•You really can be dripping with sweat sitting in the shade looking into space. Did you know that your thumb knuckle can sweat?
•People, including children, are far less fragile than you think.
•But life is far more fragile than you could ever imagine.
•That at 85 degrees if a cool breeze blows you can actually get goosebumps.
•You really can eat birdseed everyday for dinner and call it a meal. Just add a bit of green gooey sauce!
•You thought American kids could get could get dirty playing outside without shoes on. Show me a Malian kid doing the same and I’ll show you the dirtiest kid ever.
•There is no classy way to eat a mango.
•Ice is God’s greatest creation.
•You can fit 35 people in a van, strap 10 goats to the top of it, and still travel 100 miles with dough nuts for tires.
•Children who play with knives actually do not cut or hurt themselves. The same goes for needles.
•More can be done with plastic bags (sakis) than you ever thought possible.
•You can injure your self peeling fruit with your hands.
•Napkins are overrated.
•Luck warm piss poor beer is amazingly satisfying. Yummm Castel.
•Women really can carry 20+ pounds on their heads, still strap a baby to their back, and walk across town.
•You can make a chair out of rubber floss.
•Eating with your hands, belching, interrupting, and waking someone up are all considered in good manners.
•Prickly heat rash is more uncomfortable than getting caught passing notes to a boy in 7th grade math class.
•Rain is more exciting in March than March Madness
•You can hallucinate from lack of sleep and heat.
•You really can wear flip flops that are 4 sizes too small.
•Boobs are literally nothing more than utters.
Okay now how many of you have had an allergic skin reaction to sunscreen? How about a sunburn? And what about prickly heat rash? Well who’s got two thumbs and had all 3 at once? This guy!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Inabilities
Tuesday March 24, 2009
Sitting in my host family’s concession the other night my host mother, Oumou, began using gestures and speech to communicate with a man who had just arrived. Later she explained to me that this man was deaf and could not speak (though he did use some deaf speech that I could understand). The town of Siby has adapted gestures to help this man communicate, and on more than one occasion in town I have seen people greet him and begin conversations. To be honest when I saw this I was impressed and I thought, wow they really are more developed than I thought in some ways. Now thinking about my reaction and my surprise I feel like a pretentious jerk assuming they could not generate a system of sign language. What they have done is something that we should not be impressed by, but rather should adhere to as the norm. This is not so that we can look good. But rather to assist these people in living their lives integrated with our own. Through these actions we could stop discluding them just because they are different; so that we do not think that their inability is a disability.
In my short life I have always functioned under the notion that just because someone is unable to perform a specific task that they are not necessarily disabled. There are people I have know at home who are considered to be disabled due to there inabilities. Some I understand are unable to live on their own and support themselves, and yes these people do have a disability, but they are not entirely disabled and their disabilities should not define who they are. There are others I know who prove that they are not disabled through their inabilities, those who while simply looking at the person you would not have been able to assume they were untypical. In our society if someone looks “normal” we assume that she or she is “normal” ( I prefer to use the phrase typically developing to normal since normal is a relative term, but that’s neither here nor there). Why is it that we then judge people simply by appearance and if that appearance is not typical we immediately label them as different; and treat them differently in both positive and negative ways?
Since coming to Mali I have noticed far more people here who have evident physical disabilities than those I see at home. It’s arguable as to why this is, but my conclusions are that there are far more complications here at birth and far more precarious accidents involving individuals. Not to mention they do not have the same medical care for “fixing or healing” visible differences as we do in the States.
Anyway the point I wish to address is that those people in Mali with inabilities, or deformities, function as typical citizens. Rarely are they treated differently by people of their own community, and seldom is it made apparent that they need specialized assistance. But for those who do need assistance it is given to them, at least in my village, without pity or presumed honor on the part of the giver. Now you may think that I am being cruel but I think that the Malians do have this one right for themselves. Since they know no other way to help these people they treat them as they would anyone else and allow them personal growth and space. I know that there are times when we are overbearing with people who have inabilities and we as a society need to realize the difference between hindering and helping. I am not saying that the Malian way is the way, but possibly finding the balance between our system and their system could be beneficial.
Sitting in my host family’s concession the other night my host mother, Oumou, began using gestures and speech to communicate with a man who had just arrived. Later she explained to me that this man was deaf and could not speak (though he did use some deaf speech that I could understand). The town of Siby has adapted gestures to help this man communicate, and on more than one occasion in town I have seen people greet him and begin conversations. To be honest when I saw this I was impressed and I thought, wow they really are more developed than I thought in some ways. Now thinking about my reaction and my surprise I feel like a pretentious jerk assuming they could not generate a system of sign language. What they have done is something that we should not be impressed by, but rather should adhere to as the norm. This is not so that we can look good. But rather to assist these people in living their lives integrated with our own. Through these actions we could stop discluding them just because they are different; so that we do not think that their inability is a disability.
In my short life I have always functioned under the notion that just because someone is unable to perform a specific task that they are not necessarily disabled. There are people I have know at home who are considered to be disabled due to there inabilities. Some I understand are unable to live on their own and support themselves, and yes these people do have a disability, but they are not entirely disabled and their disabilities should not define who they are. There are others I know who prove that they are not disabled through their inabilities, those who while simply looking at the person you would not have been able to assume they were untypical. In our society if someone looks “normal” we assume that she or she is “normal” ( I prefer to use the phrase typically developing to normal since normal is a relative term, but that’s neither here nor there). Why is it that we then judge people simply by appearance and if that appearance is not typical we immediately label them as different; and treat them differently in both positive and negative ways?
Since coming to Mali I have noticed far more people here who have evident physical disabilities than those I see at home. It’s arguable as to why this is, but my conclusions are that there are far more complications here at birth and far more precarious accidents involving individuals. Not to mention they do not have the same medical care for “fixing or healing” visible differences as we do in the States.
Anyway the point I wish to address is that those people in Mali with inabilities, or deformities, function as typical citizens. Rarely are they treated differently by people of their own community, and seldom is it made apparent that they need specialized assistance. But for those who do need assistance it is given to them, at least in my village, without pity or presumed honor on the part of the giver. Now you may think that I am being cruel but I think that the Malians do have this one right for themselves. Since they know no other way to help these people they treat them as they would anyone else and allow them personal growth and space. I know that there are times when we are overbearing with people who have inabilities and we as a society need to realize the difference between hindering and helping. I am not saying that the Malian way is the way, but possibly finding the balance between our system and their system could be beneficial.
Fatumata
Friday March 20, 2009
So much has happened this past week that it’s difficult for me to grasp it entirely. Last weekend I took a bike ride to Dan’s site. I had not previously planned on riding the 45 kilometers to see him, but something pushed me that morning to just drop in and I am grateful that I did.
Yesterday when I arrived home from Bamako I was greeted by the new addition to my concession. She does not yet have a name, children are named in a ceremony 7 days after birth, but she is a healthy and stable little girl; born to a healthy mother in the Bamako hospital only hours before. As I looked at this beautiful baby girl I could not help but wonder why it is that this baby can live while so many others never even have the chance?
Last Sunday when I arrived at Dan’s I walked in on an obviously somber occasion. I realized instantly what had happened by the subdued greets and the grouping by gender under the hanger. Sadly I was then informed that my assumption was correct, one of the twins born a month earlier to Dan’s host sister had passed away that morning. I not knowing exactly what to do apologized profusely for my unexpected appearance at such an inappropriate time and for the horrible loss that their family was suffering.
Why is it that Fatumata was not born strong enough to really have a chance at life? Why is it that she had to be taken away from a mother that truly needs her?
One of the most frustrating things is that the twins were born early and therefore did not give the mother, Nana, enough time to make it to the hospital in Bamako. She was actually planning to leave for Bamako before the birth so that she would be able to have access to medical care, but there is no way to predict things like this and unfortunately because of this a little girl lost her life. It is not the norm here for women to deliver their babies in hospitals, though some do go at least to the doctors clinics in village. And even for those born in hospitals health care here is so lacking that sometimes even the smallest of complications are detrimental to the mother and or child. It’s horrible to see just how many children loose their lives so early because of lack of money, or understanding of the need for solid and dependable medical care. In the states we do not except the death of children, especially babies; it’s the worst loss for us, especially when we think there could have been more done to help. But here it’s become a part of their daily lives and I know very few women who have not lost a baby or child. Some women have lost more than 3. In their society it is a sad occurrence but they are supposed to move on quickly and forget that it happened.
But the thing is that when I looked at Nana I could tell that she was feeling the loss just as any mother would. This poor woman is 20 years old, married to a much older man who does not care about her, with a five year old and now has lost one of her twin infants. It made me sick to think just how heartbroken she is and how the little boy twin, Lacina, needs to hold on to life so tightly, especially now. Nana reacted the way I would expect any mother to react, probably with more composure than many would have, and I hope I never have to feel the pain she has. This woman has gone through something no one should have to know, and yet so many here do. She is a strong and bright person in her family’s life and I am afraid that this might not be able to recover from this loss. I pray that she does, and that someday we can understand why things like this occur.
So much has happened this past week that it’s difficult for me to grasp it entirely. Last weekend I took a bike ride to Dan’s site. I had not previously planned on riding the 45 kilometers to see him, but something pushed me that morning to just drop in and I am grateful that I did.
Yesterday when I arrived home from Bamako I was greeted by the new addition to my concession. She does not yet have a name, children are named in a ceremony 7 days after birth, but she is a healthy and stable little girl; born to a healthy mother in the Bamako hospital only hours before. As I looked at this beautiful baby girl I could not help but wonder why it is that this baby can live while so many others never even have the chance?
Last Sunday when I arrived at Dan’s I walked in on an obviously somber occasion. I realized instantly what had happened by the subdued greets and the grouping by gender under the hanger. Sadly I was then informed that my assumption was correct, one of the twins born a month earlier to Dan’s host sister had passed away that morning. I not knowing exactly what to do apologized profusely for my unexpected appearance at such an inappropriate time and for the horrible loss that their family was suffering.
Why is it that Fatumata was not born strong enough to really have a chance at life? Why is it that she had to be taken away from a mother that truly needs her?
One of the most frustrating things is that the twins were born early and therefore did not give the mother, Nana, enough time to make it to the hospital in Bamako. She was actually planning to leave for Bamako before the birth so that she would be able to have access to medical care, but there is no way to predict things like this and unfortunately because of this a little girl lost her life. It is not the norm here for women to deliver their babies in hospitals, though some do go at least to the doctors clinics in village. And even for those born in hospitals health care here is so lacking that sometimes even the smallest of complications are detrimental to the mother and or child. It’s horrible to see just how many children loose their lives so early because of lack of money, or understanding of the need for solid and dependable medical care. In the states we do not except the death of children, especially babies; it’s the worst loss for us, especially when we think there could have been more done to help. But here it’s become a part of their daily lives and I know very few women who have not lost a baby or child. Some women have lost more than 3. In their society it is a sad occurrence but they are supposed to move on quickly and forget that it happened.
But the thing is that when I looked at Nana I could tell that she was feeling the loss just as any mother would. This poor woman is 20 years old, married to a much older man who does not care about her, with a five year old and now has lost one of her twin infants. It made me sick to think just how heartbroken she is and how the little boy twin, Lacina, needs to hold on to life so tightly, especially now. Nana reacted the way I would expect any mother to react, probably with more composure than many would have, and I hope I never have to feel the pain she has. This woman has gone through something no one should have to know, and yet so many here do. She is a strong and bright person in her family’s life and I am afraid that this might not be able to recover from this loss. I pray that she does, and that someday we can understand why things like this occur.
Standing Aside
Wednesday March 11, 2009
Today I stood by and watched my 15 year old host sister, who is in the 8th grade, ditch school. The thing was that I felt I had no right to tell her that what she was doing was wrong. Partially this is because I knew that in school she probably was not going to really learn anything from the rote curriculum used in every Malian classroom, and partially because of what she was able to accomplish that day. She and four of her younger siblings spent 4 hours collecting firewood from the mango groves around town. This wood will be used to cook all of their meals for the next few months and will also be sold to other Siby residents to make a small profit. This profit is essential to her family’s daily needs. So how could I not stand there looking, gaping rather at the 20 foot high pile of wood and say “I ni barra”, (Bambara for good work)?
It would be difficult for me to say that she is not learning anything; it’s just that her studies deal with other life skills than what can be found in a classroom. And please do not understand me wrong, I want for her to go to school, I want for her to have an education and to be more and an oppressed wife in rural Mali; but the sad thing is she probably will not. Here there is rarely the option to create a balance between the things which need to be done for your family and those which need to be done for education. Not surprisingly when the choice arises people choose their family. For my host sister, Nayima, she is choosing to help out the other 14 people who live in her family.
My host family consists of 15 people, one mother and 14 children ranging in age from 24 to 6 months, which in reality encompasses two families. My host mother Oumou cares for her children and for the children of her brother; both of their respective spouses passed away in the past 5 years. She has had more children than I could ever imagine, or probably ever actually know, and I could not really tell you how old she is either; she probably could not either since many people here just do not know. She is one of the most educated Malians I know who was actually born and raised in my village, and still she has trouble daily with French and basic mathematic skills. She runs the storage magazine at the Shea House that I work at and although she is on the bottom of the totem pole at work everyone really looks up to her for support and guidance.
I am truly grateful to have been placed with this family because just within the short month that I have been there they have truly welcomed me into their home and town.
Today I stood by and watched my 15 year old host sister, who is in the 8th grade, ditch school. The thing was that I felt I had no right to tell her that what she was doing was wrong. Partially this is because I knew that in school she probably was not going to really learn anything from the rote curriculum used in every Malian classroom, and partially because of what she was able to accomplish that day. She and four of her younger siblings spent 4 hours collecting firewood from the mango groves around town. This wood will be used to cook all of their meals for the next few months and will also be sold to other Siby residents to make a small profit. This profit is essential to her family’s daily needs. So how could I not stand there looking, gaping rather at the 20 foot high pile of wood and say “I ni barra”, (Bambara for good work)?
It would be difficult for me to say that she is not learning anything; it’s just that her studies deal with other life skills than what can be found in a classroom. And please do not understand me wrong, I want for her to go to school, I want for her to have an education and to be more and an oppressed wife in rural Mali; but the sad thing is she probably will not. Here there is rarely the option to create a balance between the things which need to be done for your family and those which need to be done for education. Not surprisingly when the choice arises people choose their family. For my host sister, Nayima, she is choosing to help out the other 14 people who live in her family.
My host family consists of 15 people, one mother and 14 children ranging in age from 24 to 6 months, which in reality encompasses two families. My host mother Oumou cares for her children and for the children of her brother; both of their respective spouses passed away in the past 5 years. She has had more children than I could ever imagine, or probably ever actually know, and I could not really tell you how old she is either; she probably could not either since many people here just do not know. She is one of the most educated Malians I know who was actually born and raised in my village, and still she has trouble daily with French and basic mathematic skills. She runs the storage magazine at the Shea House that I work at and although she is on the bottom of the totem pole at work everyone really looks up to her for support and guidance.
I am truly grateful to have been placed with this family because just within the short month that I have been there they have truly welcomed me into their home and town.
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