Culture and Commonality

Sunday we had a cross-cultural exchange with young Malian leaders where they talked to us about customs and the process of elaborate greetings depending on the time of day. They told us that if Americans come to an office for service and saw someone busy with paperwork they wait and do not say anything. In Mali they say Bonjour and it is the sign for the person to look up from their work and acknowledge another’s presence.

After our discussion we filed into the bathroom to wash our hands and sat down on a large mat and ate fish and rice out of three communal bowls with our hands. They were being polite telling me to go first but I told them I needed to see what exactly it was that we were doing so I could copy. They reached with their right hand and took a small handful and rolled it and shaped it in their right palm until it was a solid piece and popped it in their mouth. I tried but never got a single solid piece and instead grains of rice scattered every time I put something in my mouth. I felt bad when I saw Mieko sweeping up so much where I had been sitting. Rodney got the hang of it but he had been putting his left hand in the bowl which they told him was a no-no. He apologized profusely. It’s like being a child, vulnerable, and having to learn everything over again.

When you are full you excuse yourself from the mat and get up, which is rude by our standards. I noticed that the Americans were the last to get up from eating. I wondered if that was because it took us longer to eat with our hands or if we ate more than they did or if we were being greedy. And I wondered what they thought of us. Talk about feeling self-conscious.

We went to an ATM so I could get cash, a little envelope with 70 USD having mysteriously disappeared from my bag. As a former New Yorker I hesitate to say I was pickpocketed (my pride will not let me.) I actually think it happened when they sent all our bags through the scanner upon arriving in Bamako and rather than watching to see if bags were being picked up at the other end, they simply kept the runner going. So all the bags, including mine, piled and crushed up at the other end and a few fell off the table. A book fell out so it’s possible that the envelope could have as well. Well the ATM only accepted Visa. My debit card is Mastercard. And I do not have my checkbook here and I did not bring travelers checks. Again with focusing on the wrong things. We figured an elaborate scheme involving bank transfers and paypal to get money from my account to Mieko so she can write and cash a check for me at the Embassy.

Meanwhile Rodney had to go to the bank today. We got there at 3:45 and they close at 4 but the teller refused to serve him. Rodney called me over to assist. The man said he had to close up at 3:45 so he could leave at 4 and we should not have waited until the last minute. I said I understood but was it possible for him to change the money since we had traveled a long way and we would have no Malian money between us if he turned us away. He said we should have come in the morning. I told him we had been in class in the morning (which we had) and we came as soon as we could. He relented and changed the money. I laid it on thick and said thanks to him we could eat tonight and God would bless him.

Our class today was a session at ASDAP between the Malian and American young leaders talking about human rights and development. We came up with our own definition of development and talked about the importance of communities governing themselves, or at the very least having input into the process, and controlling their own resources. There is a school of public administration here and they talk about sustainability just like we do at SPPD. We partnered off to introduce each other and then broke up into two groups. They gave me a Malian name: Fanta Cissà pronounced Cee-Say. I noticed that when I was in a group with Ousmane and Namory (two men) they mostly looked at each other while talking not me. They gave the various reasons that I should take notes, one indeed did have a swollen finger and the other claimed poor handwriting…hmmm. I sneaked a look and saw that the other group had the only other woman, Coumba, taking notes too. Surprise, surprise... but we did seem to have some good contributions as a group.

Namory said when schools are built the West often suggests that concrete is used but he has a group that builds the schools with local materials for half the money and the buildings do not attract heat like cement does plus it promotes the value of local materials. They said some schools are so overcrowded that teachers have 240 students, 120 in the morning for 4 hours and 120 in the evening for 4 hours, all of the children are about eight. Obviously not quality education. They said unmarried women must live at home until they are married so they go from being under the rule of their father to the rule of their husband. They were somewhat shocked when I said I was not married had no children and had not lived at home for more than 10 years.

Funny thing: we were talking about human rights, but the slide in the powerpoint presentation accidentally used the word for fingers as the words sound the same in French. Droits (dwoah) vs Doigts (dwoaht). Yes let us discuss human fingers...