Memories in Mali

“She’s an older lady, well kind of, she’s old but not, and she’s a retired English teacher… trust me you’ll like her.” This was something of the introduction I got for Mrs. M.L. When I saw her bright smiling self, wrapped in her cheetah jacket, come out of the airport terminal in Bamako, I understood what they meant. I don’t think anyone could not like Mrs. M.L. In her late 60’s, Mrs. M.L with the consent of her “very old husband” (her words not mine) has been coming to Mali for the past 5 years with her Church to minister to a remote tribe in the south east. This trip was the first she made alone and so I was there to be a companion, a driver and a partner. To say Mrs. M.L. is a character is an understatement. Her grey hair and her charisma give her a free pass to say just about anything she wants among her people group in Mali and she takes full advantage of this.  In each of the villages we visited, the chiefs and elders were eager to greet and laugh with Mrs. M.L. and Mrs. M.L. never let an opportunity pass to speak the truth to these very animistic people.

Fun stories from my time with Mrs. M.L.

Mrs. M.L. asks a lot of questions of both me and our translator, Shea. Most of the questions were legitimate but some were impossible to answer like, “What was the chief thinking?” The hardest question of the week came while we were studying in our mosquito tents inside the thatch church building where we slept, “Vickie, Where is the story of Ruth?” “Well Mrs. M.L. I believe that story is in the book of Ruth.” I replied with a broad smile. She looked at me for a moment then laughed and said, “That was a very kind way to answer that question!”

 

As the week went on, Shea and I became very good at preempting Mrs. M.L. request. I realized as I was getting ready to leave the hut that Mrs. M.L. had left the picture prints she was taking to the villages as we visited sitting on the chair. I took them and put them in my bag. She often forgot them, so as I exited Shea asked if I had gotten the photo’s for Mrs. M.L. and told them they were in my bag. We both went and sat down under the tree by the truck where Mrs. M.L. was reading. As we all got ready to go Mrs. M.L. exclaimed, “Oh no I left the pictures in the hut and it’s all locked up again!.” Shea said, “You worry too much, don’t worry. All I have to say is pictures come, and they will come to me.” Mrs. M.L was incredulous, “Oh give me the keys and I will go get them!” she began checking in her purse to be sure they were not there. Shea continued, “You don’t believe me? You worry too much. Pictures come!” I passed the pictures from my bag to Shea’s hand behind his back. “Viola!” he exclaimed.

 

The best moment could have also been the worst. As we drove along the bumpy back roads from time to time Mrs. M.L. would call out for me to stop so she could take pictures of the scenery or of the people. On one such occasion we happened to be crossing a bridge and Mrs. M.L. very much wanted a picture of a fisherman in the water. I thought she would take the picture from the truck and then we would move on but she instantly jumped out and ran to the front of the truck to get a better picture. We were out in the middle of nowhere, no vehicles had passed us the whole ride until that point. I looked ahead of us and knew we were in trouble. There were border control cops up ahead and no sooner had I seen them then one raced up on his Moto. Mrs. M.L. not realizing who he was tried to motion for the Moto to go around so that she could continue to take her picture. Shea got Mrs. M.L. back onto the truck and we pulled off the bridge to go deal with the cops. I told Mrs. M.L. “Okay just stay in the truck, Shea and I will take care of this.” I had been in French speaking West Africa for about 8 months by this time and so was very use too the police check routine. Most the time you just stand and smile and nod your head and show your papers and let them say whatever they want to say about you until they eventually give you your papers back. This time they were making a big deal that I stopped on the bridge and I was “blocking the way” again we had passed not a single vehicle on the way there and for the ten minutes that the angry police officer lectured the point not a single vehicle passed on the road. I was blessed in this instance with Shea because usually I would have to struggle through my limited French Vocab to express my regret in blocking traffic and admit that I was a dumb woman driver but this time Shea did all that for me and I only had to stand and look pitiful. As Shea and I joined Mrs. M.L. in the truck and I started the engine to pull off, Mrs. M.L. was very quiet for a while. I began to feel guilty for the stern way I told her to stay in the truck. I turned to see what she was feeling, She leaned toward me and said, “I would just like to say that all this money stuffed in my underpants is really starting to get uncomfortable.” Apparently my, “stay in the truck” command, had translated to Mrs. M.L. “Hide all the money!” which since we were in the village we had to have a stock of smaller bills (since there are no banks or ATMs you have to have a supply). She had stuffed the entire stock into her underwear. I pulled off the road so she could go “relieve” herself in the privacy of the bush. I laughed until I had tears in my eyes.

 

Oh, Mrs. M.L. was more than a little fun. She kept me laughing and so busy, the entire two weeks. I kept asking “Aren’t you jet lagged? Don’t you get tired?” “I’ll sleep when I get to America!” She loves every person she meets but she especially loves the little ones.

One little fellow in particular named Karim holds a special place in her heart. Back when Karim was just an infant Mrs. M.L. helped snatch from deaths door. Karim’s mother had died and as was tradition in the area there was no close relative to nurse the baby and so he was slowly starving to death. It was late one night when someone put the baby in Mrs. M.L. arms and told her the baby was dying. She made the appropriate contacts and got Karim to a hospital where they put IV’s in him and brought him back into health. She stayed with him while they were starting the initial treatments and made sure that they had all they needed to continue to care for Karim. Karim’s aunt and Grandmother are extremely thankful to Mrs. M.L. for the interest she took in Karim and whenever she is in town they take Karim to see her every day. Unfortunately Karim is not so grateful. Karim is now about 3 years old, many children that age in the village can be afraid of white people and will run and scream and hide behind their parents. Generally if you offer a few kind words and with some coaxing from their parents they will warm up and come greet and shake your hand… not Karim. From the time he catches sight of Mrs. M.L. until his grandmother muffles him as she leaves he screams top notch. That kid is horrified of white people. Mrs. M.L. just laughs and smiles and says “that’s gratitude for you!” And every day without fail you can hear Karim being drug by his grandmother to go greet the woman who helped save him. Each day, Mrs. M.L  presents him with some candy to try to win him over. Mrs. M.L. is convinced that Karim remembers that she was there when he was being poked and given shots as an infant.

Two other little ones, know to her as the “Troubles” also hold a special place in her heart. The troubles are the two youngest twin daughters to our host family. They have 7 older siblings, they are the cutest pair, but they are trouble. Each evening we had a special time for the children to come and color biblical pictures after we told a story using them. There was a limited supply of markers so I manned the marker box and asked them to return their marker before getting a new one. (by ask I mean demonstrated, they didn’t speak English).  The Troubles immediately saw this as a challenge. They were no longer interested in coloring but in seeing how many markers they could sneak from the bucket unnoticed. At first I was oblivious, there were a lot of kids and they were very sly. But soon I noticed a cache of markers stored around the Troubles and began to recollect them. War ensued. The Troubles (laughing and giggling all the while) began to double team their effort in the marker conquering. And soon one jumped on my arm as the other scooped the remaining markers and ran. The markers were not returned until their older sister, Millie, (9 years old and tough as nails) got on their case.

Millie, was Mrs. M.L. special helper. Each night it was her job to pass out a candy to each of the people present at the storying. She took her role very seriously. One day there was a man who came in a bit drunk to listen with the kids and youth, after a few minutes he fell fast asleep in a seated position. When Millie got around to him she held out a candy to him, when he did not respond because he was snoring, she knocked his head around a bit until he woke up and took his candy. Another time as she was walking around the circle passing out candy she ran out and went back to the bag for more, when she resumed where she left off a kid who already had taken a candy reached his hand out for another. She looked at him squarely and without a word pushed him over backwards off his seat, you don’t mess with Millie.

 

Over the past five years the children have become a part of Mrs. M.L. heart. She knows each of the 9 children by name, their ages, how they are doing in school. And she has become deeply invested in them. When I think of Mrs. M.L. I hope I am like her one day. She was already older than 60 when she began her journeys to Africa. She didn’t have to come, she every right to stay home and enjoy retirement with her “very old husband.”  She had already given years of her life to educating American youth. But she continued unafraid to do and learn more of what God wanted from her. She denied her “rights” as Christ did for us. Philippians 2:5-11. And I also must give kudos to her “very old husband” who, because of health reason was unable to join his wife physically on her journeys to Africa but in every other way supports her.