Life—I’ve got people

I left the States right after tax season, and I can still recall the annoying advertisements of various tax agencies. One such agency promoted their services with the slogan, “You’ve got people.” (A slightly discomforting thought, since the implication is that you’ll have someone there to help you if the IRS chooses to audit you. Can I skip the “people” and go with the “no-audit” option?) Well, not to be contentious, but they don’t have a clue what they are talking about. Now, I, on the other, know what it is like to have people.

I’ve got people, or I should say that Ed and Andrea have people that continue to be employed here at the house while they are away. Now lest you start to think, “Whoa, look at the extravagance” let me explain. In this context, it would be considered incredibly stingy not to hire people to work at your house. If you have the means, it is expected that you provide jobs. Also, we don’t have all the same modern conveniences as in America, so everything takes quite a bit longer. There are no Walmarts, and walking through the market to find your produce takes time. And with all the sand and dust, you just about have to dust and mop the whole house every day. So it is helpful to have help.

That being said, I still feel a bit pampered (though I’m finding myself so busy at the hospital that this is a good thing). Elizabeth is our house help. She comes in the morning and leaves in the afternoon. She cleans, she shops, and she cooks for me three times a week. I’d pretty much starve without her. She is absolutely incredible. She definitely knows more about the house than I do, and has the scoop on everything happening in the market.

The house help for other hospital staff are mostly men. It is more traditional to have a male house worker here, since they are good paying jobs that provide steady income for families. And every house worker takes on their own personality mixed with the things they are taught by their various employers. So for instance, one guy has mastered the art of making flour tortillas, so people buy tortillas from him. Others are known for being able to find the best cuts of meat in town. So you can often here in a discussion, usually centering around food, “Oh, my house guy can do that for you.” They become indispensible parts of family life here.

Brahima is our night guard. He is a friendly, out-going guy who speaks so fast that most of the time I just smile and nod because I have no idea what he is saying. I’ve asked him about five times to slow down, but he apparently doesn’t have the gearing for that. It doesn’t help that the topic of discussion is often English soccer leagues, an area in which I’m mostly clueless. He is also making it his personal mission to teach me Bambara (but I think he has begun to realize how dense I really am, so his exuberance is wearing off). He arrives around 7pm (or 8 if he is running a bit behind). And it’s not exactly like you need a “guard” at night; I’m confident I would be safe without one, but again it is tradition. If I arrive home after he is here, he opens the gate and helps me get the vehicle inside. He is also in charge of keeping up the grounds. So he cleans up the yard and waters the plants. But then later in the night, he drinks tea and watches television—unless a soccer match is on TV, in which case, the match is watched first and other work is done later. (And most night guards sleep quite a bit, from what I can tell…this is neither encouraged nor actively frowned upon.)

That is all the help at the house (except a young guy who guards on Sunday nights—Brahima’s day off), but the sense of having people goes much beyond this. I’ve been reading this great book called, “African Friends and Money Matters,” which talks about the difference in Western and African mentalities concerning relationships and money. One of the best points it has made is that Westerners tend to dichotomize their relationships into “business” (i.e. those that concern money) and “personal” (i.e. those that involve friendships and not money) categories. Africans tend to not make such distinctions. So there is often a greater sense of loyalty to customers. (But there also tends to be a lot more “messy” money situations with friends as well.)

So we have the gardener. He sells plants, but he also comes by to check on the progress of the plants. If something dies, he digs it up and replants it for free. Most of the hospital workers here prefer one particular store (ok, well, it is really the only “store,” besides the market, in town). The guys at the store are very friendly, and if you ask for something they don’t have, one of the workers will often jump on their motorcycle and go find it in the market for you.

The loyalty works the other way too. Everyone has certain people that they purchase things from. You have your particular gas station. You have your certain guy that you buy your phone cards from. You have your grape-selling-lady. You have your favorite tailor (who sometimes stops by work to talk—as in, “Oh, I know we are in the middle of things, but I need to step out and chat with my tailor for a second.”) You have your pork-selling guy. Very rarely would you consider buying those specific things from someone else.

So yeah, I got people…I’m either borrowing them or giving them money, but they are still “my” people!