Some of the African booty that Carol brought home to give to family & friends.
No one should have an 8-hour stopover in Paris on their way back to the US from Africa without taking a taxi to the Eiffel Tower. Carol took the pretty picture and Doug dolled it up in Photoshop - he needs more to do. No job prospects for the near future. Carol is making a TuDu List. Doug is getting nervous enough that he is trying to find another job.
Carol, no doubt took this picture for me - I spotted the Smart Car in Europe years ago and have always wanted to drive one. Michael wants to hit the autobohn with a Mercedes 500, Doug wants to hit it with a Smart Car. Michael wanna race? (Race caveat: He who get better mileage wins.)
A short break from investigating the African artifacts.
While in Paris, might as well go from the Eiffel Tower to the Notre Dame Cathedral.
.
And as long as you are in Paris, you might as well go back again for overpriced coffee in a small outside cafe near the tower before you go to the airport. (This is my overworked imagination since I have failed miserably to get the pictures in the right chronological order.)
.
Carol, with the help of the interpreters went to the "Bamako Recycling Center" which is basically a market place that allows people to come and see what people make out of recycled products. Carol said that it was very interesting. (I have several of the steel recycled products.)
.
The metal products that are to be recycled are brought into the area by cart, motorcycle, bicycle or truck and the local vendors then do their conversion to make the following kinds of products.
.
.
A little Foucsh Ball to break up a hard working day. This was a scene just outside the recycling center. It is interesting that local law prohibits tourists from taking pictures in certain areas, such as food markets. I am not sure why. Carol says that she thinks that too many people were taking pictures of the horses heads hanging for sale in the butcher shop - the eyes covered with flies - rather than of the quality produce or coffee that they are selling elsewhere in the market... Hmmmm, are all tourists wrapped up in that particular episode of the Grandfather?
Carol, still at the museum and enjoying herself with some of her friends she met on the mission.
Medical Mission Foundation Volunteers: Merideth, Dan, Val & Hariett - all from KC.
MMFVolunteer: Jane having her first tomato juice (flavored) in a week. 
.
.
MMFVolunteer: Christina and Sale' 
MMFVolunteer's: Children's Mercy representatives to the Mission.
.
MMFVolunteer's: Theresa and Joe from KC.
MMFVolunteer's: Joe & Greg, Father & Son.
Henna on an unknown MMFVolunteer.
Sale' and Carol at the Special Team Dinner - about to come back home.
MMFVolunteer's:
.
The Hospital team MMFVolunteer's: .
Medical Mission Foundation Volunteer Casino across from the Bamako Hotel. Carol said that she is pretty sure that no one went there. Everyone had professional thoughts on their mind.
MMFVolunteer's:.
.
Carol's recovery room: A young mother after the surgical removal of her neck goiter. Her baby was being attended by her mother. The following is not meant to be a negative statement, it is reflective of the way it is in Mali, Africa: A young woman, needing surgery, with the help of the translator, has her age officially recorded as 20. Her mother is with her and she states for the record that her age is 30. The translator doublechecks the answer. Yes, to the best of her knowledge, she believes that her age is 30 and that her daughter's age is 20. No more said. Perhaps a problem in translation, perhaps just an oversight of a woman in Mali, Africa with no birth certificate. Nothing negative meant, just an observation by the blog author on an experience that his wife relayed to him. Of course, it really did not matter - Americans keep records of such things - the ages, as stated, were recorded and the surgery scheduled.Who in America cannot find the minute of the day of the month of the year that they were born?
.
MMFVolunteer's: walking home after a hard day of work.
.
Carol took a picture of a flock of birds making a horrendous racket on the way home from the hospital just after dark. I doctored the photo up as best I could - it is an awful rendition of what she wanted to capture, but I sort of like it... the owner of the blog has all the power..
MMFVolunteer's: .
These young ladies were appointed by the local Mayor to feed the MMFVoluteer's. Carol said that the food was nutritous, especially the multitude of miniature bannanas and other fruits, along with the delicious, freshly baked French breads. She is not so sure how to describe the rice and the muriod of gravy like toppings, usually with an unknown meat, that received special fare each noon and evening meal. (The Translators (mostly men) and the Men MMFVolunteers were the most consistent, hardy, worthy fans of the daily "Mama's Surprise Rice Bowl Dishes.").
A proud MMF translator with his wife, baby and translator friend..
The women wore beautiful garments of very sturdy fabric. Always the babies were swaddled contently in the small of their backs..
The young African children encountered on the way home from the hospital to the compound. They have all obviously seen the "Kung Foo" movies popular in America sometime ago..
Henna on another MMF brave Volunteer..
A MMF Translator with his young wife and child..
Carol Oleson, part time MMF nurse, part time holder of the door that allows the patients to take their clothes off to get into the required American style hospital patient uniforms - you know the kind that covers up your front and allows any draft at all to go up the crack of your ass...uming that someone needed to give people the privacy they deserved, Carol got the job done..
One of the talented, dedicated MMFVolunteer surgeons..
Two of the nurses getting ready for the first operation of the day.
.
A woman working next to the house along the path.
.
Another young lady and her baby on the path - a couple of MMFVolunteers just to the left of the little man walking on the path.
.
The village walkway to the hospital from the compound. Carol and the rest of the hospital staff took this path daily to get to their work assignment.
.
The compound guards, doing what they need to be able to do for many hours of the day. Sit and watch patiently. The youngest guard turned his head at the last second and laughed. He did not want to have his picture taken for some reason. The older guard was called the general and he did not mind having his picture taken.
.
The most precious of possessions, that would be the buckets with toilet seats placed squarely on the top of the metal frame. I could probably describe the function of the toilet seat centered on top of the bottomless bucket but you probably can get to the bottom of it if you care to.
A photo of the growing compound. The hospital is getting bigger, the facilities for the volunteers is getting larger. Someday they may have a nice little facility to take care of their village.
.
Children everywhere. Even more children if you happened to give something to one of them. The word gets around. The gift that they all want that you would not likely suspect: a pen.
.
A house that Carol passed every morning and evening on her way to and from work.
.
Carol's room mate in Bamako - so good to see a bed with sheets. So good to see a ceramic toilet.
.
A view of the river from the Hotel in Bamako.
.
The view from the Bamako Hotel. Hard to believe what lay before them on their first day in Africa. Hard to comprehend what they just experienced on their last day in Africa.
.
Carol's home away from home bunk, complete with two wooden poles to hold her mosquitoe netting up over her head.
.
Suitcases packed and awaiting the two buses to take them back to Bamako for a one night rest before the long trip back home to America. The shower and bath, no doubt felt good. The group had a post mission party where they were able to relax, eat, drink and share as much of the experience as they could even as they were still absorbing.
.
