Objects #3
From Introducing Sociology Using the Stuff of Everyday Life by Josee Johnston, Kate Cairns, Shyon Baumann (New York: Routledge, 2017), pp. 10:
… In a consumer culture, we typically buy the stuff we need—like jeans—rather than make it ourselves. While this might seem like an obvious point today, the now common-sense idea of shopping for daily necessities is a relatively recent historical development. For most of human history, people have applied their own labor to get the things they need to survive—their food, clothing, and shelter. These subsistence economies have been the norm throughout human history, and can still be found today in some rural areas in developing countries.
I lived in a Nigerian village for a year. I fetched water from a stream, sourced firewood from forests, helped out on farms, and slept on beds made of hay. I often say that I have no material intelligence because I hardly do things with my hands, but now that I think about it, that’s not really true. I think had dismissed those village experiences as not really worthy of remembering. My personal definition of the word ‘remember’ is to put things back together again. It is reconstructing fragmented memories, piece by piece, until they form a manageable picture. We all do this when we can't remember; we either snap our fingers or look for something in either our minds or the physical environment that can jog our memories. For instance, upon waking up, we may sometimes struggle to remember what we dreamt about. But as we go about our day, an object or conversation can serve as a trigger, bringing back memories of our dreams. I am starting to see the threads; the newsletter has transformed into a remembering machine. It has become a “pause, perhaps there’s an insight there that I missed” It didn't set out to be this way, but reading triggers memories as I relate the content to my personal experiences. Interestingly, there are many factors that can hinder our ability to remember. One such factor is intentional forgetting, where we bury memories so deep that it is far easier to retrieve the wreckage of the Titanic than to find the courage to access those memories. This could be because the memories are traumatic, not worth considering (or so we tell ourselves), or do not align with our current self-image. Anyway, back to my sermon on the mount. My extended family members owned large oil palm and cassava plantations, so I had to learn how to make palm oil and garri from scratch, even though I wasn't enthusiastic about it at the time. I was from the ‘city’ and their way of life was quite different from what I was accustomed to. 🐝
Prior to living with them, if I wanted something my parents either got it for me or they gave me the money to go buy it myself. While in the village, the people hardly ever spent money; it just wasn't a thing. Most of them were farmers, making cash by selling locally and exporting their produce, but they rarely used the proceeds from the sale for anything. This was disorienting for my young mind at first but with time, I settled into the new paradigm. Their society wasn’t designed around money and economics. I at that time thought that they were backward. Don’t blame me, I had been born in the city, and ads were all I had grown to know. They had goats, cows and chickens. When people talk about "farm to table" like it's new, I secretly chuckle because I lived that every day for a while. It's funny how Africans are now sold on "free range" and "organic" foods when they’ve always had free-roaming chickens and only ate organic. It's as if the West is just catching up and making a big deal about something many African societies have always done. This isn’t necessarily a dunk on the West, it’s more about how certain indigenous ways of being have either been drowned or relinquished to the periphery then made to seem like they are new ideas by others. The saying, ‘it takes a village to raise a child,’ rang true for me. They were all from my maternal side, and they showed me unconditional love. My cynical self also suspected that they went above and beyond to treat me so well because it was encoded in their laws, albeit unwritten. One of these laws stated that no member of the village was allowed to hurt a child of one of their daughters; it was considered taboo. I could literally steal and not be punished for it because I was given free rein. Well, I never used that privilege because I had everything I needed for a boy my age, and there was nothing to compare my life with to feel that there was a lack. 🐎
If any of them fell sick, they called a herbalist who made a concoction for the sick person to drink. I too knew the plants to use if I accidentally cut myself while sourcing for firewood. I learnt how to swim in one of the streams, learnt how to ride a bicycle, make fire, and do my own laundry. I could walk to anyone’s house and ask for a glass of water or a plate of food and they won’t hesitate to give me. And no, it’s not because of the taboo, they were all like that. They were communal. If you are not used to it, their kindness will spook you. You'd think they were out to chop you up and sell off your body parts. Each clan had a building where they went to discuss their affairs and settle disputes. They followed a different calendar, naming days after markets. Each village had its own market days, and other villages had to bring their own produce to barter with someone else. You could also pay with cash if you liked, but the markets were more for camaraderie and less about the money. Their calendar was actually leisure-centric. The Wikipedia entry says that ‘the 8-day week had an adverse effect on the routine of European traders who often visited.’ I suppose they were surprised that certain communities didn't share the ‘Protestant work ethic’ ideology. Life didn't revolve around work but was actually made for living and connecting. The villagers were happy; they really had nothing to worry about. When I read about which nations are the happiest, as usual, I chuckle because I have seen and spent time with people who spend near zero, yet are far happier and more content than me. Their suicide rates were significantly low; perhaps they hide it well, but I have never heard my mother speak about someone from her side who had taken their own life. The problem in modern society is that we have tied the generation of positive emotions to objects. Everywhere we turn, there’s an ad compelling us to buy something. It creates a hole in our souls, so not only do we need more objects, they must always be new and shiny. 🛸
Thanks for reading. If there's anything you'd like to chat about, or if you have any questions, feel free to shoot me an email. I'd love to hear from you. :)