Reflection: Planting Cotton

Malians are ALWAYS laughing, and most of the time, they’re laughing at us. So last week, when my neighbor Fatimata stopped by, I did not take offense when she  yelled “Ashata, Why don’t you come help me plant my fields?” with a faked indignant look and then burst into peels of mocking laughter. They love teasing us about not being able to do what they consider to be the simplest of tasks. Normally, I would brush it off and make a joke back, but that day was different and something inside me (pride, boredom, stupidity...) thought… how dare you? “I’m busy today, but can I come tomorrow,” I replied. “Oh sure, always tomorrow,” she laughed. “No, seriously, what time will you leave?” I retorted. “In the morning.” she answered in a tone that said, ‘why would you ask such a silly question?’ Yelling a quick blessing she walked away shaking her head and chuckling at those funny tubabs.

So, needless to say, I got a pretty big kick out of the look on her face when, on the following morning, I showed up to her  house in work clothes, carrying my garden hoe and a day’s supply of water, and said “Are you ready?” After repeated objections  of “Ashata, you can’t be serious,” I finally convinced the women in the house that I WAS in fact serious and around 10AM we set out on foot for their fields, a mile from the village. They strapped their babies to their backs, put large pots full of “toh” for lunchtime on their heads and after all that had the nerve to say, “Ashata, you can’t carry that garden hoe for a mile, give it to me, I’ll carry it for you!”

We arrived and as the sun was getting high in the sky, we got to work immediately. We have had serious droughts lately, so much of the seed that was planted did not come up and Fatimata’s husband assigned us to replant a few hectares of cotton. This basically meant, bending over, chopping up the hard dry soil, dropping in 2-3 seeds and covering it up and moving on to do it again 2 feet down the row. Not so hard right? It took about 15  minutes of this work to wipe the ‘I told you so’ smile I’d been wearing all morning off my face. Really, what was I thinking? Its not that planting cotton required great muscular exertion, but as you plant in rows, you move in a crouched, bent position that makes your back and legs ache. I honestly don’t remember being that sore since doing speed workouts for cross country. I was also amazed at the coordination of these women who, even when I got the hang of it, were planting at twice the speed of myself.

We planted until 12:45 and with sweat poring down my face, and my shirt soaked through, we took a break for lunch.  As I sat down hungrily to eat my toh and sauce, I realized that despite the exhausting morning and the further embarrassment I had caused myself  by actually being pretty lacking in my cotton planting skills, I had had some great conversations with the women I was working with. They wanted to know if  Numudjo (James) had worked in my father’s fields before we got married, which led to discussions on arranged marriages, polygamy, and eventually children and nutrition. It had been especially rewarding because there had not been men present, which gave the women an opportunity to really open up to me.

The conversations continued over lunch when I discovered that Fatimata had lived in the Ivory Coast until she was 12 and she completely surprised me with detailed knowledge of how ‘tubabs’ live (Sure, educated Malians know a lot about the outside world. But educated Malians,especially women, are few and far between in my rural village). She began sharing about the white people in the Ivory Coast. “They always bought the melons I was selling.  We would just sit around and watch them sometimes and they were so funny. They LOVED carrots, green peppers, cabbage, potatoes, eggs, macaroni…and the mom would actually split up their food first and then give them each their own little portion on a plate. (Malians eat everything from one bowl) Then, they dug this hole in the ground, filled it with water, and put their kids in it.” Choking a bit on my toh, “um…excuse me? what?” “You know, they dug a hole. Then they put cement in it. They put water in the hole and then they put their kids in it.” “I’m confused and slightly worried about where this is going, are you talking about a well?” “No, they would play in the hole and swim in it.” “OHHHHHH……a pool.” I realized with relief. “They would have competitions for whose child could get from one end to the other the fastest,” she continued miming with her hands, “and they would only wear these little tiny pieces of cloth to cover here and here. Then, one day, I used their bathroom. It had this big device that you were supposed to pee or poop into and then if you pressed something, it would just take it all away! And high on the wall their was a pump and if you turned these things it could be hot or cold or whatever you wanted. It was so cool! You got so clean and it was awesome!”

We rested until 2pm and then, the temperature still around 90F, we went back out and planted for another couple hours. At about 5, one of the women saw that, due to exhaustion, I was having trouble still planting in a straight line and suggested we rest and go back. Its Shea nut harvesting season, so each woman filled a large bowl with Shea nuts and placing it on her head, and tying a baby to her back, we walked back to village.

However, the mood on the return trip was completely different from that morning. Instead of the proud “how dare you question my abilities?"’ attitude I came with, I had been humbled by the fact that these women do this backbreaking work every day for months during rainy season. They wake up at 5 to make breakfast, wash and dress their children, clean their concession, draw water, wash dishes, and make lunch before heading out to the fields. They work until late afternoon, only to come home and repeat their chores in preparation for dinner before they can have any time for themselves. Though I only spent part of one day doing their work, I gained a new kind of respect for them that you can only have through experience. Since it took my about 3 days get over the soreness in my legs and back, I think I learned my lesson and will never again so lightly volunteer to work in the fields. Still, it was a wonderful experience to have and I know that I’ll never forget the conversations I had that day.

~ Joye