The Shea Association Goes to Ghana

Written April 2, 2011

I have a story, and if I can tell it well enough, it will shed light on many different aspects of Malian culture. Or, I should say, the culture of the Malian village in which I reside.

In March, a commercant from Bamako arrived wanting to buy as many shea nuts as she could. It was a bad year for shea across Mali – the trees didn't produce a lot of fruit – so she was willing to buy good- and bad-quality nuts.¹ She said she would give money to the woman's Shea Butter Association (Sabunyuman), such that they would do the buying and make a small profit in the business. But, when the woman arrived after the initial meeting with the association, she refused to give the money to anyone but me, the trustworthy Peace Corps Volunteer. She proceeded to give me the equivalent of $800 US in the middle of village in the front of a small crowd at 9:30 PM.² This led to me having to run around and buy shea nuts every 2-3 hours over the next week. I had, in effect, become her unpaid employee. I was disturbed by all of this, as it resulted in the association not making any profit, and led to disagreements among association members. And, when the money ran out, I had villagers yelling at me, saying, “You have to buy my nuts! My Grandson's baptism is tomorrow and I need the money.” People thought I was the one buying nuts, not the commercant from Bamako. At the end of the week, the commercant returned to collect her nuts – over 7 tons in the end – to be shipped to Sweden for processing and addition to all sorts of face and body creams for Tubabs like you and me. I was happy to be done with the business, and the shea association was ready to move on, not having benefited as they had hoped they might.

So, last week, the commercant called our association's President to say that she had funding for 4 association members to go all the way to Ghana for the International Shea Conference. The women would get a chance to see the work of shea producers from all over West Africa and the world. This would also be the 1^st opportunity for these four women to visit another country. Four association members were found who are slightly older and thus aren't carrying babies on their backs – Fatumata, Sitan, Djeneba and Tutu. Everyone's husband agreed except for Djeneba's.³ He did not want Djeneba going, seemingly because he didn't want his 1^st and 2^nd wives to fight. But, let's leave Djeneba for a moment, who was heard to say, “There are many good trips that Allah will provide for, and this isn't one of them.”

My homologue, Tutu, spent all day last Wednesday getting ready for the big trip – putting Jabi on her feet, braiding her hair, ironing her clothes and getting her business together. I left her at approximately 5 PM to all of this preparation. After dinner that night, I went by her house to say goodbye, to find that her husband had decided that she was no longer allowed to go.⁴ All Tutu could do was smile, laugh, and say “I'm not going.” I was angry and wanted to yell at her husband for changing his mind at the last second. The next morning, Tutu asked her eldest son to speak to his father for her. It didn't work. Djeneba, who's husband had been convinced to let her go, also pleaded Tutu's case – to no avail. They told me that their last chance lay with me...

It came down to the 3^rd party system – something we had learned about in early Peace Corps training, but I had never had to use in such a serious case.⁵ At lunch time, I spoke to the Dugutigi (Chief of the Village), who is rumored to be 102 years old and is my host father here. He is also Tutu's husband's host father here⁶, so he holds large sway over her husband's actions. As soon as I explained the situation, he jumped up (mind his age and the fact that he is mostly blind), told me not to worry and left for Tutu's house. He spoke to her husband and told him that he must allow Tutu to go to the meeting in Ghana. This was the 4^th or 5^th person of the day to speak to Tutu's husband on her behalf (Tutu herself can have no say in the matter – she was never even give a reason as to why she couldn't go), but he had still refused. Until the Dugutigi came. Tutu came by my house a couple of hours later to say she would be on her way that night.⁷ Still, he was deeply saddened because her husband had defended his actions to the Dugutigi by saying she doesn't respect him. The woman who gets up every morning at 5 AM to heat bathwater for her husband and his 2^nd wife; the woman who, alone, provides nutritious food to the family; the woman who takes care of her husband's blind mother and nearly blind father; the woman who works constantly to improve the lot of her and her husband's 7 children. You say she doesn't respect you?⁸ I must bite my tongue, as it's not my business, and saying anything would cause more troubles for Tutu than there already are.

The four association members have now left together for Ghana. I'm so excited to hear what they learned on the trip, and of the opportunities it might bring for the further advancement of the association. I'm also excited to hear impressions from their 1^st visit to another county, especially one with such a different language and culture.

1So much for the efforts across Mali (including Peace Corps) to educate people about the importance of boiling nuts to produce high quality nuts. People have often said that only boiled, high-quality shea nuts will be bought by exporters, but this commercant was buying anything that remotely resembled a shea nut (even moldy, smelly, yucky clumps of mud).

2This is a huge sum of money in my village. I was quite distressed for the entire time that I had the money, worrying constantly that someone would try to break into my house. I don't normally bring any more than $40 US with me any time that I go to my village.

3In Mali, each household has a “dutigi” or “head of house” who has the last word in all matters. Whatever he says is law, no discussion.

4Tutu's husband's 2^nd wife has a history of interfering in Tutu's business. Last year, for instance, whenever Tutu had a Peace Corps training event to attend with me, the 2^nd wife would also leave town – leaving no one to cook and care for the family. This year, with the addition of 2 daughter-in-laws to take care of the cooking, things have gotten much better.

5The 3^rd Party system is very important in Mali. If you have a problem with someone, or a question of someone, it is rare that you would broach the topic with that person yourself. Instead, you find someone you trust and know is respected, explain your situation, and have them broach the subject with the other party. This avoids fights and embarrassment that might otherwise come from the matter. I have seen it in action when the griots speak for the mayor when dealing with village business. I have seen it when a young man likes a woman – his friend speaks to the woman first, and the woman gives her answer through her own 3^rd party. A very functional system, though quite different than Americans' “forward” approach to things. If you were to go about things with the 3^rd party system in America, we might say you were being passive aggressive.

6Even though the family has been in the village for 40 or 50 years now, they are not original members of the village. Because of that, Tutu's husband's father is the “guest” of the Dugutigi (Chief of Village), and now that her husband has become head of the house, he is the Dugutigi's guest. Any time there are problems or discussions of marriage in their family, it must be done through the Dugutigi.

7Woohoo!

8Forgive my American, feminist point of view in this matter...perhaps I've stepped away from the straight story here.

Nako mason

I've had many questions from friends and family back home along the lines of: “How is your garden growing?” And the answer is: “A ka wusa” (literally: It's better). And, it truly is better than last year. I've nearly tripled the amount of produce from my garden last year, and have not needed to buy vegetables from the market in quite some time!

Through the rainy season last year, I grew peanuts, beans, squash, cucumbers, eggplants, corn, hibiscus and tomatoes...most of which were failures. I didn't realize it, since I hadn't been in that spot during the rainy season the year before, but my garden turns into a mud cesspool during the rainy season. Rice would be much better suited to the spot during the rains. I did have a  bountiful peanut crop, which made me very happy because I considered it my first real success in the garden. In addition to the mud, I had been previously unaware of the invasiveness of grass during the rainy season. I would completely clear an area of grass to plant a peppiniere, only to find that new grass seedlings would outgrow my seedlings in a short time.

Lessons learned last year have helped me to grow a much more productive garden this season. I am currently growing “big” onions (called Tubab onions here) and smaller shallots (called African onions), eggplants, lettuce, tomatoes, green beans, green peppers, basil, cilantro, carrots, 2 beets, moringa trees, etc. etc. I tried growing cabbage but grasshoppers devoured all of my seedlings. A second species of grasshopper (black and white with neon stripes) is now attempting to destroy my eggplants and freshly transplanted green peppers. I'm reluctant to buy pesticide and haven't found a natural solution as of yet.

Since pictures speak better than words, here is my garden.  First, a couple pictures of hibiscus: the flower being pollinated and a fruit.  We brew the fruit into a delicious tea:

I grew "kusa" during the rainy season, a strange mix of cucumber and squash.  I had some early successes with the fruits, but everything rotted once my garden turned to a mud cesspool. 

And, here's my overall garden these days (well, back in February or March):

Here are the small "African" onions.  Almost every woman in the garden grows this variety of onion during the gardening season.  There are very few pest problems associated with it, the onions store well, and women can sell them for a large profit in the market.  The leaves are also dried to be used later in the year.  I have a whole bunch of these onions sitting in my house right now.  As soon as my "big" onions are used up (they don't store as well in the heat), I will use them in my cooking.

This is the star of my garden.  I received seeds for this variety of eggplant from my boss at Peace Corps last year and planted a peppiniere in the rainy season.  I have 7 of these plants in my garden, which have produced over 300 fruits since December!  The other women in the garden have been excited about this variety, though a little wary because it looks so different from their own, local variety.  I gave out a lot of the fruits and several women saved the seeds to plant in their own gardens.  Needless to say, I have been eating a lot of small, orange eggplants over the last few months. 

I tried growing green beans last year, but nematodes destroyed them before they produced any fruit.  This year, I had a 3 week run on green beans!  Unfortunately, most women in my village have no idea what these beans are or that you can eat them whole.  I tried to explain their preparation to the women who came by my garden, but I'm not sure I got any converts to grow green beans in their own gardens...

As with last year, the main thing I have planted in my garden is tomatoes.  I buy tomatoes every day in the market, so it makes sense to just grow my own.  And, I haven't had to buy tomatoes for over a month now!  Tomatoes are hard to grow in Mali without using pesticides...they get attacked by moth worms, root diseases, and viruses.  A virus has infected many of my plants, and the tomato plants in other women's gardens.  Still harvested a lot of fruit though!

I ran a couple of informal trainings in the garden about how to make a compost pile and how to plant peppinieres (nurseries for seedling development).  Here are four women at the composting formation, in the middle of building the compost pile: