9/27/10
Today, Adama learned that her older sister's son had passed away from, what they think was, Malaria. So, we went to pay our respects. It was my first time going to Adama's family's home. She definitely married up. I was expecting sad faces and crying women to be there, but when we arrived, no one was crying, no one looked sad and it looked like a typical day. The men were sitting under a tree, drinking tea and the women were preparing food. Even the mother and siblings of the deceased looked like they were just chilling. But in a society where crying isn't acceptable, maybe it's not even acceptable to cry over the death of someone you love?
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Social Behavior
So, you know those awkward moments where people are sitting together and no one's saying anything? Well, those awkward moments don't exist here. People can just sit for hours and not say a thing and it's okay. You can go over someone's house just to take a nap and that would be okay. Today, a woman came over, greeted, and she just sat in the shade. She looked obviously sad, she was sniffling, her eyes were glassy and she had her hand under her chin, but no one talked to her to see what was on her mind. I noticed that, in this culture, no one really talks about themselves, they talk about others. I'm still trying to figure out what the "small talk" is around here. I guess that will come with time. And, whenever me and my sisters go to visit their friends, no one introduces me and if the friend asks about me, they don't talk to me at all, they only direct their questions to my sisters. At first, I thought that maybe they don't talk to me because they don't think I can speak the language, but if I ask about themselves, they don't return the courtesy. I'm wondering, how do people really get to know each other when there isn't much private space? How does one build that trust? What is the definition of a true friend here? I ask these questions because to me, it seems like everyone is friends with everyone, but that's not possible! Everyone's house is open to anyone who comes to watch television or to charge their phones and everyone is invited to partake in whatever is being drunk or eaten at the time. Things seem very open here, but the people themselves seem fairly private.
My Name
I didn't think this would affect me much, but I really miss hearing my name. A name is a powerful thing, and when it's called it is manifested. The Malian name that I was given is Djeneba. I don't even know what it means, but I chose it because it has a "j" sound, so it's somewhat familiar, but it's not mine. However, with this new name, I have so many more nicknames! "Djene, Badjene, Djenebise," you can't really do much with "Jade." And I loooove it when I return and the kids chant "Djeneba na na! Djeneba na na!" It's really cute, but I still miss my name.
Women's Work
My Malian sisters work hard. They start at 5:30am and break around 1:00pm, then they start up again around 4:00/5:00pm until 10/11:00 at night. In the morning, I wake up to women washing dishes and clothes, preparing breakfast, starting on lunch and tending to the men and children. Food preparation takes a really long time and you can't store leftovers, so everyday the same process is repeated. For example, a common meal is rice and sauce. First of all, the rice is not stored in packages. It is stored in a burlap bag, straight from the fields, and you take out what you need and place it in a bowl, so that you can hand-pick out the shaft of the rice. The water that you use for boiling is drawn from a well, if you don't have a pump. if you don't have a gas stove, you have to get firewood or charcoal and light it with dry grass or petroli and a match. Then you have to fan the stove to get the water boiling. Then you have to prepare the sauce. And all of this is done outside, in the elements with the scorching sun, the flies, the chickens and dirt and then they wash the dishes. And doing laundry here sucks to the infinite! The fact that there is no faucet here is my never ending nightmare. I already hate doing laundry in general, but Mali takes my hate to another level. However, when the women are not working, they sit underneath the shade and chat while drinking frozen drinks, take naps and play a game similar to "Sorry!" This is what my sisters do on a typical day. It's not all work and no play, but the work can be harsh.
Dance Parties/Malian Independence Day
9/22/10
In celebration of the 50th anniversary of Mali's independence, there were a lot of parties going on, including one hosted by the Mayor's office, where I'm employed. So, I went along with my Adama, Moussa and my sassy mom, Aissata. It was a night of salsa dancing at the local bar/brothel (every bar I've been to seems to have these two functions). I was curious to know how men and women dance together in a culture where you're barely allowed to touch the oppoisite sex in public. It was interesting to observe how much space there was between couples. One point during the night, I was dancing with this guy, but there was at least a foot between us the entire time. These large gaps between people lessened as alcohol took it's effect, and more prostitutes came out as the hour got later. The next night, I went to a youth dance party to see if things were any different. They were, but they were more extreme than the adults! There was a dance stage, and there were only males dancing up there and groups of girls were watching them, which is totally opposite in the States. I went along with Adama, so I asked her why the girls and boys weren't dancing together, and she explained that it was too early for them to dance because some adults were still there, but they would leave around 11:30pm and this is when the real party would begin. At first this made sense, but then I looked around and noticed that everyone looked at least 18 years old. However, in Mali, a youth is anyone who's under 40 and not married. We had to leave before the boys and girls got together because her husband said that she could only be gone for one hour. She has to tell her husband everywhere that she's going and ask for permission if he's not attending with her. This would get on my last nerve, but she explained that all Malian woman must do this or it is reason for divorce! This is another reason why I will not be marrying a Malian.
In celebration of the 50th anniversary of Mali's independence, there were a lot of parties going on, including one hosted by the Mayor's office, where I'm employed. So, I went along with my Adama, Moussa and my sassy mom, Aissata. It was a night of salsa dancing at the local bar/brothel (every bar I've been to seems to have these two functions). I was curious to know how men and women dance together in a culture where you're barely allowed to touch the oppoisite sex in public. It was interesting to observe how much space there was between couples. One point during the night, I was dancing with this guy, but there was at least a foot between us the entire time. These large gaps between people lessened as alcohol took it's effect, and more prostitutes came out as the hour got later. The next night, I went to a youth dance party to see if things were any different. They were, but they were more extreme than the adults! There was a dance stage, and there were only males dancing up there and groups of girls were watching them, which is totally opposite in the States. I went along with Adama, so I asked her why the girls and boys weren't dancing together, and she explained that it was too early for them to dance because some adults were still there, but they would leave around 11:30pm and this is when the real party would begin. At first this made sense, but then I looked around and noticed that everyone looked at least 18 years old. However, in Mali, a youth is anyone who's under 40 and not married. We had to leave before the boys and girls got together because her husband said that she could only be gone for one hour. She has to tell her husband everywhere that she's going and ask for permission if he's not attending with her. This would get on my last nerve, but she explained that all Malian woman must do this or it is reason for divorce! This is another reason why I will not be marrying a Malian.
Growing Pains
9/23/10
A lot has happened over the past few days. A neighboring girl walked into my uncle's pharmacy and she bought some laxative medicine. She planned to drink it all because she wanted to die, because her grandmother had been abusing her. So, to counterbat, my uncle brought her home to give her a break and to have an opportnity to talk to the grandmother. The poor girl looked so depressed and as my mothers tried talking to her (in their harsh/tough love way) she would not respond to them. What I found really strange about the situation was that my mothers were telling this girl to do chores. One would think that if the girl ws stressed out about her grandmother, you wouldn't want to put more stress on the child, but maybe it was taking her mind off things at home???? That's not how I would've handled the situation. Another strange happening, was that her parents were not physically involved in the situation. I didn't understand why my uncle brought her home, when her father (who by the way, is the crazy man who asked me to cook him toh) who lives only 30km away in Bamako, and his daughter wanted to die for Christ's sake! I asked my uncle why she didn't go to her dad's house in Bamako. His answer was that because he's divorced and the girl is from another marriage, it wouldn't be right to bring her to his house. I found this answer to be strange because I learned that in this culture, if there's a divorce, the child stays with the father. Anyway, after a couple days, the grandmother had calmed down after my uncle talked to her and homegirl was feeling better and felt safe going home. I wonder what the state of mental health is for females vs. males in Mali?
A lot has happened over the past few days. A neighboring girl walked into my uncle's pharmacy and she bought some laxative medicine. She planned to drink it all because she wanted to die, because her grandmother had been abusing her. So, to counterbat, my uncle brought her home to give her a break and to have an opportnity to talk to the grandmother. The poor girl looked so depressed and as my mothers tried talking to her (in their harsh/tough love way) she would not respond to them. What I found really strange about the situation was that my mothers were telling this girl to do chores. One would think that if the girl ws stressed out about her grandmother, you wouldn't want to put more stress on the child, but maybe it was taking her mind off things at home???? That's not how I would've handled the situation. Another strange happening, was that her parents were not physically involved in the situation. I didn't understand why my uncle brought her home, when her father (who by the way, is the crazy man who asked me to cook him toh) who lives only 30km away in Bamako, and his daughter wanted to die for Christ's sake! I asked my uncle why she didn't go to her dad's house in Bamako. His answer was that because he's divorced and the girl is from another marriage, it wouldn't be right to bring her to his house. I found this answer to be strange because I learned that in this culture, if there's a divorce, the child stays with the father. Anyway, after a couple days, the grandmother had calmed down after my uncle talked to her and homegirl was feeling better and felt safe going home. I wonder what the state of mental health is for females vs. males in Mali?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)