Changing Hosts

Okay, so I heard that I should update more, and in smaller doses, so here I go:

I'm sending out a character sheet, briefly detailing the relevant faces in my program.
Gryphon: Me.
Ousmane: My counterpart.
Pierre: My billet father.
Monique: My billet mother.
Lucy: Some lady that lives with us.
Franceline and Maud: My former work partners. Maud's on maternity leave now, and Franceline's contract just ran out.
Phillip and Sedio: CWY counterparts that work with us Mondays and Tuesdays. Philip's giving me French lessons.
Fanta: Mali woman whose counterpart quit the program. Used to work with us Wednesdays and Thursdays, but now only Thursdays.
Stephen and Abdulaye: The only ones other than us who legitimately live inside the city, so we see them a lot. Stephen used to be my chief translator, until I got good enough to manage by myself.
Hollyn and Aichatta: These two lived with us for four days after the first rotation camp because their billet family's house was under renovation.
Chris and Bernard: It's not so obvious with this pair, judging only by name, but Bernard's the Malian, and the only non-Muslim Malian in the group.
Julia and Rose: Their billet mother is the birth-mother of Franceline, my former work partner.
Scott and Boubacar: Scott's the only one in the group with a language disadvantage comparable to mine. Boubacar's the only not-bald Mali man.
Anne and Adiata: Anne's the only one in the group who has French as a first language. Adiata speaks English and was the one who thought I was a Mali traditionalist in that conversation I outlined.

We just had our mid-phase rotation camp. I was on the committee to organize it. Before we left, we held a presentation, where I acted for the first time as Rule Enforcer. I felt terrible. I can't say I enjoy this position. It went over pretty smoothly, though. I was thanked by those I criticized, and they were confused when I apologized. I said I wanted to deal with things privately, and everyone said no, it was better to deal with it in-group.

I really should have used the 'Speak French in-group' rule, to counter my obligation to enforce the rules.

During a break, Scott told me that, when he was researching Karadjé, he found my blog. We had a computer connected to one of those projectors. I refused to give the address for my blog, so they tried searching, found both my regular blog and my CWY blog, and it was projected over the room. So now I may have an in-group audience. Better keep that in mind.

During the mid-phase, we had to draw a picture of our host families and present it. Because I had little prep time, Madam Assan told me I could speak in English. I said no, I'd do it in French. Which I did, and it was understood. Of course, it was at the level of 'This is me. This is Ousmane. This is Pierre. Pierre has a pineapple. Pierre love pineapple.' Etc. Still, not bad, and I went a while. I even comprehended and responded to several questions in French.

Right now, I'm at the level where I can understand 40% to 60% of what I hear. 40% if I know the context, and 60% if I don't. If someone dumbs down the language and uses simple words, I can fully comprehend most things. I can usually express my ideas and oppinions, too, unless they're complex.

Somehow, I won a trip to Quebec City during mid-phase. It's weird, because it was a prize in an Olympic-theme competition, and me and Ousmane's team got last place, but both of us got the prize. The winners decided to share out the wealth to those who hadn't been to the city before. I said I'd been to Canadian cities before, and it would be more of an experience for the Malians, but for some reason, two Malians simultaneously backed out or something, and when the prize-winners were anounced, I was surprised to hear my name called.

The Griffon dog isn't named after me. It's actual name is Brian. When I started hearing them call it by that name, I asked them why, and I thought what they said to me was that they renamed the dog to avoid confusion around me, but what they were actually saying is that it's the name of the breed of the dog. Kind of strange, since there were a few slip-ups where they shouted 'Griffon!' and I mistook it for 'Gryphon'. I guess they were in the habit of calling their dog by the name of it's breed.

I'm... changing host families. It's a long story, and I don't even know if it's worth it, since there's only a month left in La Pocatier. That CTI I got is the halfway point to getting kicked out of the program, and, if my PL hadn't recognized that the person who got me there was... let's just say, 'not a good fit'... I would likely have been kicked out of the program by now.

Ugh... Unsettling Mali trivia

First of all, all the guys don't have beards because it makes their mothers angry. Only old people have beards, and I think it's because, as soon as your mother dies and there's nobody to be angry at you, you take your first opportunity to grow one. Right now, I'm imagining my billet mother in Karadjé, scowling at me and my beard.

The guys hold hands and dance with each other. All the Malians do that hand-jive thing. There's the standard handshake, the half high five, half handshake, the fist bump, and combinations like hand clap, over fist-bump, under fist-bump, forward fist-bump, heart thump. Sometimes I'll be doing this type of thing with the Malians, and one of them will forget it's not cool to hold hands in Canada, so instead of letting go, he'll just chill back, as if to say 'Yeah, we're just a couple of cool guys, holding hands' until he remembers or I remind him.

And, uh... Eating isn't the only thing they do with their hands that we'd find unsanitary. They use only their right hand when eating, because their left hand is for the... other end of the cycle. They wipe with their hands! I was a little startled, but it looks like us dainty, pampered Canadians even get our own toilet paper.