A five-year old boy, Shaka, is very curious as to what exactly is in America. Most recently he asked me if there are cats in America. I told him yes and that there are also big cats. We could spend the whole afternoon talking about what exactly is in America, unfortunately most things that are only found in America are not so easy to explain in Bambara (local language). Even if I translate words using French, no one understands I guess you have to see it to believe it. Sooo, I planted strawberries! They sell strawberry jam in the big cities at nice boutiques. I bought some, but it quickly spoiled before I could share with my family what a strawberry tastes like. Hopefully my seeds will sprout and i'll be eating strawberries in December or January. I've also planted basil, which has already began to sprout. Anyway they are also pretty amazed at what is not in America. The staple food millet in Mali, used to make the Mali dish "to" is something you will not find. Pretty shocking.
You guessed it. In the photo above he is asking if there are machines in America.
Most recently while at site I went to a party celebrating a woman's wedding engagement. Lots of music and dancing. I didn't take any photos of the festivities, because I didn't want to draw more attention to myself or make people feel awkward. I saw a lot of familiar faces of women that I have met in the village on walks or through acquaintances. Some women praised my family name and said wonderful things about my family name and asked for money. I told them I shouldn't have to pay them, because they don't know my family or where my grandfather is from. I told them my last name was really Ramirez and not Sanou, and she couldn't even pronounce it though she tried. A tutor told me it is common for a griot/jeliba to attend social events, their job is to know the history of your family and what is great about your name. Technically if they can't tell you about your family it is rude for them to ask for money. Their was a local band providing the musical entertainment two men on the drums and two women singing. They usually dedicate a song to someone and they have to get up and dance. I saw someone asking somebody what my name was and knew then that I would have to get up soon and dance although I already joined in on several other dances. When it was my song my host sister came and grabbed me to start dancing. It was awkward, because I was the first one out on the dance area, but soon enough I was joined by many women. They put there shawls around me and grabbed my hand raising it high in the air. We danced in a circle going around like a conga line, this is how the majority of all the dances are until the very end of most songs the beat picks up and people began to break away from the circle and really move their feet. The crowd quickly disperses and usually only 4 remain from the 30+ people dancing for this fast-paced part of the song. I did get a photo taken while the photographer they hired was taking pictures.
Should of fixed my musoro (head wrap) before the picture, but oh well it came out nice. Upper left corner speaker system for the party, lower left corner rope and rubber bag for fetching water from the well. After I left the party we went to a friend's house, because it was the day of her child's denkundi (naming ceremony). Seven days after the child is born, Islamic religious leaders join together with the men early in the morning to read the Koran and name the baby. The women serve bread, coffee, and sometimes a traditonal type of porridge. The man hands out candy or biscuits to friends. They also shave the baby's head. The child's name is Omar. I went later in the evening to give soap and a cloth used to wrap the baby on the mother's back. This all happened on Thursday and now it is Saturday evening and I am in my banking town, to receive/send letters and enjoy the company of other Americans before I get on the early morning brusse mobile back to site. Until next time. "Ala ka hamina kow nogoya" May God give you what you need. Love Sita
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