Celebrations and Obligations

With all my work, I had fallen out of the Malian social circuit. It was time to pay my dues and spend some time sitting, waiting, and eating. I decided to accompany my Malian Aunt to her "ton." A ton is an association - a group of men or women who get together occasionally to eat and hang out. Most importantly, tons function as credit associations. Members contribute a sum once a month and then one member is selected to receive everyone's money each month. They can use that money to invest in a small business, pay for big expenses, whatever they want - as long as they pay for the others every month. My Aunt - Djeneba - is in what we would call the high rollers club. It's an association of women who work a commerce triangle between Benin/Togo, Nigeria/Accra, and Bamako. They put in about $100 a month each (big money in a country where GDP per capita is still around $300) and the selected person gets about $3000. When we showed up, we were presented with a huge plate of fish and rice. Other groups of women, all very large and well dressed - we eating their own large plates of fish and rice. Women had brought various imported fabrics that they were selling to their friends at wholesale prices so the friends could resell at retail. There was a mini fashion show of various women trying on various outfits. There was laughter and happiness. Then conversation turned to the governing rules of the association and somehow a disagreement arose over interest rates and order of who goes when. These are all the kind of women you don't want to mess with. There is a reason they have been able to conduct business in Lagos. There was screaming, some crying, and hand gestures that bordered on slaps. The place seemed like it was imploding. The somehow, someone threw a plastic soda bottle at someone else - and the mood changed. The 20 or so women slowly started giggling - which erupted into laughter. The most upset and angry -tried to maintain their sour expressions but most frowns dissipated and the fashion shows recommenced.

My second social outing happened the next day. One of my nephews was turning one. While birthday parties are something that most people my age in Mali never experienced - its something they want for their own kids. His mom, who is only about 15, organized a birthday party for him. Drissa and I packed 10 nieces, nephews, and neighbors into our car and drove them to the birthday party. The children were sat down around an open circle where we all waited for about an hour (this is standard for most Malian gatherings). Eventually they got the radio working and all the little kids were encouraged to dance in the middle. I began to notice scores of 16year old girls arriving in their most glamarous outfits, as well as a substantial gaggle of boys (who were supposedly their for technical support) but it all appeared to be this pseudo flirtatious air between the young men and women permeating the kid's birthday party. The girls at one point cleared the dance floor of kids and shook it themselves for all to see. The boys stared from their chairs and later approached and joked with the girls. In the US, I can't quite imagine this kind of age/activity integration.