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.