"This is Abobocar and his garibout friends - they helped out with Daou when he was here. It's the morning and it's cold, which is why they're shirts are like that. It's a good day for them, we gave them our empty bottles."Being that Islam is the main religion here, there are certain systems in place that I’m not accustomed to. Now, I’ve talked to a bunch of people and for all intents and purposes, we’re going to consider Mali “Muslim-lite.” By that I mean that almost everyone is Muslim, but they’re not strict. Not everyone prays five time per day, not that many people fasted during Ramadan, a lot of them drink beer, and I’ve even seen some eat pork. In the same vein, there’s no Shar’ia law here and women can show their skin, though they are encouraged to stay covered up. I thought I wouldn’t be able to show any skin but I wear tank tops and skirts (below my knee). So, it’s not that strict. That said, there are those Malians who are diehard Muslims and have their systems. Before I get into the Marabout and Garibout discussion, I will say that I respect each person and the choices they make insofar as religion in their life is concerned. I’m especially culturally sensitive here, though sometimes it’s difficult.
A very common practice in Muslim countries is the existence of Marabouts. A Marabout is a religious figure in the community who knows the Koran and who studies it every day and reads from it everyday. He can also counsel people if they have religious questions and they go to him for advice and for help. In some places, like in Senegal, the Marabouts have a huge say in political issues (yes, Prof. Lambright, I remember the paper I wrote!). Here, however, they’re just the go to people for questions and problems. The other half of the system is the garibouts. Parents can send their children to live with the Marabout and to study the Koran. They lead the hardest lives here that I’ve seen. They are given to the Marabouts and then the Marabouts move around and sometimes these kids will walk for weeks or months, carrying their small belongings and the Marabouts belongings to his final destination. Once they’ve reached the place they’ll live, such as my home Douentza, the Marabout lives in his home and the garibouts live there too, but the Marabout doesn’t take care of the children. They are required to beg for food and/or money and they are allowed to eat the food but they are supposed to give the money to the Marabout. They are seen as the epitome of Muslim. They pray five times per day, they study the Koran for several hours a day, and it’s a crime and a sin to hurt them. So, everyday at lunch and dinner when I’m sitting with my family eating, several garibouts will come to the door/gate and say, “Bido allah garibout,” meaning “garibout friend of Allah.” At this point, people choose whether or not to give them a handful of the rice or toh that we’re eating and they take it and move on to the next house in hopes of more food. This said, most people give food because it’s for the direct benefit of the garibout, but some give money. Okay, so maybe this doesn’t seem heart wrenching yet, but let me finish painting the picture. In a town like Douentza, there are hundrends of garibouts. They wear the most tattered clothes and probably only own two pairs of pants and two shirts, and sandals if their lucky. I’m not sure how often they bathe, some of them maybe once or twice a week because they can’t afford to buy soap. They are easily spotted because they carry around a small bucket for collection of the food they are able to find. Now, let me talk about the relationship between the Marabout and garibout. The Marabout is there as the teacher for the garibout, to teach him Arabic and the Koran. He is supposed to take care of the garibouts also, in so far as clothes and health are concerned. He doesn’t though. He uses the money that the community gives to him to further his own needs and doesn’t take care of the kids. When I first arrived here, I saw a few garibouts who were really sick; you could just tell by looking at them. It’s really sad. Then, about three weeks ago here, I found out that a Marabout beat one of the garibouts so badly that he died. That Marabout is in prison now. As hard as this is to think about, you must understand that being a garibout is an honor to the child and to the family. He is being the supreme religious figure, and has an opportunity to become a Marabout later on.
All that said, you may be sitting here thinking, “Wow, this is a really messed up system.” I don’t agree with it 100% and it’s so difficult to see hundreds of them per day asking for food. And where do you draw the line? If you give one of them some rice and sauce and there are 10 others who see, they rush over to you and expect you to give them food too. Other volunteers have said that I’ll get over how sad it is and realize it’s just a part of everyday life, but I don’t want to lose the compassion in my heart for these kids. I give what I can, and many people pity them and help them out. For example, at my house where I live, the woman who watches over me has taken one named Amadou under her wing. He comes over and helps to wash dishes and bring water from the well and sweep and other household chores. In exchange, he always has food and never has to beg. A picture of Amadou is on its way. If I could bring him home, I would. He’s great to me. Always brings me water for drinking and fills up my bucket for a shower everyday. I can’t wait to really talk to him and get to know him.
