Peace Corps Mali Evacuated

[Note: I wrote this entry about a week ago, and a few things in it have changed since then. But I would like to post it anyways, mostly unrevised, to show at where I was.]

The rebels control the North, the military has seized power, the international community has cut off aid, bordering countries have closed borders and declared a trade embargo, and, before the political catastrophe, poor harvests have threatened famine in villages across Mali. Things fall apart, indeed. How did this this happen, and so quickly? Well, other folks can better explain how and why the events of the last few weeks occurred, and what is yet to come for Mali (this is the one I follow: bamakobruce.wordpress.com). For better or worse this blog is made up of my own experiences and thoughts and impressions, and not a journalistic account of Mali. Accordingly, I want to write about where I’m at, how this experience has affected me, and where I’m headed. I know that focusing on and privileging my own thoughts and ideas seems selfish, compared with what Malian are suffering now, but I’ve made this blog as a record of my own experience, so I will stick to that.

Soon the current Peace Corps Mali volunteers will officially close their service with Mali in an undisclosed location. This means a grueling mount of paperwork, medical tests, interviews, and figuring out the future. On top of that, volunteers are reeling from this rupture in their lives: their tearing away from their (often) beloved villages, their friends and fellow Peace Corps volunteers, the Peace Corps experience, and, it has to be said, their JOBS. A stressful time, no? I would be lying if I said that volunteers are not going to solace their pain in a variety of interesting and enjoyable activities in the coming days…

Details are not yet known, but word is that Mali volunteers MAY POSSIBLLY be able to finish their Peace Corps service in a new country. So what about me, who has done 6 months in Niger before being evacuated, and 10 months in Mali before being evacuated a second time? Should I do Peace Corps a third time? Am I so desperate to be the heroic and selfless do-gooder that I will scheme and bribe and swindle my way however I can into a 3^rd post? Are my intentions less than noble, more concerned with my own righteousness than truly helping those in need? Is this very blog my way of saying to the world “I’m better, nobler, more selfless, just an overall better person” than the rest? Can there be humanitarians who do not have giant egos?

I’m reminded of an interview question that the Red Cross is rumored to ask interviewees: “What are you running from?” In other words, why do you want to leave your life of comfort and ease to risk yourself in dangerous work helping others? What do you want?

Overall, PC Mali volunteers are tired, hell fatigued, weary, stressed, uncertain, and sad. We are mourning. Most of us have put great time in to villages. We have learned Bambara, adapted to a new culture (never easy or simple), been painfully far from home, tried to do good work despite barriers of culture and language. The human relationships were planted and blossoming; the roots were deep, flowers were coming; but now, now the flowers fall, the leaves drift away, everything fails but for Memory.

However, as has been said before, they live on in us, these many lives. They exist in the cinemas of the mind, always playing, never ending, never completed. Some of my films include:

-Macky, my 11-year old always smiling host brother, whose favorite activity was throwing rocks at baobab trees to get the high-up fruit to fall to earth. And then asking me, with a sad puppy-dog face, to give him sugar for his baobab smoothie (contents: baobab fruit, water or milk, peanut butter, sugar).

-Harouna, my host dad, perpetually sick and sleepy, and FORGETFUL, instantly sleeping after every meal, always hinting at me to give him medicine, and then one day, after dinner, presenting me with an interesting offer: a wife and a plot of land to live in the village. Not sure if he was serious…especially because I was never sure if he liked me all that much.

-Ma, my host mom, short and round but pretty, with an enormous smile, always laughing, who helped me greatly in my quest to speak Bambara.

-Seydou, my best friend in village. 23 years old, smart, motivated and sincere, but unable to finish high school due to the death of his father and the need to become head of the family. He was always genuine with me, the way he explained so much of the village and villagers to me, demystifying so many mysteries. I miss him already.

Okay, enough sentinemental crap, since I personally believe that we never are so overwhelmed by ONE sole emotion to not feel the others, so let’s change the tone a bit, shall we? We volunteers had a crazy/wild dance party a few nights ago and we lit the place ON FIRE. IT WAS BURNING UP! We were dancing so hard for so long, it was just out of control. We sweated and sweated and sweated. IT WAS AWESOME! Part of it was to fight the stress and worry and fatigue. Part of it is what Yeats was talking about when he wrote “Hamlet and Lear and gay,” that it’s better to experience any emotion and to grow from it, that even in moments of pain, times of tragedy, we still can feel joy and beauty and love. Maybe.

I do not know where next I am headed, and though that uncertainity is stressful, it is also slightly liberating. I am free to do what I want. I do know that I dread returning to normal American life after the thrill ride that Africa has been. It is one bug bite that will not get better. Living abroad has given me so much. Am I greedy for wanting more of these experiences? Will I wander as the mariner, telling my tale to all who would listen, desperately? I know one day I will will return to my 2nd home.