All posts tagged: mali

on unions

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I’ve been appreciating unions of all sorts, lately. Union of the self’s many parts—finally, momentarily—into agreement. Re-union with friends and loved ones to celebrate birth, death, enduring loyalties, and good food (Maryland crab, true tacos, Korean BBQ, and the autumnal Brussels sprouts for which I’ve longed going on 2 years). Integration of mind, body, spirit…at least for a few days there, and I’m grateful. Coming together with families of all sorts to celebrate unions of love. A merging of what is and what could be, to—at last—catalyze change and shake things up a bit. Those unions stretch and grow and birth their natural successors in a longer cycle: partition, separation, division. And so it goes, riding the momentum I begin to separate the necessary and the true from what is inessential, extraneous, and damaging: The useless thoughts, the unclean foods, the toxic people, the burden of insecurity. It is the morning after a grand celebration; it is time to clean up, and move forward into daylight. Images from the weddings of: A close colleague, in Bamako, …

what’s to eat #18

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A meal for the ill (that’s me): rice water for rehydration, and comfort food, my favorite Malian dish, although probably not the most rehabilitating: Toukassou, from Timbuktu. Not much to look at, but she’s got flavor for days: chewy, bready balls slathered in a sauce of 14 spices, usually served with long-simmered beef or lamb (although I refrained, considering my flu-ish condition). Recipe at link above. Eaten underneath a traditional Bogolan blanket.

on pride, and being a Fraud Generalist

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There is a kind of pride that comes from recognition–for a job well done, or something you’ve created or produced. it’s exciting, validating, even motivating. But sometimes, in my case, that kind of pride is tainted with self-doubt. I cross my fingers hoping no one notices the cracks in the veneer, or the chips in the paint–the little defects that eat away at a sense of accomplishment. I duck out of the limelight because I figure if anyone got to the bottom of things, they’d realize i’m a Fraud Generalist at Life. It’s hard to take a big bite out of recognition; I’d rather nibble a bit, in case it turns out I don’t actually deserve what’s coming to me. But – but! – there is another sort of pride that is more buoying, and exhilarating: the pride that comes from contributing to someone else’s success. That kind of pride is my favorite, because it involves the ego-once-removed. if you’ve been a part of someone else’s journey to accomplishment, whether setting the stage, plotting the course, pushing (or …

on self knowledge and getting lost on purpose

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I asked them to go out on a limb for me. after 2 months of trainings, many Saturdays crammed into a small room with AC, learning the essentials of how to manage a field team, the final session was upon us. We had reviewed serious topics, we had loosened up with absurd charades,  we had dropped eggs from the roof to build morale. But for this last session, I asked them to forgo their notebooks, have a look inwards, and see what was written there. Early in the day I set up a hasty labyrinth in the courtyard with string, scotch tape, rocks and twigs. During the training, we talked about mindfulness, self-awareness, and the tools of meditation, and I asked for deep breaths and silence. In a wordless shuffle we headed outside, and I asked them to trust me, and to trust the labyrinth’s path. I also asked them to walk it slowly–slower than they imagined was possible. and they did. The thing about self-knowledge is that it’s floating at the surface, just near …

what’s to eat

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Exactly 340 kola nuts, to distribute to the chiefs of 34 villages as an opening remark. If you want to get anywhere au village, you’ve got to carry kola.* *Also used as wedding party favors, and munched on for a caffeine boost, among many other purposes.

on the rain

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In school history books, and cheesy movies, you learned about those ancient (and not so ancient) civilizations whose agricultural practices made them dependent upon fickle precipitation, and even more fickle gods. The rituals, the sacrifices, the offerings to appease the powers that were. anything for rain, anything for fertile fields and a promise of a full harvest. How strange to imagine someone high in the sky, debating whether or not to roll up their sleeves and wring out the clouds. Yet, working with farmers through a dry season, my relationship to rainfall has changed. Because now everything–everything–depends on that rain. Where I once saw puddling obstacles, or traffic jams, or the lowly absence of an umbrella, even a pleasant summer thunderstorm, I now see hope, and sprouting sprouts, and tremendous relief. When the wind gathers speed and the drops begin to fall, I’m elated, beyond thrilled, as are my colleagues. Because we would give almost anything for rain, for fertile fields, for a promise of a full harvest. And I can imagine – I can just see …