Reflections on marriages and money

Today, we got sucked into a marriage party. We were heading out the door to go buy water at the market when Hamidou came and told us to come over to his house. We were ushered into a dim room with various weavings hung on the walls, where he offered us soft drinks and bags of frozen native ginger ale (very spicy). We were not entirely sure what was going on, but it gave us a chance to admire a couple of Hamidou’s aunts in their finery: fancy boubous, gold rings in the braids framing their faces, eye make-up. Hamidou showed us his wife-to-be, a baby girl about 10 months old.

They had a nice TV set with cable in there, surprisingly enough, which we watched a bit while waiting for the newlyweds to arrive. Eventually we went back across the street to our house to eat lunch, but then the procession came down the street, with cheering and shouting. Oumar rushed us out and we saw the couple, the groom in a suit and the bride in a white wedding dress, flanked by family and friends.

We still had little to no idea of what was happening, but just allowed ourselves to be led around, back into the room, now packed with well-wishers, where Oumar took a bunch of photos and some griots asked us for money. Traditionally, a caste of people known as griots show up at weddings and other celebrations and start singing the history of you and your family and you have to give them money to go away. Even the people here complain about it being rather annoying.

Finally, the party moved on and we were free to return home and finish our rice.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my financial image here lately. I never quite know how to act, when to give, how much to give, etc. It is clear that I (and basically anyone else coming from the US) have more financial means than most people here. At the same time, those means are not as great as the people here think, seeing my white skin. They seem to think that white people have an endless stream of wealth, an idea which I suppose colonialism and recent tourism would support. However, I am here on research money, and what I don’t spend on expenses I try to save for expenses when I get home, where sandwiches cost $5.

When strangers ask me for money, I have a pretty much no-go policy. I figure that I have enough friends here who are in need of things that they should be where I concentrate my efforts. Even with my friends, I can’t get them everything there heart desires, a) because I don’t have that kind of money and b) because it sets up a weird power relationship that I don’t like. I’m not here to be a sugar mama. And even the kids in the street who scream, “Toobob, give me a present!”, it makes me feel uncomfortable how they just assume that racially they are poorer and I must be Santa Claus because of the color of my skin.

The past few days, though, people have asked me for things that I have granted. Maybe it’s the holiday spirit. Hamidou and Ramata I consider to be my children, and I take care of them however I can. Hamidou’s shoes are falling apart—I told him I’d buy him new ones. I let Oumar use the motorcycle a lot (I would like to cut back on that with the new one) and buy the gas for it. The neighbor boys asked me for money to buy a soccer ball last night, and even though I don’t usually interact with them, I gave it to them, and they’ve been playing with it ever since. But it’s not an uneven exchange. People around here do so much for me, from looking over the house while I’m gone, to taking care of our garden, to running errands. It’s just so hard to know when you’re giving too much or when you’re not giving enough.

Enough of that. Oumar and the boys planted some lettuce in our garden yesterday. We’ll see if it grows. The only thing flourishing is a papaya tree that still isn’t giving any fruit (so much for flourishing). Tomorrow, Kevin and I are going to buy a sheep with a newborn lamb. When else will I get the opportunity to raise sheep? And here I can do it in the comfort of my own courtyard. If it doesn’t go well, I’ll just resell it. But the lambs are just so cute. We stopped by M. Guindo’s house a couple of days ago. He raises a lot of animals, and now one of his ewes gave birth to three lambs that were only a couple of weeks old. Their ears are so soft. Seeing them really sealed the deal.

Then it’s off to Timbuktu for a couple of nights, and we’ll be back here on Christmas Eve to celebrate at home base. Unfortunately, Oumar, my only somewhat Christian friend, is going to his family’s village near Sevare to celebrate, but I’m sure Ramata (who is only questionably Muslim anyway) and the others will take any excuse for a small feast.