The Muslim world is three weeks into Ramadan. For Mali, this means 90% of the people, with the exception of the infirmed, do not eat any food or drink any water from 5 in the morning until 7 at night. The lively and vibrant markets are a fraction of their normal size. Those that do try and keep their typical routine have a certain lethargy about them. An interesting sight in the countless people chewing on a piece of wood to keep their mouths from drying out in the 90 degree heat.
On Sunday, I was invited with my French speaking friend and team mate, Robbie, to go to the polling station for the Mali Presidential elections with a young Muslim man named Ladji. As we rode mopeds through the crowded and dusty streets of Bamako I was struck by how safety conscious my life is back in the US. Even though no one is going faster than 20 mph because of the huge speed bumps every 100 yards, there is constant opportunities for disaster to strike. When we arrived at the polling station Ladji went to ask the policemen if we could observe the voting taking, to which we were promptly rejected. So Robbie and I stood at the entrance watching people go in to vote and people coming out with that now iconic statement of democracy–the purple fingertip. I tried to take photos to post here on Juicy Ecumenism, but upon seeing me slyfully photograph the polling station, the police made me delete all the pictures from my camera.
After the adventure at the polling stations we went back to Ladji’s home. The Spartan room he kept with his wife and infant daughter was clean and comfortable. A small TV played rap videos from around the world and was pumped in via satellite (globalization anyone?). The other furniture in the room included the bed, a sofa, and a coffee table with a vase willed with colorful artificial flowers. We were seated as two other young men and Ladji’s wife left us alone the room. Robbie and I argued about who would get the higher ransom if we were kidnapped. After a few minutes, Ladji came and dropped off a couple cans of fruit juice, but as the self-avowed most pious Muslim in his family, he did not want to risk being accused of breaking the Ramadan fast by joining us as we drank the juice. Once again, Robbie and I found ourselves alone joking about the Taliban as Daft Punk’s bizarre and repetitious song, “Get Lucky” played in the corner.
Finally, Ladji returned. Over the next 30 minutes we spoke of the life and challenges of Mali. Ladji is on summer break from his studies in tourism. Unfortunately, it is not a burgeoning occupation since the civil war and military coup all but closed its most famous tourist destination, Timbuktu. To fill his time he has taken the position as the manager of a new Crêperie (a shop that makes crepes). He runs this shop on the promise that he will be paid once the shop starts making money. The owner of the shop lives in Paris, so there is a bit of trust on both sides of the venture.
With so much uncertainty in Mali, whether it is driving the chaotic roads, crazy Islamist in the North, working for free on the promise of future wages, or countless other issues of daily life, you might think people like Ladji would be miserable. But just as there is the uncertainty of life’s future, there is laughter in the present. Laughter in tea with friends, laughter in the children chasing chickens around the street, and laughter in watching your friend slip and fall in a creek (that happened this afternoon and confirms that people falling in water is universally funny). So my takeaway from Mali today reminds me of the words of Jesus spoken from a mountainside to a world of uncertainty–“Don’t worry.”
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