PST begins...

There is a lot that has happened over the last two weeks and I honestly can't do it justice in a blog post and I'm feeling a little overwhelmed in attempting to explain it so I'm going to be deliberately vague and just try and be funny and you can email me if you have questions!

My village is amazing and the other Peace Corps volunteers are so much fun to be around, we compliment each other really well and have been progressing amazingly with our language skills. My Bambara has improved immensely. I'm confident about passing my exam, but not so confident about my skills at expressing myself, but that will come later.

My Malian name is Miriam Bagoyoko. I'm named after my host-mom, and when in the village my fellow PCTs and my LCF all call me this, so if I refer to random Malian sounding names but it's clear I'm not talking about a Malian you'll know what that means.

My host dad has two wives and fourteen children. Honestly, it's not really a culture shock, I mean, it's weird, but my host dad rocks. He has a gun. I had tea with him yesterday (tea is kind of a man thing to do) and we chatted about how my uncle is a farmer but also an electrician and then I didn't really know how to explain what an electrician is to someone who still farms using a donkey pulling a plow and has no electricity. Apparently, however, he has a tv to watch soccer games, but I have yet to see it.

My main host-mom is great, she's really patient with me and washes my clothes so damn well! I'm always so impressed. The food is downright terrible, but I honestly don't know if she's a bad cook or if she's just simple. My main dish is To (millet flour) and slime (okra sauce that tastes like feet). For breakfast I have nescafe and bread with peanut butter. The peanut butter is amazing actually because they make it themselves but a little variety...or flavor would be nice.

I already explained Mr. D and Mr. C but I thought I'd recap since I had a little reunion with both of them. They say that you don't become a real PCT until you shit your pants, but I could have done without this action. I kid you not, I shit my pants in the middle of my village. I don't know how else to describe it, but I made my friend go get this big huge mumu dress and throw it over me so I could walk back to my house and change without any villagers noticing. It honestly wasn't embarassing at all, just a little annoying and it was also followed by a horrible day of Mr. D and shooting stomach cramps. I'm feeling much better now, but I took immodium and now I'm dealing with constipation. My stomach is still recovering, and needlesstosay, I'm glad to be back at the training center eating vegetables and meat and drinking cold water and not sharing my nyegen with goats.

Two baby goats moved into the nyegen in my homestay and they poop all over the place, not down the hole, which is proper nyegen ettiquette. The other great thing about my village is that the chickens are always being chased by roosters and getting mounted. Seriously strange when I'm eating lunch or doing homework. It brings a new meaning to free-range chicken and fast food. The donkeys are pretty annoying too, they make really horrible noises that interrupt our classes.

The kids in my family are amazing and they help me do everything like I'm a little kid. I carry my own water from the pump to the 'bath' but they come with me and laugh the WHOLE time especially when I spill water all down my back.

The sad things about village life and the poverty are subtle and in their subtleness incredibly sad and frustrating. Most of it is health related, like terrible dental care and bad hygiene, unsanitary water and poor nutrition (many of the younger kids have distended bellies). It makes me sad to see my favorite happy little kids wearing shoes that don't fit them and the same shirt and short (if they wear shorts) everyday. Despite these little troubles they are so wonderful and happy and the cheerful screams of happiness and laughter that I hear are so normal and heartwarming that it's easy to forget that these kids are so poor.

Anyway, I'm glad to be back at Tuboni So (training center) and glad to not have Mr. D but I'm starting to get antsy for some independence and technical training.

Oh, and the large turtle that roams around the training center was a little pissed today and he tried to get into our room, he didn't succeed, but he definitely tore out our screen door. Awesome.