Hey Friends,
Its Trinh here writing to give you an opportunity to support the work I am doing here in Mali . Read ahead!
For the past six months or so, I have been meeting informally and formally with a local women’s artisan cooperative in Sikasso. The women dye fabric, paint traditional mud cloth paintings and knit children’s clothing. After talking to the women about their products, evaluating the capacity of their skills and the overall productiveness of their cooperative, it was determined that the women need training in better business practices and tools to expand their product supply.
The training I am organizing with the women’s cooperative is a step towards breaking out of the Malian artisan mode. The idea for the business and creativity development training came when visiting various artisan workshops and boutiques and seeing the same elephant sculptures, same beaded jewelry and the same wood carved mother carrying her baby. There was not much product diversification or quality control. The interviews I had with the women’s cooperative and other artisans confirm that yes they have the potential to expand their markets what they lack is the technical capacity or the market information to be competitive.
The goals of this training include encouraging the women to take creative risks using locally made textiles and materials and to provide the women training on marketing, accounting and savings to improve and sustain their business. The training is a month long. The first weeks will include a hands-on workshop where the women will work in groups and focus on using locally made textiles to develop a cultural representative product line of home décor items. Following the workshop, the Cooperative will test their new products at a national artisan festival in February. The training ends with a debrief and training on savings and accounting.
SO…I am writing to ask for your support in funding this training.
The total project costs: 632.00 US dollars. This goes to paying for the fabric, cloth dye, trainer per diem and entrance to the artisan fair. My hopes for this project are not grand, it is small steps first. I think this training will be an opportunity for the women to flex their creative talent, be exposed to potential new markets and ultimately gain income to improve the quality of their lives.
You can go to this link to read more about the project (check out other PC projects as well!) and donate what you can.
LINK: https://www.peacecorps.gov/resources/donors/contribute/projdetail.cfm?projdesc=688-226&ion=africa
OR GO to:
www.peacecorps.gov
Click on Donate to Volunteer Projects
Click Africa programs
Scroll to Mali, T.Tran
Feel free to pass on this email to any friends or family members interested in funding a project like this. Thanks in advance and please let me know if you have any ideas or resources for this project (any designers out there). All advice and recommendations are welcome!
Take care
Trinh
Monday, December 3, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Politics of skin color
November 28, 2007, Sikasso MALI
Politics of skin color
Today during a meeting with the two leaders of SOS SIDA, the excitement and anxiety of the event came to an interesting halt. The boys called for the meeting, I set my things aside getting ready to hear the latest updates. Today’s table issue: conditions of the basketball teams. Conditions? I did not understand but I knew it was not going to be good.
It turns out the coaches from the basketball teams are asking what they are getting out of participating in the event. After playing the qualifying games this past weekend and getting things ready for the final games on Sunday, I am surprised to hear about their requests so late into the schedule of events. It takes a while for the boys to tell me what the “conditions” are.
I need you to be honest with me, what did they ask for? Lasine, who sometimes flowers things up for me before telling me the facts gives off his nervous laugh that I have become used to. “They are asking for 20,000F CFA each” 20,000F CFA, that is 40US dollars. I don’t understand. We have already set aside water bottles, t-shirts for the coaches, certificates of participation and a group photo for each team. From the beginning, I made it clear we were not giving out money. This is a not a fundraising event. This condition of money is not something I am happy with.
It takes me a while to register everything the boys are telling me partly because I almost cant believe what I am hearing better yet I don’t want to believe what I am hearing. “The coaches say that AIDS programs always have money to “throw”around.” This is something we cannot avoid,” The coaches say they are just as involved in planning this event as we are. Giving things out like water bottles and t-shirts is only half of what they expect, money is a given—especially if a “white” person is involved.
There it is: “when a white person is involved,” the phrase that takes the event and frames it into another type of discussion. I could not forget that as much as I want this event to be for the youth group, as much as it is a time for the community to come together, my presence and participation makes this event complicated, misunderstand and something ugly. It makes it a charity case, a photo opportunity, a check on the yearly objectives and it turns into the politics of skin color.
“This is a cultural matter. We need to give them something like money or else they will become upset. You cannot avoid this type of matter” Lascine can already see my eyes getting wider and my hands folded together, he’s picked up on the meaning of my mannerisms as well. I tell myself to think before I speak and to not get too hot headed. I just had a conversation with my homologue the day before about minimizing things in my life…not to take things too seriously. Think before speaking. There is cultural protocol that always has to take place and I need to be aware of them before I jump ahead and offend someone.
Culture and the protocol necessary in Mali are things I do not take lightly. I recognize certain things need to be done but I cannot help to think about when it is cultural and when someone is just taking advantage of the situation. I do not want to give out the money, I think the gifts we are giving are more than enough. I cant help but reference if we were in the States (yes, I know its unfair) and if a youth group was putting on a basketball tournament for a World AIDS Day event, giving prizes for participation would be more than enough wouldn’t it? I hate what this is leading up to. Its not about me right? I do not think it is fair for me to frame this situation on my individual case but I cant ignore this situation’s relationship to this situation to development. It is about giving and it is about the difference of being poor and rich-being black and being white—American and African.
I hear the comments almost everyday. Le Blanch donnez moi le cent franc, donnez moi le mille franc. Le Blache, Le Blach Le Blanch, I cannot change the color of my skin and I cannot change the fact that I chose to be in this environment—I don’t know how I can prove my intentions or even if it is possible. I know why I am working with this youth group, I know that I am trying as hard as I can to not make this an to an “America freebie feast,” and I know that at the end this is something I am not walking away from giving myself a pat on the back. This is the problem with development isn’t? There are so many misunderstandings, so many assumptions and unrealistic expectations. What am I supposed to do? And yet can I really blame the coaches for asking? Every evening the news shows another story of country X giving X amount of money to build, fund, rebuild, train, etc If you see the last project with the White person giving out goods and money, what’s so wrong with asking your own resident white person?
I think about integration and to what extent it can apply to my experience here in Mali. I speak the local language, I live in the community, I ride my bike around town and go to boutiques and markets everyday. I feel part of the community but when something like this happens, I get a reality check. I am an outsider and there is not too much I can control. I am sure not many people understand what Peace Corps really is. Yes I say I am a volunteer but that does not go very far. I still live in a house with electricity and once a month a white 4-runner comes to my house dropping off things (our monthly shuttle drops off mail and medical supplies.) It is all perceptions and assumptions. I am not victim but I feel judged unfairly.
Today I tell my homologue about what the boys told me and my homologue is not happy. “They are taking advantage of you. Why are the coaches changing what they agreed on?.” I don’t know, I tell him. “They think you have money. They think you are keeping it from them.” I don’t understand it and it makes more even more frustrated. Why would they think this?
I can only ask for so much and in the end I cannot control what people think about. I think it is unfortunate that it comes down to the color of my skin. It is the fact that I am an other. I try to think consciously about what my presence means and today was a reminder of it how complicated and ugly skin color can be. I may have the right intentions and I may think I am trying my best—and even if I know the truth, I am different, the color of my skin give off its own perceptions. White is the color of money. White is the color of charity. White is the color of power. Is it fair? I don’t think so and I do not like it. It is something that can be stopped? I do not think so.
** White—yes, it makes me uncomfortable to use this classification to define myself in this entry. It is used as a general term. I am not white—but white is used to mean non-Black/not Malian. Sorry if it is counter productive.
*** As an update, I talked to the boys again and we have made a decision to not give any money to anyone. Winning teams get basketballs and that is it. Fingers crossed.
Politics of skin color
Today during a meeting with the two leaders of SOS SIDA, the excitement and anxiety of the event came to an interesting halt. The boys called for the meeting, I set my things aside getting ready to hear the latest updates. Today’s table issue: conditions of the basketball teams. Conditions? I did not understand but I knew it was not going to be good.
It turns out the coaches from the basketball teams are asking what they are getting out of participating in the event. After playing the qualifying games this past weekend and getting things ready for the final games on Sunday, I am surprised to hear about their requests so late into the schedule of events. It takes a while for the boys to tell me what the “conditions” are.
I need you to be honest with me, what did they ask for? Lasine, who sometimes flowers things up for me before telling me the facts gives off his nervous laugh that I have become used to. “They are asking for 20,000F CFA each” 20,000F CFA, that is 40US dollars. I don’t understand. We have already set aside water bottles, t-shirts for the coaches, certificates of participation and a group photo for each team. From the beginning, I made it clear we were not giving out money. This is a not a fundraising event. This condition of money is not something I am happy with.
It takes me a while to register everything the boys are telling me partly because I almost cant believe what I am hearing better yet I don’t want to believe what I am hearing. “The coaches say that AIDS programs always have money to “throw”around.” This is something we cannot avoid,” The coaches say they are just as involved in planning this event as we are. Giving things out like water bottles and t-shirts is only half of what they expect, money is a given—especially if a “white” person is involved.
There it is: “when a white person is involved,” the phrase that takes the event and frames it into another type of discussion. I could not forget that as much as I want this event to be for the youth group, as much as it is a time for the community to come together, my presence and participation makes this event complicated, misunderstand and something ugly. It makes it a charity case, a photo opportunity, a check on the yearly objectives and it turns into the politics of skin color.
“This is a cultural matter. We need to give them something like money or else they will become upset. You cannot avoid this type of matter” Lascine can already see my eyes getting wider and my hands folded together, he’s picked up on the meaning of my mannerisms as well. I tell myself to think before I speak and to not get too hot headed. I just had a conversation with my homologue the day before about minimizing things in my life…not to take things too seriously. Think before speaking. There is cultural protocol that always has to take place and I need to be aware of them before I jump ahead and offend someone.
Culture and the protocol necessary in Mali are things I do not take lightly. I recognize certain things need to be done but I cannot help to think about when it is cultural and when someone is just taking advantage of the situation. I do not want to give out the money, I think the gifts we are giving are more than enough. I cant help but reference if we were in the States (yes, I know its unfair) and if a youth group was putting on a basketball tournament for a World AIDS Day event, giving prizes for participation would be more than enough wouldn’t it? I hate what this is leading up to. Its not about me right? I do not think it is fair for me to frame this situation on my individual case but I cant ignore this situation’s relationship to this situation to development. It is about giving and it is about the difference of being poor and rich-being black and being white—American and African.
I hear the comments almost everyday. Le Blanch donnez moi le cent franc, donnez moi le mille franc. Le Blache, Le Blach Le Blanch, I cannot change the color of my skin and I cannot change the fact that I chose to be in this environment—I don’t know how I can prove my intentions or even if it is possible. I know why I am working with this youth group, I know that I am trying as hard as I can to not make this an to an “America freebie feast,” and I know that at the end this is something I am not walking away from giving myself a pat on the back. This is the problem with development isn’t? There are so many misunderstandings, so many assumptions and unrealistic expectations. What am I supposed to do? And yet can I really blame the coaches for asking? Every evening the news shows another story of country X giving X amount of money to build, fund, rebuild, train, etc If you see the last project with the White person giving out goods and money, what’s so wrong with asking your own resident white person?
I think about integration and to what extent it can apply to my experience here in Mali. I speak the local language, I live in the community, I ride my bike around town and go to boutiques and markets everyday. I feel part of the community but when something like this happens, I get a reality check. I am an outsider and there is not too much I can control. I am sure not many people understand what Peace Corps really is. Yes I say I am a volunteer but that does not go very far. I still live in a house with electricity and once a month a white 4-runner comes to my house dropping off things (our monthly shuttle drops off mail and medical supplies.) It is all perceptions and assumptions. I am not victim but I feel judged unfairly.
Today I tell my homologue about what the boys told me and my homologue is not happy. “They are taking advantage of you. Why are the coaches changing what they agreed on?.” I don’t know, I tell him. “They think you have money. They think you are keeping it from them.” I don’t understand it and it makes more even more frustrated. Why would they think this?
I can only ask for so much and in the end I cannot control what people think about. I think it is unfortunate that it comes down to the color of my skin. It is the fact that I am an other. I try to think consciously about what my presence means and today was a reminder of it how complicated and ugly skin color can be. I may have the right intentions and I may think I am trying my best—and even if I know the truth, I am different, the color of my skin give off its own perceptions. White is the color of money. White is the color of charity. White is the color of power. Is it fair? I don’t think so and I do not like it. It is something that can be stopped? I do not think so.
** White—yes, it makes me uncomfortable to use this classification to define myself in this entry. It is used as a general term. I am not white—but white is used to mean non-Black/not Malian. Sorry if it is counter productive.
*** As an update, I talked to the boys again and we have made a decision to not give any money to anyone. Winning teams get basketballs and that is it. Fingers crossed.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
In motion
So it has been while..and guess what things are actually sort of busy here, yes I know! No really things have been going pretty well these past five months or so and I am really really happy. I just found out that the Returned Peace Corps Volunteers of Los Angeles approved funding for a World AIDS Day event I am putting together with a local youth group. It is going to be a basketball tournament and HIV/AIDS information fair. I am a little nervous, I feel like its just like putting my programming event hat on again but this time Im in Mali, with not a lot of money or resources, a different language and people who work only have the day BUT it will be okay : ) I had meetings with the youth group and its awesome seeing them in action. Each person providing their opinion, joking around, getting ideas down and debating about how to organize things, it is really rewarding to just watch them. The plan for the event is to invite NGOs and other PCVs to host tables about HIV/AIDS and any other health related topics.
SOS SIDA group members
The youth are going to perform skits and maybe have a HIV/AIDS fighting themed rap performance! Watch out 50 Cent, they've got skill AND a positive message. Its exciting but I also have to remind myself that keeping it slightly small and contained would be smart since I don’t feel as “in control” as I do if I was planning something like this in the states. There is also all the official Malian protocol of making “important” people feel important that needs to be done, which I don’t always like to do but must.
Check out our t-shirt design. Let me know if you wanna buy one, only $5! The funds will go to paying for HIV/AIDS trainings in villages and official registration for the youth group.
Back
Front
I've been running around here in Bamako for the past couple of days gathering things for the event. The CDC and Embassy were great and donated water bottles, tshirts, bags and 6000 condoms. I am gonna try to watch all these freebies cause you know I dont want to make it a freebie fest--We're here to talk about HIV/AIDS here!! Anyway it is exciting and nerve-racking at the same time.
I am enjoying life even without this event going on. My friends are great, my homologue is supportive and humbling, Boo is still crazy and I am healthy. For now I cannot complain.
SOS SIDA group members
The youth are going to perform skits and maybe have a HIV/AIDS fighting themed rap performance! Watch out 50 Cent, they've got skill AND a positive message. Its exciting but I also have to remind myself that keeping it slightly small and contained would be smart since I don’t feel as “in control” as I do if I was planning something like this in the states. There is also all the official Malian protocol of making “important” people feel important that needs to be done, which I don’t always like to do but must.
Check out our t-shirt design. Let me know if you wanna buy one, only $5! The funds will go to paying for HIV/AIDS trainings in villages and official registration for the youth group.
Back
Front
I've been running around here in Bamako for the past couple of days gathering things for the event. The CDC and Embassy were great and donated water bottles, tshirts, bags and 6000 condoms. I am gonna try to watch all these freebies cause you know I dont want to make it a freebie fest--We're here to talk about HIV/AIDS here!! Anyway it is exciting and nerve-racking at the same time.
I am enjoying life even without this event going on. My friends are great, my homologue is supportive and humbling, Boo is still crazy and I am healthy. For now I cannot complain.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Roadside Goodbye
So I was told that Peace Corps was going to be hard. The official Peace Corps motto—“The hardest job you will ever love” Well yesterday may have been one of those days. I’ve shared about the frustrations I have at my service and the not so polite Malians but I don’t think I’ve shared enough about the amazing people I have encountered during my time in Mali. Yes, the good does outnumber the bad, its just easier to blow off steam I guess. One of the people who have made my service a lot more comforting is Mayamuna. She is my guard’s wife. My guard and his family (wife and two kids) live in the same concession as I do. It has been a great set up. They are like my unofficial host family. I can hang out in the afternoons and not feel bad about excusing myself to have some down time. Mayamuna and I talk about lazy Malian men, I ask her about polygamy, she asks about family planning. I watch her prepare dinner, she watches me try to wash my clothes and sometimes we just sit and its nice. For the pat couple of months, we’ve been eating dinner together as a family. I make my American/ Vietnamese meals and Mayamuna makes tho, which by the way, I really like and even have cravings for. We have tho and then move on to whatever I’ve made-pasta, chili, spring rolls, soups. The evening goes on with time spent watching the latest Brazilian soap opera import and then Malian news. I call it a night at around 9pm and go inside my house to clean up and read. Its nice, simple and comfortable.
Mussa told me a couple of months ago that he would be sending Mayamuna and the kids back to their village—Dogan Country, about a days bus ride from Sikasso. He wants the kids to learn to speak Dogan and be with their extended family. How can this be happening, but I want them to stay, this is what Im thinking inside my head knowing that its not up to me and it does not revolve around me. The thing I forget is Malians are just as mobile as anyone of us. They have places to go, things to do, changes to make. I guess I just thought –my naïve and selfishness—none of the Malians in my little world would leave. I will come back from work or Bamako or wherever and everything will be the same. The thing is, even as I call this a two year commitment, its still life and it changes.
Mayamuna and the kids left yesterday. It was such a heartbreak. Mussa went to get a car to take them to the bus station. Mayanuma, who by the way is also one of the most beautiful Malian women I know, is dressed in a bright pink complet, her hair newly braided and feet dyed in henna. Marium and Baba are decked out as well—each wearing a new pair of shoes and jackets.
The car pulls up, clinking and clanging on the dirt road rearing its truck about two inches from the front gate—perfect. The boys from across the road, Mussa’s tea drinking posse come right away ready to help load up the car. I am watching all of this from my front porch knowing that if I get too close to the scene, Im going to start crying—not that I wasn’t starting to already. Saying goodbye to someone in Mali is not easy mostly because you do not know when you are going to see that person again. I asked Mussa when Mayamuna and the kids were coming back, he just laughs, “Assetou, we’re Africans we don’t plan those things like you Americans.” Great. He counts off the months on his hand, “Aout, Septembre, Octobre, Novembre, Decembre, etc.” I watch and accept the truth, its gonna be a long time maybe even after I am done with my service.
Back to saying good bye, Malians will give you the left hand to shake if you are leaving to signify that it will be a long time before you see one another again. I got it from my host father during homestay and then again when I went visit a village outside of Sikasso. I was not going to let Mayamuna give me any hand but her right—we are going to see each other again.
We are at the first door of the gate, things are loaded and people are filing out. I hand each of the kids some change, tokens for a safe trip and to bye some sweets for the road. Then its Mayamuna, my best friend. We just sort of look at each other and smile, then laugh, just like we always do when we are not sure what to say to one another, this time its not because I don’t know the words in Bambara but because I know if I start to talk my voice will break. “Here,” I tell her, “ Namasa buru (banana bread, its her favorite), some sweets and wet naps to keep the kids a little clean, its gonna be a long ride.” All she says is “Ah Assetou.” And then I break. Its horrible. The women there tell us its going to be okay, “She’s gonna come right back.” “I know, I know, Im going to visit too.” I think its me crying but then look up and see that Mayamuna is crying too. Ahh. We even talked about how she was not going to cry so I couldn’t. In Malian culture one is not supposed to cry in front of others—it’s a taboo. You hold up that emotion until you are alone. If a mother loses a child, a relative gets in an accident, a friend goes away. You do not cry. I guess Im not that Malian, I just let it all come out. Her tears comes and get hidden away as quickly as they come, she cannot let Mussa see or the rest of the men. After a couple of minutes, everyone is tucked into the car. The truck it tied shut with some of the baggage hanging out. Marium and Baba are all smiles, they are in a car, they are going on a trip. Mayamuna has a stoic look and even from behind the tinted window, I know we are both trying to smile to each other, no words necessary just smiles.
Mussa told me a couple of months ago that he would be sending Mayamuna and the kids back to their village—Dogan Country, about a days bus ride from Sikasso. He wants the kids to learn to speak Dogan and be with their extended family. How can this be happening, but I want them to stay, this is what Im thinking inside my head knowing that its not up to me and it does not revolve around me. The thing I forget is Malians are just as mobile as anyone of us. They have places to go, things to do, changes to make. I guess I just thought –my naïve and selfishness—none of the Malians in my little world would leave. I will come back from work or Bamako or wherever and everything will be the same. The thing is, even as I call this a two year commitment, its still life and it changes.
Mayamuna and the kids left yesterday. It was such a heartbreak. Mussa went to get a car to take them to the bus station. Mayanuma, who by the way is also one of the most beautiful Malian women I know, is dressed in a bright pink complet, her hair newly braided and feet dyed in henna. Marium and Baba are decked out as well—each wearing a new pair of shoes and jackets.
The car pulls up, clinking and clanging on the dirt road rearing its truck about two inches from the front gate—perfect. The boys from across the road, Mussa’s tea drinking posse come right away ready to help load up the car. I am watching all of this from my front porch knowing that if I get too close to the scene, Im going to start crying—not that I wasn’t starting to already. Saying goodbye to someone in Mali is not easy mostly because you do not know when you are going to see that person again. I asked Mussa when Mayamuna and the kids were coming back, he just laughs, “Assetou, we’re Africans we don’t plan those things like you Americans.” Great. He counts off the months on his hand, “Aout, Septembre, Octobre, Novembre, Decembre, etc.” I watch and accept the truth, its gonna be a long time maybe even after I am done with my service.
Back to saying good bye, Malians will give you the left hand to shake if you are leaving to signify that it will be a long time before you see one another again. I got it from my host father during homestay and then again when I went visit a village outside of Sikasso. I was not going to let Mayamuna give me any hand but her right—we are going to see each other again.
We are at the first door of the gate, things are loaded and people are filing out. I hand each of the kids some change, tokens for a safe trip and to bye some sweets for the road. Then its Mayamuna, my best friend. We just sort of look at each other and smile, then laugh, just like we always do when we are not sure what to say to one another, this time its not because I don’t know the words in Bambara but because I know if I start to talk my voice will break. “Here,” I tell her, “ Namasa buru (banana bread, its her favorite), some sweets and wet naps to keep the kids a little clean, its gonna be a long ride.” All she says is “Ah Assetou.” And then I break. Its horrible. The women there tell us its going to be okay, “She’s gonna come right back.” “I know, I know, Im going to visit too.” I think its me crying but then look up and see that Mayamuna is crying too. Ahh. We even talked about how she was not going to cry so I couldn’t. In Malian culture one is not supposed to cry in front of others—it’s a taboo. You hold up that emotion until you are alone. If a mother loses a child, a relative gets in an accident, a friend goes away. You do not cry. I guess Im not that Malian, I just let it all come out. Her tears comes and get hidden away as quickly as they come, she cannot let Mussa see or the rest of the men. After a couple of minutes, everyone is tucked into the car. The truck it tied shut with some of the baggage hanging out. Marium and Baba are all smiles, they are in a car, they are going on a trip. Mayamuna has a stoic look and even from behind the tinted window, I know we are both trying to smile to each other, no words necessary just smiles.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
the gold coast
back from a trip to ghana which i have to say is one of the most beautiful and vibrant places i have been to yet. Beach time, great food, quality karaoke nite, memorable travellers we met, PCVs from West Africa; all add up to memories that will last for a while ..until the next adventure
One of my favorite images
One of my favorite images
Friday, May 18, 2007
Riding home today on that nice dirt path and blistering sun , I turn my attention to a group of kids. They are with their moms off to town or where ever else. They point at me shouting, jumping up and down, waving their little hands You are black, YOu are black, You are Black
I get called a lot of interesting things, this was just another day. I could not help but laugh and ride on. Sometimes thats better than nothing. Oh Mali.
I get called a lot of interesting things, this was just another day. I could not help but laugh and ride on. Sometimes thats better than nothing. Oh Mali.
Democracy in Action?
Note: The election has since passed and yes ATT won and will be sworn in as President of Mali. The day after elections there was a riot in Bamako started by IBK followers claiming fraud and a re vote.. that did not happen.
Mali presidential elections are just around the corner. The months leading up to the country’s fifth democratic elections have been pretty interesting to observe especially as I get sound bites of the 2008 elections in the States.
In all of this I cant help but think of that infamous idea that people fight and die for: Democracy! Especially in the context of a developing country like Mali, which can boost its democratic record with successful leadership transitions and as the US ambassador to Mali told PCVs at out training earlier this month, it is pretty likely that Mali will have another peaceful presidential election with Amadou Toumani Toure (ATT) as the predicted winner. So Im wondering is a peaceful election necessarily a democratic or even just election for a country like Mali and in that case for Africa?
Come two months before the elections started to heat up, looking around Sikasso (the second largest city in Mali), you wouldn’t know any type of election was taking place. There were occasional commercials and special service announcements but they covered a formation on how to cast your vote (brought to you by UNDP). Imagine this: “Election 2007” a simple jingle, votez, votez, and a stimulation on how to vote from getting your ballot, entering the voting booth, stamping your choice and dropping your folded ballot into the ballot bin. The announcement ends with the presenter getting their index finger inked a signal that one has voted.
It was not until I got to Bamako when things started to look interesting and undemocratic. Lined up on the center divider there is banner after banner of the current president’s photo and his logo, “A Mali Qui Gagner” (A Mali that Wins). Look to the side of the road and there is a huge bulletin board on the whole side of a building, its ATT and A Mali Qui Gagner. It was pretty ridiculous and sort of eerie. Watching the news I start to pick up on a familiar pattern. Every night, there are more than three segments of ATT opening up another school, getting money from another foreign diplomat or making a speech at X event. I couldn’t help but imagine if this was something that happened in the state—Bush plastered everywhere, and only Bush, yeah that’s sort of scary right?
These past couple of days there is a “Candidate de Jour” segment which features a presidential candidate presenting their platform for a better Mali and answering questions about what they would do to improve Mali’s future. The candidates range from the first Malian woman to run for president (who FYI has not lived in Mali for the last couple of years), a former student leader now turned doctor reminding Malians in his speech that the “war is NOT over” (contre the government which means ATT) and lastly IBK probably the most likely contender to ATT. Of course ATT finds a why to show up everyone else, while other candidates are interviewed in a room most likely provided by the state news station, ATT’s speech is a full out feature production with footage of his good deeds in every region of Mali scrolling across the screen and don’t forget, ATT and a Mali qui gagner. Is this democratic? Is this democracy?
Come election day, I am sure to see many Malians touting their voting cards, ready to take part in their country’s presidential election. What cant be ignored however is if most people who what they are voting for. Is it just another popularity contest? Propaganda at its best? I am afraid it seems like that—at least from this side of the poll.
Mali presidential elections are just around the corner. The months leading up to the country’s fifth democratic elections have been pretty interesting to observe especially as I get sound bites of the 2008 elections in the States.
In all of this I cant help but think of that infamous idea that people fight and die for: Democracy! Especially in the context of a developing country like Mali, which can boost its democratic record with successful leadership transitions and as the US ambassador to Mali told PCVs at out training earlier this month, it is pretty likely that Mali will have another peaceful presidential election with Amadou Toumani Toure (ATT) as the predicted winner. So Im wondering is a peaceful election necessarily a democratic or even just election for a country like Mali and in that case for Africa?
Come two months before the elections started to heat up, looking around Sikasso (the second largest city in Mali), you wouldn’t know any type of election was taking place. There were occasional commercials and special service announcements but they covered a formation on how to cast your vote (brought to you by UNDP). Imagine this: “Election 2007” a simple jingle, votez, votez, and a stimulation on how to vote from getting your ballot, entering the voting booth, stamping your choice and dropping your folded ballot into the ballot bin. The announcement ends with the presenter getting their index finger inked a signal that one has voted.
It was not until I got to Bamako when things started to look interesting and undemocratic. Lined up on the center divider there is banner after banner of the current president’s photo and his logo, “A Mali Qui Gagner” (A Mali that Wins). Look to the side of the road and there is a huge bulletin board on the whole side of a building, its ATT and A Mali Qui Gagner. It was pretty ridiculous and sort of eerie. Watching the news I start to pick up on a familiar pattern. Every night, there are more than three segments of ATT opening up another school, getting money from another foreign diplomat or making a speech at X event. I couldn’t help but imagine if this was something that happened in the state—Bush plastered everywhere, and only Bush, yeah that’s sort of scary right?
These past couple of days there is a “Candidate de Jour” segment which features a presidential candidate presenting their platform for a better Mali and answering questions about what they would do to improve Mali’s future. The candidates range from the first Malian woman to run for president (who FYI has not lived in Mali for the last couple of years), a former student leader now turned doctor reminding Malians in his speech that the “war is NOT over” (contre the government which means ATT) and lastly IBK probably the most likely contender to ATT. Of course ATT finds a why to show up everyone else, while other candidates are interviewed in a room most likely provided by the state news station, ATT’s speech is a full out feature production with footage of his good deeds in every region of Mali scrolling across the screen and don’t forget, ATT and a Mali qui gagner. Is this democratic? Is this democracy?
Come election day, I am sure to see many Malians touting their voting cards, ready to take part in their country’s presidential election. What cant be ignored however is if most people who what they are voting for. Is it just another popularity contest? Propaganda at its best? I am afraid it seems like that—at least from this side of the poll.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
An American in Mali--sort of
Ca cest la difference entre vous et les Americains.
So being in Mali has made me re-evaluate a lot of different things and pretty high on the list is what it means to be an American and in my case what it means to be sort of an American. I have not wrote too much about it but being an Asian American in Mali has been a frustrating and bittersweet experience all on its own. In Mali, anyone who is not black is called a Tubabu—it means a French person but basically it is anyone who is white. Kids chant it while holding out their hands for a petit cadeaux and young guys trying to get your attetion shout it like youll turn around and give them a chance, yeah right. Me-looking the way I do-sort of psych Malians out just a bit. I still get called Tubabu bit more than anything, people always shout Chinois, Chinois muso or Japonais.
I knew it was going to be interesting when I met my fellow stage mates back in July. Seeing only one other Asian American and a handful of African American volunteers. I experienced it to some extent in Kenya and expected being viewed different and a minority considering the demograhpics of Peace Corps volunteers and the socio-economic factors at play in being able to travel and volunteer abroad (thats another thing so…)
Of course the shouting get to me and most of the time my polite N te Chinois ye ou Je ne suis pas Chinois only gets laughs which makes me only want to resort to violence and we all know that doesnt get one anywhere. What really gets me though is when I am told that yes I may not be Chinese but Im not American either—interesting right ? Malians always ask other volunteers about that short Chinois they hang out with. Is she Chinese or Japanese ? She is really American ? But where are her parents from ? Oh okay thats right now, shes still from Asia. As proud as I am of being Vietnamese and the culture I grew up with but I never thought Id come to Mali to defend my identity as an American. Its this fight I feel I need to assert to make people understand that in America we are not all white, blonde haired and blue eyed. I cant help but think about how in the states, I make a conscious effort to emphasis and recognize the Vietnamese American in me and here in Mali, I have even gotten into arguments defending the Vietnamese American in me.
Whats even more interesting is when I have conversations with Malians who share their thought about Americans and the U.S. More often than not, I am told that Americans can be self-fish, they are all rich and like to start wars with other countries. I sit and listen to all of this and when I ask well how about me, I come from America, Im an American, does that mean Im like that too? They laugh like Ive made a joke, no Assetou (my Malian name here) you are not like that, you are really from Asia, that’s the difference between you and the Americans, you are not really and American.
I guess I can pick sides right? I can slip into playing dumb and not accept any of the fault, I can even agree with things that are said. Or I can correct every Chinois shouting Malian. No in America, it is a melting pot and even though we are different, we are all American. Im not sure if its about picking and choosing my battles, some how, I don’t feel completely honest with either scenario.
I feel like a hypocrite defending America sometimes when Ive been guilty of criticizing the same things and even not affiliating myself with that America.
So being American, what does it mean? How do I change the space I find myself in a place full of its own misconceptions. Im still figuring it out and Im sure is not going to be easy.
So being in Mali has made me re-evaluate a lot of different things and pretty high on the list is what it means to be an American and in my case what it means to be sort of an American. I have not wrote too much about it but being an Asian American in Mali has been a frustrating and bittersweet experience all on its own. In Mali, anyone who is not black is called a Tubabu—it means a French person but basically it is anyone who is white. Kids chant it while holding out their hands for a petit cadeaux and young guys trying to get your attetion shout it like youll turn around and give them a chance, yeah right. Me-looking the way I do-sort of psych Malians out just a bit. I still get called Tubabu bit more than anything, people always shout Chinois, Chinois muso or Japonais.
I knew it was going to be interesting when I met my fellow stage mates back in July. Seeing only one other Asian American and a handful of African American volunteers. I experienced it to some extent in Kenya and expected being viewed different and a minority considering the demograhpics of Peace Corps volunteers and the socio-economic factors at play in being able to travel and volunteer abroad (thats another thing so…)
Of course the shouting get to me and most of the time my polite N te Chinois ye ou Je ne suis pas Chinois only gets laughs which makes me only want to resort to violence and we all know that doesnt get one anywhere. What really gets me though is when I am told that yes I may not be Chinese but Im not American either—interesting right ? Malians always ask other volunteers about that short Chinois they hang out with. Is she Chinese or Japanese ? She is really American ? But where are her parents from ? Oh okay thats right now, shes still from Asia. As proud as I am of being Vietnamese and the culture I grew up with but I never thought Id come to Mali to defend my identity as an American. Its this fight I feel I need to assert to make people understand that in America we are not all white, blonde haired and blue eyed. I cant help but think about how in the states, I make a conscious effort to emphasis and recognize the Vietnamese American in me and here in Mali, I have even gotten into arguments defending the Vietnamese American in me.
Whats even more interesting is when I have conversations with Malians who share their thought about Americans and the U.S. More often than not, I am told that Americans can be self-fish, they are all rich and like to start wars with other countries. I sit and listen to all of this and when I ask well how about me, I come from America, Im an American, does that mean Im like that too? They laugh like Ive made a joke, no Assetou (my Malian name here) you are not like that, you are really from Asia, that’s the difference between you and the Americans, you are not really and American.
I guess I can pick sides right? I can slip into playing dumb and not accept any of the fault, I can even agree with things that are said. Or I can correct every Chinois shouting Malian. No in America, it is a melting pot and even though we are different, we are all American. Im not sure if its about picking and choosing my battles, some how, I don’t feel completely honest with either scenario.
I feel like a hypocrite defending America sometimes when Ive been guilty of criticizing the same things and even not affiliating myself with that America.
So being American, what does it mean? How do I change the space I find myself in a place full of its own misconceptions. Im still figuring it out and Im sure is not going to be easy.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Consolidation 2007
This past week as part of safety and security, all Peace Corps volunteers took part in a security drill which required all of us to respond to Peace Corps and get from our sites to our consolidation points as soon as possible- and where is Sikasso's consolidation point? No place but Chez Trinh.
After getting calls to move from our sites to consolidation point, all volunteers in the Sikasso region spent the night at my place-mats on the floor and mosquitoe nets and all . We had chili, cold drinks, peanut butter cookies and yes we did not forgot to talk about the importance of safety in Mali... yeah like I told you we're hardcore :)
Go EPA 2007!
After getting calls to move from our sites to consolidation point, all volunteers in the Sikasso region spent the night at my place-mats on the floor and mosquitoe nets and all . We had chili, cold drinks, peanut butter cookies and yes we did not forgot to talk about the importance of safety in Mali... yeah like I told you we're hardcore :)
Go EPA 2007!
Monday, February 5, 2007
This time around
Per the requests of some blogger friends, I decided to move my Mali sharing from travelpod.com to blogspot.com. I hope this is more user friendly.
See you on the blog
See you on the blog
Sur le Niger and more
Aw ni che !
How are folks doing ? Well it sort of seems like I have been MIA for the last couple of months at least cyber wise sorry about that. The holidays included a nice trip with some good friends of mine for Christmas and an uneventful New years which I spent reading and hanging out with my host family. I celebrated Tabaski, a Muslim holiday which includes the slaughtering of goats and rams galore and lots of eating. I didnt take part in any of that but did make fried spring rolls (that are quickly becoming my culinary claim to fame here), salade and fried rice and sent plates out to close neighbors and friends. My homologue invited me to his house to celebrate with his family where I had the best fish in country and due to Malian hospitality rules, I ate way more than I could and left nice and plump. I also yala yala (walked around) with my homologue and his wife greeting I think everyone in the area a happy new year. We sat drinking tea, making bean eating jokes and scaring small children (really just my doing) way into the evening, Mali is awesome !
By the middle of January, I was heading back to Bamako for our PHASE 4 Training (IST). It was the first time all 65 of us have been together in three months so one can imagine the feeling of surprise and relief of seeing everyone again. I was a little overwelmed with the overload of over hyper, fast talking Americans but could not deny how comforting it was to be together again. Our boys did get thinner which they compromised by growing out lots of facial hair. I spent a couple of days in Bamako hunting out the two Vietnamese restaurants I heard rumors about and yes Trinh ate at both of them. I was in Banh Xeo and Mi Kho heaven.
Then off to Tubani So, our Peace Corps training center for two weeks. I got to room with Amber again that always makes me happy since we dont get to see each other much and well to get in that quality APIA time which folks know is necessary for my life here (which come to think about, I should share a bit more about…)
I was really impressed with our SED sector (small enterprise development sector) training. We had sessions on illiterate accounting, project planning and income generating activities like making coconut cookies, orange jam and soap making. Our homologues were also invited to come during the last two days of training which was awesome. I was feeling a little jaded at site before IST and could tell that Diané was running out of things to assign me so touching base again turned out to be pretty productive. We laid out an action plan and brain stormed some ideas for new things to do at site. I am going to start off with some accounting and budgeting formations between myself and people in our offices so fingers crossed for that. I just needed that extra push again.
After the two weeks of training, the Artisana and Tourism volunteers came down to Sikasso ville, my site to visit my services and check out an eco-tourism project being set up by my teammate. We had a great time having others here and getting to talk about different ideas was good for my volunteer self esteem. Diané was really happy the whole time getting to share our city with the other PCVs.
Fast forward to this past week, I spent in Segou ville about 5-6 hours from Sikasso for the annual music festival, Le Festival Sur le Niger. First I spent a couple of days with Tim and Michele which I am sad to say are getting a site change to another region. They came with fenw chaman (things galore) packed way high on the peace corps car. I caught a ride with them up to San to meet up with Ryan, Josh, Louis and Kayle.
The festival was awesome in all ways—music, food, site seeing and good times with my PC loves. There was something a little surreal about dancing on the beach of the Niger river, bearfoot, front center and lauging with friends late in to the morning with the most beautiful music as your soundtrack, I loved it.
And now I am back home and ready for the next couple of weeks of quality Sikasso time which includes a short stint at the local radio show (we have two volunteers with a weekly show now who are quite the Sikasso radio stars), hanging out with Neda my teammate and PC sister who is extending her service to Mopti in a couple of weeks, more pot luck dinners and hanging out with my lovely host family and Boo, of course.
How are folks doing ? Well it sort of seems like I have been MIA for the last couple of months at least cyber wise sorry about that. The holidays included a nice trip with some good friends of mine for Christmas and an uneventful New years which I spent reading and hanging out with my host family. I celebrated Tabaski, a Muslim holiday which includes the slaughtering of goats and rams galore and lots of eating. I didnt take part in any of that but did make fried spring rolls (that are quickly becoming my culinary claim to fame here), salade and fried rice and sent plates out to close neighbors and friends. My homologue invited me to his house to celebrate with his family where I had the best fish in country and due to Malian hospitality rules, I ate way more than I could and left nice and plump. I also yala yala (walked around) with my homologue and his wife greeting I think everyone in the area a happy new year. We sat drinking tea, making bean eating jokes and scaring small children (really just my doing) way into the evening, Mali is awesome !
By the middle of January, I was heading back to Bamako for our PHASE 4 Training (IST). It was the first time all 65 of us have been together in three months so one can imagine the feeling of surprise and relief of seeing everyone again. I was a little overwelmed with the overload of over hyper, fast talking Americans but could not deny how comforting it was to be together again. Our boys did get thinner which they compromised by growing out lots of facial hair. I spent a couple of days in Bamako hunting out the two Vietnamese restaurants I heard rumors about and yes Trinh ate at both of them. I was in Banh Xeo and Mi Kho heaven.
Then off to Tubani So, our Peace Corps training center for two weeks. I got to room with Amber again that always makes me happy since we dont get to see each other much and well to get in that quality APIA time which folks know is necessary for my life here (which come to think about, I should share a bit more about…)
I was really impressed with our SED sector (small enterprise development sector) training. We had sessions on illiterate accounting, project planning and income generating activities like making coconut cookies, orange jam and soap making. Our homologues were also invited to come during the last two days of training which was awesome. I was feeling a little jaded at site before IST and could tell that Diané was running out of things to assign me so touching base again turned out to be pretty productive. We laid out an action plan and brain stormed some ideas for new things to do at site. I am going to start off with some accounting and budgeting formations between myself and people in our offices so fingers crossed for that. I just needed that extra push again.
After the two weeks of training, the Artisana and Tourism volunteers came down to Sikasso ville, my site to visit my services and check out an eco-tourism project being set up by my teammate. We had a great time having others here and getting to talk about different ideas was good for my volunteer self esteem. Diané was really happy the whole time getting to share our city with the other PCVs.
Fast forward to this past week, I spent in Segou ville about 5-6 hours from Sikasso for the annual music festival, Le Festival Sur le Niger. First I spent a couple of days with Tim and Michele which I am sad to say are getting a site change to another region. They came with fenw chaman (things galore) packed way high on the peace corps car. I caught a ride with them up to San to meet up with Ryan, Josh, Louis and Kayle.
The festival was awesome in all ways—music, food, site seeing and good times with my PC loves. There was something a little surreal about dancing on the beach of the Niger river, bearfoot, front center and lauging with friends late in to the morning with the most beautiful music as your soundtrack, I loved it.
And now I am back home and ready for the next couple of weeks of quality Sikasso time which includes a short stint at the local radio show (we have two volunteers with a weekly show now who are quite the Sikasso radio stars), hanging out with Neda my teammate and PC sister who is extending her service to Mopti in a couple of weeks, more pot luck dinners and hanging out with my lovely host family and Boo, of course.
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