Home Stay: Part Two

Home Stay: Part Two

Amano Ag Issa

Here is a Picture of Amano Ag Issa (Right) and Muso (Left), they are outside the tent-like-thing described later.

Note: it looks more tent-like when they drop the cloth walls

Bess and I will be living with our host family for nine weeks before swearing in as PC volunteers, moving north to our more primitive and permanent site, and beginning our work as PC volunteers. For the time being, we are living a simple life with our host family and working (struggling hard) to learn the Tamashek language and just fit in. Amano Ag Issa (Our Host Father) is the epitome of a good Toureg man. He is a dedicated Muslim who never forgets to pray. He is that good example for all who may be watching, especially when it comes to the proper Muslim attire and Islamic behavior. He also keeps Toureg tradition in all his ways, such as never failing to cover his head and face with a turban when the social situation calls for it – this is a Muslim thing. Showing a knee, even to just the family – No Way !!! – not in the home of Amano Ag Issa. Like most Toureg men, Amano Ag Issa has only one wife, named Fadimatta Wallet Hamanu. Amano is a good husband and respects all women with the utmost integrity and dignity. Amano constantly and consistently makes me aware of Bess and reminds me of my duties as a respectful husband. Yes, it is fare to say that in the eyes of Amano, I have done nothing right since I entered his home, I have done nothing impressive worth any mention, and probably never will do anything impressive or worth mention - ever. Bess on the other hand is an angel descending from the heaven most-high; she must be praised and honored for all she does - all the time. Amano Ag Issa owns nothing, no worldly possession for himself (except perhaps his tihardent & turban), everything he earns he gives to his wife, who in turn gives it all to the family; "this is the Toureg way" - says Amano Ag Issa. Amano Ag Issa earns a living by playing his tihardent (traditional guitar/drum/rattle all in one) for a music group known as Tartit (look them up on the Internet because they have a fabulous website, they will be touring the U.S soon and will play in Boston, New York, D.C., Philly and more…). Music is Amano’s only form of work. Traditionally, Amano belongs to a specific group (or type) of Touregs (like a cast in India) known as Inhardans. According to Amano, the Inhardans are the ones who do things with their hands, such as making all the tools for the Toureg community, making all the handicrafts and artwork, and making the music. The other Toureg groups are nobles (slave owners and traders), herders, warriors, and thieves. Only recently have the Touregs given up a nomadic way of life to try other trades, such as agriculture, or in the case of Amano's eldest son "being a D.J. at the local nightclub". Amano Ag Issa has relatives in the local community who make tools and artwork, Fadimata his wife makes things such as beautiful traditional leather pillows. Even the youngest children are doing impressive handicrafts for their age, Tinelbarka (age 7) does laundry by-hand better than Bess (According to Bess). Amano only plays music. When he is at home with his family, there is a lot of sitting around, making tea, praying, and visiting with the constant stream of family and friends who come over, and they are coming over all the time. To me, it all seems very unproductive and lazy, like high school kids hanging out, except that Amano always looks and sounds like he is speaking about something very important, very sacred, and very serious, like the holiest of hollies. Fadimatta on the other hand is very gentile, surreal, relaxed and laid back. Fadimatta loves Bess and her care-free spirit, her frequent laughter, the way she plays with the children, and her constant smile that is often interrupted with uncontrollable giggles - and of course - Amino Ag Issa praises Bess for everything, everyone loves Bess.... who's Tamashek name can not be typed using the English alphabet (unlike mine - Iknet). So anyway, our house is constantly visited by people, especially during meal time. Some of the people are from the music group Tartit (a band of some 10 Toureg men & women), others are family, and many are friends. Muso, one of the lead singers of Tartit, seems to live at our house (because his family is way up North in the desert); he sleeps over almost every night and is very good at consistently making noise - even when he's asleep. Muso is also the best at harassing me in a friendly way, sometimes it is annoying because it is very repetitive and I don't know exactly what he is saying. Not to worry, everything is made better by the guitar players of Tartit, especially this one named Mohammed. Mohammed takes my guitar and corrects my tuning job, he then claims it as his own and plays it like the master of masters with a soft and gentle smile that he uses to stare into my soul, I forget about myself and find myself memorized and hypnotized by his eyes - lost in his music, transcending, transcending, gone, completely gone. His fingers move so fast, so quickly, and gracefully as they cover the entire neck of the guitar in a harmonious fleet of a moment. Once I am truly gone in the rhythm and rhyme of his movement, he does something fancy and fantastic to bring me back to earth with a smile, always a smile because I know I just witnessed something truly special. All the while, throughout everything that happens his eyes never leave my eyes, he just plays continuously with a gentile smile and a harmless stare, an awkward moment - "what's that", any thought that comes to mind during his song comes out with a smile, like I said "The master of masters". So anyway, our house is constantly visited by people, especially during meal time. When it is meal time, all the men eat from the same big bowl. I never know what to expect at meal time, often I am working the large bowl of rice, noodle, or mush, along side five to seven other men, sometimes there is only a couple pieces of meat in the center of the bowl (not enough for everyone) and we are all there squatting, eating nothing but rice, staring at the meat wondering who will be bold enough to go for it while each hungry person watches – shoveling rice. In the last two days, meaning two dinners and two lunches, I have gotten only one piece of meat the size of a fig, this is because Muso took pity on me and intentionally knocked it into my territory of the bowl. Thus, for the last two days, my lunch and dinner has consisted of nothing else but white rice with a little sauce. Keep in mind that breakfast here is a small loaf of white bread and a cup of coffee or tea, not entirely nutritional by any means, just enough to address the constant hunger. It may be hard for people in America to understand the situation here, this family is not poor by any means (or at least not by the standards here in Mali), rice with sauce and an occasional bite of meat is a normal diet here and everyone is very grateful, including me. Fadimatta and Abdalla both went out to fetch Mango when I told them that "Bess loved Mango" and Amano Ag Issa didn't loose his fortune when he slaughter a goat for our naming ceremony. Yes, they are a "well-off" family here but by no means should Amano be considered a well paid "Star of Fame", he is a musician in a group of 10 who play their traditional nomadic Toureg music - they just happen to fly around the world for their tours. But when they are back home in the city of Bamako, Mali, Amano needs nothing more than a couple cement rooms and a small courtyard he shares with three other families, and he rarely makes use of the inside of his cement rooms (even when it is raining), all the rooms are empty for the most part and everyone spends the day outside under the shade of this tent-like-structure-thing called a alb(a/i combined)nya . They even sleep under this outside thing too. TV, toys, natural possessions, they don't need those objects, those things, just a Big Bowl they fill with rice for whoever happens to be around, some musical instruments, and a constant flow of company. This is the evolving Toureg way here in the city of Bamako. When I first arrived at Home Stay, Amano Ag Issa was on Tour with Tartit in Switzerland, France and Morroco. During my first days of home stay there were never guests at home during dinner so the only men sharing the big bowl of rice were myself and two of Amano's sons, Abdalla and Mohommed, (Bess eats with Fadi and the Kids) these two brothers were great because they intentionally pushed the meat from the center of the bowl into my feeding territory - It Was Really Great!!! There was also generally enough meat for the three of us. Then Amano came home. Now I am trying to figure out what happened, what the rules are with the meat, and how to get some respect, some meat, or at least how to stay well-nourished. One day I may venture into the center of the bowl on my own accord, but for now I am too scared. Last night I was practicing Tamashek under the "tent-like-thing" with a cousin about the same age as me (Ena). Amano Ag Issa was also under the "tent-like-thing" sitting on the ground mat (Tawset) cross-legged and watching me very closely. It felt to me like he was trying to decide what to think of the alien living in his home, sometimes it looked like he was judging my soul, most of the time his face told me that my Tamashek was just extremely terrible - he must have been thinking "Is this guy for real". In my determined effort to be accepted here, I turned to Amano Ag Issa and said in my best Tamashek, "I sit facing Amano Ag Issa". Ena the cousin responded saying, "Azid", meaning that I had spoken the statement well. But Amano Ag Issa responded by standing up and going to bed - without saying a thing or looking back. Before I came to Mali I wanted to travel to Indonesia to see if I could become accepted by an orangutan society, now, I want nothing more than to be accepted by Amano Ag Issa. I want to speak Tamashek. I want to become a Toureg. I want to show this conservative group of people, this sheltered society that an outsider can enter into an understanding of, and an appreciation for, the lifestyle that makes the Toureg unique, special, and mysterious. Right now I am wondering what it will take, exactly how much of my American, Greedy, Educated, Religious, Pampered, Technological, and even Lustful self I must get rid of before Amano Ag Issa gives me a look that says, "Yes, it is possible, maybe he could be a Toureg, maybe he'd be a good son". O.K. If you are still reading this section of my blog then I know you must really care about what I have to say. Thanks! I must remind you that everything I have written should not be considered completely accurate, truthful or honest concerning the true description of my host father, Amano Ag Issa. What I have written is really a description of my personal interpretation of the relationship that exists between my host father and me. Amano Ag Issa loves me with all of his heart; I have no doubt that this man does everything within his own tradition to embrace me as his own son. In the mind of Amano Ag Issa, I Jared, his new son he named Iknet, is being well fed, well respected, and well tolerated. It is only from my American, Jared Alden, "lens" that Amano Ag Issa appears the way I have described him. I can not describe the endless kindness Amano Ag Issa expresses with his eyes, the Toureg people are renowned for covering up everything but their eyes – without a doubt they have amazing stares. So I asked the guitar player, Mohammed, the master of masters... "Out of all the countries you have traveled to, and played guitar in, which one do you like the best". Mohammed didn't even look up from the bowl of rice we were all digging in; he just paused and said... "This rice is good". God, I love it here...