by Ida Sem Fossvik, Press Officer
It’s four o’clock in the morning and Hawa Hamadou Dibo has just woken up in the little house she shares with her husband and their two children. The house, which only has two rooms, is on the outskirts of the village Ouo Saré in Mali. It’s still dark outside when Hawa starts her morning ritual. First she spends a few minutes sweeping the yard. Then it’s time for prayers. 80 % of the population in Mali is Muslim, and even though they’re not as strict as in many Arabic countries, Hawa never skips the morning prayers.
Precious liquid
The village of Ouo Saré is on the Dogon-platau in Mali, a dry, rocky area with very limited water resources. Hawa and the other women have to walk between 4 and 8 kilometres every day to get water for their chores.
Returning from the first trip to the well, Hawa has to clean her kitchen utensils, do the family laundry and tend to her two tired children. Before breakfast she has also found time to fetch firewood and grind the flour she needs to cook breakfast.
While her eldest daughter is waved off to school, Hawa’s husband goes to cultivate the field. – My husband works in the fields or plants rice. Sometimes I help him, but mostly I’m occupied with my own work, she says.
The young woman is welcoming, but a bit shy. She answers my questions, but avoids eye contact. Instead she keeps her gaze on her work or on the ground, and steals a few curious looks at me when I’m taking notes.
Fresh pastry
The fire is going on her small cooking stove outside the little house. Hawa takes out dough of wheat flour, sugar, salt, water and yeast that she prepared the night before. When the oil in the pan is hot enough, she makes little buns and fries them in the pan. – The buns are called ‘farini’ and I sell them in the village. Usually I make 60 buns every day, she explains.
Hawa’s kitchen is in a corner of the yard. The wall behind the stove is black with soot. We sit on mats weaved from thin plastic threads and over our heads is a roof of straw, protecting against the scorching sun.
- I borrowed 2500 francs from the savings box to be able to do this work. I’ve already re-paid my first loan. That also gave me a surplus of 1500 francs. I put 1000 francs in our insurance fund and spent the rest on milk for my children. I’ve also bought note books that my daughter uses at school, she says proudly.
Knowledge is the way to a better life
With the buns placed safely in a box, Hawa takes another trip to the well to fill up her water container. At lunch time her daughter returns from school, for her long-break. The morning and afternoon sessions forces the children to walk almost 10 kilometres every day to get the education their mothers missed out on.
- I think it is very important that she goes to school. That way she learns better how to take care of her own family when that time comes, says Hawa.
Through Kara Bara she has received a lot of information about what she should feed her children and which type of medication they should have when they are ill. Hawa claims that the knowledge has improved the family’s way of life. – My husband is very pleased too, she smiles.
Pots from Bamako
The last time Hawa went to the market, she bought cotton which she now weaves into blankets. She uses the blankets in the house or sells them at the market. – If I’m lucky I get 5000 francs for a blanket, but usually I sell them for 4500 francs, she says.
The nearest markets are 7 and 15 kilometres from her village. Hawa doesn’t go very often, since most of what she makes can be sold in Ouo Saré.
A woman and a little girl have already come to buy her buns. Hawa takes out the box that they are in. – I have a lot of pots like this one. I bought them in Bamako, says Hawa and signals for me to follow her into the house. When my eyes finally adjust to the darkness, I see about a dozen pots neatly stacked against the wall.
- When I was 13, I went to the capital Bamako for the first time. I worked as a maid there for four years, she tells me. It seems like she’s grown a bit more used to me now, and the conversation flows more easily.
- I went to earn money, so I could buy the pots. In Mali it is tradition for the woman to bring what they need into a marriage, but it is their own responsibility to get everything. Your parents usually cannot help you, she says.
- But I was very scared in Bamako. It was my first time without my parents and I was happy when I could go back home.
Water on the agenda
When Hawa has sold all her hot buns it is time for dinner. Usually the family eats rice with sauce or a thick porridge made from flour and water.
If she doesn’t have a meeting with the other women in Kara Bara, Hawa likes to visit some of the other members of the group. Today she pops round to Awa Allaye’s house. On her way through the village, she greets everybody and stops to chat to a few people.
Awa is busy making a dish which the villagers call ‘tougoujou’. It is made from grounded peanuts and leaves from the Da tree. – Before I make the tougoujou, I press the oil out of the grounded peanuts. We store it on bottles and sell it at the market, she says.
Awa has also been to Bamako to make money for her marriage. – But unlike Hawa, I liked it there, she says.
I ask the women what they usually talk about when they meet like this. – Water, says Hawa without hesitation. The liquid is scarce in these parts of the country. June to September is the rainy season, otherwise the precious necessity is hard to find.
- We talk a lot about there being so little water here. It would be nice if we could find a way to make it easier to get it. In addition we dream about having a mill that could grind our cereal, Hawa explains.
Always something to do
The evening has reached Ouo Saré and in a few hours the sun will be gone. Hawa and the other women have once again been to the well for water. It’s time to make supper for the family.
Two nights a week Hawa goes into the village to hear the Koran. – If I don’t go to hear the Koran, I spend the evenings working, weaving carpets or making dough for the buns, she says. Even though the sun sets around seven, Hawa usually doesn’t go to bed until midnight.
But what would Hawa do if she could have a whole day off? At first she doesn’t understand the question. There’s always some work to be done.
- What if you got someone else to do all your chores?, I try.
- Then I would spend the day making more buns or blankets that I could sell and get more money, she says, without hesitation.