Defining Poverty
4 August 2009
Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.
-William Shakespeare
Many months ago I happened to be in Bamako when Mali won its first World Cup qualifying match. Shortly after the scoreboard clock indicated time was up people flooded to the streets. I don’t know where they all came from. I am surprised I didn’t see anyone killed in the wild celebration. All of the rumors I had heard about the dangers of soccer matches seemed justified.
The last time I found myself in the capital, Mali was slated to play the favorite, Ghana. The winner would go to the World Cup. I was apprehensive about going to the game due to all the warnings telling us not to, not to mention my limited prior experience with the crowd’s reaction. I also figured this would most likely be the biggest match Mali would take part in while I lived here, so I left all my valuables behind and joined up with some friends to head over to the stadium.
Traffic changed from mopeds, cars, and busses to boisterous masses of pedestrians as we approached the stadium. I wasn’t sure what to expect other than continued pandemonium. Nevertheless, I was surprised. Instead of chaos we experienced a fairly normal sporting event. Drums echoed across the field instead of a marching band and vendors sold questionable meat on a bamboo skewer as opposed to hot dogs, but order was maintained. We were not squished or shoved. Nothing was thrown at us. I didn’t even see anything on fire. To be honest, I was a little disappointed – not just because Mali lost.
I have now lived here for over a year and would say my experience thus far has a lot in common with those soccer matches – I saw chaos at first and then slowly recognized the order hiding inside it. Although the rankings have now changed a little, when I arrived here Mali was said to be the third poorest nation in the world. Initially, my eyes were open in amazement as I stared out the windows of the Land Cruisers at the conditions these people were forced to live in. It was tough to imagine a place more different from where I grew up. I remember reading in the paper and subsequently laughing about some old lady who had electricity hooked up for the first time when I was in High School. The power company even bought her a few appliances. I found it hard to believe there was still someone without power. How could anyone live without it?
My village is the rare home of an affluent man. He has a generator. His house has running water and air conditioning. He even has a vehicle. All of these things are unheard of in rural Mali. It seemed to me like an inverted world at first. A world lacking so many things I had taken for granted – a poverty stricken world – the Third World.
Merriam-Webster defines poverty as “The state of one who lacks a usual or socially acceptable amount of money or material possession.” I tend to think of it differently now. Perhaps it has more to do with freedom – or lack thereof. Like a windshield coated in salt that obscures the view in broad daylight, at first I could not see past the lack of material possession. I have been here long enough for the sun to set and now the outside world seems much clearer. My vision can now penetrate what was once so glaringly obvious and see into a bit of that which lies beyond.
The community I live in has a wealth of social interaction, family cohesion, interdependence, and physically laborious time spent outdoors. Western society often finds these things lacking. Here they are natural. Our society, the younger generation anyway, needs to be convinced of the importance of interacting in person as opposed to online and over the phone. Here, convincing people of the importance soap and clean water carry is quite difficult.
In the same way inadequate diet and hygiene leads to increased sickness and shortened life span, the relative isolation of the American individual can foster diseased minds and lonely hearts, spreading like a cancer throughout society. People don’t want to spend time alone here. The days are spent either working together or sitting together and talking. Children are like the electrons in iron as opposed to a ceramic – they flow relatively freely through the adult world, not contained within a nuclear family. Dysfunctional parents don’t have nearly the same negative impact on their children because all kids are disciplined and looked after by the community. If fights, domestic or otherwise, break out they are witnessed by half the village and quickly fizzle out. There is no need for law enforcement where I live in as the community here naturally and effectively governs itself.
Like the many dented and scratched Mercedes, lacking air conditioning and tires that match, Mali is pretty beat up on the surface. Those cars are built so solidly and reliably that they refuse to break down even though superficially they look ready for a junkyard. It took me a while to see past the exterior shortcomings, but what I have found has caused me to view my time here as an exchange instead of a contribution. I have a lot to learn and so do they. Fortunately we happen to be in a place where we can teach each other a few things.
