Bon Voyage, Sira

After being away from Nafadji for over a month, I was nervous to go back.  As the Niokolo got closer and closer to my village, I got that feeling of coming home.  The kids from my compound greeted me as I got out of the Niokolo, and as I walked towards the compound, Sira came running at me and leaped into my arms yelling “Aitata, aitata!!!”  It felt so good to see all of them again, and all the kids came into my hut to help me sweep away the dust.  After being gone for so long, my hut was frightening!  The following day, Saibo helped me do a deep cleaning of my hut, and now it looks back to normal.

My first night back, I woke up at 1am and knew I was going to be sick.  I ran into my yard just in time to throw up.  After another day in village, my stomach calmed down and adjusted to the food again.  It’s back to rice and peanuts.  Along with physical adjustments, I got back into daily life in a village: bucket baths, pit latrines, pulling water, etc.  After a couple days, I felt comfortable again, and I was enjoying spending time with my friends and family in the village. 

I absolutely love the kids on my compound, and spending time with them always brightens my day.  We’ve been coloring in the afternoons, and they always have some imaginative way to pass the time during the day.  When I come back from running, there’s a new ritual of all the kids following me into the shade, and they form a line and copy all the stretches I do.  We look like a sports team stretching in unison.  It’s hard not to laugh!

Saibo, my 12-year old nephew, deserves some sort of medal.  He is such a wonderful helper to me and to the entire family.  Mbamoussa has her hands full with her 9 children, including the new baby twins, and yesterday evening I saw him carrying one on his back and one on his front.  Sadly, the one on his back pooped on him!  He never complains and has such a good heart.  It’s unique to see how much he supports his mom, since it’s usually the girls who end up doing all the household chores.

My first Care Group meeting was yesterday afternoon, and it went really well!  Ten women showed up along with Kaba, Mahan, and Sarr.  With the idea that the women would want to take notes, I went out and bought notebooks and pens for each woman.  At the meeting, I found out that none of the women can read or write, so notetaking is out of the question.  I’m still figuring out how these women will retain the information they learn each meeting without being able to write it down, and I guess we’re all just going to learn through trial and error.

We met in a classroom at the elementary school, and the goal of the first meeting was to introduce the group and set goals for the coming year.  Our group will meet every 2 weeks, and each meeting the women will learn something new to pass on to other women in the village.  After explaining that each woman will be expected to teach seven other women what they learn each class, I facilitated a discussion about the health problems they saw in the village.  Some women were vocal and some didn’t say a word.  Through a mixture of French and Malinke, we created a list on the chalkboard of various topics that we will cover in our group.  Kaba and Mahan were wonderful resources for translating from French to Malinke and vice versa, and Sarr’s knowledge of the health problems he sees everyday in the village kept the discussion going.  At the end of the meeting, everyone seemed excited about the group, and each woman has agreed to create a group of seven other women that she will teach after each of our meetings.  I tried to make the meeting as fun as possible and provided Fanta and Coke, which were a huge hit!  After the meeting, I had villagers coming up to me telling me that they had heard I had “boissons” at the meeting.  Good to know what makes a meeting popular!

The best part for me happened after the meeting was over.  Mbamoussa is part of the group, and when I got home, I overheard her gushing to her mom about the group.  She seemed so proud to be a member and to be a health leader in the community.  Going to class every 2 weeks was exciting to her, and she took a notebook and pen and said that Saibo would help her write things down when she needed to.  I was so happy to hear that this group was important to her, because along with spreading health information and skills to the village, another goal of the group is to empower women in the community.  In 2 weeks, we’ll have our next meeting, and I’ll be teaching them how to prepare oral rehydration solution for when people have diarrhea.  After the meeting, I went on a long run and felt such an amazing high after a productive day!

With those wonderful highs come the lows as well.  This morning, I went to a meeting at the college to discuss the coming semester, and Sounkharou called me during the meeting to tell me she was going to Kedougou.  I thought it was odd that she called me just to tell me she was leaving for a few days, but I figured maybe she was just excited to use her new phone.  When I came back to the compound for lunch, Mbamoussa broke the news to me that Sounkharou had left to move to Spain to live with her husband.  I started tearing up and asked if Sira was gone as well.  Mbamoussa knows how much I love Sira and quietly said that she had left as well.  How could Sounkharou leave without saying goodbye?  I kept asking if she would come back, and they said they didn’t know.  As soon as I was alone in my hut, I couldn’t stop myself from crying.  The thought of never seeing Sira again made my heart hurt.  Out of all the kids on the compound, I am closest with her, and I look forward to playing with her every day.  Whenever I’m sitting out on the compound, she jumps into my lap and I tickle her and spin her around.  If I’m having a bad day, all I have to do is give her a big bear hug and see her infectious smile to feel better.  I can’t imagine not seeing her every day.

I was surprised at how emotional I got over a little 3-year old girl moving away.  She’s a special kid, and I know how much I’ll miss her.  It was such a sudden departure.  Souhkharou never told me she was leaving.  She had mentioned last fall that at some point she hoped to move to Spain, but I never figured she’d move so soon.  When I get past feeling sad about not seeing Sira, I know deep down that this is a really positive thing for her.  She will have so many more opportunities in Spain than she could ever have here.  I’m happy that Sounkharou will get to live with her husband and that Sira will get to be with her dad. 

Since I didn’t get to say goodbye, I’m planning to bike the 90k to Kedougou tomorrow morning to catch them before they leave for Dakar.  With the transportation strike, no cars are leaving from Saraya, so biking is the only option.  I want to take some last photos and give Sira a big hug.  Maybe someday I’ll visit them in Spain.  It’s hard to not be able to see her grow up, and I want to hear about all the amazing things she’s going to do.

Sira leaving reminds me that things are constantly changing.  Soon Leah will be leaving to go back to the US, and I’m going to miss her a lot.  Change is never easy, but we eventually adjust.  Before I know it, I’ll be going back to the US as well, so I want to get as much done while I’m here as I can.  I’m very excited about the Care Group and can’t wait to see how influential the women will be in the community!

                                    Hanging out with Sira one last time in Kedougou

Adjusting All Over Again

After three incredible weeks in America, I’m back in Senegal.  I always seem to struggle with adjusting quickly to new environments, and this time was no different.  It takes me a while to move from one place to the next.

While sitting at the Dakar airport, waiting to begin my 30-hour journey home, I felt sad about leaving Senegal behind.  I was nervous about entering the US again since it really does feel like another world.  My first flight was from Dakar to Brussels, and as soon as I stepped off the plane, I saw a big green Starbucks sign, and a huge smile spread across my face.  I was back.  With 6 hours to kill at the airport, I sipped my soy latte and devoured a chocolate muffin as I watched movies on my laptop.  As the journey wore on, I started growing more and more excited to see my family on the other end.  In my final flight from Philadelphia to Seattle, I couldn’t wait to get there! 

As I took the escalator down to baggage claim, my mom, dad, grandma, and sister were waiting at the bottom with a balloon and flowers.  We all hugged for a long time, and it felt so amazing to actually see them in person.  As I walked into my house, I was greeted by my energetic dog, Joey, and my grandma had thai soup and fried rice waiting for me inside.   That night, I slept like a baby on what felt like the most comfortable mattress in the world.  After 10 months of sleeping on foam, I was in heaven. 

The first few days at home, I really felt the weight of the difference in cultures.  Walking into QFC, our local grocery store, I was confronted with so many options.  At one point, I stood in the middle of the produce section and thought about the little orange and banana sellers in the market in Kedougou.  I went with my mom to the pet store to get dog food, and I was amazed at the options: bison, venison, chicken, pork, turkey, beef.   These dogs were eating better than I do in my village!  People asked me if I felt guilty for all the excess we have in America, but honestly, guilt wasn’t the emotion I was feeling.  I don’t feel guilty that my villagers can’t buy Cheez-Its in Nafadji.  Although there are not as many options, the people in my village seem perfectly content.  I think it is because I grew up with so many choices that I miss things about the US.  I think living in Nafadji has made me realize how unnecessary many things I find at the supermarket are, but it doesn’t stop me from craving them every now and then.

After a few days, I was back in my old routine and felt completely at home.  I was going to yoga with my mom, running along my old route, watching movies with my family, and going out in the evenings with my friends.  It was so incredible to be able to spend time with all my friends and family again.  From taking a pole dancing class to going to a Korean bathhouse to dancing at my favorite club, my friends and I had some fun adventures over break.  I got used to feeling clean, wearing makeup, dressing in nice clothes, and upping my caffeine intake.  My body finally adjusted to the cold, and I was enjoying wearing my purple wool coat again.  Baking cookies, singing songs, cross-country skiing, drinking hot cocoa.  Being home for the holidays was magical, and I was not ready to go back to Senegal. 

My vacation passed too quickly, and I couldn’t imagine leaving everyone all over again.  After finally catching up with the people closest to me, I didn’t want to leave them for a year and a half.  Lots of tears were shed, and walking into the SeaTac airport to board a plane again made me unbearably sad.  I struggled a lot on my flights back to Dakar, because I wasn’t ready to come back yet.  I had adjusted to being home and didn’t want to readjust again.  It felt like waking up in the middle of a wonderful dream and not being able to fall back to sleep.  But deep down, I always knew I’d go back to Senegal.  Even when I kept saying over and over how much I wanted to stay at home, I knew I wouldn’t. 

I didn’t expect to feel as sad as I felt to leave home again.  I thought I had already gone through that and was done adjusting.  Maybe it was the sleep deprivation of my long flights and layovers, but I felt very emotional.  I didn’t know how to do it again.  Before coming home, I could look forward to my vacation when I had hard days, but now it was as though someone had hit the reset button and I had 16 months to wait.  On my flights, I was trying to stay as positive as I could and focus on the things I liked about Senegal, but I kept replaying the fun times I had had at home.  Luckily, I had been through this before and knew that time would make it easier.  As sad as I was, I knew that coming back was something I needed to do and that I would be happy again in Nafadji.

After arriving in Dakar, I felt the warmth as I got off the plane, and the long, chaotic lines at customs reminded me that I was back in the land of inefficiency.  Homesick and nostalgic, I’m just taking it day by day and setting small goals.  I’m in Dakar for a few more days and then will be headed to a conference in Thies.  In a week and a half, I’ll be headed back down to Kedougou.  I’m very excited to be back in my region, because it feels much homier than Dakar.  I’ll be coming back to Nafadji with lots of gifts for my friends and family, and I’m excited to give them the photo album I made them.  One thing that I’ve been looking forward to the past few weeks is seeing Sira.  Whenever I’ve been gone for a while and return to Nafadji, she runs up to me, jumps in my arms, and gives me a huge hug.  I can’t wait!

So while going through this emotional rollercoaster all over again, I asked myself whether or not it was worth it for me to have gone home for the holidays.  It feels like it was a setback since I feel so homesick now.  I’m still glad I did it though.  As hard as it was to come back, it was nice to catch up with friends and family.  I was amazed at how much can change in just 10 months.  When I come back in a year and a half, who knows what will be going on!  As we were driving to the airport and I was telling my mom how hard it was for me to leave, she pointed out that it’s going to be much harder for me to leave Nafadji next year.  I know I’ll be back to the US again, but after my time in Senegal, I’m not sure when I’ll be back again.  So I should enjoy my time in my village while I can!

With all the tears recently, I thought I’d share one of my favorite quotes:

"I would not exchange the laughter of my heart for the fortunes of the multitudes; nor would I be content with converting my tears, invited by my agonized self, into calm. It is my fervent hope that my whole life on this earth will ever be tears and laughter."

- Kahlil Gibran

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season!  For those of you I was able to spend time with over the holidays, it was so great to see you!  Keep in touch through email, because I love hearing from you!  Happy 2012!

Examining Vaginas and Birthing Babies

Within the last week I’ve weighed babies, examined cervices, seen a birth, tested blood for HIV, and sat by the fire every night with my host family.  Sometimes I have to stop and think about how different my life is here.  Bizarre, but wonderful.

I did the baby weighing at the health post along with nutrition counseling for mothers with babies who were below the healthy zone.  It’s important that mothers only give their babies breast milk for the first 6 months, and I’ve found that a lot of women say they’re doing that but are not in actuality.  Kaba, the matrone, told me she caught a mother feeding sugary tea to her baby.  One of the men in my village told me that a baby recently died of malnutrition, so I want to make sure I’m able to inform mothers if their babies are underweight.  Infant mortality is high in my village, but I rarely hear about it.  During an intake interview with women for a recent cervical cancer screening, I had to ask the women how many children they had and how many times they’ve been pregnant.  I found that most women would report that about half of their children had died.  This isn’t talked about, but it is a harsh reality that needs to be addressed.  When I had a heart to heart with the man who told me about the infant who had passed away, he also told me that his first wife had died in childbirth.  During my baseline survey, I felt so optimistic about the maternal and child health of my village, but I am now finding that reality may not be as rosy as villagers would like to paint it. 

Three midwives came down from Saraya to do cervical cancer screening in Nafadji.  Earlier in the week, I told the presidents of the women’s groups about the screening, and they spread the information around the village.  On the day of the testing, I walked around the village, trying to get as many women as possible interested in being tested.  During the screening, I assisted the midwife with the screening by holding the flashlight on the vagina while she put vinegar on the cervix.  We both analyzed the cervices and gave the results to another midwife who did the counseling afterwards.  We screened 24 women, and hopefully will soon be able to provide cryotherapy treatment for those who tested positive.  I was worried that it would be awkward for me to be examining women who I know in my village, but it turned out to be fine.  Although I asked Mbamoussa to get tested, and her screening was slightly awkward for both of us since she’s my sister.  I was impressed with the amount of women who showed up, and the screening went smoothly.

With all the work I’m doing with maternal and child health, I’ve been really interested to see an actual birth.  I mentioned this to Sarr a few months ago, and he told me that I could help with one as long as the midwife was ok with it.  The midwife told me she’d call me when the next birth was happening, but somehow it never worked out that I was in village during births.  During the cervical cancer screening, I was in the maternity, and Khadidia, a pregnant woman, came in and was having contractions.  The midwife told her to go home and come back when they were hurting really badly.  She came back right as we were all going into the main health post area to eat lunch, and she lied down on one of the beds in the maternity.  After eating, I went back to the maternity to do an intake interview with a woman who wanted to be screened for cervical cancer, but the other midwives stayed in the health post to relax a little.

All of a sudden, I heard Khadidia screaming from the next room.  I rushed in, and the baby’s head had already started coming out!  Since I had no clue how to deliver a baby, I ran as fast as I could to Madame Diop and told her to hurry over.  By the time I got back to the maternity room, the baby was fully out.  I was amazed at how fast it all happened.  I worked as Madame Diop’s assistant and handed her different tools for cutting the umbilical cord and sewing up an area that must have torn.  We caught the afterbirth in a bowl and gave it to some village elders who came to pick it up.  It was incredible to see the baby girl enter the world.  She kept reaching out and grabbing the air, exploring her newfound freedom.  The birth was very messy and didn't smell great, but it felt so amazing to be apart of it!

Births here are so different from those in the US.  In a US delivery room, I picture a woman with a cheering section beside her, or at least friends and family waiting at the hospital to congratulate her.  This American woman is giving birth in a sterile hospital room, where supplies are readily available, and if anything goes wrong, there are the resources to get the baby out safely.  Painkillers are an option to keep the mother more comfortable, and a nurse takes the newborn to wash it and wrap it in a blanket.  The mother was not expected to bring her own cleaning supplies or sheets for the bed.  After the delivery, the mom is able to rest for a while in the hospital room. 

Here in Senegal, Khadidia came to the maternity just as she was about to give birth.  No friends or family were in the room with her, and the room was far from sterile.  I was racing around looking for a fresh pair of gloves and alcohol.  All the blood was wiped up with the pagne (fabric skirt) that Khadidia had arrived in.  I watched Madame Diop stick a metal hook in Khadidia’s vagina to sew up a tear, without any anesthesia.  After the umbilical cord was cut, the baby was placed on a table and wasn’t washed.  If anything had gone wrong, we were 90k from the nearest hospital that can provide a C-Section, and there are no cars in my village.  Directly after giving birth, Khadidia went back to her home with the new baby.  After seven days, there will be a baptism, where the baby will be given a name.  From what I observed, as long as there are no complications, delivering a baby is very straightforward.  Maybe all these differences I’m mentioning shouldn’t matter as long as the mother and baby go home safe and healthy.  It’s when there are complications that problems arise that the health post is not equipped to handle. 

The following day, the Saraya hospital car picked me up in Nafadji, and we went to Toubacouta, a small village in the bush, to do HIV testing.  We picked Ian and his nurse counterpart up along the way to go to the testing.  Ian and I did the blood tests, and we found a couple positive ones.  The Saraya team includes a social worker who provides counseling to individuals when they find out their serological status.  Fortunately, antiretroviral drugs are free in Senegal, but the treatment for resulting infections is not.  HIV status is not public knowledge, and the hospital is very good about not revealing those who tested positive.  Only a few people at the hospital even know who the HIV positive people are in the region.  The social worker seeks those people out to encourage them to take antiretroviral drugs.

Now I’m back in Kedougou and am about to start my journey home to the US.  Yesterday I biked to Saraya with my luggage strapped to the back, and my back tire blew halfway through the ride.  I flipped my bike over and changed my tire tube with tsetse flies attacking me.  As frustrated as I was, I knew I was on my way home.  Luckily, the second tube worked out and I made it to Kedougou in one piece yesterday.  I had a weird feeling of sadness as I biked out of my village.  I’ve been looking forward to going home for a while, but I really will miss my village while I’m gone.  It reminded me that I’ll be leaving for good next year, and that is going to be incredibly hard. 

Right now, it’s the “cold season” in Senegal, which means temperatures can drop down to 70 degrees.  I know what you’re thinking.  Anyone who thinks that’s cold must be insane, right?  But after adjusting to the climate here, I actually get goosebumps at night and need to wear a sweatshirt, and my family has been sitting around a fire every night before bed.  I have a feeling I’m going to freeze when I land in Seattle!

Tomorrow night, I’ll take a night bus to Dakar, and then the following night, I begin my 30-hour voyage home on 3 different planes with long layovers in between.  I’m so excited to come home for the holidays!  It’ll be nice to eat some good food and hang out with friends and family.  I feel like this trip home has been something I’ve been working towards for so long, since I booked this flight back in May.  I’ve counted down, and the idea of seeing my family again for the holidays got me through a hard time at the beginning of my service.  Now, it’s actually here!  Where did the time go?  I can’t wait to be home soon!

The Purducken

This post was written on 11-29-11 but I haven't had internet...

This Thanksgiving, we decided at the Kedougou Regional House to make an unconventional meal.  A few weeks before the big day, we were all sitting around, joking about the idea of making a Turducken, which is a chicken inside a duck inside a turkey.  Then someone decided to take it even further and throw out the idea of putting all those animals in a pig to make it even more epic.  And why not dig a huge hole and try cooking this masterpiece in the ground?  I thought it was a joke, but one thing Peace Corps volunteers love is a challenge. 

When I arrived at the house the day before Thanksgiving, Mission Purducken was in action.  All 4 animals had been bought and brought in from various locations.  The live turkey was sent down from Tamba!  All 3 birds needed to be killed, plucked, and cleaned.  That day, we prepared the 3 birds, pig, and stuffing and sewed all the birds inside the pig with wire.  The guys had dug a massive hole and gathered all the materials necessary to keep the coals hot for the 18 hours we were leaving it in the ground. 

Thanksgiving day was filled with lots of cooking, and we managed to make some tasty dishes!  We made mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, and gravy.  I attempted to make a cranberry sauce substitute with bissap flowers but failed.  Apparently bissap flowers don’t cook the same way cranberries do, so I tried adding cherry jello mix to stiffen up the bissap juice with no success.  Luckily there were other dishes that worked out well.  Some other volunteers made a carrot cake, cheesecake, and apple pie for dessert.  I was amazed at the food you can make with limited resources!

Around 5pm, we dug up the Purducken!  The guys laid the giant pig down on some tarps outside and began carving into it.  I think my favorite part of the day was when a few of the guys were cutting pieces of meat off to put in giant bowls to serve later, and we all formed a circle of stools around them, waiting for handouts!  They’d throw us some meat and stuffing as we hovered like vultures. 

After piling mountains of food into our bowls, we all sat around the porch, stuffing ourselves.  Since the main staple of our diets here is rice, I think we all went into protein overload!  Just like the end of any normal Thanksgiving, we fell into food comas and clutched our full stomachs, complaining that we ate too much.  The Purducken was a success!

The following day, Ian and I decided to venture off to a small Bassari village in the mountains to check out the crafts they make.  It was Black Friday, so of course we had to go shopping!  We took a Niokolo 90k to Salemata and then biked a hilly bush path out to Echelo, the Bassari village.  One of our friends lives in Echelo, but she was in Dakar for Thanksgiving, so we made the trek out there on our own. 

We had a wonderful time in the village, which had such a different feel than any village I’d been to.  Since Bassari’s are Christian and animist, they have a different lifestyle than Muslims.  After seeing some unique crafts (jewelry, masks, etc), we went over to our friend’s family’s compound for dinner.  For dinner, we were served an amazing chicken and squash dish, and I was in heaven!  As some of you know, I have an obsession with pumpkin, so I was very excited to eat squash!  When we were finished eating, the men reminded us to thank the women who cooked the meal.  That was the first time I’ve ever heard a man suggest that women deserved praise after cooking a meal.  In Bassari culture, women seem to hold much more power in the household, and they are treated with more respect than I’d seen before.  The villagers seemed more complimentary of women and praised virtues instead of pointing out all the faults in them.  Granted, this was only one night in the village, but it seemed like a very positive environment to live in. 

Since the villagers aren’t Muslim, they drink alcohol and are known for their delicious honey and palm wines.  After dinner, we sat around, drinking tea and palm wine.  Ian whipped out some mango gummy bears to share with the group, and we sat around the hot coals, chatting into the night.  The following morning, we rose early and biked back to Salemata to catch a car back to Kedougou.  All in all, it was a fun adventure!

Now I’m back in Nafadji in my last stint in village before I head home for the holidays!  Projects are in motion!  I have 10 enthusiastic women signed up for my Care group, and our first meeting will be in January, when I return from vacation.  Ian and I are working on our cervical cancer screening and are hoping to hold it in both of our villages next week.  We’re also working on a project to train middle school students to become health experts who can lead health discussions with their peers at school.  After we request funding for our project, we’re hoping to hold the training in the spring.  We’re still waiting on our funding request for our matrone training, but we should hear back about that soon!

The babies are getting bigger!  With four circulating around the compound, holding babies has become a common pastime.  We all take turns getting peed and pooped on, since there are no diapers here.  I gave each new mom a baby mosquito net where they can zip the baby into a netted enclosure.  They’ve been using them as places for the babies to hang out during the day to keep the flies off of them.  I often walk outside to find the four baby mosquito enclosures lined up on a mat with the babies inside!

It’s nice to be back in Nafadji!  Tomorrow morning I’ll be weighing all the babies in the village while Sarr does vaccinations, and this Sunday, I’ll be heading to Saraya to do the radio show.  A couple weeks ago, we did a fun radio show explaining what Thanksgiving is!  We described it as a “Toubab Tabaski”.  Probably too soon to talk about colonization, right?

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving!  I can’t wait to see friends and family in Seattle soon!!! 

My Namesake

On the morning of Fily’s baby’s baptism, my host mom pulled me aside and revealed to me that Fily was naming her baby after me.  I couldn’t stop smiling and felt so honored that she would name her firstborn child after me.  Unfortunately, no one here can pronounce Marielle, so my host mom said they would like to use my mom’s name.  Luckily, they can pronounce Margo and loved the name.  The baby is now named Margo Aissata, but we all call her Margo.  I call her “toxoma”, which means namesake in Malinke.

My family explained to me the importance of a namesake.  This baby is going to be extremely close to me for the rest of our lives, and whenever I come back to the village in the future, I’ll always be connected to Margo.  For now, being a namesake means I get to spoil Fily’s baby a lot! 

Attending a baptism in Nafadji was such a different experience than the baptism I attended during training in Mbour.  It was much more laid back and felt warmer to me.  A group of women met at our compound and went out to the center of the village with Fily and the baby to perform some traditional rituals, such as dipping the baby’s head and toes in water.  They had a mysterious mixture of leaves and other things in a bowl that they emptied on the ground, and then they stepped and broke the wooden bowl.  They said many blessings and ritualistically dropped the razor behind Fily’s back through a cloth 3 times.  After those steps were finished, we all headed over to another compound where a huge group of village women had congregated.  We laid out a mat and a woman shaved the baby’s head as the women sang a song.  They crushed up a kola nut and fed part of it to the baby. 

The women at the ceremony were full of energy and joy, and they danced around me out of excitement that I had received a namesake.  Everyone gave me blessings for my namesake, and Fily seemed so happy to finally be able to leave her room!  It was a beautiful ceremony, and afterwards we headed home to have a delicious chicken lunch.

Having Fily name her baby after me made me feel so close to her and my family.  Even when I leave my village at the end of my service, part of me will still be there.  I feel so moved that Fily has given me this honor. 

I told my mom that there is now a baby Margo in my family and she was touched.  I can’t wait for the two to meet when my mom visits me next year!  Every time they talk about baby Margo, I smile at how funny it is that I’m all the way in this tiny village in Africa and my mom’s name is now a part of my life here.  It’s nice to have a little piece of home here. 

The Mbamoussa Dilemma

As I mentioned in my last post, a couple days before Tabaski, Mbamoussa had not given birth yet.  She was lying on the floor of Fily’s room all day and didn’t look good.  I called Leah to ask her if she thought it might be better for Mbamoussa to stay with her in Saraya so she would be closer to medical care since both Sarr and Madame Diop were gone for Tabaski.  We talked about it and agreed that would be best if I could convince Mbamoussa to leave the village and figure out transportation.  Getting anywhere from my village is always a challenge, since the Niokolo only comes once a week.

I walked out to the area where the French doctors were camping and explained the severity of the situation.  They agreed with me that it was not safe for Mbamoussa to stay in Nafadji since delivering twins can be complicated.  2 of the doctors were heading to Saraya in a car and told me they were leaving in an hour.  So I had an hour to convince Mbamoussa to leave her family 2 days before Tabaski, the biggest holiday of the year.  I felt incredibly stressed out.

I raced back to the compound and hurriedly explained in a mixture of French and Malinke that I was concerned about her safety and the lives of her babies.  I told her that I thought she needed to leave because she would be in danger if there were any complications during the birth.  She seemed hesitant to leave her family, but she agreed to go.  I think she knew I wouldn’t have said anything unless I was very concerned.  She quickly packed a bag and I gave her money for any medical care she may need.  One of the female elders in the village, Aissata Damba (my namesake), showed up with a bag and was prepared to travel with Mbamoussa so she wouldn’t have to be alone.

The French doctors dropped the two ladies off at the Saraya hospital, and the doctors there took one look at her and started talking about sending her to Kedougou.  Saraya had medical staff but did not have the capacity to do a C-section.  Kedougou has the only hospital in the region that can do a C-Section, and that is 90k away from my village.  In Saraya, the doctors noticed that Mbamoussa had a fever.  After doing the test, it turned out she had malaria!  This is her second case of malaria this season.

Leah went with Mbamoussa in the ambulance car to Kedougou, where Mbamoussa was treated for malaria and monitored closely.  Leah stayed with Mbamoussa on Tabaski so she wouldn’t have to be alone, and around noon on Tabaski, I got a text message that Mbamoussa’s water had just broken.  She gave birth to 2 healthy baby girls without any complications.  I arrived in Kedougou the following day to visit Mbamoussa and meet her twins.  They are adorable! 

Aissata stayed with Mbamoussa up until she returned to Nafadji after Tabaski.  Seeing this elderly woman stay so close to Mbamoussa’s side showed me how tight the bonds of the village are.  They don’t leave each other alone in times of need.  Aissata missed celebrating Tabaski in the village to be a companion for Mbamoussa.  It was heartwarming to see that she would go so out of her way to support a fellow villager.

Mbamoussa now has 9 children and is only 30 years old.  The doctor told Leah that if Mbamoussa gets pregnant again, she could die.  I plan to talk to her about birth control and possibly mention this to her husband as well.  He cares about his wife and would not want to put her life in danger. 

The day that I forced Mbamoussa to go to Saraya, I was very unsure about whether or not I was doing the right thing.  Taking a pregnant woman away from her family for the holiday seemed so extreme.  It made me wonder what my role was supposed to be as a volunteer in this situation.  I never want to boss people around, but no one in the family seemed to be thinking about the future.  They didn’t seem to care that both the nurse and midwife were gone and that Mbamoussa was overdue to give birth.  My gut was telling me that she needed to go, but I kept second guessing myself.  Working with Leah on this was amazing, and she gave up celebrating Tabaski with her Saraya family to be with her namesake, Mbamoussa, in the hospital.  It’s lucky that Mbamoussa did go to Saraya, because otherwise we never would have realized she had malaria.  In Kedougou, she was able to get the care she needed to safely deliver her babies.

Everything worked out in the end, and all 4 babies are safe at home.  What a relief!

Babies and Bubbles

Sounkharou and Fily both gave birth to baby girls!  Early yesterday morning, I got a knock on my door, informing me that Fily had just given birth to a healthy baby girl.   I ran over to Fily’s room to congratulate her and to see the new baby, and she already had a room full of visitors.  It seemed as though all the women in the village stopped by the compound yesterday to see the baby and give blessings.  In the morning, all the female village elders came to the compound and dug a hole and buried what I think was the afterbirth and put a rock over it.  I tried asking why they were doing that but it seemed like a personal tradition that they didn’t want to answer questions about.

Apparently when you have a baby here, you are quarantined to your room with the baby for a week.  Fily was very disappointed since she’s going to have to celebrate Tabaski (the biggest Muslim holiday of the year) in her room.  She still insists on tressing my hair tomorrow though.  The whole family has been really good about hanging out in her room with her, even though it’s insanely hot in there.  Last night, we ate dinner in there with her and shelled peanuts for a while. 

Sounkharou had her baby and baptism while I was in Thies for a Summit meeting, so I met baby Samiyo when I got back to Nafadji a couple days ago.  Since there are no diapers here, getting peed on is inevitable.  The first time I held Samiyo, she peed all over me.  Now I’m hesitant to hold the babies for too long if I don’t want to get showered on. 

Mbamoussa, who is expecting twins, still has not given birth, and she was due before both Sounkharou and Fily.  I can tell that she’s getting very frustrated, and I’m worried about her delivery since Sarr and Madame Diop are both away for Tabaski.  Randomly, there is a team of French doctors who are in my village for a week giving out free, expired medicine to the villagers.  Sarr and I are both very unhappy with these people since giving out medicine is not sustainable development, and the medicine is expired.  They gave expired medicine to Mbamoussa, and Sarr was furious with the doctors since she is very fragile right now.  The one good thing about them being here is that they came with a car, so I may try to see if they can drive Mbamoussa to Saraya so she is closer to a hospital in case she needs a C-section.  I’m anxious for her to have the babies safely so I know all the babies are out safe and sound. 

Bubbles are the new craze on my compound.  My grandma sent me some bubbles for the kids, and they went nuts over them.  It was so much fun to watch how excited they got and how amazed they were by the bubbles.  After the bubble liquid was gone, one of the little girls asked if it would work with soap.  I poured some of my liquid dish soap in the bottle with water, and sure enough it worked well!  So now bubble time is turning into a daily ritual on the compound!  The elementary school kids fight over the bubble wands, while the little ones try to chase the bubbles down to pop them.

Before I returned from the Summit meeting, I called Mbamoussa to let her know I was coming back to Nafadji the following day, and when I got back, her son Saibo had started pulling all the weeds in my yard!  The little girls, Adama, Asu, and Fanta Founee helped me sweep my room and haul buckets of water back to my hut.  It felt so good to be back after traveling for over a week.  I love the kids on my compound!

Before I left for the Summit meeting, I went out to the fields with the entire family and we harvested peanuts.  It was an exhausting day but such a fun experience.  We sat around pulling peanuts off the plants and chatting.  By the end of the day, we were all covered in dirt, so we had a nice bath in the river. 

My baseline survey is finally done, and I analyzed the results.  My survey covered 571 people on 51 compounds.  Here are some of my findings:

·      *  53% of the population does not have a working latrine

·      *  Of the population surveyed, there is 1 latrine for every 19 people, and the ideal is 1 latrine for every 10 people

·      *  67% of the population does not wash hands with soap every day

·     *   100% of those surveyed knew what Moringa is and 82% grow it

·      *  100% of families said the mothers breastfed their babies until at least the age of 2

·      *  96% of women said they attended prenatal visits while they were pregnant, and 100% of families said their women gave birth at the health post

·      *  In the past year, families reported that 380 people had had malaria in the last year, which is 67% of the population surveyed.

·      *  Health post records show 251 Nafadji villager cases of malaria in the past year, confirmed with positive malaria tests

·      *  It was reported that 87% of the surveyed population sleep under a mosquito net

·      *  Out of girls of school age, 21% dropped out of school, and 91% dropped out to get married

·      *  Out of boys of school age, 8% dropped out of school

There’s a lot to work on, but I was pleasantly surprised by the maternal health and nutrition responses.  I had no idea that so many people in my village grew Moringa, and if they are making leaf sauce out of that, they’re getting lots of vitamins and iron in their diets.

I’m starting to do work which is exciting!  Ian and I submitted a grant proposal to fund matrone training for 5 women coming from small villages in our health zones.  These villages do not have a trained birth attendant, and it would greatly help the maternal and child health of the communities for them to have trained matrones.  I also just met with the matrone in my village, Kaba, and she agreed to be my counterpart for the Care Group that I plan to start.  We’ll be choosing 10 women in the next couple weeks to be part of the group, and the group will meet once a month to be trained in a health issue.  After the training, each woman will be expected to teach 7 other women on different compounds whatever skill they learned.  At the end of each month, the entire village should have learned the information taught in the Care Group training.  Ian and I are also planning to organize cervical cancer screening in Nafadji and Missirah Dantila before the holidays.  Lots to do before I go home for Christmas!

Tabaski is the day after tomorrow, and my host dad told me that we’ll be killing 2 sheep for our family.  I got a new complet made in Kedougou, so I’m ready to celebrate!