So the good thing about having a tailor as your neighbor...

... is that it's quite convenient to drop off new material, chat with the apprentices, and politely inquire as to whether one's garments are finished.  (All estimates of dates of completion are just that, estimates.  So I spend a lot of time practicing the Pular/French phrase, "Pantalon gayni?" or, "Are the pants done yet?")

The problem is, the more time I spend in Tierno Boubacar's tailor shop, the more I covet all the materials and all the styles I see... so I keep buying more fabric.  Hey, it's good to support neighborhood businesses, right? 

So I've promised pictures for a long time

And today I finally have united: a laptop, my camera, an internet connection, and electricity.  And it's working!  Let's see how many photos I can get posted before something goes wrong :)

This is the terrace of Mariama's house, where I live: I spend a lot of afternoons hanging out with her here.  She sells bags of peanuts, fried doughballs, lollipops, and oranges, and her location is great: we're at the crossroads of the paved road and the gravel road that leads down to the towns of Redufellow, Telire, and Afia Madina. 

And this is me and my counterpart, Diouma Fleur, at the waterfalls of Kambadaga.  Yes, part of my job is go hiking to beautiful places and take pictures.  How did I get this lucky? 

And this is the view from my terrace.  Amazing, eh?  This is looking north across the valley; Afia Madina is on the valley floor; Mitty is higher up, in the distance. 

Here's my house: I have two rooms on the right hand side of the house; the left hand side is for Mariama's husband when he visits Sebhory. 

Here is Hassanatou, my constant companion (or at least, that's what she wishes... she's even asked if she can sleep at my house.  But my bed is small!)  She is six years old-- she'll be starting first grade next year. 

And here is Diouma again, holding up a honeybee comb while Brittany, another Agroforestry volunteer, looks on.  Admire the appropriate technology of the Kenyan-style beehive!
OK, that's enough photos for one day-- I don't want to push my luck. 

Ponco-pancannagol

This Pular verb means: to play in the mud.  It's the perfect verb for what I've been up to this morning:

This is a foyer ameliore, also known as a mud cookstove.  It's pretty basic: you start with the traditional 3 rocks that are used to hold up the cooking pot, but add a hefty ring of mud that encases the rocks and forms a wall that goes right up to the "ears" (handles) of the cooking pot (visible just behind the stove-- I did get just a bit of mud on the cooking pot during the construction).  You leave an entry for firewood to go in, and leave a finger's width of space between the mud wall and the sides of the cooking pot, for heat and smoke to escape, and voila, a way to cook that uses less firewood, and (I think this is the biggest selling point) is a lot less dangerous for little kids: it's all too easy for a toddler to trip and fall into an open fire, or upset a pot balanced on three rocks; the mud cookstove keeps the fire out of reach of kids, and is a more stable base for a cooking pot. 

The local Eaux et Forets agent for Sebhory, Mr. Sacko, is interested in trying these stoves out in Sebhory, so we've started with this one, at Ayende's house.  She's one of the few women in the tree nursery group that Sacko organized, so he volunteered her as the mud stove guinea pig: once this one dries, she's going to try cooking on it and let us know how it works.  Since it's just mud, we can make a lot of changes in the next generation if this one doesn't work well: we can add smoke holes, make the space for the fire in the middle bigger or smaller, adjust the opening for firewood or add a second firewood opening if she likes, or have the pot sit higher or lower (too low and there's not enough space for a fire; too high leaves too much space for heat to disperse). 

So, wish us luck with the stove design-- I'm hoping I have lots more mud in my future.