The life of a high school teacher…in Mali

I’ve been going to my French tutor’s house 4x a week. Absentmindedly, I scheduled our two hour lesson on Monday at 5pm. It ended at 7pm, just as dawn was setting on the first day of Ramadan. As soon as we finished, drinks, water and special (and expensive) food came pouring in to our room to break the first day of fast. Except I wasn’t fasting! Despite this, my tutor insisted that I feast on the decadent spread…so I did, but felt bad about taking some of the food away from their family. From that point on, I decided to schedule my lessons at 4pm so they would end at 6pm, one hour before dusk set and therefore before breaking the fast. Tonight however, as we were finishing our lesson and as I was grabbing my car keys, my tutor AGAIN insisted I stay for dinner. I politely refused, but he exclaimed, “But I bought beef today just for you! You told me you can’t cook, so I want to make sure you get proper nutrition..” The kindness here blows me away. Here I drive up to his spartan home (see pics below) 4 x a week in my massive, clean, foreign SUV and he is concerned about feeding me.

A look into a middle class high school teacher’s life in Mali:

The sandy intersection of his home

His neighbors huts

Front door of my tutor's home, that is shared by 4 different families

My classroom 🙂 His living room. We sit on the floor.

His adorable kids

His wife cooking dinner