulaye an extra squeeze. We head back to the kitchen to get the
hibiscus juice we originally came for – this time to toast Part I of our engagement.
After bargaining for our $4 fare to
pick up Cassie for lunch, Mom and I step into the taxi. The driver
peers back at us through his slightly askew rearview mirror and asks
– his eyes resting first on me and then on my Mom – “I
koromuso walima I bamuso?” Your older sister or your mother? I
laughbefore telling
the taxi-man that this is my mother. “An ba,” he says, his face
lighting up, “a diarra an ye I na na!” Our mother –
we're so glad you came!
When I decided to
do a third-year with the Peace Corps and move to Bamako my Mom, the
dust barely pedicured off of her feet from her first trip to Mali in
January 2010, started planning her return. At first I resisted.
“It's too far and it's too expensive,” I protested. But moms
have a way of knowing what is best and mine is especially patient. I
eventually agreed that she needed to come back.
Annie was also
curious to check out my life in the big city – and to get a break
from village – when she came to visit in May. I told her about
Mom's plans to return in September but that we would not be able to
come back to village this time – her trip being too short and the
journey to village too long. Could she come back to Bamako to help
me welcome her? “No problem,” Annie said, “and I could go to
airport with you to pick her up?” “Of course!” I said. “And
then I could go inside the airplane to see what it looks like!” she
added. “That might be a problem,” I replied.
Around the same
time as Annie's visit Abdoulaye and I hit a point in our relationship
where it was no longer 'let's see what happens in October when my
third-year is over' but rather 'let's start planning for a
post-October together.' I left for Lebanon to attend Monica and
Samer's beyond-beautiful wedding and Abdoulaye left for Guinea to
defend his thesis and receive his doctorate in veterinary medicine.
He talked with his mom about a trip to Bamako and she was thrilled
with the idea. Vaccination card in hand Foulématou Bangoura started
packing her Bamako bags.
And so began Bamako
Mom-fest 2011. Abdoulaye's mom arrived first by taxi from Conakry,
Guinea on Thursday. Annie arrived the next afternoon on a bus from
San with Christine, now a very solid three and ½ year old. My mom
arrived that evening on the same flight as Axel, my boss's husband.
Axel exited the terminal first and as we waited for my mom to emerge
with her bags looked at me – his signature ball cap square on his
head – and demanded: “Do you know how I found your mother in
Paris?” - his German-accented English making his rhetorical
question sound more like a quiz. “I saw her in her Malian skirt
and did a double-take,” he said, “I thought it was you!”
Doppelganger in tow
we headed home with all of our airport companions. Massa and
Abdoulaye on motorcycle and the rest of us: Annie, Christine,
Foulématou, Jim and me, in the car. After sharing some pumpkin and
potato soup (Foulé's commentary: 'It's tasty and I'm glad Jennifer
likes to cook for a lot!') we all crashed.
On Sunday Mom and I
gave a Sunday school class to some neighborhood kids (lesson: Blessed
is he who prefers his brother to himself) before heading to CommeChez Soi for brunch. Bellies full and one of her Bamako to-dos
checked off the list, Mom and I headed to market to collect
watermelons for our Welcome-to-Bamako party that night. Around 30
friends came together at my generous boss Thelma's home to say 'aw
bissimilah' to our treasured mothers. Hibiscus and ginger juice,
meat kebabs, watermelon, plantains and french fries – what more do
you need to have a party??
On Monday Abdoulaye
and I began our routine of mom shifts. He would head over to
Thelma's in the morning (where Foulé and Annie were staying) while
Mom and I got ready at Sylvaine's (my other generous boss where both
she and I stayed and where I've been living the past couple months).
Around ten we headed over to collect the rest of the crew and head to
the National Park, another must-see in Bamako after the Comme Chez
Soi.
The rest of the
week included all sorts of excursions and must-sees for Bamako. A
trip out to Titibougou to see Abdoulaye's work and give my last
English class for the year. Pizza and hummus at the Relax.
Close-of-Service obligations at the Peace Corps office. A day trip
to visit Annie's sister, Esther, in Koulikoro. Dinner at Sous-Bois
with my Bamako-crew. Quality time with Cassie. Drinks at the Zira.
A 60th birthday bash for Sylvaine. A few days before our
Moms arrived someone told me I must be super stressed with all the
preparations. While coordinating all the arrivals and places to stay
and things to do was not simple, nor was I stressed about what we
would do once they all arrived. Mom is such an easy going companion
that I could just tote her along and know, as long as she was watered
and fed, that she was happy as a clam just to be back in Mali.
On one of our last
evenings together, a friend walked in the door who could not make it
to our party the previous Sunday. She proceeded to greet all the
guests in Thelma's living room and stopped at my mother while looking
at me. “You don't need to introduce me,” she said. “You and
your mother are like two drops of water.”
Zouheirata, Annasoura's little sister, invited us all over for a delicious dinner
Lunch in Koulikro. Annie is concerned about Mom and Abdoulaye's technique
National Park excursion with Cassie!
Tuckered out after a day of play. And yes, we did travel with a suitcase. Accessories!
You can't see it but I'm pinching Cassie and Abdoulaye to see if it's real - I'm so happy all these folks are in Bamako at once!
You can see it here - Catherine is pulling my hair to see if it's really attached to my head and not weave. It's not weave.
When folks here say "Nice to meet your mom! She's much prettier than you!" I look at this and believe.
My forehead is great for traction...
Big smiles in Koulikoro for a day-visit to Annie's little sister, Esther.
Hard to believe tomorrow marks the last day of Bamako-Mom-Fest 2011. But y'all better believe it because it does! It's been a great visit - I have lots of photos to share - but for now it's off to different waters - more on those waters next week!
With Foulé (Abdoulaye's mom), Annie and Mom (holding Christine)
Annie spent a day traveling to Bamako from village to get here. Abdoulaye's mom spent over 30 hours in a car from Conakry. My mom spent over 24 hours in planes and airport terminals from Virginia. I made some pumpkin and potato soup and a cardboard sign to welcome them. After all, I am already here! More posts to follow on our Bamako adventures!
With Abdoulaye and Mom at our mom party chez Thelma
Snacking on watermelon and hibiscus juice at the National Park (Mom with Fatoumata)
A recent photography exhibit spent a week at the the Musée de Bamako. A photographer in London and a photographer in Bamako took photos of activities that happen in both places - taxi drivers, tea drinking, soccer playing, cooking for the family, playing music. It was neat to see the similarities and learn more about the people in the pictures from short interviews accompanying the photos. Learn more here!
Am I right in thinking this is just a knock-off spare-tire cover? Or do all Rav4 tire covers in America have sayings like this?
"It s an outdoor sport that has recently started to shine. To choose sports for fashion or your personality. The basic idea is to enjoy yourself. That is important. Outdoor sport is the sicence to raise spirits."
Creepy or not we had to snap a photo! With Massa and Cassie on the bridge
Don't you want a photo on the bridge of friendship with Abdoulaye, too??
Bamako's third bridge, the result of a collaboration with China, was inaugurated last Thursday, September 22nd as one of many commemorations of Mali's 51st independence day. Ironic? Perhaps. Events like this bridge opening encourage me to reflect on the merits (and demerits?) of foreign investment and development in Mali. What are foreign investors/development projects doing in Mali? What, in particular, does China get when they build this bridge?
Malians share similar stereotypes of Chinese manufacturing as Americans. Cheap, low-quality products priced to sell that won't last long. A Malian friend, when discussing all the moto accidents in Bamako, made the observation that "the Chinese are just sending us these crappy Jakarta motorcycles to kill us!" Hm....can't say that I agree with that intention, I think Mali just needs some rules of the road (and enforcement of those rules!) but the motorcycles are inexpensive! However, while I often hear Malians complain about low-quality Chinese manufacturing, I haven't heard many folks worried about the quality of their construction - the bridge does appear to be solid, though!
Foreign investment in Mali is low and limited to handfuls of Lebanese owned night clubs and grocery stores, South African and Canadian owned mines and a very large administrative complex built by Muammar el-Qaddafi. The US Embassy in Bamako states there are many sectors the Malian government is seeking to expand through the help of foreign investment. But why, I wonder, does everyone want a piece of Mali?
The Bridge of Friendship in Bamako marks China's largest gift to West Africa and many are already waiting for bridge #4 and #5 to alleviate the capital city's awful traffic. I hear Malians talk about how there are no strings attached to this bridge and that China is just doing a good thing for a poor country like Mali. I have a hard time buying that but then how different is the US from China or Libya? We might not be quite so overt about taking advantage of the country but we do benefit from our relations.
Living here is kind of like being the friend of someone in a bizarre, gossip-y relationship. One day I hear the accolades of USAID, Qaddafi and China - the next day I hear USAID is self-serving (possible), Qaddafi is crazy (yes) and China sends prisoners to work in Mali (also quite likely). Sometimes the best friends are the ones who just listen so I will work on continuing to smile and nod.
But maybe I am looking too much into this bridge. Maybe China's gift of the Bridge of Friendship to Mali really does have no strings attached. Maybe not. While it is possible that China really is just looking for new friends - I think they are looking for a certain kind, as are all foreign investors - friends with benefits.
I haven't seen the movie but I'm sure we all have a few things to learn from Natalie and Ashton
Friday night we went to the CCF (French Cultural Center) to see Rokia Traoré in concert. Wow. Beautiful woman. Captivating voice. I would have loved to see more dancing - I hear she's incredible. So glad the CCF is open again for the season!
I'm coveting the back-up singers' dresses...
Here Rokia plays ... what? I can't find the name of this instrument - anyone??
So let's just call last week a wash. On Monday the cute boy sitting next to me had an interview for a tourist visa to visit the US and he (we) got denied. Does bummer really capture how we felt? Um. No. While we are (or rather, were) incredibly upset Abdoulaye won't be able to come home this fall to meet my beautiful family it will all work out in the end. After all, as Abdoulaye says, we're stronger than this, and so I'll keep my head up and we'll keep making alternate plans. We're both so incredibly thankful to our precious family and friends who have been so supportive this past week - thank you from the bottom of our hearts. It would have been so much harder without you.
This week is already looking to be better. The lovely and talented Cassady Walters is officially back in Mali (!!!) there's a photography exhibit opening and the beginning of another round of single-teacher school training sessions. Mom and John will also celebrate 20 years of marriage and then Mali will celebrate 50+1 years of independence.
I haven't felt much like writing these past couple weeks with the build-up to my sweet boy's interview and then the bad news - but I'm back to blogging - thanks for staying tuned.
Ramadan this year was lovely. I felt at home and food-filled. With a wonderful lunch at Bobo's followed by a chill and equally lovely afternoon with Annasoura - Abdoulaye, Massa and I went home with happy and full hearts. Here's some photos from the day:
Annasoura is quite the griller. Who would of thought?
