Bonds of the Bao
Grief can have a home
by John Lord Couper
Almost all of my neighbours were sitting under two young mango trees. The night before, an old man — whose home was a short walk from mine — had been almost completely devoured by two lions. They’d wandered west from the nearby Mikumi wildlife preserve.
For poor farmers, survival depends on community support and wisdom, which lions had reduced by one respected elder.
Beyond any individual loss, though, what did this horror mean for the villagers’ future, now even less secure?
For a year, I joined a Tanzanian village named Ilakala. Near its center, beside the red-dirt road connecting it to the world, a small area was cleared. Logs supported simple, worn boards they called the “Bao.”
The word translates as “plank” in Kiswahili, but its meaning is much deeper. This place was reserved for momentous gatherings. Where villagers gathered to reach a decision, or deal with far-reaching news.
Its physical simplicity belied its social profundity.
The morning after the lion attack, the Bao buzzed with sombre conversation. There were silent, reflective small groups. Someone occasionally raised their voice in frustration, others prayed to God or Allah or sang quietly. Practical people might have wondered how to defend the village, or to the final goodbye always held exactly a year after an elder’s death.
It felt like a solemn honor to be even an outsider within this meeting of the hearts.
The overall atmosphere was grief and confusion. A few people moved between groups — seeking more details, understandings, solutions. Parents held children a little closer… the typical calm of elders seemed a little brittler.
The Bao was a cauldron of communication, especially nonverbal. It was filled with the special dignity of communities anywhere who face disaster. This was intensified in Ilakala, that didn’t have the diffusing distractions of technology. Most of all, it reflected the raw roots of connection in a place that has few resources except sweat and rich soil.
People gathered around the Bao for that day and the next, and a few returned on the third day.
Nothing is more universal than the search for social assurance after tragedy. A Bao is a village “commons”, but much more — somewhere to cope with impact and to peer communally beyond loss, opportunity, or threat.
An austere spot under mango trees where people can re-strengthen the bonds of today and tomorrow.
You can see the Ilakala area by searching Google Maps
for Muhenda, Tanzania
Feel free to repost and encouraged to respond, and/or contact me at info@johnlordcouper.com. Many thanks, John
