Is life in outlaw territory worth it?

I ended my last entry with the question "what makes it worth it?" and I realize that I have yet to answer it. It's mainly because I'm not exactly sure what drives people to choose to live in such terrible conditions.

The more I think of it, the more I liken what we saw to how I'd imagine an American "wild west" frontier town to be. And in a sense, that's exactly what it is. So it's definitely not the first time in history that folks have chosen adventure and unpredictability over relative comfort and the "known", but it's the first time that I've experienced it first-hand. I've boiled my rationalization down to two main points: I think people choose to live in the mining zones because the alternatives (village life and big city life) aren't always better, and in fact, can be worse for those who can't find work. Furthermore, for the stir-crazy, courageous, and maybe even foolhardy,the mining zones provide a change as well as a constant challenge.

Let me explain:

In general, the folks who choose to work in the mining zones have two, three maybe options in life: they can stay in their small villages and farm for a living, or they can move to a big city and search for work, or they can move to the mining zones. Financially, these three decisions play out as follows: staying in village is a tough life physically, but from what I've experienced, it's not the worst alternative. Villagers are not guaranteed lots of money, but they are surrounded by family and fields, who (in theory) consistently provide everything they need. Because of the family-based society that still dominates here in Mali, village life definitely has it's perks. Moving to a big city in a risky proposition for someone without an education, ie your typical villager. Assuming they're able to find one of the very few available jobs (the number of idle men sitting around big cities in this country is striking; my parents made a point of mentioning it when they visited), they'll probably make around 1,000CFA (2USD) per day, the daily wage of an unskilled worker here. Ends don't meet at 1,000CFA/day in a big city. So that leaves the final option - going to work in the mines. The money's not guaranteed, and as I mentioned below, it seems folks can go days or even weeks without earning any money. But I get the impression that when the $$ does come, it makes up for the weeks of drought that preceded. Still, the combination of harsh and unsanitary living conditions, inconsistent wages and grueling manual labor can't convince me that moving to the mining zones is worth it. But I wasn't born in a rural African village, and I've never known poverty that exists here. A Malian friend’s story counters my initial impressions and raises points that I'd never even considered.

Hady was born in a small Malian village of 250 people. He never went to school, but nevertheless taught himself to read Bambara and speak French. In his early 20’s, he left his village to go work in the mines, where he stayed for several years before one fateful visit back to village. He tells me that he returned home one year to find a wife waiting for him. He’d expressed no interest in getting married, and had actively refused this particular woman several times. But this time, his father was serious. And a serious father is no laughing matter in Mali. When dad says it’s time to get married and you’ve refused the girl twice already, there’s only one chance left before the family threatens to disown you. It was either stay in village and get married or leave forever. Hady chose to stay home, thus ending his stint at the mines.

But even today, some 20 years later, he insists that he didn’t want to settle down, and would have much preferred to return to work at the mines. Judging by the way he talks about his life there, he really enjoyed it. I suspect that the diverse population, the challenging work and the chance to strike it rich called to this smart, ambitious village boy. He’d found his outlet, his release from the monotony of daily life at home. It was during his time there that he taught himself French and learned to enjoy and cook non-Malian food. To this day, he refuses to eat traditional Malian toh (the tasteless mushy corn dish I think I mentioned a while back) in favor of more nutritious fare such as eggs, meat and a variety of fruits. Hady’s reaction surprised me, but part of me understands where he’s coming from. For him, it was worth giving up the stability and support that come with village life in return for something unpredictable and thus stimulating and invigorating.

So where does that leave us? The mining zones are clearly not for me, and I still don’t think they’re a good place for anyone to raise a family, but for single men like Hady, the answer is different. They're not analyzing the place in terms of HIV/AIDS rates like we were, and they can probably learn to overlook the communal bathrooms and ramshackle stick and plastic houses. They're in it for themselves, and life in the mining zones fill a hole, both financial and emotional, for them.

You’ve got to wonder: if it wasn’t worth it or if it didn’t have a certain draw for certain people, would this many villages have sprung up and would people be content—or even eager –to stick around for so long? Despite the outlaw culture that reigns down south, life in the informal mining zones of Mali IS worth it for a particular cross-section of the Malian, and the West African population.





On a related note, the Malian students we did our project with just finished filling out a proposal for $10,000 that would give them a full year to go back into the mining zones and do HIV/AIDS education sessions, testing and advocacy work. Keep your fingers crossed!