Being at a college that kept me academically occupied at more or less every hour of the day, I had to focus my attention towards limited aspects of my personality and interests. I tried to balance academics with other hobbies and passions, but many things took a back seat. While I understand the necessity to focus on fewer activities in order to gain some expertise, I often missed having a diversity of ways to express myself or interact with friends. Throughout my travels I’ve felt particularly fulfilled by the ability to try new things and expand my identity in ways that aren’t work related, and my time in Mali has been especially filled with such experiences.
Growing up, art, in a variety of forms, was a large part of my life. From actively learning and practicing various forms to spending time with my parents to experience and appreciate it, art became something that has a very energizing effect on my mind and emotional state. At various points during my time in college, I relied on art as a therapeutic release and as a way to escape feeling locked into my identity as an engineer, but I always did this alone. And while I valued keeping these parts of my identity alive, even if just intermittently, I still idealized a life where I could express these parts of myself more openly. When I found out I would be coming to Mali, I heard a lot about the culture of music and art and I was keen to immerse myself as much as possible.
From café performances to proper concerts, live music is readily available and it seems most weekend activities revolve around enjoying it. I’ve loved being surrounded by traditional music, and the energy that comes across through the vigorous use of percussion instruments is unlike anything I’ve experienced. I went to one concert in particular where the speed and control of the drummers’ hands as they battled back and forth left me in complete awe. Another time, my colleague’s partner had a Reggae performance, so we went to support and ended up all dancing at the center of the café. As he jammed with other Rasta musicians and we cheered and danced along, I had the incredible experience of realizing how special it was to be in a café in Mali, dancing with friends, musicians, and strangers, and wondering how life ended up this way. On the topic of dancing, it seems dance has suddenly become a large part of how I have fun. I started going with my friend Karen for Salsa night at a restaurant, and after the first time where she, the DJ, and one of the other dancers taught me the basics, I got sucked in. Sometimes we get a group of our friends from work to come and sometimes it’s just the two of us heading out, but regardless, the rush of endorphins keeps a smile on my face as I fall asleep exhausted. Karen and I even took a Malian dance class in a village on the outside of Bamako, where we danced barefoot in a sandpit, listened to the beats of the live conga drum players, and desperately tried to absorb the rapid and precise African rhythms of movement. Even when it’s not an organized dance class or Salsa night, many house parties or socials with my colleagues end up having bursts of dance or song and I think I’m now helping Karen with her mission to teach Salsa to everyone in the office. For a long time, I’ve dreamily envisioned being surrounded be people who freely express themselves in these ways, and it’s a pleasure to discover how much I love the reality. Beyond music and dance, I’ve enjoyed checking out some art exhibits and visiting an art collective, where painters pay to use the space and supplies, showcasing their students’ work. Malians are proud of their culture of art, so taking a peak at some of the art communities has helped me appreciate the subtle beauty of this country.
From dance and music to visual art, these are all more traditional ways to experience art in a new country. I’ve loved every minute of it, but I’ve also loved some more unique experiences that have also given me room to think creatively. Several years ago, one of my housemates discovered that one textile factories sold their misprinted fabric at a discount price, which she then bought and converted into clothes and wall-hangings. When I saw one of her beautifully abstract fabric-paintings, I became determined to track down patterns like that. So we set off to the industrial zone one morning, me not sure what to expect and she not sure we would find anything at all. I was very bewildered as we entered this large factory, but Devon showed an example of what we were looking for and they seemed to understand. She handled the entire experience in Bambara, so I glanced around taking everything in and pieced together what was happening after the fact. We were directed to one warehouse, and, after the traditional back-and-forth pleasantries, we were ushered onto the factory floor itself. Behind the rows of machines, there was a large pile of cloth bundles. As Devon showed her example fabric, a group of workers started ripping open the bundles to reveal endless bolts of fabric, all misprinted in some way or another. They held out meters and meters and we stood and pointed at sections we liked. As soon as we identified a promising section, they quickly ripped out what we wanted and tossed it aside. Before we knew it, pointing here and there and gasping at amazing patterns and streaks of color, we had accumulated a huge mound. After carefully sorting through, dividing between the two of us, and them counting out the meterage, we bargained, paid, and thanked the private crew who had helped us achieve our mission. In contrast to the stressful, crowded, and out-of-control process of buying fabric in a market, I appreciated the kinder and calmer atmosphere of this experience. And now that I’ve acquired the material, my project continues as I attempt to design some new clothes and create some artwork of my own. I’ve missed having art projects to work on, so staring at these pieces of fabric and envisioning the possibilities is suiting me nicely.
In a very different form of art, I’ve found myself exploring new kinds of relationships by spending more time with families and kids. Most social gatherings at myAgro are family focused, so I’ve found myself running around with 3 year olds and discussing with their parents about the ups and downs of raising a family in Bamako. And by watching how the baby in my house went from drinking exclusively milk and barely crawling to eating fish and attempting to stand all in the past 7 weeks, I’ve come to appreciate how exciting it is to see little milestones achieved. I found myself adopted by a large local family, the Sangares, and spending small, daily moments as well as larger festivals with them has helped make me feel so much more settled and connected here. The family is made up of six sons (Aboubacar, Zoumana, Abdoulay, Souleyman, Idrissa, and Mohammed) all in the ages of 1 – 23 years old, and an elder sister, Kadiatou. The mother and the sons run a fruit stand, and after Karen introduced me to them, it has become habit to drop by and check in on the family a couple times a week. And if either Karen or I haven’t been in a while, they definitely keep track! They invited both of us to spend the day with them for Eid at the end of Ramadan, and it was very special to walk around with them, going house by house to visit neighbors and family, cook together, play games, and experience what this day means to them. Out of respect for everyone around me, I held the Ramadan fast for one day, with the help of one of my friends who called me at 4:55 am to make sure I had drunk water and who prepared tea for me at 7:00 pm so we could break the fast together that evening. Throughout the entirety of Ramadan, I learned a lot about different traditions and how different Islamic cultures approach this holy period. For Karen’s birthday party a few weeks ago, we all got together after work, some of us preparing food and others socializing. As the local mosque broke out in prayer at 7:00 pm, we raised our glasses (of tea) and then many of our friends and colleagues took a few moments to pray. The integration of religion into daily life is something I’ve experienced in different capacities in each country I’ve been immersed in, and I’ve appreciated learning these customs through the eyes of people in my life.
Whether it’s music, dance, or family, I love how my experiences here have helped me explore old, current, and new dimensions of myself. From giving me space to revisit old interests to trying things completely new, I feel free to be the person I want to be and free to broaden my identity in as many ways I see fit. I’m not just an engineer, never have been and never will. I’m not someone who has ever specialized in one thing, and finding a life that allows me to keep exploring is hugely important. Sometimes it’s hard to find the energy; when I was the busiest in school, I often forgot how all these hidden aspects of me could give me strength. But now, I’m remembering how good it feels to find that energy and build myself up from as many angles as possible.
I haven’t been able to take as many photos as normal, but here are a few.
The title photo is of the fabrics I purchased!
The first three rows are from Eid celebrations with the Sangare family. The first row is all of us together learning from Kadiatou how to make some traditional Malian snacks.
In the second row, Souleyman poses on the left and Karen and I hold Idrissa on the right.
In the third row, Idrissa was excited to see a non-phone camera and couldn’t stop posing, and on the right the brothers huddle around to share their communal meal.
In the next row, it shows one of the large stadiums in town, where Karen and I went with Aboubacar to watch the Malian team pull out a rare win!
The final row is from one of the art galleries I visited. A rare atmosphere to have a gallery like this in Bamako, but it was great to befriend the owner and hear his story.
