A Miniscule Morsel of Mali

*Late addition edition:  I forgot to mention in this entry as I was talking about fart jokes that this is in fact the origin of the title of my blog: "Dembele be sho dun," the literal translation of which is "Dembele [my Malian last name] eats beans."  Everyone likes a little self-deprecating humor.*

For those of you who have been as loyal as I hope you have been in reading what is written on this website, you probably know a good deal about my life here in Niantanso, Mali.  But what you probably know a good deal less about is the life of the average Malian.  Granted, that may have a lot to do with my own lack of knowledge on the subject, or perhaps simple narcissism on my part (‘cause I’m just so gosh-darn interesting!).  That said, I think the time is overdue to sit down, get myself into a good mood by listening to all seven versions of “St. James Infirmiry” I have on my computer, and give you. . . A Miniscule Morsel of Mali.

First off, is the redefinition of most things which we Americans take for granted as the universal standard, but which simply don’t apply in quite the same way over here.  You remember those Australian Foster’s Beer ads a few years back: “Guppie, Australian for Shark” or something along those lines.  Well, as I mentioned in the last article, we have all sorts of our own fun examples.  The Malian Trashcan is simply the ground in front of you, behind you, or anywhere else that is not in your hand.  West African International Time, or W.A.I.T., works on the same principle as what those of us “in the know” call Jewish Time, only even more delayed.  And Malian Feedback usually involves a wide-angled, open-palm smack upside the head of the recipient (PCVs get very excited when the administrators ask if we have any “feedback” as to how things are going during training).

Even such simple activities like making tea take on a drastically new meaning over here.  The Malian style of boiling tea, supposedly adapted from the Mauritanian style, involves taking a 25 gram sachet of “The Vert de Chine” and putting it in a small teapot with about three or four shot glasses of water.  The tea is boiled on a small charcoal stove, which is always available since there is always going to be someone with a fire going from which to get charcoal.  (Interesting gender-role revelation: when I asked a woman where charcoal comes from, she explained exactly how to make it from firewood.  When I asked a man, he told me it comes from whichever child you send to gather it.)  The water is then boiled and poured from pot to glass and back again several times to cool the water so you can boil it again and make it even stronger.  After one or two repititions, a shot glass of sugar is added and boiled again.  When the tea is ready, it is served one or two half-shots at a time, starting with the oldest or most respected person around.  Getting the first glass is quite an honor.  While it seems silly that people usually end up waiting up to a half hour for a shot of tea, this ritual is enjoyed at any and all hours of the day, whether lazing around in front of the corner store or in the middle of work in the field.  At first, I thought the whole idea was silly, in how much time it takes, how little tea it yields compared to how much it costs, and how sickeningly strong the tea really is.  Now, I have grown as attached to tea as any average Malian; that second round is worth waiting all day for!

Another, even more significant part of Mali’s culture is the “Joking Cousin.”  Throughout history, in almost any culture, there has been strife, anger and war directed at those who are different in any way at all.  Some of the worst conflicts ever have been the result of one group believing so strongly that another group from another region, religion or race is wrong, that they deserve to die for their difference.  Malians have for the most part evaded this pattern with through Joking Cousins.  Lets say my last name is Dembele and your last name is Djarra.  Well, hundreds of years ago, our families had a fight and hated each other for some reason.  So did we go to war and kill each other?  Nope.  Instead, we said something along the lines of “You’re a Djarra?  Hahaha, you eat beans and fart up a storm!”  And Djarra responded “Hell no!  You’re a Dembele, and Dembeles are no good.  I greeted your brother this morning and he responded ‘mooooo!’ because he’s a skinny, ugly cow!  Hahahaha!”  Yes, Malians have successfully replaced racism, classism, or any other possible reason for conflict with toilet humor.  If a Coulibaly tries to rip you off for the price of a shirt in the market, laugh at him about how he’s your slave and he should be giving you the shirt for free, so paying him for it is an act of generosity.  Or if a Keita is being too slow in the field, tell him “Of course you’re lazy, you good-for-nothing urine-drinker!”  I have had conversations with one my family’s joking cousins, a 45-year-old Djarra man, over which of us had more penises (eventually settling on the fact that as a rich American, I had four, while he only had three).  There is no limit to the immaturity of joking, and I’m sure nowhere else in the world you can make fun of a respected village elder for farting too much.

Some other fun snippets of Malian culture:  

– Malians in village have very little money, but they also love music so they play it constantly by any means neccessary.  My favorite ways of enjoying pop music include people who walk around like something from the 1980s rap scene with radios around their necks, people who use their cell phone speakers as boom boxes, since there is no cell reception most of the time and they have nothing else to do with their phones, and of course the tape players powered off car batteries which are stuck in a sped-up playback so everything sounds like Alvin and the Chipmunks.

– Some of the biggest Western pop culture icons in Mali include Tupac, Nelly, Bob Marley, The Michelin Man, Cyndi Lauper, Kris Kross, Mike Tyson and most recently, Brako Bama, the first Black US president since JFK.

– Malians, and West Africans in general, love action movies.  Let me rephrase that; they love action scenes.  It doesn’t matter what the movie is, as long as they get a good shootout or karate scene out of it.  Some movies are good for this, like “Once Upon a Time in China II” which are non-stop action and excitement with minimal emphasis on story or characters.  Some movies are less good for this like Steven Segal’s new film “Pistol Whipped” which was so painfully laden with plot, half the movie had to be fast-forwarded to skip to the next action scene.  In response to this is one of the gretest ever innovations in film marketing: movies that actually have all the story scenes edited out so it incoherently moves the film from one action scene to the next.  And considering how pathetic Steven Segal is looking these days, I think the African audiences might be onto something here.

– Smiling in pictures is considered dirty.  Frogs are very dirty and dangerous.  Singing in the rain will get you struck by lightning, and singing when it isn’t raining will bring rain, and then get you struck by lightning.  The good news is that babies peeing on you is good luck, extra salt on food is a powerful aphrodesiac, and leaving a bottle of honey next to the bed will aid in fertilization, but a banana wrapped in a condom on the night table is a contraceptive.  Mangoes give you malaria, but tea, cigarettes and anything else without a clear benefit will generally give you a good head and a strong body.  Also, there are a whole variety of talismans and medicines, coming from traditional Animist religious culture, that do everything from cure diseases, curse your enemies, protect you from harm or turn you invisible.  Usually these talismans are rings, amulets, or small rods made of leather, wood, plants, or metal, though it has been reported that white-people hair is also quite powerful in this regard.  You may be asking why a predominantly Muslim country has so many Animist customs.  The truth is, to an extent in Mali as a whole and especially in villages like mine, that if you ask someone their religion, they will tell you they are Muslim.  Depending on the area, between 20%-80% of the time, they will really just be saying it to be cool, generally preferring their Animist heritiage.

– The experts on rituals from both cultures seem to be the Griots, or Jelis as they are called here.  They have a few jobs: they sing songs of praise about you or your family, they officiate religious ceremonies, they greet anybody who comes from outside the village to visit or move in, and most conspicuously, they collect a special tax just for them in the form of money, food, tea, or anything else you want to give them.  Of course, it’s not clear what they actually do to deserve these taxes, and I was warned by villagers, only half-jokingly, that griots have “bad heads” and that there was no need to ever pay them, excpet perhaps on the major holidays.  The Jelis were not pleased with this advice, needless to say.

– In America, if you are walking down the street in a black neighborhood and someone shouts out to you “Hey, whitey!” there is a good chance you’re going to put your guard up.  Really, there is no time when calling someone out by their race or ethnic group is a polite or safe idea unless the instigator is looking for a fight.  Here, white people getting called “White Person!” is not just regular, but almost endearing.  “Toubabu” literally means “Frenchperson” but since it’s never really clear or important where the white person comes from, Toubabu really means “White Foreigner,” sometimes even if the subject is still African.  So, walking down the street, be it a small village or a regional capital city, children and even the occasional adult will chant “Toubabu!  Toubabu!”  In Niantanso, I am regularly called by everyone “Toubabuke,” or “The White Man.”  This takes some getting used to by most Americans accustomed to such nicknames being vulgar or offensive, and it irked me a bit until I realized that in addition to myself, old people are called “The Old Man/Woman,” tall people are referred to as “The Tall M/W,” mentally ill or impared are “Crazy M/W,” and so on for just about any distinguishing characteristics of any given person.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this all-too-brief glimpse into some of the most fascinating or at least entertaining elements of Malian life and culture.  Of course, this is an old country with a rich and diverse heritage and volumes could be written about all the things that I would love to tell you about.  Sadly, I don’t have nearly enough interest in writing these volumes yet, so you’ll have to settle for what I’m giving you here.  If you have any questions about anything out here that you want me to answer in future updates, post a question or comment and I’ll do what I can to find or make up a good answer.