Lately, I have been waking up in the morning between 7-8am to the sound of chickens or the pounding of corn. I drink water, eat a cliff bar, and go on a run. When I get back, I go to the hand pump to get water, water my garden, turn on the BBC morning news on my radio, take a shower (well, bucket bath), and then I have breakfast delivered to my room (a rice or corn porridge). The past couple months since it’s been cold, my host dad has been making “kin-kili-ba,” a sugary, natural tea. The next part of the morning, I will either sit out in my compound with my family or across the way at my counterpart’s, study, or walk around the village (greeting people, noticing changes, checking in on gardens, etc). Recently, I have gone to Pular school a couple times since several adults are attending either Pular or Arabic school up to four times a week. It is really interesting to see people who know how to speak a language learn how to read and write it. I eat lunch with my host mom and siblings (typically rice, or corn couscous, with either a sauce or just hot pepper). The afternoon is quite hot and the family sits around chatting and drinking tea, and I often participate or read. Once it cools down, I go to the hand pump again to get water, shower, water my garden, and then listen to the BBC, talk with my family and neighbors, and occasionally attempt to help make dinner, although I generally end up sitting on the side, watching . When it gets dark, I light a few candles in my room and listen to the BBC evening news and wait until dinner is finished and my host mom brings in the bowl (same option as lunch) and my two younger sisters come in and we eat. Afterwards, I will either sit out and talk for a bit, or get ready for bed.
Walk to the hand pump for water
Arabic school classroom & building
There are atypical instances where my morning or afternoon is spent interviewing, going to the river to do laundry (or watch it be done), going to the fields to get cell phone service, collecting seeds, or walking around collecting batteries off of the ground.
A big day is Tuesday, or at least, I make it an important day. It is the day of the weekly market that is held just 5km away from me, in the town of Salemata, where also two other volunteers are stationed, and the other two nearby volunteers frequently come if they are at site. After my morning routine and finishing lunch, I bike the back trail to the main road and then to Salemata. I greet a store owner, Tijan and leave my bike in front of his shop, knowing I will come back to buy tea, sugar, and candles from him when I am ready to leave. I normally make a round to see what is being sold, see if my host father is there selling batteries and flip flops, and to say hello to people and see if I run into any other volunteers. If there is a “fuk e jiy,” (used clothing piles) I normally stop and take a peak, and then go off to get vegetables and seasonings for my family. On my bike ride back, I stop across the street from the secondary school to sit in the shade of a tree and make phone calls and take advantage of the fact that I have cell phone service.
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