The Village |
||
Three days after our arrival, our group drove to a village 50 kilometers away where Cherif’s father had grown up. We left the morning after the New Year’s Eve party at Salif’s house, and by the time we arrived in Nana-Kenieba (four hours later) we were covered in red dust from the road. On the way we stopped at Siby, where we had drinks and stretched our legs. All the kids of course came out to gawk at us; it was the same whereever we went. "Toubabu!" they would cry, and come up to hold our hands, say "Bonjour", and as often as not ask for money or candy. I went over and began the traditional greeting process: How are you? How’s your mother? How’s your father? How’s your wife? They all turned red and giggled at the last question.
|
||
| Cherif’s father was born here; he became a health worker and
returned to found a clinic and implement safer water systems. The last weekend we spent in
Mali, there was a baptism in Nana Kenieba: they were naming the school there after
Cherif’s father. Special commemorative cloth had been printed up and t-shirts were
made for the occasion. The kids work in the school garden year round, and the proceeds
from the sale of the vegetables go towards school supplies. We spent the first four days
of the new millenium in the village, playing with the kids, learning about daily life,
hiking, and talking with the young men who spoke French.
|
||