Adamaden & the end

we had a party on my last night in village. it was all about the music. I thought about how much lives here revolve around it. they dance to it like a drug and play it from hangers during sex. I would imagine to cover their noise, and after a while to get a familiar rythme, a mutual motion. I thank Sidafa and Souleymane for running the show. Adamaden.

speaking of, work hard because people always need help. I should know, and it can be very constructive if done properly. be selfish and help those who help you. [unless you're perfect. and be sure not to make a mistake about whether you are or not. but I guess that's such a self-defined, subjective thing that those who think themselves as perfect wouldn't really understand what I'm writing. I wouldn't have before all this]

I feel responsible to write that there's always time for play. if you make the most of it, there's more time for working. [I'm used to liking longer stints of leisure that don't return as much pleasure, like not more than the pleasure I would get out of helping people with my hard work. savior complex? is this related to Adamaden? I wouldn't have realized any of this before coming and staying and loving]

then there's time for neither, for all other sorts of things. eye-openers, both beautiful and spiritual. the times you can't describe, so unique that few would understand. these experiences must be inextricably tied to your individuality, your freedom. [the savior is freedom. Adamaden?]

I wanted to write about being on my motorcycle from manantali. it makes me feel good to understand how it moves, how I move it. how to wield it. it augments freedom in our unpredictable world. [I hope I can remember to take all this wisdom, the foundations for truth and enlightenment, to the new world.] there's so many ways to ride, and they're all pretty fucking fun. so make the most out of the time you get with that pleasurable freedom.

just take whoever's most satisfying and help, work up a sweat, to return the favor. Adamaden.

manantali diyata, but I won't talk about how much so. peace Peace Corps.

I think

villagers eat fast with big handfuls til they're stuffed because that's the only way to put down food when you're missing teeth and the rest need root canals.

women are shown just as much respect here as in the states, just in completely different ways

here love is more responsibility than passion or lust

you can't understand a foreigner until you speak his language, unless you have compatible souls

rules suck, I ain't hurtin anyone; fuck you and whatever you think you can hold over my head

my personal destiny would hurt some; my personal destiny is far away on an island with my love and lovemakings; I just wanna fish or climb trees or have sex or hold my kids

I've probably lost it here, though locals have been very excited to accept me as their own; I've lost it and in that I've figured out what I really want and everything else doesn't mean shit compared to it

the more I talk about things the less likely they'll happen

I should shut up now.

the holiday season, pt. III (this is why mali's hot)

ran up to manantali for xmas. good showing but I knocked myself out early. don't really wanna talk about any of the american bullshit, other than the fact that I love how generous and affectionate the other volunteers are. I don't know if it's mali or just a different breed, but they're all good people nonetheless. I guess accepting this lifestyle and coming all the way out here takes a special kind of person, which is something we all obviously share.

all I really wanna say now is that mali is the shit. it's the people, and the daily struggle for survival, the value they place on relationships and the safety net of social bonds that are secured. it can be suffocating, but it's taught me many lessons. I know these realizations are all just reflections of what I was lacking before I came here. I think maybe these things usually come inherently with people. so I thank my god for peace corps.

peace corps is good this way. not for development work or demonstrating to the rest of the world that some americans give a shit (because a lot of people would like to see peace corps' tax-suck cut), but for the work it does on twisted souls like myself; the unique combination of relative asceticism, of cooperation and compassion in order to cope, and of falling in love with a culture so apparently contradictory to mine, have all come together to open my eyes and soul to the unity of humanity. the possibility of peace across nations, across neighbors.

but then I wonder: is it peace corps, is it me, or is it this place? you look deeper, because you can get an intense cultural experience without peace corps, you can value hard work and people in poverty without coming here, and things that concern me, well, only concern me. peace corps has certainly been the vehicle for my poor ass, and the place, well...

there's something here in mali that's rare in west africa: lack of civil discord in the midst of so many ethnic groups, despite all the same overwhelming deficiencies in economy, health and sexual equality. it makes the falling in love with here a double-edged sword, a bloody sock in the jaw. nevertheless I can comment with awe on how tranquil the southern half of this country is, while basically all of her neighbors are fighting or notorious for their sour people and discontent.

so despite all the negatives, all the surrounding bullshit, mali is duly deserving of credit. it lets people leave without a suspicion of africa, without a pessimistic opinion on its future. it has become cliche, but mali has provided me an intangible and often times inexpressible "hope for change" - change in a place that is literally dying for it.

I'll wrap up the rambling with a happy new years wish to everyone. spent mine as usual - booze, dancing, fireworks. save the actual day, when we happened upon the most unregulated carnival probably in the world. driving bumper cars drunk, spinning swings that you know go way too fast to be safe, ghost-riding the pirate ship and lighting fireworks for the rich malian daters. we lit that place up, the malians fuckin loved it.