The Stalker

This post is a little off topic, and I will probably receive bad karma for posting this. I just can't help myself though. I am delayed in writing other topics because of a lack of relevant pictures. I just can't seem to get out and take any.

On with today's topic. That being a sort of stalker man that just showed up at my door one day, asking for work. I said there was none. He came back. He told me he saw me at the cathedral (where I have never been) and wanted to be my friend (because he wants an American friend) and asks if I know anyone who needs a worker. I said no thanks. He came back again and just handed me a letter which I reluctantly accepted. This is where I am sure to get bad karma, posting this letter that I found to be creepy, and somewhat funny here it is in all it's INGLISH glory:

Hello MY DeAR AMeRicAN'S MAN. Let Me INTRoDUNCe MYSELF MY NAMe IS "Kaine" LET Me WRite to You, THiS LetteR. it's ABout SOMEtHING iNTERestING. FoR YoU AND ME, BUt i WoRRY iF YoU CAN UNDeRSTAND ME, I WILL VeRY HAPPY iF YoU BeLIeve ME, ILIKE To STAY WItH You FoR JUSt FRIeND oNLY FRieND, But At THIS TIMe I couLDN't SPeAK TO YOU At THIS DAY, AND I WAS ASHAMD To You AND i ASK You IF You HAVE WoRK FoR Me You SAY,No You WAS SoRRY You couLDN't HeLPEDMe I KNeW, It's WASN't FoR WoRK OR MANY, It WAS JUSt ILIKe To Do FRieNDLY WITH You IF You GRANt me PLeAse I HoPe YoU'Re GoING to UNDeRSTAND Me WHAt I'M TALKING ABout. tHeN BeFoR I HAD ONe AMeRICAN'S FRIEND AND It WAS MY BOSS ALso. But HIS Not HeRe I'M ALoNeIDoN't WANt to StAY ALoNe, You KNoW tHIS LIVE SoMetImes It's veRY SAD, SoMeTIMeS 'DeAtH' IS BetteR tHAN LIFe. BeCAUSe I LIVe AND I GRoWN WItHoUt MY PAReNt, But It DoeS Not MAtteR, PLeASe DoN't ReFUSe THIS ASK ACCEPt AND BeLIeV Me, UNtIL MY BOSS GON IN AMeRICA INeVeR FOUND ONe FRIeND OR BOSS AMeRICAN. AND ILKe YOU LeARN Me IN INGLISH WHeN You HAVe TIMe.

I WoRK IN THe BIG OF "BAMAKO" IN ONe CHINes SHOP. I'M TRADSMAN,'IN SHOP. THeNILIKe YoU TAKe Me AS YoUR FRIeND AND YoUR BRoTHeR PLeASe I TRUS YOU AND I BeLIeVe YoU, I WILL, NeVeR FORGet ON YoU, BeLIeVe Me, I'M GOING TO DO MY Besst FOR YoU, YOU ALSo, BUt I NeveR ASK YOU FOR MoNeY OR SoMeTHINg eLS, BUT ONLY INGLISH IFYOU HAVe TIMe, I SPEAK LoTLL LITTLe ING But I CAN't UNDeRSTAND qUIte WeLL WItH YOU I CAN BeLIeVe YoU FoR eveR.

THANK YOU,
You WILL HAVe A ReWARD FROM Me. TAKE Goo CARe OF YOU AND GOD BLESS YOU MR FRIeND. AND EXCUSe Me I WRIte too MUCH FoR AND It'S BAD. LeASe WRIte BACK AS SOON AS POSSIBLe we CAN Meet oPoSIT PF CHRCH ON SUNDAY,eVeWING.
GOOD LUCK FoUR YOU. BYE,


Now my question is, am I a complete asshole for not wanting anything to do with this guy? He came back again, hissed at my roomate to get her to answer the door, called her mean for not responding, then rambled on and on about how trustworthy he was with this other American guy, and that he didn't want money, he didn't want work, he didn't want to come into my house, and he didn't want money (again). Then I asked him what he wanted, and he got uncomfortable, shifted his weight and kept going on about the other American friend he had. He put on his pity-me face and kept on rambling. I asked him a few times what it was that he wanted. All I ever got as a response what a shifty look and more and more talk about nothing.

In the end I told him that I would appreciate it if he would stop coming by (I live in an apartment where my door is fairly inaccesible to the street) and leave me in peace. He made some grunting noises as he left, and I don't know if he'll be back.

Urbad Planning 1: The Streets of Bamako

Well one month has past and no one has sent me any scathing emails, which means I have to keep myself in check, and make another post. I should really start by talking about 'Time in Bamako' and how there exists no such thing as a deadline. This lack of punctuality and sense of urgency has caused me too many problems in getting work done here (on the part of the Malians I work with and myself).

So I finally bring you my thoughts on the streets of Bamako—or I should say, the lack thereof. If you check out Google Earth, you will most certainly see a somewhat confusing web of paved roads that indeed can be labeled 'streets.' This web can be a little difficult to navigate at first since it doesn't strictly follow the graph paper model of equidistant blocks and perpendicular intersections as is done so often in the mundane world of American cities and suburbs. Normally I would say that a less patterned street map would be beneficial for a city in discouraging the use of personal vehicles and encouraging pedestrian traffic and public transportation; but thanks to the wonders and efficiency of Chinese factories, too many people in Bamako jam up the roads with their identical Power-K scooters (the topic of my next entry). So what we have in Bamako is a decent—albeit confusing—web of paved roads that simply cannot keep up with amount of vehicles trying to get around town.

Unfortunately, the majority of roads in Bamako don't fit into the same category of those in the previous paragraph. Most can hardly be described as roads at all. I want to call them dirt roads, but I am afraid that the reader in America will immediately think of the kind of dirt road you would ride on when traveling to your cabin or driving to a campground. A dirt road of that quality is called a 'piste entretenue' which literally means well-kept path, and is really the second-best quality of national road in Mali. So what am I to call these roads that make up the majority of roads in Bamako? Let's go with 'inner-city off-road streets.' Really, your vehicle would be better off driving 60 mph over a speed bump than have to constantly deal with these streets. Driving on these turns everyone in the vehicle into an over-excited bobble-head. It is highly inadvisable to get into a taxi in Bamako if you need to go to the bathroom, I've done it once and barely made it to my apartment. Rocks, old cement blocks, ditches, potholes, trash: all of these are to be found on the streets of Bamako. There are no lanes. There is only the most level path you take no matter the direction you are driving. And what happens when you face a car going the opposite direction? You put on a neck brace and prepare for a bumpy ride.

That pretty much explains the two kinds of streets in Bamako: the smooth but confusing and overcrowded web of paved roads, and the inner-city off-road paths. To end this topic I leave you with a picture:

This picture was taken only after a mild rain, so much for drainage systems.

Next up on Bamako Breakdown: Power-K: The Scourge of Bamako

The Beginning

I know it has taken me a while to get started on my newer edition of the blog, and for that I hope you can all forgive me. Before getting started i needed to find some sort of inspiration, something interesting to write about, both for me and whoever may end up reading this.

Ever since moving to Bamako, I've realized that there really isn't much to write about except Bamako. Therefore, in the next six months that is exactly what I will be doing—writing about my observations on the transportation, streets, economy, government, planning, restaurants, markets, and just life in general here in Mali's busy capital. My thoughts have been brewing ever since moving from the reposeful village to the toilsome city. Most of my thinking has been done while walking the streets uncomfortably in the midday sun, or watching the life of the city pass by from the window of a taxi, and even while moving from ice cold air conditioned offices of well-to-do Malians back to the scorching air of hot season to eat lunch on the side of the road.

I already have planned two 'bleries' (blog-series) for you to look forward to, that will each cover a sub-topic in a broader topic. One will be called 'Transpoortation' where I will reflect on the different modes of transport and how they interact with each other. The other (which I don't have a name for yet) will broadly cover aspects of city planning from infrastructure to architecture.

At minimum I will post once per week (and feel free to send me scalding e-mails if I don't keep that promise), and I would appreciate any comments, thoughts, or contradictions you have.


Next up on Bamako Breakdown, 'The Streets of Bamako'.

I'm back, but am I back for good?

I have decided that I will finally succumb to all of my mother's pressure and get back on to Blogger. With this, I hope she will stop asking me, "When are you going to post on your blog again?"

I have taken a little inspiration from my boy Adam, whose blog I have added to my web links on the right hand side (called Baroké). I doubt that I will post as often as he does, and I doubt that I will have anything as valuable to say, but I will do my best--which has unfortunately proven not to be even worth the word 'best.'

I have changed the name (pardon the alliteration in the title), and I have changed the layout again, and hope to make it a little more pretty in the near future. Whether or not my ability to post for both quantity and quality will change as well is yet to be determined.

On va voir.

Not my thing

So I promised a few people that I would put a new post up on my blog. I must admit, that this blogging isn't really my thing. I tried it, but for some reason I am more addicted to analyzing music charts and finding new music than I am at sharing the fairly uneventful life that I am leading in my third year in Mali. Even though I still love it here, I guess I have just become accustomed to all of the things that may or may not be interesting.

Anyways, the only thing I can think of writing at the moment is the update about my new project. Working at the Ministry is pretty uneventful, so I have started working with Junior Achievement of Mali. The big thing that I will be helping out with is planning and organizing Global Entrepreneurship Week here in Mali. Put simply, the idea is to get youth involved in and excited about entrepreneurship. More detailed information can be found on the website.

Global Entrepreneurship Week's Website

One of many reasons I love Mali

First thing after getting through the chaos that is the Bamako-Senou airport, I walked outside to supposedly catch the ride that Peace Corps said they would have waiting for me. Unfortunately, there was no one there to pick me up. So I turned on my Malian cell phone to find out if my ride was going to show up. But wait, my credit was expired, and even though there were plenty of men outside the airport ready and willing to sell me phone credit--I didn't have any money on me. When they understood the fact that I didn't have any local currency there were 3 more men asking me if I wanted to change Euros or Dollars. Oops, didn't have any of those either. This would be the time to say that I was up shit creek without a paddle.

No need to worry though, I wasn't in America. I walked around the parking lot checking all of the white Toyota SUVs trying to find one with the Peace Corps logo until a man came up to me offering his cell phone, "You can call from my phone." I tried...and got a busy signal. "No problem," the man said. "I'll take you home, and you can pay me later."

I had no other choice than to accept the taxi driver's kindness. He helped me with my bags and we got in the car and he pulled away from the smallest international airport I have ever experienced. As all other Malians in Bamako, he was surprised at the fact that I spoke Bambara. After chatting a little and exchanging the standard jokes about each others last name, I told him that I would go to the bank on Monday and he could come by and get the money that afternoon.

We arrived at my apartment and he helped me out with my bags. I was happy to be back, and reminded of the kindness of the majority of Malians. But when I was about ready to grab my bags and head in to the apartment, the cab driver stopped me, "Wait," he injected, "can I give you some money to get you through the weekend?" (Since I arrived on Saturday and couldn't get to the bank until Monday) I wanted to say no, but he insisted that I take some, and when I said 2000 CFA would be fine (the equivalent of 4 dollars) he offered me more. I took the 2000, thanked him, we exchanged phone numbers, and I went inside.

Tuesday he called me, we planned to meet in the afternoon, he came by the apartment and I paid him back with a little interest, and he acted as if I had done him a favor.

I won't generalize and say that all third world countries are like this, but I can say that Mali is a country where people will almost always help each other out. Taxi drivers don't make that much money, but he still had enough to help me out. This is just how it is here, no rewards or honors for helping, and they do so without hesitation.

It was, to say the least, a kind welcome back to Mali.

Transition Part Deux - The Real Deal

I realized that I was lying by calling my last post 'Transition' when all I did was put on some pictures of the Radio opening. I figured that I would bring you the actual news about the transition out of the simple village life into the big city of Bamako. Here's a little list of what's changed:

USED TO HAVE ---- WHAT I HAVE NOW
Hole in the ground toilet ---- 3 western toilets (that actually flush, wow)

Bucket baths with water the temperature of the air ---- 2 Showers with hot water heater
Car battery rigged to work with some electronics ---- Full-out electricity
Camping gas stove ---- 5 range stove top/Oversize Oven (with igniter, which means no more singed arm hair when I turn on the oven)
Straw hand fan ---- 5 High powered ceiling fans
Cement floor ---- Tile floor
Canary cooled water ---- Refrigerator/Freezer cooled water
Monthly internet access (when in Bamako) ---- Daily internet access (when in my Apartment)

I think that I might finally be living above the poverty line if I was in the States, even if my 'income' would indicate that I am below it. Looking at that list from the perspective of someone still living in America, I realize that 'what I have now' doesn't sound all that unique or exciting; however, after two years of living in Tene, it feels like I am living in a Palace.