Homestay Part II

So, I'm back! Part II of homestay is gone already. I can't believe how quickly it passed. It was a good two weeks, and I'm ready for what's next, but first, a few words about my homestay. It is awesome. I didn't have the chance to live with a host family in Reunion, but I'm so glad I get the opportunity here. I am seeing a side of cultural integration that’s enlightening and intriguing. In the past two weeks I've gotten somewhat better at Bambara, and now I can speak in very limited full sentences. Bambara is not a complex language, but that actually makes it very difficult. For example, many of the words are homonyms, or they're very similar to words with entirely different definitions. It kind of reminds me of German in that you can just tack on words to other words to make new, more specific words. For example, my bike is a "nekeso" or iron (neke) horse (so <-- also the word for house!), or fruit is "yiridenw" or children (denw) of the tree (yiri). The word for condom is fukulan, or “very special hat.” I find it both charming and annoying, depending on the temperature, how much sleep I got, my emotional state, etc. It can be frustrating, but I've only been learning it for a month, so I'm not stressing it. It’s coming dooni (slowly). 

Something I learned about my family: my moms are involved in a women's association seeking to get grant money from Oxfam to improve the schools in Tieguena. The proposal looks good to me, but of course I’m biased. They want to sell goods like food stuffs and clothing as well as collect garbage/recyclables. They are hoping to provide for more teachers and scholarships for girls to go to school. Though they are barely literate and have over 20 children between them, my moms are intelligent ladies. If asked, each will tell you of the hardships Malian women face: they are less likely to attend school, let alone go to high school or university, which is rare in small towns. They are often married off at the age of 18, though it's not unheard of to know 15 year old brides. One can imagine, then, their long lives of childbearing. Two of my moms have seven children (both estimate their ages to be in the early to mid-40s), one has three, and the other is expecting to give birth to her fourth child this month. They are the most hard-working people I have ever encountered. 

On a more positive note, the kids in my family are hilarious. They are a constant supply of laughs, frustrations and (lots of) snot. They love me and they help me by speaking slowly and showing me the nuances of Malian living. I help them with their French homework in exchange. My moms have asked me to take the babies back with me, and it breaks my heart. Although they are laughing when they suggest it, I know that they would absolutely let me if I said yes. Here is a picture of one of the twins, Fatouma, crawling away in utter terror (for the 37^th day in a row) because of my white skin. 

Also, a picture of my house at homestay…

…and village! We like to plan paintball courses, point out possible Zombie Apocalyse Safe Houses and futuristic movie sets. As you can see, Tieguena has a lot to offer, aesthetically speaking.

For those of you playing Bingo: Chelsea in Africa Edition, you can mark off Multiple Marriage Proposals from Different Men In One Day, Offending People Without Knowing How or Why, and Being Forced To Dance to Traditional Music In Front of Lots of People Because It's Funny to See a Toubab Do That. It's the little things that make me laugh, and when I laugh, I count it as a good day.