Music in Mali

Music is one of the only avenues in which Mali has gained international attention (it is hard to be noticed as a peaceful african country). Therefore, I have made it one of my main goals to seek out as much music as possible. It does take searching to find it. At my house, the only music I normally hear is American and French pop on Trace, a french music video channel. Black Eyed Peas and Akon are favorites that i have heard way more hear than i ever had in the US. Going out with my sister isn't even a way of finding live music...most of my Malian peers only like going to boîtes, where they also only listen to american club music. That is one of the saddest aspects of culture I have observed...an idealization of America perpetuated through american music and tv that makes the young people disregard what Mali has to offer.

Anyways, I have found real Malian music, and participated in it, much to my delight. A few of my friends and I have researched the best venues for live music and sample them whenever we can get out of going to the boîtes. Occasionally there is dancing, but usually it is an older, more sophisticated crowd, in their late twenties and thirties, I'd guess. Traditional Malian music characterized by a djeli (griot) singing praises of people or histories or other things that I have no chance of understanding. The instruments are really what makes the music. There is usually a distorted, psychedelic sounding guitar player, who can play with an almost classical or jazz technique (not just chords). Then there are a variety of drums, many that are specific to Mali. The balafon is usually present too...it is similar to a xylophone, but has gourds resonationg beneath the keys that gives it a softer tone. And last, but definitely not least, there is the kora. It is a large gourd at the bottom, with a long neck extending from it with about 20 strings tuned in a C major scale. It almost sounds like a harp, and is very difficult to master. After a wild goose chase around Bamako, I had the good fortune of finding a kora teacher with one of my friends. We had an hour long lesson to learn the basics, and I actually was getting the feel of it in my hands by the end of the lesson...I wish I could've taken one home to practice, but there is no way I could buy one. They are too expensive, plus too large to easily bring home on a plane.

I got to play the kora again today, when my teacher and his group came to my school this morning for a performance in honor of our last day of school before finals. They put on a great performance, with a djeli singing to each of the students in turn and dancing at the end. I played a little repetitive bit that I learned at my lesson and the rest of the band fit in around me and the djeli sang. It was surreal...it felt so good to be playing an instrument again, and even better to be a part of the great music they were making. My kora teacher took over after a little bit, so I could watch his mad skills; I'm guessing he is one of the best since he teaches, performs, and makes koras for a living. Even though I won't be able to bring a kora home with me, I think I'll take another lesson, just for fun.

If you are interested in hearing some Malian music, some of the most famous performers are Ali Farka Touré, Toumani Diabeté, Amadou & Mariam, Oumou Sangaré, and Habib Koite. I think you can find them on itunes or youtube...they are all internationally known.

Bamanankan

One of the major difficulties I have an encountered in Mali is language. I switch between french, english, and bambara all day, everyday, so my english is getting worse, bambara is becoming recognizable, and my french is getting more conversational, but still gramatically not great.

I have enjoyed learning bambara (or bamanankan) since it is the language of the biggest ethnic group, and most people's first or only language. The other languages in Mali, and many others in West Africa, are related to Bambara so I supposedly could also understand them, but I don't really believe that. It does at least comfort me to know that this language could be spoken elsewhere.

Bambara has a lot of quirks that make learning it quite fun, and insightful into Malian culture. For example:

~there is no word for late (you're just 'not early')

~there aren't different verb conjugations for different subjects, making it a lot easier than english or french

~the words often are made by combining two others. 'den' (child) is a common addition to the ends of words so, for example, students are children of study (kalandenw), Malians are children of mali (malidenw), and fruits are children of the tree.

~you can often lake a french word malian by spelling it phonetically and adding i to the end. chair = chaise = sezi.

~they repeat words all the time for emphasis.

~there is no negative response to 'how are you?'

I walk to school each morning, and therefore exchange many greetings on teh way, since I say hi to everyone, like a vrai malian. Just for fun, here is a literal translation of a typical conversation:

me: you and the morning!

them: My power! Family members?

m: No problems with them.

t: You are healthy?

m: No problems.

t: Did you pass the night peacefully?

m: Peace.

It can go on longer, depending on the person, but I can now fire out that conversation like it's nothing since I practice it many times each morning. Since I walk the same route every morning, people now know my name and I'm trying to learn theirs, but there are a ton of them, and only two toubabous (white folk) who walk that way for them to remember, so I don't feel too bad if I forget. Little kids run after me chanting toubabou often...it seems to be a game that never gets old. I don't mind, it is better than when I am walking through the market and keep hearing hisses and 'La blanche' (the white). That gets annoying instantly.

I am slower at learning everything beyond greetings, but I can do basic bartering, ask for directions and tell a bus driver to stop, so I have the useful things down. I need to start studying for my bambara final coming up...it is the only one I am worried about. And yes, I am already starting to talk about finals, since they are just over a week away, and then I am done with classes for the semester. After finals, I go on the Grand Excursion to other parts of Mali and then am doing independent research while volunteering in a clinic for the last month. Time is flying!

Sanankoroba

I spent last week in a village about 30 km outside of Bamako, but I felt like I was in a different world. Sanakoroba is actually a large village, with about 7000 inhabitants, and a large presence of NGO's. Parts of it have electricity, but most homes do not. I spent the week with one other student, Brittany, and a family in their compound. The Traoré's were an adorable young family, who were extremely welcoming and, in general, happy people. We lived with the dad, mom, 5 kids, and 3 older women in one part of a large compound made up of extended family. Only the one of the older women and the dad could speak french, and he usually just agreed with everything we said, so I doubt that he really understood it. Therefore, the week provided me with a lot Bambara practice, and even more nonverbal communication. The language barrier didn't really matter with the kids. In my family, the oldest son was perhaps 8 years old, and was an exemplary older brother. He was followed by a 6 year old girl, and then two more boys between 2 and 4, and a 5 month old baby girl. In addition to those five, many other children from our compound and the neighborhood would hang out with Brittany and I, so it was not unusual for us to be entertaining 15 or 20 kids. They usually wanted to dance or do the awesome handshake we taught them. The Macarena was a favorite, but the chicken dance and Mini KC (a malian dance from Ministar that just about every kid with a tv knows) also made appearances. The life of children in a village is quite simple...the two little boys were quite easily amused by playing with a piece of rope, and the kids went crazy when we gave them glow sticks one night. The kids start school when they are 6 or 7, but come home in the middle of the day for a long lunch break, and often didn't return in the afternoon. The older ones helped with chores, and were delighted to carry chairs around the compound so Brittany and I would have to sit wherever we went.

The mother, Fatoumata, looked like she was only a few years older than me, but she already had 5 kids! I could not imagine being in her position, but she was always laughing and I never saw her get angry the entire time we were there. She was a supermom, if I ever saw one. Just as an example, one night she was bathing two of the kids while the baby was breastfeeding and she was watching dinner and stirring a pot with her spare hand. The baby was usually strapped to her back as she cooked, went to market, got water, swept, and did other household chores. She did usually take a break from her normal activities in the afternoon to rest, which I was glad to see.

The father was constantly smiling. He worked in the fields for a living, but he only went to the fields 3 times per week. I don't know how he can support a large family with on that, but he might be getting help from his brothers. He definitely played a large role in raising the children, and would go on errands for the family and even helped a little with cooking. In a culture where gender roles are strictly defined, I was impressed to see that in reality, the gender lines do blur.

Village life is simple, and mostly revolves around children and the next meal (or tea in the evenings). I was not able to the really understand the complexities of life since I could not speak enough Bambara to get into any deep discussions, and they could not speak enough French. In some ways, the life seemed idyllic because of the simplicity, peacefulness, and proximity of the family. But after a few days, it began to disturb me. I realized how ambitious my plans for my life are, and how a child there has no example to follow to come close to making plans like that, and probably wouldn't be able to fulfill any major plans because of the lack of resources and, for a girl, the expectation to get married young (often around 16). Living day by day, like they do, makes it nearly impossible for them to make any changes that could improve their life, but at the same time, they seemed to be okay with their life as it was. Perhaps if I could have talked to people my age, I would have gotten a different view of life in the village.

My stay in the village made me realize how western Bamako, and especially my family in Bamako, is I have three sisters in university, all over 18 and none married. They have plans for their careers and will pick their own husbands. They cannot imagine life without electricity, even though it exists not far from their comfortable life. I am happy for all of the opportunities that my sisters have, but a bit disturbed by their obsession with American culture (as I write this they are watching The Hills).

I guess my stay in the village made me remember yet again not to take any of my privileges for granted. As much as I could complain about the U.S., I cannot deny how lucky I am to have grown up there. Sustenance living does not provide much room for thinking about the future, much less grand plans like becoming a doctor. There always are the exceptions, when a child from that background can really succeed, but that is not the norm, especially for girls. Thinking of solutions for that opens the Pandora's box of development, which is much more complex than thinking that every country needs to end up like the U.S. Maybe I'll divulge more on that in another post, but I think I've shared enough for one night. I have many more blog posts floating around in my head than I have time or energy to type.

As a closing note, think of what your life would be without electricity...one pro is star gazing. I have not seen that many stars, or the complete milky way like that since I was in the Boundary Waters. I sat with my jaw dropped a few nights in a row while munching corn on the cob roasted on coals. mmmm. And a con: no internet=no blog=no connection with people halfway around the world.

I came here to shop Old Navy???

Yesterday, I found myself in a place I never would have thought of...make that many strange places. I had slept at a friend's house after Friday night's adventure and returned home, hoping to sleep so more, or at least shower. Then, my sister asked me if I wanted to come with her, like she does so often, without telling me where exactly we were going. I managed to get "the market" out of her, so at least I prepared for being out for a few hours. My sister, cousin, and I took a Sutrama (bus) to the grand marché, and then got on another Sutrama and got off at an unknown destination. My sister didn't seem to know exactly where she was going either...great. We finally found our destination, a tin roof shelter where men were selling clothes from big bundles.

Apparently, that is the place to shop. Two guys helped us- they held up one shirt at a time and my sister said yes or no until we had gone through their entire stock. The clothes were american thrift store castaways. Apparently it is common for places like Goodwill to send the clothes they can't sell to Africa, where they get sold at pret-a-porters (one step up from where i shopped with my sister, since you might be able to find multiple copies of the same style) or on the streets in "stores" like the one I was at. I also saw men cutting out seams and resewing some of the shirts they received before reselling them. The clothes that my sister was looking at included a lot of brand names that i recognized, and I ended up buying one shirt, Old Navy by way of Africa. One of my friends said that the style I got was just from earlier this summer, so the lag time in clothes getting there is not too long. The Malian girls are definitely stylin', especially my sisters, who ended up buying 15 or so shirts. After making sure there was nothing left that they wanted at that store, we got back on a Sutrama and headed back to the grande marché, where they got accessories and shoes. It is interesting to go to the market with them, and try to see it through their eyes. They focus on trying to look western, so they love stores full of imported shoes or cosmetics. When I go, I prefer looking at the Malian fabrics and go to the craftsmen's part of the market, where one can buy handmade leather shoes, instruments, jewelry, and other 'african' looking things.

After that 6 hour excursion, I finally got to shower and rest from my previous night of fun. I had spent the night at a friend's house, and we went out with her Malian brother and sister, met up with a couple other students and then went to the Maison de Jeune in downtown Bamako. There, we met some Malian guys that one of my american friends knew and they took us on their motos to a restaurant with live music. The music was great- in the style of Ali Farka Touré with kora and blues guitar. We ended up dancing a lot with the random Malians, who ended up being pretty sketchy and made us pay for their drinks. I don't know what exactly happened, since they never were my friends and I spent most of my time taking to my friend's host brother, who also thought the other guys were bad. All in all, it was a fun night, but more expensive than i expected.

So, Friday night was tiring, but I could not pass up the chance to go out to a boite (nightclub) with my own host sisters on Saturday, especially since they are not allowed to go very often. My sister was kind enough to complete my outfit of my brand new old navy shirt with some of her white, sequined skinny jeans (i said no to a miniskirt) and her shoes so I was set to go. Bintou took at least two hours to finally decide what she as wearing; she was disappointed since she ended up repeating an outfit. Her boyfriend picked Bintou, Dadi, and I up, and we headed to No Stress in the Badalabougou neighborhood about 15 minutes from our house. Apparently, 11:30 was much to early, since we were the first people in the doors. Luckily, some of my friends were sitting at a restaurant next door to a club so i went and had a banana split with them instead of waiting inside the empty club. We danced from about 1:30 to 4 am, or rather, they danced and I did variations on a step touch. The music was all american or french and didn't impress me nearly as much as the live music the night before. Nevertheless, it was a Malian experience I needed to have and will probably repeat.

I'm all tired out today, and am having more trouble with the heat that has been building recently. Apparently October weather is not the best, since it is just about done raining but the cold season doesn't start until November. It will really hit hard tomorrow, when I go to Sanankoroba tomorrow with the group. It is our week long rural village stay without electricity, so I won't be updating again until next weekend, when I probably will have a lot more to write about. My family here in Bamako thinks it will terrible there, which I guess makes sense, since they spend 80% of their time watching tv in a house cooled by fans. I am excited since it will be a great time to practice Bambara (most adults there don't speak french), and we get to tie and dye!!! Luckily, there are two students placed with each family in the village so two can communicate better than one.

If you have any questions, ideas for posts, or just want to say hi, i think it is best if you email me at courtney.kerestes@gmail.com. My experience with the commenting option on blogspot isn't good, so email is easiest. Have a great week and enjoy the cool of Minnesota and the joys of electricity!