Seasonal Migration

Different seasons have the power to dictate where one lives.  In the 21st century, choosing where to live is mostly based on economic factors.  In developing countries, like Mali, the result is a movement away from the country and to growing regional capitals.

When I first arrived in village in August the rainy season was well under way and there was plenty of work to be done in the fields.  Nearly all the villagers were home working on their families plots of land.  Though no money is earned for the village in rainy season, the families work 10 hours per day 6 days a week from June until October.  The food produced in the harvest will be stored in granaries, and is suppose to last a family all year up until the next harvest.  If crops fail, a village can experience malnutrition and starvation.  For this reason few villagers leave in search of work during rainy season.  They stay to do what they can to ensure their family has a successful harvest.  Unfortunately, no matter how many family members are working the fields during the rainy season, it will be the amount of rain that falls that determines whether the kids will go hungry before the next harvest.

By November the work in the fields is over and village work focuses on repairing and building houses and granaries.  The work is less intensive than field work, and so many of my villagers move away to earn some money for their families.  Some go to nearby Mopti to work in the rice fields, others go to Bamako (the capital), and some even leave the country entirely.

The rice harvest occurs after those of other Malian crops such as millet and sorghum.  Along the Niger River, extensive fields of rice require extra work in November.  Women and men, parents and children left my village to live near Mopti, on the Niger, and work the rice fields.  After a month, they returned with lots of rice.  Generally they would have stayed longer and had more work, but a lack of rain this year resulted in insufficient flooding of the Niger River to fully irrigate the rice fields.  A lot of the harvest failed, and my village will have less rice this year.

When searching for work it is the city that offers the most opportunity, and in Mali no city compares to Bamako in work potential.  Bamako is the fastest growing city in Africa and has a population of nearly 2 million.  Sikasso is the second largest city in Mali and its population is only 130,000.  The younger women in my village have mostly all left in search of work in Bamako.  The will be able to find work as house maids.  Hopefully they will be treated fairly by their employers.  Lots of men are also currently in Bamako since they are more valuable to the family earning a little money in the city than by helping out with work in village.  Some are barely teenagers, and have never been to a city.  Their adventure to Bamako in an effort to make extra money for their families must be terrifying.  

Even Bamako sometimes isn't the best option.  Places like Senegal and Ivory Coast are much more economically developed than Mali, and their cities present even greater opportunities.  A few weeks after arriving in my village, a friend left to go to Abidjan (Ivory Coast's commercial center) for work.  Others went with him and they met with friends who were already living there.  Most of the men in my village have been to Abidjan for work for at least a year or two.  It is the nearest somewhat developed urban center, and its opportunities for work are even more appealing than Bamako's.  However, I do not think that my village's movements in and out of Ivory Coast are entirely legal or safe.  One can imagine just how extreme poverty in Mali is, when its people are risking their lives to find work in a country that has been recently struggling with peace and stability.  

So many people have left that my village feels abandoned right now.  It feels like everyone my age is missing.  Those who left for the rice harvest have returned, but unmarried women and young men are in Bamako and my village continues to feel empty.  The village is much more calm without the youth around and it is easier to hang out and get to know people.  When the missing villagers return with the rain, it will seem strange to meet them again.  

My Peace Corps experience can be compared to a villager living in the city experience.  Those who have left the village for work leave loved ones behind and learn how to speak a new language.  The women in my village who can speak Bambara must have spent time in Bamako, while the men who can speak French probably picked it up while working in Abidjan.  Although Bamako is still in Mali, it has a very different culture than small villages, and adjusting to ways of the city must be very frustrating for someone from my village.  They make the adjustments though, and come to understand themselves better.  They realize that the world is so much more than they first imagined and that their is an incredible amount of human diversity.  It is these people who are most patient with me and the most sympathetic with any kinds of struggles I may have living in the culture of rural Mali.  They kind of know what I am going through.