Remote African village Life | People of the Living Village.

My Dear Steemians,

If you’re going to understand the refugee camps, you have to know what their lives were like before the war in peaceful villages scattered throughout Western Sudan. The women were responsible for almost all the daily chores, like hauling water. They took great pride in making sure their families always had clean cloths. They taught their daughters so that they would attract good husbands and marry well. It was the men’s responsibility to protect the village

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with whatever weapons they could make or find. They also worked communally on larger construction projects like building houses for new wives. The materials all came from the surrounding forest. The know-how got passed on from father to son. There was no such thing as retirement. Everyone just worked until they dropped deal. Though the elderly were treated with great respect. It was their job to teach the next generation all the skills they needed to grow up into proper men. Abdullah’s almost blind and has to tie the knocks by feel but his teeth still work just fine. Beyond a certain age, even women no longer had to follow rules of etiquette. Children were given chores and responsibilities at an early age. By the time they turned ten, they were full working members of the community, in charge of all the family assets. That didn’t mean they couldn’t still be kids. If a ball should find its way into the village, they’d play until it was too dark to see. From time to time the Arab nomads passed through on their annual migration. They traded milk and meat for grain, and the right to graze their animals.

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The two groups didn’t mix that much, but relationships were usually cordial. Aside from that, there was very little commerce. No stores – no need, since everything could be grown or gathered. Even seeds that, when dried, were sweet as candy. And as a bonus, their pits could be pressed for oil. The local market if there was one was at least a day’s hard ride away. It was a place to sell any excess harvest and buy a few luxuries, or parlay special skills into a bit of extra cash. Any good-sized town was almost certainly out of reach, though once or twice a year the men would make the journey to sell livestock or buy a new amulet, or knife and sheath. The country’s capital Khartoum was a world away. Inconceivable. Though lately, a few Western inventions were just starting to creep in. Time didn’t just move slowly in these rural village to all intents and purpose, it stopped 500 years ago. No phones, no cars, no electricity. No television sets. In fact, there was nothing more important than hanging out with family and friends. These were social societies, not economic ones. Extended families – and interpersonal relationships – were the only things that really mattered. It was a simple life, but not completely idyllic.

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In the desert, almost everything has thorns, and few people could afford a pair of shoes, so removing splinters was a daily chore. And the flies were everywhere. With no access to hospitals, diseases like arthritis and diabetes went virtually unchecked. During the dry season, the dust storms could make life completely miserable. It was a harsh and unforgiving land but for those who knew every rock and outcrop, it was home. And then, there came a war….

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