Sunday, April 24, 2016

Navigating Bamako

Two Fridays ago I brought home the 1990s-era RAV4 I bought from someone who recently left post. It was my first time driving it, and for navigation I asked one of my apartment neighbors to ride with me. I made it home without incident, employing the aggressively careful hyper-vigilance necessary for dealing with the endlessly swerving motorbikess, stoplight-less roads, and lack of lanes or attempt to stay in lanes. I have to say, I'm so happy to have wheels, though my lack of sense of direction is - as always - limiting.

Unfortunately, the week leading up to that Friday was exhausting and I spent last weekend trying to sleep off the effects. Work continued at the same high-octane pace, but more intense, since I was handling the shop on my own while my boss is in DC for a conference. In other words, for my third and fourth weeks on the job, I was in charge of the entire GSO portfolio: housing, motor pool, shipping/customs, procurement, warehouse/supply, and travel. Going forward, the last three will be my primary focus.

The learning curve is incredibly steep, but I have to admit, as stressful as it is, I'm enjoying it too. I can honestly say that I've learned something new every day so far. My challenge now is to keep up... which is why I worked late so much two weeks ago, burning myself out until I had to spend the weekend recovering.

Luckily, towards the end of this past week, two different people advised me to be sure to take my time off and relax, reminding me that work would always be there when I came back. While this is true, it's still hard: I want to do well, and sometimes that necessitates staying late. However, I took their advice this weekend. Friday evening I went to the American Club and socialized; Saturday I joined a workout group for some crazy cross-fit-like routine, and then made some charosets and joined a Passover seder.

The Passover event was at one of my neighboring apartments and included several Malians and non-Jewish colleagues, plus a couple of Jewish ones. It was a lot of fun and we had some good conversation about discrimination and minorities. And of course, we ate well. I made a huge bowl of charosets and came home with enough matzoh to last me awhile. Nice to celebrate, though it made me a little homesick.


Today, I skyped with some A-100 colleagues in Croatia and China, had brunch at a neighborh's, then spent most of the day by or in the pool. We ordered out for dinner (pretty tasty Indian food) and lazed about. I FaceTimed with my family, which alleviated my homesickness a little. It was a lovely Sunday, overall.

Meanwhile, the heat - over one hundred degrees daily - is intense. At night it's been hovering at ninety degrees. Today it actually rained. We're not in rainy season yet, though. This was apparently what they call a mango rain, which sweetens and ripens the mangos (which are incredibly delicious already). Real rainy seasons hits in June or July.

Tomorrow, it's back to the grindstone at work, getting my boss caught up on what went on while she was away and continuing to learn how things operate.

It's the end of my first month in Mali. It feels both like I've been here forever, and like I've been here for just a few days. The security atmosphere is difficult, and work is draining, and there's so much in Bamako to explore and figure out, too. Overall, though, I can say I am glad I'm here and am enjoying the Foreign Service life so far.

--Z

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Week Two Bamako Update

It's strange to think that I’ve been in Mali for just over two weeks now. It’s incredible how quickly things come to seem normal, or close to: the dirt and the moto-filled roads, the heat and the compound-life, the French and Bambara and every-day-ness of work.

Each day I go to the embassy and learn a hundred new things about my job, try to keep up with the frantic pace that is set merely by a routine day’s needs: problems with housing, official procurement needs of many different individuals, offices and organizations, planning for an upcoming event, tracking people’s shipments of personal goods or vehicles, reviewing and approving travel paperwork for everyone that is coming and going or planning to come or go; and of course, responding to status requests on all these things. 

I seem to meet new people every single day, both American and Malian. Practicing my French feels good, it's all coming back; practicing my abysmal Bambara is a little embarrassing, but hopefully I'll start to improve soon. The weekends are a fun mix of getting together with friends, maybe exploring a new restaurant or store, relaxing, or setting up house a bit more.

It’s the normal routine of having moved. I’ve done this four times in the last five years (albeit three times in DC alone), so it doesn’t feel strange or even too terrifically exciting this time, even though it's a new country rather than a new neighborhood.

Then again, there are the times things don’t feel normal at all: moving indoors from a screened in porch because of the fireworks-sound, pop-pop-pop, of distant gunfire, and the relief when a security officer comes by to tell us all is safe, that student elections were being celebrated with gunfire or fireworks, or both. The pause during a dinner party when an embassy radio has chatter on it, followed by a quick check of smartphones around the table to see if any new warnings or news stories about the city have popped up.

That doesn’t feel normal at all. And yet… I continue eating and chatting, enjoying everyone’s company while calming the unease in my chest. ; the ever-so-slight anxiety on the drive home; these are new to me, and difficult to adapt to.

It is a reality here that is hard to describe. I’m not frightened or anxious all the time, or even most of the time. One must live one’s life, after all. And the fear of a new place, and how to act, and where to go is not new to me. Truthfully though, that lurking sensation of unease is weird. 

I went out to eat at a restaurant with some friends last week, and to get in required getting wanded, going through a gate that was locked behind us, then let in via another locked gate to the compound which housed the restaurant. Odd, yes, but somehow also reassuring. As we left, standing just outside the two gates, a friend who has been here almost two years became suddenly anxious. She ushered us into the car and insisted we leave quickly, explaining that she felt uncomfortable standing in a group of obvious Westerners with no one else around. Too target-like.

It’s going to take awhile to adjust, and depending on what happens – if anything – I imagine my behavior will change. Some people show obvious signs of unease and fear; others seem to take it all in stride. I’m sure I’ll be one of the latter, at least for a while.

At the end of week two, it feels like I've been here a month at least. Not in a bad way, not at all! I just feel like I've adjusted rather quickly to being in an all new place with all new sensations. I can see now how easy it is to remain "in the bubble," as I've heard it described: spending time with embassy people, going to each other's homes or staying at my own, going out only to Western-style restaurants, and rarely getting out into the local culture, into the Bamako the Malians know and love. Staying in the bubble is easy and comforting and safe, or feels that way. 

I hope that I will adjust enough to explore the city and learn more about the culture. And I'm optimistic that I can and will! It may just take time and experience and learning a bit more about the pulse of things here. 


Saturday, April 2, 2016

First Week Reflections

It hardly feels like it’s been a whole ten days, but here I am, working at the embassy and living in a foreign country. I marvel at typing that because it’s been in my sights for so long, and in my vaguely defined imagination for even longer, and now it doesn’t quite feel like I’m really living here. You know? Like, yes, I’m in a country that is completely foreign. The motos (motorbikes) are like a swarm of ants on the roads, many of which aren’t paved off the main thoroughfares. There’s a sense of adventure and danger in driving anywhere, even though I’m not doing the driving thus far; and yet, it’s become almost normal, too: the heat, the dust, the throngs of people.

It’s strange how quickly that happens. It’s not adaptation, exactly, but more of a quick acceptance based on the requirement to report for work and really dig in immediately. After a day of trying my best to remember everyone’s names (many Malians share common names, like Abdoulaye, Fatimata, or Idrissa) and drink from the firehose of on-the-job training.

Work is going well so far, I think. I’m in charge of the procurement section, the warehouse, and travel, which means that I have a good-sized group of locally employed staff. Talking with them is a great way to start learning about the language and culture of Mali. At my apartment compound, we have local guards, and I’ve been trying to learn bits and pieces of Bambara from them, which is fun. My French has returned, if not fully then at least to a conversational extent.

I’m not mobile yet, and so I depend on others who are doing things to pick me up. People are great sports about it, though, which is a relief. The embassy community is great: friendly and supportive. There’s a real mix of agencies, which is interesting: NIH, USAID, CDC, NGOs, and so on.

Thus far I’ve tagged along on trips to the zoo and botanical gardens, a little Westerner-owned bar called the Sleeping Camel which has low-key trivia now and then, and two restaurants. I’ve also been to several people’s homes, which are huge here. It’s a relief to come home to my two bedroom, two-and-a-half bath gigantic apartment!


I’ll definitely supply more impressions (and pictures) as time goes on, but overall I’d say the heat and dust, the friendliness of both Malians and Americans, and the Niger River are my top contenders. I’ve crossed the river several times by car, and each time it looks a little different, a little wild… and still, the buildings along its banks remind me of the huge city teeming with all kinds of people. Fascinating!