and how was YOUR Saturday?

Warning: This post is the longest we've ever done. We thought it was time to give some details of life so grab whatever sustenance will get you through this and let us know what you think! I added some pictures to Our Life in Mali on Picasa. Just click on the slideshow to the right.
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Cheryl and I took all afternoon and evening to debrief one another on our Saturdays which we began and ended together but filled the middle with separate and extremely interesting stuff.
We ate breakfast out at Amandine, a nearby Lebanese pastry shop. Since I had to meet someone by 7:30, we went early and were joined later by Reynolds and McCabes. It's fun spending time with people of your kids' generation.
I ran off to meet the president of my Rotary Club. Since that happened first I'll go first. Hopefully when you get a sense of how much I learned or reviewed about Malian life and culture, you'll forgive me all the detail.
Our club was going to the opening of a large community garden for which we helped raise funds. The event was at Maraka Coungo, a town over an hour away on the Segou road. We were to meet at 8AM and head out together.

Hamadoun, our president, had told me Friday that he had a shirt made for me to wear. Since I didn't know what would go with it, I was still in jeans when he finally appeared at 7:45 with a shirt made of cloth the town had printed for the occasion. It fit a bit snugly, but Amadou said it looked fine.
Though we were late, only one person was waiting for us - a displeased person. He had been waiting since the appointed time and wondered why he was still alone. Only one other member would be joining us and two journalists from ORTM, the national TV and radio station.
Once they finally showed up, Hamadoun and I took them in my car, leaving 15 minutes before we were supposed to arrive an hour away.
The cameraman was quiet but the journalist was a walking, talking editorial with a loud opinion on everything. We tried to take a shortcut to the highway but had to take a detour on a bush track over an amazing little hill straight down into a village then finally reached the paved road. We'll have to wait for the 3rd bridge to get done before trying that again.
Just as we were leaving town on the highway, we came upon an accident. The journalist called out, "Wait we're doing a piece on the dangers of the road. Stop so we can film!" So we did and watched as someone performed CPR on a man I thought was dead until his leg moved a couple of times. When the journalists came back they told us what happened - a Mercedes was speeding into town and creamed two motorcycles. One guy was already dead and the one receiving CPR didn't look hopeful. They didn't know about the car's driver but we could see the very beat up Mercedes down in the creek bed facing the wrong way.
After that sobering scene I hesitated before passing people too quickly, but I had to pass. I think every vehicle that can't go over 50mph in Bamako left town by that road. Yet plenty of vehicles were heading into town as well so passing was, let's just say, a necessary adventure.
Our 9-year-old car began acting up. The gearshift that the mechanic fixed last week had trouble finding 5th gear and the temperature gauge went up to just under red alert. Sigh.
I did the trip in 4th and turned off the A/C, making Hamadoun happy because he didn't like that cold air anyway.
The journalist suddenly said, "Turn on ORTM; the news is on!" OK. We found out that one of his pieces was on. It's interesting listening to a news broadcast with the reporter sitting there with you. He was pleased with his report on a school that the staff and teachers closed down one day because the students are fighting over how to spend the money they made with a school dance. The last straw was when students began arming themselves before coming to school. Hamadoun takes it as a sign of Mali's cultural decline. The reporter thinks the students are crazy. They agreed that ultimately schools have to get control of their students and do a better job at educating them.
Finally we arrived, only 45 minutes late. No worries, the government minister who was coming hadn't gotten there yet either. So we sat and watched the hunters dance. Mali's hunter caste wields great spiritual power. These guys were wearing incredibly old outfits dyed in traditional colors and some with mud cloth designs. Most were covered with various charms. I won't do a blow-by-blow of the ceremony but here's some highlights:

• The mayor of that area had done an incredible job organizing the celebration. The courtyard of the "town hall" was packed with people, many wearing the uniform cloth like my shirt. All went smoothly and people were obviously having a good time.
• Every musician who played immediately attracted a few older people both men and women who danced to their music.
• Malian traditional dance, even the hunters, is not dark or sensual in any way. It's just people having fun together.
• One woman had a hunter's outfit over her regular clothes. Her "charms" were hundreds of bottle caps tied to her waist. She obviously had responsibilities for the day's events, but I never figured out why she was dressed so unusually.
• While a troupe of little girls were dancing a stilt dancer entered the ring, thus guaranteeing that no one would pay any attention to the girls. They kept dancing anyway.
• The minister did most of his speech in Bambara. He told the people that education is fine but we have to train our young people how to work and provide opportunities for them. Some will need to farm so parents can help get them some decent equipment by actually paying the loans they take for tractors or plows, thus making future loans more likely.
• At least three little boys were wearing Obama shirts.
• We stood less than five feet from the well drill out at the garden site as it began its inaugural run. The crowd quickly increased its distance when they realized how much dust was going to be raised...

After a fun lunch and learning more about local and national events, we headed home. I discovered that in spite of having two mechanics work on my car in the last two weeks, the radiator was low on water. Note to self, check it yourself. On the way home I discovered how to get it in 5th gear so enjoyed the trip home far more than the way out, except for all the passing I had to do. A lot of passing I had to do twice because we stopped for vegetables on the side of the road under the shade of a cashew tree. The vegetable ladies were Dogon and our reporter friend was "their slave" so it took awhile for everyone to quit insulting each other and actually buy and sell.
I got home with shoes so dusty you could plant grass on them and found Cheryl full of news about her day as well.
After breakfast, she had gone with our coworkers to the American embassy's parking lot for a yard sale. We've never been to one before, and she had fun. They set up tents for the vendors. She says she got me something for my birthday (already?) and found some cheap cans of tuna and some snack mix, the latter ending up totally rancid. She also had bought vegetables that looked like they could have come from an American grocery store. Happily we knew that they would be better quality since we are much closer to the source than one is in the U.S.
After coming back from the sale she talked a long time with our sister-in-law Amy on Skype so there was lots of family news. Amy encouraged Cheryl to look into having a house built while we're in the States next so we went to a builder's website and dreamed for awhile.
By then it was time to go out to dinner with friends we've known since our very first week in Mali. Scott and Mary work with a different mission, but we share many of the same ideas, struggles, and heart issues. We met them at Cheryl's favorite restaurant, Le Relais. By sharing meals we were able to treat ourselves without totally killing our calorie count for the day. Our evening ended with waffles for dessert at Scott and Mary's house then prayer for one other before heading home to bed.
A full day, indeed.