Hopefully, I can write this before either the power goes out, or we lose the internet, or both. And I'd like this post to be both insightful and intelligent, but I'm afraid that is easier said than done. Also, the following epiphany I had may seem completely obvious to everyone reading, but to me it answered some questions and helped my brain click a little more with life here. Hopefully, for everyone reading, my thoughts are more organized than usual or this is going to be horribly confusing, or worse, just sound stupid.
So a while back I realized that I don't pity Malians in any way with one exception: their lack of excitement about food. I've made some delicious things that, (in my humble opinion), blow their bland millet paste out of the water, and I've shared these things with some people in my village. Their reactions are minimal if any. If I ask, they say it is good, but never without prompting. And I know they can get excited about desserts (nutella drives them wild), but a well spiced spaghetti or garlic mashed potatoes with gravy just don't get a reaction. I don't take this as an insult or anything, I just think culturally there is nothing to be excited about involving food. Food is eaten to survive only, so why enjoy it. It is like breathing. I don't take a breath and then exclaim over how amazing that breath was. They do put out good food at weddings and funerals, but they still don't get really excited about it. And I think this is a pity. But again, this is only my perception of what is going on, and I may only find it a pity because I LOVE good food so very, very much.
Now back to the main point of this whole thing: I don't pity Malians because they are so happy. I realized this long ago, but I really couldn't figure out why they were so happy. They have so many reasons to be unhappy. They are hungry, they work really hard for essentially nothing, they're poor and to compound this, they have TV and they see other people (such as me) when they are in country. They are aware (at least a little) of how other people in the world can live. And while James Bond dubbed in French which most can't understand doesn't give them an accurate view of America or the western world it does give them a least a window into western life, and I make that window broader. They see that I've got a nice bicycle though by American standards it is pretty low grade, I've got a camera that is probably worth more than their entire income for a year, and when I get malaria I just jump on a bus and go to Bamako (which costs a fair bit), then when in Bamako I go to a special doctor who gives me extremely expensive medication to get better. When they get malaria they sit in village in horrible pain until it goes away or it gets the best of them and they die. Now, these things I've listed are simply that: things, goods and services. And we all know that they can't buy happiness, but they can make life easier, and regardless they are aware of how different their lives are than mine, and they don't seem bitter about it.
And so again, why are they so happy? The answer, or at least part of it, occurred to me the other night as I was sitting with a group of young men at night playing my guitar while they chatted and some younger kids horsed around: community. It is as simple as that, but this is going to be the toughest part to explain. Young boys tend to be in charge of watching over the goats or sometimes cows. They get together in small groups of friends and herd around the goats all day. When they turn 14 or 15 they are put to "real" work ie: farming and building houses. Many times these same groups of friends who herded goats will work on part of a house together, or go to the fields together. In the evening they sit around and chat together, they go to each others weddings and baby naming ceremonies, and they do this for the next 40 or 50 years until their short lifespan is used up. I've sat with these groups of friends at various stages. The youngsters play little games in my hammock, the young men sit and pretend to be grown up (which I guess they are, but they are only 20 and married with a kid on the way so they better be grown up), then when they in their 30's they've got a few kids maybe a few wives, and they sit and talk of serious things like crops and fishing. And I've also sat with my favorite age bracket: the old men. They sit around and chat a lot while repairing fishing nets or weaving ropes, and they also chat about crops and such, but also of things that only those with the luxury of time chat about such as politics and weddings. But they, (for the most part), are the same group who have been meeting every evening for the past 40 years and chatting of such things. The women have different jobs, but still grow up with a group of friends that sticks together for the most part, unless a girl is married off to a different town where she quickly finds another community of friends who take her in and she sticks with for the rest of her life.
I get to see this on a daily basis, and yet I can only imagine what it is like. Yes, I have wonderful friends, and a wonderful family all of whom I love very much, but this is something else. Supposedly, in American society at least, your spouse knows you better than anyone else especially after living with this person for many, many years. And Malian community is like having a group of spouses, if you will, that know you better than anyone else. Even when you are only 20 years old, these "spouses" have known you for 20 years. I know a few people beyond my family who have known me for 20 years, but it is more of a known of me. I was friends with them when I was a toddler, and our families have kept in touch. It's an extension of family, but a family that you choose, and it's one that you WANT to see everyday. There is no obligation. Simply put, it doesn't exist in America, and this is why it is so hard to explain, but I think I've explained it well enough for folks to get the idea. And I think this a big part of the secret to the unwavering happiness that pervades all of Mali.
I could see myself being happy existing as they do with this sort of community all around me. Given the chance to get out, I think some would, but since most don't have the chance this community provides all the comforts you could want, and it relieves the stress of a long day of work, and it is in essence the definition of community. It goes well beyond even the strongest and most tight knit communities that I have experienced. Now, this all makes perfect sense to me, and though I am not part and can never truly be part of this community, I have seen it. That said, I hope this makes sense to the people reading it, and doesn't give too much of a false impression of people and life in Mali. Though to be fair this blog is kind of like Malians understanding America by watching James Bond in a language they can't understand, though in reverse.
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