Rock Climbing and Mud Wrestling

What a month it's been! I left Ségou shortly after New Years to go to Tubaniso for our in-service training. On the way, I got to swing by a town called Siby, which is about an hour-long bumpy ride south of Bamako. It was worth the trip, because we got to go hiking and rock climbing. It was awesome.

(Yuri, Kyle (in the background), Britta and Katie hiking in Siby)

(Yuri, Kyle, Katie and Britta)

I was with several other volunteers, and we had a blast. It cost us each about six dollars to rent all the gear and have two guides set up courses for us for four hours of climbing. Not a bad deal! We did four different courses and had a blast.

(Britta playing around on the rocks)

(All of us after climbing)

Tubaniso was fun as well. It was like a camp reunion -- all of us got back together after being in our various sites for three months. We had tons of stories to swap. We had loooooong days at Tubaniso (training lasted from 8 am to 5 pm and sometimes even went into the night). But somedays, if we got out of training before the sunset, we got to play sports. We played tons of beach volleyball (there's a sand court), football, etc. The highlight of the two-plus weeks there, though, was the MUD WRESTLING TOURNAMENT. It was glorious!

(The "before" shot)

I don't know where the idea originated, but it didn't take long for everyone to jump on board. We got the Agriculture, Natural Resource Management and Water Sanitation volunteers to create a beautiful mud pit in the fields, and then the tournament began. There were some great match ups.

(Kyle posing with Michelle, Cody and Kara surrounding him)

(Me getting pronounced the winner after pinning Kara in my first match)

I am proud to say that I never lost a match. I think I might have scared a few poepole who weren't aware of my extensive tackle mud football background! But it was all fun, and now we have some awesome memories (as well as some sweet pics).

(The "after" shot)

(Me, Kyle, Yuri and Eric..."Ségou kaw" -- meaning we all live in Sgou region) The last thing I'll say about it is -- it is TOUGH to wash out muddy clothes by hand in a bucket! I think I had to handwash my clothes four times before the water stayed clear!

Feast of Tabaski

December 30, 2006 was the Muslim feast of Tabaski. My homologue, Mme. Koumaré, explained to me that the feast is based on the Genesis story of God commanding Abraham to sacrifice his only son, Isaac. Just as Abraham was about to kill Isaac, an angel came down and told him not to, because he proved that he would honor and obey God, no matter what He asked. So instead of sacrificing his son, Abraham sacrificed a ram that he found stuck in some brush. So for Tabaski, all the families slaughter sheep (or goats if they can't afford sheep), and they eat and eat and eat until there is no meat left. The feast lasts for days (I think by day two they cook and eat the heads). It was very intense. I celebrated the feast with Mme. Koumaré's family. They had already slaughtered their two sheep by the time I arrived (around noon), and had already begun eating some of the meat they cooked. It was the best meat I've had in Mali. My first plate was cut meat chunks cooked over a fire, with onions, tomatos, cucumbers and french fries all mixed together.

(Women preparing the meat)

They never stopped cooking! We literally ate meat until it was too dark to see anything. Then we had dinner! Which, by the way, was brochettes (shish kabobs) of meat, followed by a giant bowl of shredded meat. I was so meated out by the end, I had to stop eating. So they sent me home with a bowl full of meat to eat for breakfast!

(Some of the boys eating -- they're really nice, they just look angry in photos. For some reason most Malians don't smile when they pose for photos.)

It was a great experience to celebrate a feast with a Malian family. Other neighbors and friends kept stopping by to greet the family. They'd stay, eat a bit, chat and then go on their way. And they'd bring meat for my family, and my family would in turn give them some of their meat to take home. As poor as everyone is here, they are extremely generous with their food (as well as everything else). And whenever Garabous came by (the street children who are sent to beg for religious reasons that I don't quite understand), we always gave them a hunk of raw meat. I guess they have somewhere to go cook it...

(Mme Koumaré and me. Her son chopped the tops of our heads off when he took the pic)

(Mme Koumaré and a baby (mabye her niece?) Sorry the photo's sideways...)