Musa Aruna Family Musa Aruna Family

Musa Aruna and Family – Foindu

May-June 2010

  

The long-anticipated moment arrived, when I would meet my host family. The village chief announced, “Faye Sleeper will stay with Musa Anruna” , Musa stepped forward and we greeted each other, both wondering what the next week would bring. Our time together started with Musa, a muscular and wiry man, grabbing my 50-pound rolling duffle and putting it on his head. I said good bye to my American group and trailed behind Musa as he walked quickly to his house. He showed me my room for the next 8 nights, complete with new bed and mattress, pillow and mosquito net. Because of a long day of travel that started at 4:30 am, I chatted briefly with Musa and a few neighbors who stopped by to greet me, and then I unpacked and settled in my room. Abbebatu, Musa’s 14 year old daughter, escorted me to the latrine, which was a good city-block from the house and helped prepare my bucket-bath which was cold, yet a welcome relief for my overheated body.   I settled under my mosquito net with my head lamp, wrote and drifted off to sleep, wondering who else was in this household.   Over the next week I came to know the family well, as we shared space, time and conversation together. While I was experiencing their life first hand, I found it difficult to describe my very different life to them, as they have lived in Foindu or in the bush all their lives.  

 

Musa , who is in his late 30s, is a hard-working farmer and father who is dedicated to ensuring his children are educated and fed in spite of living in extreme poverty. Musa currently is married to Fatimata, and has three children from a previous wife, who has died. When asked about the challenges in his life, Musa talked about how hard his work is and the difficulties of providing the food for his family. He also mentioned that not being able to trust some people makes life even harder. I saw this play out several times – Musa approached me one morning and asked that I not allow a young woman into the house – he didn’t trust her, and I realized that the house was sacred to them. There was also an incident when I want to the tailor to have a dress made, and it became clear that another person was encouraging the tailor to double the cost of his service since I had money. Musa stepped in later and made it clear to the tailor that I had paid enough for his services. While I was not privy to the actual conversation, I saw Musa give me the same care and protection that he provided to his family.

 

A shroud of sadness descended on Musa as he talked a bit about the civil war. At age 20, he lived and hid in the bush with his parents for a year to escape the rebels, who were merciless to villagers. Both parents died during the war. His mother was killed by the rebels when she went into a village to acquire food for her family. One nephew joined the rebels, and was also killed during the civil war.   Musa also lost two sisters and two brothers during the civil war.   When asked how he felt during the war, Musa spoke in one and two word descriptors: felt cold, very bad, no food, hungry, no salt, was sick. He quickly moved past the war in our conversation to say that he returned to Foindu to find his house destroyed. This was very difficult, but now has re-built his home and his life, benefitting from OneVillage Partners assistance through a new zinc roof, clean drinking water, and also now a mosquito net. The first house he built is now the location of storage and near the cooking area (I never was invited into this structure) and he lives in a second home now.

 

Fatimata is Musa’s second wife. She works beside Musa on the farm and is also very dedicated to seeing her children fed and educated. She seemed sad much of the time, weighed down by the disparity between her dreams for her children and her impoverished life.    There were times during the week when she laughed in delight with her children or during a conversation with a friend. Throughout the week I came to understand, sometimes through surprising moments, the depth of her love for her children.   Fatimata does not speak English, so direct conversation, which I would have valued, was not possible. Partly because of this language barrier, and the differences in how we “count” family, my understanding of the family and family tree changed several times. See family tree at the end .  

 

Musa has three children from his first marriage. His first wife, Nansu has died. Two of the children do not live in Foindu: Mami who is 25 and Kadiatu, a brother. The third is Musa (jr) a charming young man at age18 who is considered part of the current household. He was home from school during this week after his exams at secondary school in Shegarma (I think this is correct).   He loves science and hopes to be a doctor, which is supported by his parents. I wondered how practical this is, as the cost of school is prohibitive for many in these villages. He comes home from school to help his parents on the farm, in the household and with the younger children. One of my favorite scenes was returning home after dark (8 pm) one night and seeing Musa Jr. with a flashlight and a story book in one hand and writing vocabulary on the a chalkboard with his other hand for his younger siblings.   He was very helpful to me an enjoyed conversing in English with me. One night he helped me make macaroni and cheese for those of us living in Foindu, over the open fire.   He loves football and jump. Jump is a game where a stick is raised higher and higher and participants compete to see who can jump over the highest level.

 

Abbebatu (Abbe) is a serious 14 year old young woman who is raising her 9 month old daughter, Fatimata, with the help of her family. The father was clearly not in the picture, and she never shared the story with me. Her plan is to return to school next year while her child stays with her parents.   Abbe does much of the cooking for the family and also helps with the younger children. Abbe was at my side when I needed assistance, especially during the first few days of my visit. On my third day in the village I convinced her that I really could make my way to the latrine by myself, and thanked her for all her trips with me. Abbe was a great companion for me, as she spoke English well and was clearly “assigned” to help me by her parents.   She was generally very serious, but her face would glow when she smiled when I paid attention to her, or expressed my gratitude. Abbe is able to attend secondary school because of a scholarship from OneVillage Partners.   She loves social studies and hopes to be a nurse. Again, I am not sure how realistic this hope is.

 

The younger children were very intrigued with me, and were often smiling and “hanging out” when I was sitting on the porch. They are still learning English, and hesitated to speak English with me, though they became braver as they became comfortable with me through the week.   They too helped in the household, and as with all young children, were often carrying items on their heads for meals, along with water. These are the younger children in the household:  

 

Bockerie              11 years

Nancy                   10 years

Rugiatta               8 years

Mary                      2years

 

Daily life follows a regular pattern: the mosque’s call to prayer and the wake-up calls of the roosters and goats signal the start of the day. The family fetches water, eats breakfast, goes to the farm (some days one or more may go to Bunabu for shopping or business), clean up, eat dinner, talk and socialize with neighbors. This family has chickens, goat and sheep.   The two days off are typically Friday and Sunday, out of respect for the Muslim religion and the Christian religion. This family is Christian, so I did attend church with them on Sunday morning.  

 

Church was familiar to me with a few differences.   Before the 10 am service, women were on their porches cleaning their children, braiding hair, and putting on Sunday clothes. Women covered their hair, and some wore wigs in church. We sang familiar hymns in Mende, such as Jesus Loves Me with a percussion accompaniment.   The service flow was similar the service in my church. I was interested in the announcements: the schedule for those who would lead the next week’s daily 6 am prayer services and a request for congregants to help develop a farm for the church to be use for social church events. This clearly was a new initiative, and I wondered how this would succeed, given how much time families must work on their own farms.  

 

The family’s farm is a distance as it was about a 45 minute hike through the bush to get there. During the rainy season, part of the path turns into a small stream.   The women walked through this ankle deep (or more) water in their flip-flops. The farm consists of two upland rice fields, a swamp for rice, and room for corn, peppers (hot), okra, yams, beans garden eggs (eggplant – like Thai eggplant), and maize. This family did not have cassava or potatoes. Musa said that one of the problems is that birds eat the rice after they sow it, which reduces the crop. This is discouraging, after the hard work of scattering seed and hoeing it in with hand-made hoes.   People go out to the fields early in the morning to scare away the birds.   They also process palm oil, which along with rice is a year-round staple. This time of year is the hungry season as last year’s supplies run out. This family was still eating two meals a day, but it was unclear if this would last throughout the 3-4 months before harvest. To exemplify the frugality, the family used the left over macaroni and cheese for breakfast the next morning, and “stretched” it with the addition of rice.

        

Night-time is a social time when families come back from the farm. After dinner and chores are complete, there is a lot of discussion, laughter, and the family gets ready for the night.   On the nights that we had hard rains, which cooled the air down considerably, families went to bed early, only to start another day sometime between 5 an 6 am.

 

Musa Aruna and his family provided me a wonderful 8 days of shelter and acceptance into their family and their lives. I still think of them daily, and share their hopes and dreams for their children for a life without extreme poverty.

Faye Sleeper, guest of the Musa Aruna family