awkward turtle

awkward turtle. thanks nemo.

Being a PCV in Mali doesn’t have to be a continuous string of awkward events, but some days, being me, is a long story of the upmost awkwardness.

This week seems to be full of awkward. Let’s take Monday. I was supposed to have a meeting with one of the teachers at school and we were supposed to be working on the lesson plans for the English class together. Good idea. It was just going to be her, and me, which had never happened before so I was a little nervous, but I knew that she spoke some English and French so it was going to be ok.  I get to school and she is already there. Good I think. We can get started. So I sit by where she is set up. Nothing. Her phone rings. I’m waiting. She takes out schoolwork. I take out my schoolwork. Finally, I ask her if we are waiting on anyone. She says yes, that the other teachers will be here. I sigh. I have no idea what we are all supposed to be getting done, but whatever. By the time everyone gets there it’s been about 45 minutes. It’s about quarter till nine and they try to tell me that at 9:30 they are taking a break to go to a funeral. Turns out a coworker has had a death in the family and we are going. Ok, I think. So we work for a little bit and then off we go. The awkwardness you’re thinking? Well I mean sitting amongst people not speaking your language working on something you’re pretty sure you are supposed to be working together on, is slightly uncomfortable, but then there is the funeral. I was wearing a sleeveless shirt, cargo capris, and chacos (real cute I know). My arms were showing, my hair was showing, I was carting around a 20 pound backpack. I knew that it mattered that I was there, but I so should have been dressed differently! Covered! Respectful! Oh vey, I kept on chanting “I stand out, they know I’m not used to this…but please still let them like me!”

Slightly awkward. Very uncomfortable. An hour never felt so long.

The day continued with usual awkwardness. The funeral was kind of the highlight of that day. Which is pretty good because yesterday, that took the cake.

In the morning I wake up to ride my bike. Malians kinda think that is just funny. White girl in pink shirt panting around the hills of the region, dodging taxis, cars, donkeys, I mean I get it; I’m quite the sight. Some people are really nice and give me the thumbs up and yell “Good work!” They are my favorite. After that I get ready, and start to head out to work. Now I live off a pretty main road that connects the west of Koulikoro and other regions to Bamako. There are always trucks, taxis, motos, and buses coming along. When you turn from my house you talk pass some more compounds along a dirt road and then get to the main part. Ok, picture painted. So I’m walking up to the main road and I see this man and his moto near a bush. “Uh oh,” I’m thinking, “this man is totally peeing in the bushes!” I avert my eyes and continue to greet the kids coming out of houses and families I can see making breakfast, but I am quickly approaching this man who is still out for the world to see. I mean he has turned his back from the main road, which is super for those people, but approaching from the opposite direction means I’m kinda like getting a full view.  So here I am, young, white, female, trying to figure out what to do. I mean, I thought for sure he’d be done by now, how long can person continue? And of course because I am so new at this Mali thing I’m thinking, “What do I do? Can’t turn back now. Can’t avoid him he is totally in my way! Do I greet him? Do I walk by?” It was a traumatic moment. He never covered himself up. I continued walking hoping my sunglasses were dark enough to shade my stare and I was literally biting my lip to stop the 14-year-old laughter from erupting. There was no greeting, which, you know, all things considered, was probably for the best. I kept walking. I wonder how long he was there?

Awkward turtle.

I got to work pretty much unscathed after that.

Then my boss asks me if I want to join the new teacher recruits in a Bambara class. I look confused because why would native Bambara speakers need a class? But it turns out that it was grammar based. I got a wild hair and thought that sounded like a great idea. Why not, right? Hahaha. At first it was ok. I didn’t understand a lot, but I got the general idea. There was a break. I stretched my legs. And decided to continue sitting in. Well then it was an activity. This kind hearted soul tried to explain it to me, but I was totally lost. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I understood but then they were like, what do you think? ME? In BAMBARA? You want to discuss gender equality with me in Bambara. I had the biggest flight or fight moment ever. I wanted out of there. Everyone was looking at me. I was pleading with my ESP powers that somehow someone needed me somewhere. Finally, they brought in someone so that I could be translated. Well, like that doesn’t make me stand out. Oh, it sounds silly writing it down now, but at the moment, I just wanted to melt in my seat and disappear.

Needless to say, no more advanced Bambara class for me. EVER.

Awkward.

The day continued. It was just a weird day. I got really hungry and decided to eat one of my prized bananas only to have it plop right on the floor as I tried to peel it. Wanted to drown my sorrows and frustration in chocolate. And the chocolate just wasn’t very good. Bummer dude.

To continue the awkward…People from work are trying to introduce themselves and I am trying to learn people’s name and what they do. And man, sometimes do we have some interesting conversations.

Actual conversation from the other day:

I just got to work and am unloading my 20 pound backpack: computer, water bottle, cell phone, watch comes off so I can type, last earphones for iTunes.

Coworker:  You have earphones?

Me: Yes.

Coworker: I want what you listen to.

Me: Ok. What do you want?

Coworker: I want what you listen to yesterday.

Me:  But what do you want? It’s American music.

Coworker: I want what you listen to.

Me: But what kind of music do you like?

This is happening in English. At this point I try to switch to French. Still nothing.

He is not sitting directly diagonal from me, but diagonal and one over.

He looks confused.

I feel like a 21^st century Peace Corps version of “Who’s on first.”

Guy who actually is directly diagonal from me, with, I swear, a slight eye roll in the direction of other coworker guy: She means, what kind of music do you like?

Me: YES!

Nice coworker: Rock? Love Songs (to which I almost giggle)? Pop? Country? (To which he looks at me and says) Do you know the George Strait? He is my favorite.

Me: mouth wide open: Yes, I do know him and I do have country.

Coworker who is becoming annoyed this is no longer all about him: You choose. I want what you listen to.

Me: slightly exasperated: “Ok, Ok”

He has already handed me his flash drive.

AWKWARD, right?

I ended up trying to give a vast selection of music. Mostly new stuff. I tried to throw a couple in there to see if he really wanted what I was listening to. I have a pretty good mix going, everything from GLEE to MGMT and quite a lot in between.

The good part is that when the flash drive was finally returned and the two guys eventually got to pour over what I gave, which ended up being around 100 songs, they were very thankful. I ended up really hoping they like it.

I am constantly worried about being awkward. It’s an ongoing thing. I am always concerned about being awkward at home. I know that my host family just loved the PCV before me. She and my host sister were really tight and I can only hope to be half as good of friend now. I’ve got big shoes to fill and the prior PCV and I are just different.

I read a lot when I’m at home, and I’m not even really home often, so I’m always pretty conscious of paying attention and being a part of things, while also aware that any large chunk of time just sitting there left to try to understand a foreign language would leave me wanting to pull my hair out. So I read. And I’ve fallen upon some good books, so I read a ton.

Trying to avoid awkwardness as the kids pull the pages and droll slightly, and the older women glare slightly.

Oh vey.

Last night I was reading, trying to finish the last bit of The Help (have you read it? Omg, so good!) and my host mom leans over. She mentions that the book is in English. I nod. (I was like really close to finishing.) She mentions that she wants to learn English. I nod again. She wants to know if I have time to teach her. I stop. Sure, I can find time. But I smile, and I nod. She mentions Sundays. More nodding. I’m kind of in awe. Even if she never has an English session, this is the longest we have actually conversed (if we want to call my nodding contributing to a conversation) since I’ve been here. She smiles and laughs at the idea of learning English. The rest of the room giggles. I go back to my book (and did finish).

Later I’m in my room. And I’m thinking about the books I’ve read and now reading was supposed to make me invisible, but always turned into a production. Moms trying to get the kids away from my book, Nana saying all I do is read, family members asking to see the cover. I always felt so awkward. I just want to sit and be a part of things but have a book open so that on hour 4 I can read something I actually understand. I want to keep my sanity.

But it always turns, AWKWARD.

Then it hits me. All those awkward moments, all those times I wondered if reading was a good decision, that all led me to reading late at night and having my host mom think that if I was smart enough to read English I would be able to teach her something.

Something so NOT awkward. Rather, something quite inspired.

So there is going to be a lot of awkward coming, and a lot of awkward behind me. It’s the way it’s going to be. It’s what I get for coming here and being different, and for analyzing everything in my head. I’m just going to be awkward for a while.

And sometimes it is so going to be worth it.