House on Fire

by Qani Belul (Mali, 91-92)

"Let us not...flatter ourselves overmuch on account of our human conquest over nature. For each such conquest takes its revenge on us."
Frederick Engels

Many people agree that what's best for the so-called Third World countries is to use the same development strategy as those of the First World. Simply put, this strategy involves a relatively small number of wealthy people perpetually striving to expand industry so as to produce more and more, while at the same time encouraging consumers to want more and more. Since living in Mali, a farming-based West African country, I've become convinced it's a grave mistake for less-industrialized countries to follow the path of overdeveloped ones like the United States and Japan. That's not to say all industry and technology are bad, but more often than not the damage they do to the environment and, consequently, to our own emotional and physical well-being, far outweighs any advantages.

"...today there are many prosperous industries which would be more admirable as ruins covered with valerian and wild wall flowers."
Hubert Butler   

Quality of life is a subjective term-each of us has our own ideas about what makes life good and billions of people in both industrialized and nonindustrialized countries alike believe that modern conveniences are necessary for a high standard of living. Yet from what I've seen of the rich and the poor, from Americans to Malians, Japanese to Albanians, I believe people are, overall, happier and more well-adjusted the plainer their way of life.

This is a simple equation that holds true both historically and geographically. As we acquire goods beyond our basic needs we become further removed from nature, less spirited, more preoccupied with protecting our acquisitions, and intent on collecting even more. But I'm not saying anything new here. This idea has been stated, in various forms, throughout the centuries and across the globe, from the ancient Chinese sages to Roman philosophers to nineteenth-century American poets.

Lest I move too high up on my pedestal and fall and hurt myself, how-ever, I should mention here that I too still indulge in some of the First World conveniences. Although I no longer buy cars, air conditioners, televisions, and similar amenities, my house is still encumbered with numerous others - laptop computer, washing machine, refrigerator, and electric lights. In answer to this all I can say is adopting the simple life is, for me, a long, gradual process that involves disassembling a thirty-year existence built on materialism. It's an undoing in the most positive of senses. I've found since living in Mali, in the mountains of Pennsylvania, and in a straw-bale cabin in Ohio that each plain-living experience gives me a deeper appreciation for asceticism over materialism. Consequently, each has been part of a long, broad, learning process more useful than any diploma, master's degree, doctorate, or similar piece of paper.  While those documents might help one advance in a career and earn more money, the education of plain living teaches how to do without, and be more content for it.

"Cultivate poverty like a garden herb, like sage." 
Henry David Thoreau

West Africa was an excellent place to begin this education.  In Mali many people still live much as their ancestors did centuries ago. They relax under thatched roofs and drink tea during the long, sweltering afternoons, travel from village to village on foot, take bucket baths under the stars. Time still moves slowly there, sometimes seeming to stop altogether, and this is reflected in Malians' unhurried pace and leisurely manner. But like most people, I tend to idealize places I've once lived-burying in the back of my mind the negative aspects, I'm left with the warm, nostalgic glow of fond memories.

I know that I tend to glorify Mali when life can indeed be difficult there. But Malians' hardships are often different from the ones we in industrialized nations face: Theirs stem from nature's brutality while ours are self-inflicted. They suffer a material poverty-a lack of resources. We suffer a poverty of the soul brought on by our own fevered industry and unbridled consumption.

An African-American in James Baldwin's essay "East River, Down-town" says of integration in the US: "I am not at all sure that I WANT to be integrated into a burning house."

One can ask a similar question of development: Do people from less industrialized countries like Mali really want to adopt the same system we in overdeveloped nations like the United States have embraced?

As a Peace Corps volunteer in Mali I often thought a radically different sort of development program would make a lot more sense. The program I have in mind entails volunteers from less industrialized regions coming to industrialized ones like Japan and the United States. These rich countries could easily re-channel portions of their huge military budgets toward funding people from places such as Africa and South America to visit for an extended period and teach us about conserving resources and slowing down our lives. This, I believe, would be of great benefit for we of the overdeveloped world have long forgotten it is simplicity that gives life much of its grandeur.