Getting by with a little help

We've just completed a week of training the interviewers for the nutrition survey and did a full day of pilot-testing in a village located about an hour outside of Bamako yesterday, in Kolokani. The team is fantastic – most of the interviewers are public health or medical students who seem motivated to learn and enthusiastic about doing a good job collecting data. The questionnaires have been translated from English into French and now the interviewers will read the questions in French but will conduct the interviews in Bambara. A few of the interviewers have decided to teach me a phrase of Bambara a day. So far, I can say « Ani Sogoma » (hello), « I ni tié » (thank you), and « Ne Togo Shelby » (My name is Shelby). The reactions from native speakers is hysterical, it’s definitely a great ice breaker since it always generates a smile, if not a hearty laugh.

Yesterday I sat under a tree and observed one of the interviews with a mother of 5 while she prepared lunch – ground flour and water mixed into a thick porridge over an open fire. Like many adults here, she was missing teeth and wore a t–shirt torn at the shoulders and flip flops, and her children were right by her side the entire time. She was such a gracious hostess, offering me a sturdy wooden chair to sit in and offered the interviewer a short wooden stool so that we didn’t have to sit on the ground. She waved me over to try my hand at stirring the pot and it was stiff so I stirred it slowly. She smiled at me and took the wooden paddle out of my hands and started to stir – but about 20 times faster than I had mixed the pot. I felt so pathetic watching her working so hard while I could barely stir at a fraction of her pace, but we all laughed together and pointed at our biceps.

Midway through the interview, school was out for lunchtime and a dozen older kids walked by and, seeing us, ran over. Every single of one them shook my hand and greeted me, smiling and looking at me with wide, curious eyes, elbowing each other for their turn to shake my hand. Just as quickly as they had arrived, they were once again on their way. I couldn't stop smiling for about 10 minutes. They were absolutely adorable.

I loved being in the village. I felt totally awkward yet surprisingly relaxed. It was ridiculously hot yesterday (about 96F) and not a cloud in the sky, I felt like I was getting burned through my long sleeve shirt, long pants, hat, sunglasses, and 45SPF. Sitting under a huge, old tree after completing the first round of interviews I relaxed and started to appreciate the art of just sitting. I watched some of the interviewers take a plastic teapot of water and wash their hands, mouth, face, and feet before going into the mosque to pray. We shared oranges and peanuts, and this wild fruit called sousoum – it looks like an artichoke on the outside but it grows on trees and when you crack it open like a nut, the seeds are black and larger than watermelons, but the fruit is white and sweet. While I was observing another interview, a women walked over and said, « Shelby ! Try this ! » (By the way, people often go by their last names here, so for days this woman called me Wilson.)

The survey team won’t let me take myself too seriously, it’s great. They help me with my French vocabulary and are very forgiving when I botch the grammar. I gave a presentation on measuring mid-upper arm circumference (the primary indicator of nutritional status in kids) during training on Wednesday, basically reading my PowerPoint, but was surprised by how smoothly it went. A couple of interviewers even volunteered to help demonstrate how to take the measurements and I was very grateful for their willingness to help. In the middle of the presentation, I asked the group how to say a word, and afterwards, one of the interviewers came up to me and opened my French-English dictionary and pointed out the word, so that I would know how to spell it. They’re a very patient group.

There are 13 interviewers, 2 data entry guys, 4 supervisors, and 4 drivers. En route to the village yesterday, 4 of us rode « en Tortur », as they call the back of land cruiser where there are 2 fold-down seats that seat 4 (without luggage). I cracked up when I heard the term, because it’s true – every time the car goes over a bump, hits a pot hole, or leaves the paved road, I feel like I need a helmet. One of our transport vehicles is an ambulance – a white 4x4 with enough seating in back for 10!

We were jamming to Alpha Blondy when our car stopped suddenly on the main road between towns and the driver ran behind the car. I wondered what on earth was going on, a flat tire? Nope, he continued running and picked up a some small creature lying in the road and ran back to the car, tossing the bird (which looked like a falcon) between the spare tire and the rear window. I let out a screech as the bird hit the window and my eyes were watering because I was laughing so hard. The 3 guys trapped in Tortur with me did not know what to do with me, so they just laughed, too. When we arrived at the town, the drivers presented the bird to the village chief. Some cultures bring a bottle of wine to a host, others bring roadkill. Awesome.