"Get out of the van, welcome to the Peace Corps. See you in a few weeks."

I'm back in civilization (Toubaniso) for a few days so I have access to internet. How about a few stories, eh? This one will seem very sarcastic, but in truth I'm actually enjoying my current surroundings. I'm living in Bononkoro(sp??) at the moment, a sprawling slumish town of about 8000 people roughly 16K from Bamako, the capital city. No internet, electricity, running water, or good food. There are 6 of us living here with different host families, and I'm the only guy. Here is literally how my first day went:

Get up, eat breakfast at Toubaniso, get briefed as to what our "village" is for homestay, and have a final few hours to pack and hangout. Get in the van with the other five people from my "village" and the four people going to the next village down the road. Start driving. About 30 minutes into our drive, we are moving through a larger populated area that resembles what you would expect to find on the other side of the fence of an African airport (it is actually just beyond the airport). The van pulls over. We are instructed to get out of the van. This does not resemble the "village" they made us believe we were going to. The "celebration" that they claim would happen for us does not appear to occur. Rather, we mingle around awkwardly as they unload our packs, talk to the "village" elders to explain why we're there, and then am told to give them the Kola nuts I'm holding (a major sign of respect in Mali). The staff in the van with us taught me what to say in Bambara to thank them and present them with the gift. I screwed up every word. Literally, every word. The elders did not seem impressed.

The people for the next village get back in the van and pull away onto the highway. My friend looks through the back window and waves as they disappear into the distance. That image will forever be burned into my brain. As will the sinking feeling of despair that also occurred at that time.

Our families come over to take us to our homestay compounds where we will be living the next few months. Mine is not there. Rather, some other man comes over from a local shop and motions for me to follow him. We begin walking into the depths of the "village" as everyone I pass stops and stares. I attempt to use all the Bambara I know at the time (I togo? Your name?). We get to a compound and they give me a seat in the middle of the compound. Everyone leaves except one of the children, who switches between staring at me and kicking the dog every five minutes or so.

After about 30 minutes a woman appears in the compound and motions for me to come with her. She tries to talk to me in Bambara. I look confused. She laughs a great deal. We walk through another section of the "village" until we get to another compound. Apparently this is actually my home? I'm taken over to my host father and presented. No one can pronounce my name. I take a seat on the bench across from him and another woman (one of his three wives, I later learn). Then the screaming begins.

I'm not really sure who was mad at who, but Adamand (my host dad) begins screaming in Bambara at the woman he is sitting with. She screams back. More people join in the screaming. I hope they are not yelling about me, though the only word I pick out from the whole ordeal was "Ameriki". Luckily I was warned by a current PCV that even though Malians get in some crazy arguments, they won't resort to physical violence. If I hadn't known that I probably would have fled. Literally these people were going at it as though they were going to violently end one another. This goes on for about ten minutes.

The fight ends abruptly. All the men storm off in one direction out of the compound. The woman, who is now crying hysterically, is led out of the compound in a different direction by the other women. I am now sitting alone in a compound on a metal bench, unsure of what to do. A girl (roughly 12 years old) appears and sits next to me. All I can learn from her in french is that she doesn't live there, she doesn't know anyone who lives there, and that she followed me here when I was being led through the "village." Very helpful.

Eventually, however, people slowly begin to return. I get laughed at a bunch, eat dinner with my hand, and spend my first night in Bononkoro watching the stars while listening to a soccer game on the radio in Bambara. What a day, to say the least.