"Hey, fat woman, move over!!"
I imagine if an American bus driver yelled this to one of his riders on a packed bus, the bus company would find itself with a lawsuit by the week's end.
In Mali, I don't think I've ever not heard this phrase yelled in a crowded bus. Or any other slew of things Americans would be shocked about--fat woman, ugly woman, old man, old woman, peul woman, crazy man. I am often referred to as the little white woman.
At first I thought of this as being tactless. Then as un-politically correct. Now I don't see what the problem is. After all, they're just calling it like they see it, right? Who are you to take it personally?
In Mali, there is both a distance and closeness to all interactions. Everything both is and isn't personal. For example, any reference to your size, age, attractiveness, skin color, ethnicity, intelligence, and disability is up for grabs. Anyone can say anything about these things, and a Malian has no idea why you would take offense or be hurt. I have heard mothers called their own children ugly to their faces. One day in my village, the crazy woman dropped a bucket of water, and the deaf woman started pointing and laughing. If you trip and fall, a Malian will point in laugh, then call over other people, who will also point in laugh. After all, it is funny.
But lets take another routine instance: Malians buy sodas from glass bottles, requiring a deposit upon purchase, and then the return of that deposit upon the return of that bottle. My friend, the clinic's vaccinator, didn't have the deposit on him for the bottle, but as the friend of both the store owner and vaccinator, I will vouch for him--"Trust my vaccinator-friend" I tell the store owner. "If he is friends with me, he will return the bottle." Any number of things are accomplished this way--price negotiations, a prime seat in a bus, someone helping you with lost luggage at the airport. Things do or do not get accomplished due to your level of friendship with someone.
Yet Malians have a way of taking the person out of personal. Even a favor system isn't necessarily because of personal influence. You'll do me a favor because of all the people I know. And then if you mess up, I will tell all of my friends, who will also tell all of their friends. And then you yourself will never get anything you want done again.
What on the surface is a favor system, is really a series of actions based entirely on friend or family relationships that have gone back and back and back. So for example, why does this entire family refuse to use the clinic? Because the old doctor's first son is married to this family's third daughter. I might ask, why do you always give medicine to this family for free?" "Ah, because he's family!" And they will rattle off some obscure chain of relations, then end with the phrase, "so it's personal!"
I imagine if an American bus driver yelled this to one of his riders on a packed bus, the bus company would find itself with a lawsuit by the week's end.
In Mali, I don't think I've ever not heard this phrase yelled in a crowded bus. Or any other slew of things Americans would be shocked about--fat woman, ugly woman, old man, old woman, peul woman, crazy man. I am often referred to as the little white woman.
At first I thought of this as being tactless. Then as un-politically correct. Now I don't see what the problem is. After all, they're just calling it like they see it, right? Who are you to take it personally?
In Mali, there is both a distance and closeness to all interactions. Everything both is and isn't personal. For example, any reference to your size, age, attractiveness, skin color, ethnicity, intelligence, and disability is up for grabs. Anyone can say anything about these things, and a Malian has no idea why you would take offense or be hurt. I have heard mothers called their own children ugly to their faces. One day in my village, the crazy woman dropped a bucket of water, and the deaf woman started pointing and laughing. If you trip and fall, a Malian will point in laugh, then call over other people, who will also point in laugh. After all, it is funny.
But lets take another routine instance: Malians buy sodas from glass bottles, requiring a deposit upon purchase, and then the return of that deposit upon the return of that bottle. My friend, the clinic's vaccinator, didn't have the deposit on him for the bottle, but as the friend of both the store owner and vaccinator, I will vouch for him--"Trust my vaccinator-friend" I tell the store owner. "If he is friends with me, he will return the bottle." Any number of things are accomplished this way--price negotiations, a prime seat in a bus, someone helping you with lost luggage at the airport. Things do or do not get accomplished due to your level of friendship with someone.
Yet Malians have a way of taking the person out of personal. Even a favor system isn't necessarily because of personal influence. You'll do me a favor because of all the people I know. And then if you mess up, I will tell all of my friends, who will also tell all of their friends. And then you yourself will never get anything you want done again.
What on the surface is a favor system, is really a series of actions based entirely on friend or family relationships that have gone back and back and back. So for example, why does this entire family refuse to use the clinic? Because the old doctor's first son is married to this family's third daughter. I might ask, why do you always give medicine to this family for free?" "Ah, because he's family!" And they will rattle off some obscure chain of relations, then end with the phrase, "so it's personal!"
I have learned in Mali not to take anything personally. After all, I am little, and I am white. If someone passes me in the city and greets me as white person, I'll greet them right back. After all, here, being white is my most outstanding characteristic.
But in my village? That's another story--that's personal.
***
To fill in my lack of photos, my brief hiatus from blogging was due to a trip to Senegal, among other things.
I waved from across the Atlantic.
