Amadu loves Bato

I am in love with a girl named Bato.

Ok, so she’s actually two years old, but she is my new best friend. Bato or Batos, as she is called, is short for Batogoma (meaning literally that she is named for her mother).

She is the happiest little kid I have ever seen. Always laughing and smiling. She gets really excited when she sees me. At first, the sight of me would make her cry, but slowly she has gotten used to the strange white guy.

Bato is quickly learning how to talk, and since my Bambara is pretty bad, our language skills are on about the same level. She will say, almost scream, “na” meaning “come.” I know that she wants me to follow her wherever this curious little toddler wants to go.

Recently, my dad stuck some little toy cars in a package. Bato’s siblings, Papu (6), le vieux (8), and Bebe (12), all enjoyed playing with them for a while. Once they lost interest Batos scooped up all the cars and began to play games with them. Her favorite game was to hold one car in each hand and throw the cars high up into the air. She would laugh, and cry out with joy, always seemingly surprised, as the cars crashed back down to the ground. Then she would pick the cars back up and do the same thing again. This same game went out for half an hour. Just the two of us throwing cars into the air, and just being incredibly excited as they flew through the air.

I was struck by how incredibly happy Bato is. She loves her father and can always be heard calling to him. Another favorite activity she encouraged me to play was to angrily stomp the ground. She stomps as though she’s furious with something, although as she does it, she always has a huge smile on her face and a low giggle. She likes when I angrily stomp too. Then she will immediately stomp in response.

Being with Bato for even a short period of time often helps me get out of any funk I’m in.

Then, I can’t help but think that this is without a doubt the happiest Batos will ever be in her life. She is so blissfully ignorant. She has absolutely no idea how terribly unfair the culture she has been born into will be to her when she grows up.

Her own family is a perfect example.

A few months ago, after having lived in Dialafara for 10 months, I finally figured out my host family.

There are some personal questions that I just don’t feel comfortable asking them. So, one day, sitting around with Tiokon, I started asking him.

My host mother, Gundo, always seems to be unhappy, especially by Malian standards. She greets everyone very half-heartedly, if at all. It is very easy to just take one look at her and realize how unhappy this woman is.

On the other hand, Fanta, the second wife, is the exact opposite. She has to be the friendliest person I have ever met. She knows every single person that walks by and greets all of them enthusiastically for several minutes. There is no fakeness there either. It is all sinere.

So, one day, after Gundo had failed to greet me, I asked my homologue, Tiokon, why Gundo was so unhappy. He looked at me as though trying to sense if I was ready to hear what he had to tell me. I started to sense that there was something serious there. After a few seconds he said to me, “I’m going to tell you something about Gundo.”

He told me that Gundo had trouble having kids. She and her husband, who they call Will (apparently he looks like a soccer player of the same name), had one daughter named Mariam (21). They tried for years and years without further success.

At this point I stopped Tiokon in his story, “Wait, what about, Mady (20)?”

“Adopted,” he answered.

“And Sory?” (17)

Again the reply was the same. Even Bebe (12), he told me, had also been adopted.

In Malian culture, one child is simply not acceptable. As a result, Will was “forced” to take a second wife. Fanta.

Within a handful of years, they had three kids. “Now I understand.” This is why Gundo always seems to hate the world. She does. As a result, Gundo resents Fanta, who was able to give Will three kids, including two boys. Gundo feels as though she has been replaced. Someone did what she could not. Of course really she should be upset with a culture that forces such behavior.

Women in Malian society seem to exist for only this reason. Their job is to produce offspring. That and of course every single chore imaginable. There is never a moment of rest for a Malian woman. Cooking (for at least 10 people) three meals a day, cleaning, laundry, taking care of the kids…the list has no end. They go to sleep and do the same thing the next day.

Back to Bato.

Right now she is just a little kid. She stomps her feet for fun, and throws cars into the air. She loves her life.

But, I cannot help but think of what lies ahead when I look at her. Someday, she will most likely be one of several wives. She will be married, without any say in the matter, as a teen, be forced to abandon her studies (if she is actually going to school), and begin a lifetime of chores.

As long as women like Gundo and Fanta are treated as second-class citizens Mali will never be able to reach its fullest potential. There are so many smart, educated, and driven people (both men and women) that I have met in Mali. So the potential for change and progress is there. But, it is an overhaul of the entire society that needs to happen first.

Change is coming. Or crawling. Slowly more women are going to schools and entering the workplace. On the whole though, things aren’t changing nearly fast enough.

It won’t happen in Bato’s lifetime. Maybe in her grandchildren’s.

At times, it is too much, too depressing for me to think about.

Sometimes, it’s just easier to think about the present. The laughter. The bliss. Easier to think about throwing toy cars into the air.