First impressions of Sévaré
Seconds after we pulled into Mike’s yard in Sévaré, it started pouring. This was the very first and much needed rain of the season for the area. The next morning we woke up and Mike introduced us to his friends and family in the neighborhood. They were all so kind and welcoming. Many of them thanked us for bringing the rain, so I couldn’t help but feel a little concerned. You need to understand that until that point I had only heard blames and thanks addressed directly to Allah for good and bad fortunes! But it took no time for me to catch on and realize that when mentioned jokingly, this was nothing but a passport to their good side, so I started bringing it up on my own.
I met up with a crew of lively, intelligent young men who live in the yard across from Mike’s place. It turns out this is where Levi stayed for about a year during his long-term volunteer placement with the MFP project. In fact Levi had left in early June and was kind enough to pay rent until the end of the month, so I quickly took the opportunity and moved in within days of my arrival. But on this very first day, as I was chatting up with my future neighbors and taking in all this teasing about my horrible choice for a last name (the cousin thing again), I started feeling a little weak. My head started turning and my body started sweating in places it never had before. In fact, I can now confirm that our bodies are entirely covered in sweat glands. I barely had time to tell Mike that I wasn’t feeling well, and I was gone! I lost it completely. A white curtain completely blinded my vision and all sounds became somewhat muffled. They sat me down and made me drink lots of water. I was back up and running within the hour, handwashing my entire wardrobe and what not, but still, way to make a good first impression!
Seconds after we pulled into Mike’s yard in Sévaré, it started pouring. This was the very first and much needed rain of the season for the area. The next morning we woke up and Mike introduced us to his friends and family in the neighborhood. They were all so kind and welcoming. Many of them thanked us for bringing the rain, so I couldn’t help but feel a little concerned. You need to understand that until that point I had only heard blames and thanks addressed directly to Allah for good and bad fortunes! But it took no time for me to catch on and realize that when mentioned jokingly, this was nothing but a passport to their good side, so I started bringing it up on my own.
I met up with a crew of lively, intelligent young men who live in the yard across from Mike’s place. It turns out this is where Levi stayed for about a year during his long-term volunteer placement with the MFP project. In fact Levi had left in early June and was kind enough to pay rent until the end of the month, so I quickly took the opportunity and moved in within days of my arrival. But on this very first day, as I was chatting up with my future neighbors and taking in all this teasing about my horrible choice for a last name (the cousin thing again), I started feeling a little weak. My head started turning and my body started sweating in places it never had before. In fact, I can now confirm that our bodies are entirely covered in sweat glands. I barely had time to tell Mike that I wasn’t feeling well, and I was gone! I lost it completely. A white curtain completely blinded my vision and all sounds became somewhat muffled. They sat me down and made me drink lots of water. I was back up and running within the hour, handwashing my entire wardrobe and what not, but still, way to make a good first impression!
(Home sweet home)
The first week back at the office was rather slow. I was really anxious to find out what my project would be for the summer, but all activities at the office revolved around summarizing and reporting on the Bamako workshop that we all attended over the past week. I was a bit amused at this review of a review of a review of the program. I thought we would have been ready to move on, but I was clearly mistaken. When they talk about capitalization, I guess they are truly sincere about learning from past weaknesses and successes. The following week, all of us volunteers were called in individually to have a word with the accountant. He presented us with fifteen thousand francs CFA each. This translates directly into about 30 Canadian dollars, but I must specify a non negligible caveat. The purchasing power of those 30 dollars is much greater than in Canada. You can feed yourself for a week in Canada with that amount if you skip the caviar, but someone in Mali can easily be fed for month.
Back to my awkward moment with the accountant. I was explained that this sum was a bonus for attending the meeting, and that all meetings held at the office are subsidized in this fashion. I politely excused myself and explained that I had come here as a volunteer, that I couldn’t accept this kind of money, and so on… I could only think of the few attendees who were snoozing away through the meetings, while others were playing cards on their laptops. And that day they were thanked with a month’s worth of the “official” poor person’s income (according to the dollar-a-day indicator). How unfair! Now I don’t know how much of this information I should be sharing, but there are days when I need to get things off my chest. I am familiar with the potential of the rumor mill, but I also hope that I am not mistaken with its limits. If you can read between the lines, you will understand that practices like this I cannot challenge, and therefore that you shouldn’t tell my coworkers about my dislike of the process!
Finally, a week later, there was an opening in the schedule of the great boss, and we were given the chance to sit down to discuss the projects that us three short-term volunteers would be assigned. I came prepared to explain why I wanted to work with the Micronutriment Initiative (MI), which is in fact a partner of the MFP project. There was very little arguing and discussion about my placement. All seemed very satisfied and unanimous at the need for an assistant for Diallo, who is heading a pilot project solo in the area with disappointing results. I was up for the challenge, and extremely excited at the thought of working on a nutrition project being the fake engineer who really should have gone into health sciences anyways.
The first week back at the office was rather slow. I was really anxious to find out what my project would be for the summer, but all activities at the office revolved around summarizing and reporting on the Bamako workshop that we all attended over the past week. I was a bit amused at this review of a review of a review of the program. I thought we would have been ready to move on, but I was clearly mistaken. When they talk about capitalization, I guess they are truly sincere about learning from past weaknesses and successes. The following week, all of us volunteers were called in individually to have a word with the accountant. He presented us with fifteen thousand francs CFA each. This translates directly into about 30 Canadian dollars, but I must specify a non negligible caveat. The purchasing power of those 30 dollars is much greater than in Canada. You can feed yourself for a week in Canada with that amount if you skip the caviar, but someone in Mali can easily be fed for month.
Back to my awkward moment with the accountant. I was explained that this sum was a bonus for attending the meeting, and that all meetings held at the office are subsidized in this fashion. I politely excused myself and explained that I had come here as a volunteer, that I couldn’t accept this kind of money, and so on… I could only think of the few attendees who were snoozing away through the meetings, while others were playing cards on their laptops. And that day they were thanked with a month’s worth of the “official” poor person’s income (according to the dollar-a-day indicator). How unfair! Now I don’t know how much of this information I should be sharing, but there are days when I need to get things off my chest. I am familiar with the potential of the rumor mill, but I also hope that I am not mistaken with its limits. If you can read between the lines, you will understand that practices like this I cannot challenge, and therefore that you shouldn’t tell my coworkers about my dislike of the process!
Finally, a week later, there was an opening in the schedule of the great boss, and we were given the chance to sit down to discuss the projects that us three short-term volunteers would be assigned. I came prepared to explain why I wanted to work with the Micronutriment Initiative (MI), which is in fact a partner of the MFP project. There was very little arguing and discussion about my placement. All seemed very satisfied and unanimous at the need for an assistant for Diallo, who is heading a pilot project solo in the area with disappointing results. I was up for the challenge, and extremely excited at the thought of working on a nutrition project being the fake engineer who really should have gone into health sciences anyways.
But that day I had my mind stuck on the work term report that I would be required to write at the end of the summer for my University. I was once explained that the technical content of our reports should increase from one term to the next as we progress with our learning. I put that one worry aside and decided that I would take up the challenge only if and when it came up. I can always give my report a bit of a consultancy twist… These days I am more concerned with facing fun questions upon my return. I can hear it already: “EWB’s mission statement is to promote human development through access to technology… So why were you working on a vitamin project?”. Argh! Might as well ask why I chose to go into engineering.
posted by Cat Denis @ 7:48 AM
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