Letters from Mali

Susan Tidwell is a medical missionary in Kenieba, Mali, Africa. Carol Ann Vaughan, associate professor of history at Judson College, is Susan's friend. Susan and Carol Ann correspond by email and these letters are being published as a continuing story of Susan's efforts and experiences in Mali.

Latest Note from Susan Tidwell in Mali: June 7, 1999

Hi Y'all!

Sorry its been so long since I wrote but our e-mail has been having problems. Sometimes it works to send/receive a message or two and then doesn't work for days. With all of us trying to use the e-mail, I don't get letters out often.

I went out to the village my second weekend back in Mali with Christy and Mamadou. Mamadou was visiting from Guinea where he works with another people group team. He and another team member and Shirley were doing survey work. He came to the village with us to see what village living is all about.

It was great to see everyone is the village again and it was very nice to be back. It was also nice to have Mamadou with us as he was able to share with many. As we were walking down the mountain on Sunday, a man in another village stopped us and said that we always passed through his village going somewhere else but we never stopped. He asked that we stop and greet him and his family sometime. We agreed to stop and visit the next week.

The next Thursday, Christy and I walked up the mountain with the dogs, Tigo and Samba. At the base of the mountain, we met some ladies from our village who were walking back from the market in Kenieba. At first they were terrified at the size of my two dogs, but soon realized how gentle they are. As we neared the first village, they suggested that I put them on their leashes, however, they insisted on holding the leashes. It seemed to be quite a point of honor as women passed off babies on their backs and the loads on their heads in order to hold the leashes. It was a good thing I put them on their leashes--it was the first time they'd ever seen sheep and goats at close range and I think the temptation would have proved too much for them.

They proved this observation when we passed the village and let them off their leashes and immediately came across a herd of goats and they totally forgot what "no" meant. We put them on a leash again as we walked into our village. Our courtyard was full that night as everyone came to see the dogs.

Saturday, Christy, Keturah, Sambali, the dogs (including Sambali's), and I walked 45 mins. to Sambali's field to plant millet. Unfortunately, the millet had not arrived so we walked another 20 - 30 mins. to a small farming community where his uncle lived and picked up a chicken for his father. We visited there for quite a while, helping to clear one field and joining a whole family in planting millet in another. We left with gifts of mangoes, rice and peanuts.

We arrived back at our village tired but it had been a very enjoyable morning and Christy and Keturah even had blisters to show how hard they had worked. We also arrived to find that Flake (f-la-kay), a friend from Bamako, had arrived to spend the rest of the weekend with us. It was great to spend time with Flake and to have him there to talk with many of our friends in the village. He shared his testimony many times while he was there.

That night the head of one of the political parties in Mali was there and five villages joined together to have a Jankuran dance in his honor. Despite a rain shower, the dancing went on far into the night. Because of the intermittent rain, we had to sleep in the hut which was just a bit small for three women and two large dogs. Flake slept in a borrowed hut in our courtyard. He and a number of men sat, drank tea and talked about spiritual things.

Before the Jankuran, the women danced. We left early to go back to our courtyard and cook, especially since we had a guest. The villages went together and slattered several sheep in honor of the deputy. They brought us some meat as our part. We thought that was so thoughtful. Anyway, we cooked supper and washed up and had finally sat down to relax when two women neighbors came over, stood outside our fence and called, "Fanta, come to the ____ with us."

I walked over to the fence, using my flashlight so I could see. "Go where?" I asked. "To the _____, in the bush," they said. Puzzled, I said, "I don't understand that word." Giggling, one of the women squatted down and made a rude noise with her mouth. Laughing, I said, "You want me to go the the bathroom with you?" "Yes, come to the bathroom with us," they laughed. It was quite an experience! Even here, women apparently go in groups.

Sunday, as we left, the chief walked us to the path (an important part of village hospitality). As we turned to go, he looked at my dog, Tigo--which means peanut, and said, "You know, we eat peanuts here." "I know," I said, "But Tigo is just his nickname. His real name is Dugutigo (which means village chief). "Oh," said the chief, "My namesake."

We walked down the mountain stopping to greet the man in the other village. He was so excited that we had come that he immediately gave us a chicken. Then he asked what we were doing in the other village. Flake explained and then shared his testimony. The man said he wanted to know more and asked if we had some material he could read as he was literate in Bambara. We promised to bring him some on our way to the village the next week.

We were just getting ready to leave when we noticed a really sick baby in his courtyard. They had already been through an expensive prescription and it hadn't helped at all. We told them if they came down sometime during the week, we would help them get some more medicine. The woman said she would be down Tuesday and her husband suggested that we could send the Bible back with her.

The lady did come down on Tuesday and we gave her some medicine for amoebas and also gave her a Bible for her husband. I was pretty tired still from the 7 - 8 mile walk up the mountain on Thursday, the long hike to the fields on Saturday where we worked with a short handled hoe all morning, and then walking the 7 - 8 miles back to the mission on Sunday. I'm getting in good shape though.

The next weekend was our last in the village until after rainy season. I didn't take the dogs this time and everyone seemed really disappointed. We did go to Sambali's field again and this time the millet was there. We worked for several hours, with bent backs in the hot Malian sun while being attacked by flies. We got a lot done though and everyone made us promise that we would be back to help with the millet harvest.

On the way back to Kenieba, we stopped again to greet the man and his family. We found him reading his Bible. He had already read a good bit of the Old Testament. He had apparently been talking to his neighbors about what he'd been reading. He said that there were over 40 who were willing to commit to a Bible study and he thought there were as many as 70, but he hadn't talked to everyone yet. The wonderful thing is that most of these men are older and the head of their extended families. We promised to come back after rainy season and start a Bible study there. By the way, the baby was doing fine. the diarrhea had completely stopped and she was eating well.

The next week Christy, Keturah, Karl and his boys, Bala Moussa, and I went to greet in several villages. These are three villages where possibly Christy and the Bushs might live or they may choose to live where Christy, Keturah and I were living and Keturah and I would live in one of these other villages. We are all praying about where God would have us. We had really good visits. It was great to see old friends again. In one village they even took us into the mosque. It has a wonderful thatch roof and I've always wanted to see inside. We all used it as a time of prayer for the village.

Shirley, Karen and I are in Bamako now. We will be leaving for the Gambia on Monday, by way of an overnight stop in Senegal, for our cluster's spiritual retreat. The rest of our team will be coming later in the week on a charter plane that isn't big enough to take all of us. They only have 4 - 6 hours a day of electricity in Bamako and the water is off and on as well so we elected to stay in a hotel where they have a generator so we have air and can sleep at night. Of course, its not a lot better in Kenieba where our generator is broken down again, the 120 volt isn't working at my house and the solar power is very low. Oh well, that's life.

I've really enjoyed hearing from everyone, however, our e-mail is very primitive since it is via radio and there are 14 people using our system. It is also very slow, requiring over an hour to receive approximately 300 bytes. Please take me off any group mailing lists and please do not forward e-mails to me. As much as I enjoy these things, it isn't fair to the team for me to tie up the system for so long, especially when it doesn't work for days at a time. However, I love getting personal letters and I very much want to stay in touch with each of you.

You are very important to the work here. I appreciate your prayers and encouragement and knowing what is happening in your life. Thank you for being a part of what God is doing among the Malinke people.

Joyfully,
Susan Tidwell

Susan's Letter of April 10, 1998
Susan's Letter of March 13, 1998
Prayer Letter (March 3, 1998)
Susan's letter of February 24, 1998