I’m sure some of you are wondering if we do any work in the Peace Corps, or if it’s just a 2 year intensive language course in a language that no else has ever heard of. Well, the rumors are not true. We do work quite hard here regardless of our skeptics (Robert Strauss and maybe Noah, haha). As I have probably stated before, a lot of our work is what we call cultural exchange. I know, it sounds like some new age 1st step to gaining insight into the mysterious peoples of so and so, or a clever way of making us feel better when the work is not going as planned. But really, this is important. We live here. We eat and cook with our neighbors often eating things we never dreamed would (and eventually liking some of it). We defecate in pits dug in our back yards. We have no electricity, no running water. We try so, so hard to understand the language and cultural taboos. We try to put our selves in the position of the people we are ultimately trying to help. Story break:
A villager falls into a hole he can’t climb out of. Later, a missionary walks by. The villager explains his plight, and the missionary throws down a bible, saying, “See you at church”.
An NGO worker walks by. The villager explains again and the NGO worker (not understanding completely) throws down a wad of money and walks away.
A Peace Corps volunteer walks by and once again the villager explains the predicament and the volunteer runs off. After a while, the volunteer returns with a backpack and jumps into the hole. “Did you bring something to climb out with?” asks the villager. “No” replies the volunteer, “I’ve come to live with you”.
(thanks to Ryan Shaw for the story)
Living with people and sharing in the experiences of everyday life gives us insight into what needs to happen to improve the quality of life. Often it’s as simple as really understanding and listening to what the village wants and then proceeding from there rather than coming in and basically telling people what they want and need, like so many aid groups seem to do. From my experience, this takes time.
I’ve been in this village for five months and I’m still learning and listening. When I first got here, many people would tell me straight up what they needed. I came to find out that these are usually individual needs, not in the best interest of the community as a whole. I see my position as an information gatherer and a liaison to financial or material support if that step needs to be taken. Peace Corps volunteers are great contacts for groups that want to help but don’t have anyone on the ground such as Doctors without Borders and Engineers without Borders. We usually speak the local language and can identify honest, motivated and influential people in the community.
As for me, I am not a trained development worker, and no, I don’t have specialized technical expertise (unless they need an archaeological site recorded or a guitar lesson). However, when I see the impact that “development” work has in some parts of Mali, I question whether that work is in any way better than the work that volunteers are doing. Throwing money at problems is not a solution. Example: Brand new school, a pump and a garden BUT no teachers= no students…basically a expensive structure to provide shade for the donkeys. Sadly, this is not uncommon.
As you can probably tell, I feel the need to justify the Peace Corps and volunteers serving all over the world. This is mainly in response to an article by Robert Strauss, published in the New York Times in January. He states that Peace Corps should stop recruiting inexperienced college graduates, that the majority of Peace Corps volunteers lack the maturity and professionalism required to be effective development workers. There are some volunteers who do not take their service seriously, but the majority is here to work and learn and listen and experience life in a developing country.
So, how do you get an effective development worker these days? Do you pick from the best schools? From George Washington and American University? Maybe, but personally (and I recognize my bias) I would want a Returned Peace Corps volunteer on my staff at UNICEF, CARE or whatever agency it might be. I would want someone who knows the frustrations and “dark sides” of development work, someone who has been on the ground, knows how hard it is to pull their own water, knows the realities of illnesses in villages, knows the value of ‘do it yourself’, and above all knows how to listen. Peace Corps trains and provides the world with some of the most experienced young development workers who understand the reality and possibilities of developing countries and communities.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Toubab!
Ethnicity is very important in Mali. It is important for an American as well, but for us our heritage and ethnicity is just a portion of our identity. In Mali it is everything. It determines who you marry, who you do business with, where you live, who your friends are and what you do for a living. Greetings here are quickly followed by i jamu? (Bamanan) or a ciga? (Tomokan): “‘what’s your last name?”, “who are your ancestors?”. The answer to this question sets the tone of the interaction that follows.
I have a Malian name but the color of skin trumps it. Toubab! When I first arrived in Mali I was quickly irritated by the name everyone had for me: toubab. Everywhere I went excited children and cocky young men would scream it at me (and they still do). Toubab is the word that the Bamanan gave to the French colonists. This is one reason why it annoys me. I’m not French. I’m not even of French decent. Malians use it now as a blanket term for a white person. Sometimes someone will just mention it in passing, as if I was not aware that I was white. Other times it is followed by “give me 500 francs”. I found myself muttering things under my breath when people would call me toubab: “n ye Americain ye, toubabu te”: I’m American not French, “in namba wo, a toubab holo”: I live here, don’t call me toubab, and “mun be? i te folike?”: What? You don’t greet?
I get frustrated sometimes but I know it is far from malicious. The children are definitely not to blame, but I believe I have identified the source. I have witnessed mothers teaching their children to call me and other white foreigners toubab. They think it is hilarious. I quickly (and regrettably) jump to a cultural comparison: can you imagine if white mothers taught their children to scream “African” at black people in America? But, this is definitely not America.
I may have found the reason why Malians use race and ethnicity as identification so prominently. When my language skills improved I realized that Malians are, 1: very proud of their ethnicity and 2: think that all others are inferior. Much of this attitude is in jest, something they refer to as “cousinage” or “joking cousins”, but sometimes tempers flare and you see that the Dogon really don’t think much of the Peulh (a nomadic herding people), neither do the Bamanan (in fact, I don’t think anyone likes the Peulh). Again, this is all kind of a joke- after all, I am an adopted Dogon man, so naturally all Peulh men are out to swindle and turn their cows to pasture on Dogon land.
When you greet someone in Mali and they ask your last name (all foreigners get Malian names), most of the time they’ll say you and your people suck, followed by a hearty laugh, a slap on the back and a handshake. Other jokes are used as well including the very popular “you eat beans” joke among the Bamanans…it’s fascinating, it never gets old. This is all a way to avoid conflict I’m told. If you tease each other than no violence or bloodshed will ensue. I don’t quite understand but it seems to work. Mali is one of the most peaceful countries in Africa despite the fact that it is the third poorest and numerous ethnic groups live side by side (seven in my area alone). Even when things get out of control there is a kind of subtle, mutual affability that trumps the anger.
In November some cattle wandered into millet fields outside of Bandiagara. The Dogons in the area rounded up the usual Peulh suspects and brought them to the police where they were locked up for the day. The Dogon then proceeded to make tea and food for those they brought to jail. They joked back and forth through the fence and the next day the Peulh men were released.
I am beginning to understand that offense in not taken when someone is called by his or her ethnicity. It may seem like racism or intolerance at first, cruel and demeaning. Many times people will just shout out the ethnicity of the person as a way to greet them or get their attention, fula gorko! (hey, Peulh man!) is a common one (another cultural contrast: hey Mexican man! would not fly in the states, especially coming from someone that’s not Latino). However, it seems to me that beneath the teasing and predictable banter there lies respect and a sense of pride.
But toubab? Come on…that’s just annoying.
I have a Malian name but the color of skin trumps it. Toubab! When I first arrived in Mali I was quickly irritated by the name everyone had for me: toubab. Everywhere I went excited children and cocky young men would scream it at me (and they still do). Toubab is the word that the Bamanan gave to the French colonists. This is one reason why it annoys me. I’m not French. I’m not even of French decent. Malians use it now as a blanket term for a white person. Sometimes someone will just mention it in passing, as if I was not aware that I was white. Other times it is followed by “give me 500 francs”. I found myself muttering things under my breath when people would call me toubab: “n ye Americain ye, toubabu te”: I’m American not French, “in namba wo, a toubab holo”: I live here, don’t call me toubab, and “mun be? i te folike?”: What? You don’t greet?
I get frustrated sometimes but I know it is far from malicious. The children are definitely not to blame, but I believe I have identified the source. I have witnessed mothers teaching their children to call me and other white foreigners toubab. They think it is hilarious. I quickly (and regrettably) jump to a cultural comparison: can you imagine if white mothers taught their children to scream “African” at black people in America? But, this is definitely not America.
I may have found the reason why Malians use race and ethnicity as identification so prominently. When my language skills improved I realized that Malians are, 1: very proud of their ethnicity and 2: think that all others are inferior. Much of this attitude is in jest, something they refer to as “cousinage” or “joking cousins”, but sometimes tempers flare and you see that the Dogon really don’t think much of the Peulh (a nomadic herding people), neither do the Bamanan (in fact, I don’t think anyone likes the Peulh). Again, this is all kind of a joke- after all, I am an adopted Dogon man, so naturally all Peulh men are out to swindle and turn their cows to pasture on Dogon land.
When you greet someone in Mali and they ask your last name (all foreigners get Malian names), most of the time they’ll say you and your people suck, followed by a hearty laugh, a slap on the back and a handshake. Other jokes are used as well including the very popular “you eat beans” joke among the Bamanans…it’s fascinating, it never gets old. This is all a way to avoid conflict I’m told. If you tease each other than no violence or bloodshed will ensue. I don’t quite understand but it seems to work. Mali is one of the most peaceful countries in Africa despite the fact that it is the third poorest and numerous ethnic groups live side by side (seven in my area alone). Even when things get out of control there is a kind of subtle, mutual affability that trumps the anger.
In November some cattle wandered into millet fields outside of Bandiagara. The Dogons in the area rounded up the usual Peulh suspects and brought them to the police where they were locked up for the day. The Dogon then proceeded to make tea and food for those they brought to jail. They joked back and forth through the fence and the next day the Peulh men were released.
I am beginning to understand that offense in not taken when someone is called by his or her ethnicity. It may seem like racism or intolerance at first, cruel and demeaning. Many times people will just shout out the ethnicity of the person as a way to greet them or get their attention, fula gorko! (hey, Peulh man!) is a common one (another cultural contrast: hey Mexican man! would not fly in the states, especially coming from someone that’s not Latino). However, it seems to me that beneath the teasing and predictable banter there lies respect and a sense of pride.
But toubab? Come on…that’s just annoying.
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