I have an overwhelming urge to write down what I am grateful for. One day, on a long drive, at one of the many check points that make you wanna die because you're sitting in a tiny van packed with kids and the wind is no longer blowing through the windows, these kids that approached us were especially aggressive. Cadeau? Bidon? Bic? Chemise? (present? bottle? pen? tshirt?) I got so fille with sadness and undeniable inability to help that it quickly turned to frustration. You have to ignore it after a certain point. Being here, above all else makes me realize what a beautiful life there is waiting for me at home. I constantly make lists in my head, trying to remind mysef which things I always have to consider a privelege once I get home. Toooooo much.
I thought I would come back with all these, oh poo, America revelations, but no. I LOVE America.

I prayed with Ladji again, this time, he took my picture. It's funny, no part of my wants to convert to Islam, but no part of me finds anything strange about praying with him, it feels really great, calming, dhikr - to remember.
I've talked several times to my brother Moctar about my problems with violence. When he hits his sisters playfully (though it's a bit much for a 27 yr old for my taste), I shake my head, and I can see that it gets to him. He always like, "quoi?" He gets all well what do you expect? but I know he feels self conscious. His explanation, defense, is that words can more permenantly bruise someone, versus a slap, thats just in that moment. I told him you have to try to control words too, I'm not for verbal abuse either. Whats so great is that I feel like I can have these really honest conversations with Moctar, among others, not afraid to leave cultural relativity behind and without condemnng him for his actions say, it's not good to hit people, that teaches them nothing except to be afraid. When you know someone so well it becomes more difficult to just say, oh yes, this is what they do in Africa. Its this person I care about right in front of me, and we're able to have really open discussions.
my generalization of the day: Maliens are incredibly tolerant people. they have a very different lifestyle, yet no problem with mine. the religious tolerance, and beyond that, acceptance here is something to learn from.

So I just got back from sanakoroba again, conducting the first half of my interviews. I interviewed about13 individuals, men and women, about polygamy, relaxed, read, played with kids, thought about home mor than ever. if was the least busy time since I've been here because I had to wait for my translator to show up and take me to interviews. I ended up speeding things along and taking matters into my own hands a little more towards the end, conducting more informal interviews with random people I met, but these were all men. Because the women are busy. women are incredibly busy here, constantly working. If anythings going to bring them out of poverty it's the women.

so. one night. after hearing about this sweet dude that plays bob marley songs and jams out all day on his guitar, i went to sleep under the hut next to our lodgings. At 3am i was woken up by "could you be looooved...." sat up, and said, "megana! do you hear that?" my friend sleepily said yeah what is that? I replied excitedly "I think its that guy we were told about, the definitely sounds live!" I laid there trying to fall asleep, but decided I could not without checking out the "concert". So at three in the morning, I ran down the dark village road towards the blaring music and the bright lights, my chacos half on, giving me blisters. As I got closer, I started to wonder what in the world I was doing, and as the music became clearer, I realized, it's not live at all! After finding that all there was to see was some shadow dancing in the bliding lights, I hobbled back towards our hut, into darkness. I wondered if i'd even be able to find it, I couldn't see anything. but all was fine. I went back to sleep my heart pounding, feeling confused as to why I'd run down the road in the first place. I coulda sworn it was live.