Thoughts from Limbo

My roommate just left to move into her homestay and I’m left with a quiet room for thinking. Actually, I lie. I’m on the computer in our downstairs living room and my professor’s daughters are being loud and watching “There’s Something about Mary.” But I’m currently eating/drinking a watermelon sorbet that I threw together after lunch (mash up the pink flesh, add sugar and sports drink mix, freeze and stir occationally. Ready to serve in 5 hours). It’s pretty much the most delicious thing I’ve eaten thus far in Mali. Have I mentioned that it’s hot here? The rainy season is over and the landscape is becoming drier and dustier. It’s almost like fall except that it will get hotter instead of cooler.

There is definitely an air of change going through the house right now. We’ve returned from our two weeks of traveling, to Timbuktu and back, and are in a strange transition waiting to leave for our homestays and apprenticeships. It feels like there is an impossible amount of logistics to do in the next few days. But Mali doesn’t move at our pace; for example, our director needed to go to the bank today to pick up money for our daily stipend and final projects (yes! We’ve got a budget!). Except that it was closed because of Ramadan, a national holiday here, and when it’s open tomorrow, it’ll take her four hours of waiting. At least. American expectations, Malian realities.

I think that it’s starting to rub off because for the first time since arriving, I’ve felt the brief pangs of stress. We have just over five weeks left here and as we were plotting out our final research papers, projects, field trips, and classes, I couldn’t believe how much stuff we are trying to cram in. And not just by Mali standards, it’d be a lot for U of M (I think, I can’t remember).

Honestly, I’m just a little fearful of the homestay. Even though we’ve been here for over a month and a half, I haven’t had to speak/think in French all the time. I’ve got a good enough foundation, but I’m the type of person that likes to be as prepared as possible (okay, somewhat of a perfectionist). And that’s usually where my confidence comes from. Consequently I have a slight aversion to the inevitable mistakes that one makes when learning a foreign language. That hesitancy becomes a handicap when I need to do interviews and have deep discussions on contemporary art with my mentor.

Okay, I know, I need to get over it. It’ll be fine.

Actually, I know it’s going to be more than fine. The family that I am living with is my coordinator’s brother-in-law and is quite wealthy: air conditioning, plasma screen tv, chauffeur, real beds, etc. He and his family have expressed an interest in learning English so we’ll all be at the same stage and need to have the same amount of patience. Finally, one other girl from our program will be living with me and I’ll have her as my linguistic safety net whenever I need to speak English.

It’s interesting how the unknown becomes something we fear. Confidence then is knowing that you can adapt and overcome such situations. That’s one of the core skills of an experienced travel. I know I can do this in English-speaking countries but now it’s time to push my comfort level. Isn’t that why I chose this program in the first place?