On being a toubab

1) Sunset at site

2) Adjara, my host sister

3) Here comes the sandstorm!
4) Now it's here!

I'm in Bamako at the moment doing my mid-service health exam (hard to believe I've been here about 11 months already!). Got a clean bill of health, except that I apparently have amoebic cysts, which basically means I have amoebic dysentry except that the amoebas aren't active at the moment. Since they aren't active, and since even if we treated them I might just get more tomorrow, we've chosen not to treat them at this time. Maybe I'll give them names, my own little pet critters in my bowels.

As a side note, the format of this and pretty much every blog I've written is pretty messed up. This is due to some problem with the blogging site itself, and try as I might I've been unable to correct the problem. My appologies, and thanks for bearing with me.

Saturday, 5/24

Moving out to site is a strange experience for many reasons, not least of which for the identity problems it presents. What Americans might assume about me as a caucasian male from New England is very different from what Malians tend to assume about me as a white male de l'étranger - that is, a white male that comes from wherever it is I might come from, which obviously isn't here. I rather like the French word étranger, "foreigner," which comes from the root etrange, "strange," and might just as easily be translated literally as "stranger" as "foreigner." To alleviate some of our strangeness we volunteers take a Malian name which, besides being more familiar to the locals, is pronouncable to them. Despite this concession, however, I reman an etranger, and everyone who does not know me, along with a large fraction of those who do, refer to me simply as "toubabu."

Toubabu, a Bambara word, might roughly be translated as "white person" and this is, in fact, the way it is most commonly used. Its etymology is not, however, quite that simple. For one thing, the word for "white" in Bambara is jéman, which clearly doesn't make up any part of the word "toubabu." The word "kan" in Bambara refers to "noise" or "speach." When refering to a particular language, "kan" is added to the name of the ethnic group that speaks that language - hence "bamanankan" or "fulakan" for "speach/noise of the Bambaras (Bambara)" or "speach/noise of the Fula (Fulfulde in English, Peul in French)" respectfully. If you translate toubabu as "whites" then, toubabukan must be translated as "speach/noise of the whites." This clearly presents a problem, as though the many groups of white/causasians might sometimes be grouped together as one race, the many languages they speak cannot. Indeed they aren't in Bambara - "toubabukan" refers specifically to French. English is "anglékan."

This makes perfect sense historically since the French were, of course, the first Europeans that the Bambaras came into contact with. If toubabukan refers specifically to French, toubabu must refer specifically to the French. Thus when a Malian calls me a toubabu, they must technically be calling me a Frenchman. This I heartily object to, though not out of any dislike for the French (I am not one of those who subscribes to the general negativity in recent American sentiment toward the French). No, my objection to being called a Frenchman here is due to the well-deserved association of the French as a longstanding imperial conqueror and ruler. Americans, as I often point out, have never fought a war against the Bambaras, nor have we ever been an occupying imperial force (here). The distinction is lost on the average Malian.

Where the word "toubabu" itself comes from I don't know, and have not yet met anyone who can tell me. The genesis of a new word to describe the first radically "other" people encountered by a culture, completely independant of what the "new" peoples might call themselves, reminds me a bit of Russian. If I'm not gravely mistaken, and Toby please tell me if I am, the Russian word for the Germans can be literally translated to something along the lines of "the people who babel" or "the people who can't speak," the irony of course being that they could understand each other perfectly well; it was just those early Russians themselves who couldn't understand them.

At any rate, whether I have a name they can pronounce or not, to most Malians I am simply the toubabu. At site I'm the only white person for 100km in any direction , so being known as the white person kind of makes sense, but even in a city like Bamako or Segou (where plenty of white people can be found living, working, or passing through as tourists) I am also known as toubabu - in fact in my experience I'm much more likely to be called toubabu in these places.

Although just about everyone refers to me as toubabu, the ways in which they do are not all equal. Walking around anywhere, but especially in cities, cries of "toubabu!" follow me wherever I go. For the smallest of children, if they're not too busy running away in terror or hiding behind a reassuring adult, this is similar to small children in America who, upon seeing a fire truck drive past, will yell "fire truck!" It is not intended to get my attention, but merely an exclaimation of wonder at something interesting that they don't see every day. As such, it is said with a note of reverence and curiosity, and can be quite cute.

Kids slightly older are beyond the phase where they can be content just watching me walk past, and their cry of "toubabu!" is more insistant. It is an attempt to get my attention, just to see what I'll do. As the saying goes, "if at first you don't succeed..." and that seems to be the logic of these children. Whereas the "firetruck!" kids generally only say it once, these kids want your attention and will not be denied. "Toubabu! Toubabu! Hey! Toubabu!" is their refrain. This, being much less like being called a fire truck and much more like being called "hey whitey!" is far more annoying. Respond, and they will simply giggle maniacally, wait for me to turn my back, and resume the calls. Some even have the audacity to yell "toubabuni," adding the familiar diminutive ending, like saying "little toubabu," which in a society where age heirarchy is highly respected is very disrespectful.

Even so, that's infinitely better than waht happens a few years later. From the time they are old enough to enter school, up until about 15 or 16, the calls change drastically in tone. It seems that at this age it's only the boys that yell, though perhaps that's because girls of that age tend to be stuck at home doing housework all the time. The calls at this age can only be described as accusatory. As if I have a scarlet letter tattooed on my forehead proclaiming that I have committed the unforgivable sin of whiteness, and it's these kids' job to make sure both that I never forget my sin and that everyone in the vacinity should make no mistake about which sin I have committed. If you respond, and often even if you don't, they'll follow up (in Bambara or French) with some variant of "give me X!" where X might be 100 CFA, 1000 CFA, candy, an unspecified present (cadeau), my watch, my hat, or anything else that I might happen to be wearing or carrying.

My typical reaction to all this is, as it must be to avoid going completely insane, to ignore it as best I can. I tried many things during my first few months here in futile attempts to make them see the error of their ways, but at long last ignoring them altogether is the only viable solution. First I tried to give them a taste of their own medecine by shouting "farafin!" (Bambara for "black skin" literally, or African) back at them, but this just gave the kids precisely the kind of highly amusing reaction they were looking for. I then tried shouting (in Bambara) "where's the toubabu?!?" and looking around in mock panic as if they had shouted "tiger!" (a tiger! in Africa?!?), but they didn't have the slightest idea why I should be confused about where the toubabu was, assumed I just didn't speak Bambara well enough, and hastened to point out that I was the toubabu to which they were referring. I moved to pre-empt this by changing to "where's the toubabu, are you a toubabu? I'm not a toubabu!" but again they just assumed I didn't understand it and hastened to explain. Finally I just gave up and settled for ignoring as best as patience will allow.

Adults also mostly refer to me as toubabu, but it's slightly different with them. People don't worry too much about being politically correct in Mali, and often refer to each other by their ethnicity if the one being referred to is of a different ethnicity than the one doing the referring. The Fulani women who come to the maternity are therefore often referred to by the matrones as "fulamuso" (muso being Bambara for "woman"), as in "hey fula woman, how long have you been pregnant?" Imagine if you went into the doctor's office in the USA and the receptionist, nurses, and doctors all referred to you as "hey chinawoman/white lady/mexican woman." Conflating all peoples of certain world regions with the most conspicuous member of that region is exactly what they would do - I am often called Fulaké since people of the Fula ethnic group have lighter skin than most other Malian ethnic groups; a volunteer friend of mine whose family is from Vietnam is often accused of being Chinese, and has even been accused of being a liar when she tried to explain that she wasn't actually Chinese. Adults, then, often refer to me as either "toubabu" or "toubabuké" (ké being Bambara for man).

Now I know they're not trying to be disrespectful, but being constantly referred to as "hey Frenchie/whitey" or "hey Frenchman/white guy" just doesn't sit well with my American sensibilities. Consequently I've taken the same tack with adults that I have with children, with the same results. However since most adults are higher on the age heirarchy than I am, simply ignoring them isn't always acceptable. If the adult is someone I don't know, have no business with, and if there are other people around who I do know, I can be quite obstinate about ignoring them completely, even if they are standing right in front of me and clearly trying to get my attention. People who know me such as my host-family, co-workers, or language tutor will tell the person "he's not a toubabu," to which the inevitable response is "huh?" They'll tell the person "he's American, and his name is Demba." When the firson finally addresses me by name (or at least correct nationality) I will immediately respond as if it was the first time they'd addressed me.

Other times my response depends on my mood. If I'm in a good mood I might smile and tell them I'm not a toubab, and take everything from there by myself. If I'm in a bad mood, and/or if it's someone I don't have any interest in talking to - i.e. if they're clearly going to try to sell me something - I might just ignore them until they go away. I've also tried responding by referring to them as a race they clearly aren't (usually Sonrai, which are mostly found in the north, or Fulani, which are usually obvious by their particular style of dress and ligher skin). I've had some limited success with this approach. While some ignore it and probably thing I'm stupid, some come right back with "I'm not Fulani, I'm Minianka/Bambara/Malinké/etc.," which of course sets me up for "Aha, but I'm not a toubabu, I'm American." Sometimes a light clicks on. Sometimes it doesn't.

The irony is, of course, that all these adults are not trying to be rude. They see nothing offensive about calling me a toubabu, and are just trying to get my attention. If you asked me what I'd rather they call me, assuming that they can't tell at a glance that I'm American and my name is Demba, I couldn't tell you. Just something else. So I percieve them as being rude and am unfriendly back, and all they see is me being unfriendly. Perhaps unfriendly isn't the best word, saucy might be a bit better. I realize this, but all the same cannot consent to being referred to in this manner, even if I don end up being overly saucy to some people who don't deserve it.

There have been times, however, when I've been downright rude. Usually after I've been traveling on a sweltering, ludicrously overcrowded baché for 8 hours and all I want to do is get whever it is I'm going. In such situations - that is, getting off of transport - people assume that I'm a tourist, don't know a 50 CFA piece from a 500 CFA piece, and am an easy mark for price gouging, be it on a cab ride or a new watch. So they get insistant with the "hey! toubabu!" and I get rude. Even in this case they don't really deserve it. Price gouging is okay by Malian ethics - that is, it's assumed that since I'm a white westerner I can afford it, and since they are poor Malians they can use the extra cash, both of which are probably true. Still I know what they're trying to pull, and don't appreciate it.

As a final note on the subject, there are those, young and old, who refer to me with the French "le blanc." If I dislike being called toubabu, I absolutely loathe being called "le blanc," which carries none of the socially accepted illusion that they might be referring to a specific nationality, nor the small town charm of the Bambara word toubabu, which after all is kinda fun to say. Sure, it means "whitey" without the added implication of also meaning "Frenchie" (unless you assume that since they're speaking French to me they must think I'm French), but for whatever reason it's far more offensive to the ear. Perhaps it's that calling me toubabuké includes me on a long list of races and nationalities known to the Bambaras, even if I'm not really French, while "le blanc" sets me apart as the alien "other" - "we are all black, but you are white." I think it's more the tone of voice that it's used in, which is much closer to the tone someone might use when saying the "n" word derisively; it's more spat than spoken. Accordingly, it is almost never used by people who mean to show respect.