The last couple weeks have held lots of bustling around Mali. Last week I went to a far away village that has just recently become accessible with the lowering water level. To get there we had to take a taxi, then a boat for 16 hours and finally a donkey cart for an hour. To my surprise the village, Dia, was wealthy with an ambulance, water tower, it’s own FM radio station and telephones. Usually communities that are far away from markets, roads and other people are more impoverished but this village is different. The mayor is the ex-Ambassador to Germany. Dia has produced Imams who live in Saudia Arabia and Paris and usually the government has a Minister from the town, right now it’s the Minister of Culture. Incredible for a such a small place. It provided a good example of what people who go away and send back money and eventually return with expertise can do to develop a community. Although I can’t help but think that everyone living away and sending money must create a hollow community. Where am I living again?
The boat ride was pretty exciting with about 100 people crammed onto a boat that was completely overloaded with motor bikes and World Food Program boxes of rapeseed oil. We had prime seating on some bananas right next to the motor which was insanely loud. Half way through the night I realized my neighbour the sheep had the best spot in town with a nice bed of straw and all the room in the world.

It is the holy month of Ramadan and I am fasting with millions of Muslims and Malians around the world. I’m noticeably thinner after the first two weeks and wondering if I’ll disappear before the month is over. Ramadan appears to have different meaning to each individual but by and large it is about purification, repentance and increasing spiritual connections. I’ve been reading the Koran to get my head around things. In part I am doing it to culturally integrate and try to understand the struggles of the hungry and thirsty. Although it is good to take time for spiritual things and remember to do my own version of praying. Not eating from sun up to sun down has not been too difficult but not drinking can be very difficult in the heat. Last week I had to visit a village called Fatoma and went by bike 9 km. Then I spent the better part of the day visiting different partners working out little problems. In the early afternoon I biked the 9 km back with the intense Sahelian sun beating down on me. I thought I was going to pass out. My thought process stopped and all that mattered was getting some water. I spent the next couple hours sitting staring at my watch waiting with increasing impatience for sundown and “se preparer a couper.” It is no wonder the hungry have trouble planning for the future.

Breaking the fast has been my favourite part of the day everyday for the last two weeks. There is a sense of community and solidarity. Wherever you happen to be at sundown you sit with others who have been preparing ginger juice, tea and dates. People sitting on little chairs and benches circled around a tea pot laughing as the sky lights up with hues of pink as the sun bids us farewell. Usually everyone brings something in addition to the tea so a picnic breaks out. It’s watermelon season so there’s always at least ten kilograms of juicy pink watermelon for sharing within a one minute walk. Then again around 4:30 am I sit in my concession with two high school teachers sipping water and munching on bread. It provides a nice rhythm to the day.

I love seeing everyone come together to pray after breaking the fast. It is truly a show of community. This has left me feeling renewed and energized. I feel like I am truly moving to the funky beat of the world’s drummer and in tune with everything around me. Makes a guy pretty happy.

The peanuts have all been harvested and are being dried and put into bags in the concession. Looks like I should have about a tonne. Now the question is what I’m going to do with them. The house has been buzzing with women ripping the peanuts off the plants for the last two weeks. Late at night I’ll sit and work with them as we all make fun of my Barbara and listen to the radio.

I am feeling the challenges of trying to be many things at once. Here I am known as Levy, Hamadji Diallo and sometime Kwesi Piecie depending on who I am hanging out with. I am trying to work at a high level influencing strategy of a large development project but living with the Malian everyman. Working within systems of hierarchy and trying to bring them down at the same time. In social life the same people I am trying to work with as equals are my “big brothers” and culturally superior to me. I guess in life we all play many roles as mothers are also children and bosses also friends. It provides a kind of richness. I find the extreme diversity of my world beautiful and overwhelming at the same time. Some days I am able to sit with the head of the UNDP in Mali others with villagers who have never been 10 km away from home. I usually eat rice with my hands from a communal pot with Luc or other neighbours while a month ago I was eating sushi in Yorkville in Toronto. The world truly is vast and I am trying to take pieces from everyone I’ve met and create my own little patchwork quilt of wisdom that hopefully comes together to be something whole.
Here is a quote that I have been thinking about lately “At the deepest level, we help by what we are, not what we know or even what we do.” Jump in a pile of golden fall leaves for me and I’ll stare at the full moon for you.