BAMM!

This month is Blog About Malaria Month. I am going to blog about malaria. I am by no means an expert on the subject, as I have never had malaria, but I know a few things that I would like to share. I take mefloquin every ten days and I own a mosquito net. I have bizarre mefloquine dreams, such as the one in which I am eating dinner on the back of a llama.

Malaria comes from the French for "bad air." Perhaps once upon a time people thought air caused malaria. I'm pretty sure they've found this to be untrue. Although this morning I was biking into Kedougou and a cow had died on the side of the road. It smelled so bad, I thought I might catch malaria. You can never be sure about these things.

Then the English came along and began prescribing gin and tonics to fight malaria. This is pretty smart of the English, I feel. I know the English and French have not always gotten along. This makes me sad. We should all sit down and drink gin and tonics together. And toast to our health, free of malaria.

Perhaps malaria was something invented by the white man to keep the black man down, the way AIDS was. This is not something I'd particularly like to elaborate on.

If mosquitoes were lollipops, we might enjoy getting mosquito bites. It would be like one of those dismal but necessary chores you have to do with a reward at the end, like when you go to the bank and stand in line for a long time just to find out you're actually overdrawn, but it's okay because at the end you can take a lollipop for yourself, and one for your child waiting in the car, except you don't have a child waiting in the car and you're actually going to eat the second lollipop yourself.

If I tried to draw a picture of a mosquito, it would probably look more like a dragon fly. I'm not sure of the genetic differences between mosquitoes and dragon flies, but I know dragons can breathe fire, which is no match for a mosquito net. In fact, mosquito nets are probably fairly flammable and this train of thought is just a recipe for disaster.

In any case, my friend Karin says I should probably stop writing about malaria now. She would know, she went to Malaria Boot Camp. She may know a few more things about this than me. Read what she has to say at krnordstrom.wordpress.com. Also, go to the Stomp Out Malaria website. You know, if you feel like it.

It's a Baby in a Bucket!

The Outsiders

"When a lizard mocks a turkey, he makes sure there is a tree nearby."

So speaks one of the characters in Ousmane Sembene's film Ceddo. Sembene, one of Senegal's most well-known film-makers, had good reason to follow the advice of his own character. He mocks not only Islam, but also Christianity, as well as slave traders. These three groups are lumped into one, referred to as "ceddo," or outsiders. This is a bold move for someone whose culture is steeped in Islam. In "mocking the turkey," Sembene's tree may have been nearby, but his film did not escape censure - Senghor, the first president of an independent Senegal, banned the film.

The word "Islam" means the peace that comes from submitting yourself to God. Regardless of what I read in the news, I prefer to take my direct, personal experience of Islam to inform my views on the religion. In Diakhaba, the villagers show me a humble and gentle approach to God. They do their five daily prayers and ask me how I pray. They take care of family, each in their own way, and with a larger concept of family than we seem to have in the States - every person's welfare belongs to the village. This includes the crazy man who showed up seemingly out of nowhere; my family gets a kick out of listening to him rant to himself, yet always feeds him when he comes around at supper time. (He is a Danfakha, after all.) And when tragedy strikes, they remind me that God is big. This, to me, is Islam.

In Ceddo, the daughter of the king is kidnapped by the ceddo - the outsiders or, in other words, the animists that existed before Islam came. The ceddo want to send a message to the king that their tradition is strong and they will not be converted. A war ensues. The imam - the Islamic spiritual leader - usurps power from the king and eventually assassinates him. The first attempt to rescue the princess (held captive by a ceddo with bow and arrow) by a Muslim (with a gun) ends in the Muslim getting killed. The symbolism is clear - in this scenario, tradition wins. Later, when the guns come back, the guns win and the princess is rescued. Tradition grows weak and each villager converts to Islam and begins attending mosque.

I have only been to my village's mosque once during Tabaski. Normally I am not allowed to attend, given my age and reproductive status. Mosques the world over are all vastly different, depending mostly on the wealth of the community. Even in Senegal, you find everything from the mosque in Touba - the burial site of Cheikh Amadou Bamba - to the tiny mosque built out of sticks in the village of 100 people next to Diakhaba. What unites these vastly different types of architecture is the crescent moon and star symbol of Islam that adorns the top, much like a cross on a church. A mosque, however, unlike a church, is simply a place to pray. It is this simple type of prayer that I reflect on at night, sitting under the moon and stars, eating dinner with my grandmothers. Is this, then, my form of prayer?

The Great Mosque of Touba

At the end of the film, the princess confronts the imam and kills him with his own gun. Did she, then, not convert to Islam? Is she, herself, a ceddo? These answers remain hazy. We do know, however, that Senegal succumbed fairly easily to conversion to a Sufi form of Islam. If you ask anyone in my village if they are Muslim, the answer is a resounding yes (despite the presence of a missionary in Diakhaba during the last seven years). Yet if you ask if they are Sufi, no one will have heard of that word. Perhaps it's a designation that we, as outsiders ourselves, have placed on them. And it makes sense. Sufis seem more willing to accept the magical components of an animist tradition, such as gris-gris and fetishes. Also, the Sufis are interested in having a more direct spiritual experience of God, more so than experiencing God through texts such as the Quran or the hadiths (sayings of the Prophet). This would clearly appeal to a society that's largely illiterate. However, as Bocande, my host dad's best friend, is quick to assure me, all forms of Islam are the same.

Coumba, my friend's baby, wears gris-gris around her neck to protect her.

It occurs to me that Sembene is being intentionally oblique in the designation of "ceddo." In the film, the group referred to as such are the people resisting conversion. And yet Sembene's critiques of these foreign meddlers is so apparent, we can only assume he considers them to be the outsiders. By the end of the film, the village is homogenized when everyone is baptized with a Quranic name, such as happened to me when I moved to Diakhaba. I was named Fatoumata - after my host mom and also the Prophet Muhammad's daughter - and I took the family name Danfakha (women keep their last name in marriage but children take their father's last name). This was not a forced conversion. I was happy to take a Quranic name and a local last name. It gave me a family to fit into and rendered me no longer an outsider. As the kids in my house are quick to point out, when they put their arm up to mine - "A be kilin." We are the same.

A be kilin.

By the way, Sembene is a great film maker, and watching any of his films would provide for a delightful viewing experience.

Sundiata, the Lion King

This is the story of Sundiata Keita, the Lion King, and founder of the Mali Empire, written in radio theater form, as it will be recorded and broadcast on local radio. Normally his story is told by a griot, a local storyteller, however I decided to tell this version through the eyes of Sundiata’s younger sister, the princess. This is a beloved and heroic story, often told and retold for the enjoyment of all. Somehow, here, the narrator speaks with definite southernisms. Perhaps I, myself, always wanted to be a princess.

ACT I

Princess:         Listen up, y’all! Listen to my story. It’s the story of a hero. Some know him as Manding Diara. Others call him Sundiata Keita. I know him as older brother. We’re same mother, same father. To tell you this story, though, I’ve got to go back in time a bit, before I was born, before even my brother was born. We go to a village called Niani.

                                                                       ~~~~~~~~~~

Soothsayer:   (casting cowry shells) Great King Maghan Kon Fatta, these shells have something to tell you.

King:               Tell me, marabout. What do you see?

Soothsayer:   Two hunters will come to your house, bearing the name Traoré. They are brothers. Welcome them into your home. But they won’t be alone. They will be accompanied by a woman – a very ugly woman with big eyes and a hunchback.

King:               (gasps)

Soothsayer:   You are to marry this woman. She is going to give birth to the next king.

                                                                           ~~~~~~~~~~

Princess:         It’s true. Good night, my mother was an ugly woman! Anyway, it all came to pass as the marabout predicted. My father married my mother. The wedding was a real hootenanny. People came from all over to celebrate. And then, the wedding night arrived. My father wanted my mother to have a baby right away. He knew the baby would be king. But my mother disagreed somethin’ fierce. She was scared, see. This went on for a few nights. Then one night, my mother woke up to a strange sound.

                                                                            ~~~~~~~~~~

Mother:         My husband, what are you doing? You’re not sleepy?

King:              No, I’m not sleepy. I’m making an altar. I had a dream. A djinno came to me in my dream and told me I must sacrifice a virgin. You are a virgin. Therefore, I’m going to build an altar to sacrifice you.

Mother:        What?! You can’t kill me! Don’t you love me? If I eat beans (i.e. get pregnant) then you can’t sacrifice me, right?

King:             You’re right.

Mother:        Okay. I want to eat beans. I don’t want to die!

                                                                               ~~~~~~~~~~

                                          

Princess:        Of course, the king lied. He didn’t dream of a djinno. He only said that to scare his wife into sleeping with him. So she gets herself pregnant. On the day she gives birth, there’s a huge storm!

                                                                (thunder noise)

                                                                (baby crying)

Villagers:     I heard you gave birth? May God make your baby strong.

Mother:       Amiina.

King:          I present to you Sundiata Keita!

                                                                (applause)

                                                                            ~~~~~~~~~~

ACT II

Princess:        My brother was destined for greatness. You recall, it was read in his cowry shells. Strange, then, that he was such a weak kid. He crawled like a baby until the age of 7. He was also ugly and ate too much.

Little Sundiata: I’m hungry!

Princess:        This made my father’s first wife happy. She was jealous as a side dish of collards and did not like my mom, or Sundiata. When my father, the king, died, his wife was mean as a snake to my mother. One day, when Sundiata was 7 years old and still couldn’t walk, my mother asked my father’s first wife for some baobab leaves to prepare dinner.

                                                                            ~~~~~~~~~~

Mother:        Sassouma, give me some baobab leaves to make dinner.

First Wife:  How dare you ask me for baobab leaves. I’ll beat you!

                                                                (slapping sounds)

Mother:       Stop! Stop! My son, help me!

Sundiata:      Mother, do you want some baobab leaves, or do you want the whole baobab tree?

Mother:      There’s no way you can carry a tree. You can’t even walk!

Sundiata:     Bring me an iron rod.

Mother:       Eh?

Sundiata:   Go to the blacksmith in the village and bring me an iron rod.

Mother:     Okay. I’ll be right back.

                                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~

Princess:    So my mother brought Sundiata an iron rod. He used it to try and stand up. But he was so strong that he bent the rod! After that, Sundiata could walk. He picked up a baobab tree and carried it to his mom.

Mother:     My savior!

Princess:   But this made my father’s first wife madder ‘n a chicken without feathers, and she decided to kill Sundiata. She invited the nine witches of Niani to her house.

                                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~

Witch:         What can we do for you, queen mother?

First Wife: Kill Sundiata! And if you do, I will give you each one cow.

Witch:        How shall we kill him?

First Wife:  Put poison in his soup.

Witch:        Is he at home?

First Wife: He is out hunting elephants. Go now and do the deed.

                                                                        ~~~~~~~~~~

Princess:     So the 9 witches went to my brother’s house. But while they were there, Sundiata returned home.

                                                                         ~~~~~~~~~~

Sundiata:         (stomping and sounding cheery) Good work today, men! We caught 10 elephants and we’re going to have some good eatin’ tonight! Hey, what’s this?! (spies witches in kitchen)

Witch:           Uh-oh. Caught red-handed.

Sundiata:      What are you doing?

Witch:          Sundiata, please forgive us! The queen mother wanted us to kill you. She told us to put poison in your soup. She is giving us each a cow in payment for killing you.

Sundiata:     Well, heck, I can do better than that. If I give you each an elephant, will you go away?

Witch:        Like my grandma always said, an elephant’s bigger ‘n a cow. Sure, I’ll take you up on that offer.

                                                                       ~~~~~~~~~~

ACT III

Princess:         Even though Sundiata got himself out of that situation, he knew he wasn’t always going to be so lucky. He and my mother decided they needed to leave Niani if they wanted to live. They set out one night, with tears and trepidation, and ended up in the village of Djedeba, where they live for 7 years. But after 7 years passed, my mother said to Sundiata…

Mother:       Sundiata, your time has arrived. Your destiny is in Niani.

Princess:    And so they decided to go home. Before they leave, though, the king – Mansa Konkon – challenged Sundiata to a game.

                                                                 ~~~~~~~~~~

King:             Well, my lad, do you know the game of wori?

Sundiata:      Wori? Sure. You drop the pebbles in the holes, right, and try to end up with the most pebbles.

King:             That’s the one. You know it well. Let’s play a round. If you win, you can ask for whatever you want. If I win, I get to kill you.

Sundiata:       Deal.

King:        (aside) Heh-heh. Little does he know I’ve never lost this game. (to Sundiata) Okay, let’s play!

                                                                (sound of stones clicking)

Sundiata:      I win!

King:             I can’t believe I lost! Oh no! Very well. What do you want for winning?

Sundiata:     I want a caravan to accompany me. My mom and I are going home!

                                                                 ~~~~~~~~~~

Princess:        And so Sundiata and my mother set off for Niani. What they didn’t know is that while they were gone, their land fell into the hands of the Sosso sorcerer king, Soumaoro Kanté. And, ooh, was he scary. He lived in a house surrounded by 7 walls, up on the 7^th floor. In his room, there were snakes and owls and the decapitated heads of his enemies. It is this scary king that Sundiata returned to. But my brother – he had the majesty of a lion and the force of a buffalo. He battled the Sosso king Kanté.

                                                                (sound of swords clinking)

Princess:       And can you guess the outcome of the battle? At 18 years old, after having been lame, after having attempts on his life, and after exile, Sundiata Keita defeated the great Sosso king and began forming what would become the Empire of Mali. But first, as his birth was predicted by a soothsayer, it was to a soothsayer he now turned to for advice.

                                                           ~~~~~~~~~~                

                                          

Soothsayer:   Sundiata, you are now a great king, as I predicted. But before you proceed, you must make a sacrifice. You must immolate 100 bulls, 100 rams, and 100 roosters.

                                                                (cow noise, sheep noise, rooster noise)

Sundiata :       Listen up, my warriors! You, you, and you will go with Fakoli Koroma. All the blacksmiths will follow Fran Kamara to the mountains of the Fouta. Everyone else, come with me to Kita. We’re going to form an empire, y’all!

                                                              ~~~~~~~~~~

Princess:         And thus they proceeded until Sundiata made his way back to his birthplace, Niani. They found it in ruins, like Sherman had gotten ahold of it. Little by little, Sundiata worked to build it back up.

Kingly Voice:  If you want salt, go to Niani. If you want gold, go to Niani. If you want beautiful fabric, go to Niani. If you want fish, go to Niani. If you want meat, go to Niani. If you want to see an army, go to Niani. If you want to see a great king, go to Niani…

Princess:        …because it’s in Niani where you’ll see my brother, Sundiata, the lion king. This is his story, the story of a hero.