Aug 17, 2005
Still More on Happiness
Just below, the esteemed Ralph E. Luker links to The Little Professor's insightful discussion of how various religious groups tend to view others as unhappy. The same can also be said for national/political and even economic groups.
In particular I am reminded of one of the greater incidents of epiphany in my life. During my fieldwork in Kano, Nigeria, in the early 1990's, I passed through a certain roundabout (traffic circle) several times a day. By virtue of its strategic location, it had a larger-than-usual population of folks whom life had dealt a particularly rough hand. Old folks without family, lepers, those crippled by polio, children with debilitating birth defects, accident victims missing limbs... you name it, they were there, often clustered in their own little communities, segregated by disability. There was also a large compliment of almajarai, the young (age 6 to 13 or so) Qur'anic students who generally beg for food.
Inevitably, cars stopped at the roundabout were visited by the local residents (or their more mobile assistants -- lepers were almost always aided by small children, for example). As a white guy, I tended to attract extra attention. Over time, I got to know the residents of Murtala Mohammed Roundabout as well as could be expected for somebody who passed through five minutes at a time a few times a day. Despite being among what might be considered some of the least lucky people on the face of the earth, almost all of Murtala's residents were pleasant and polite. Even if I didn't have any"small money" on me on a given day (growling"get a job" wasn't really appropriate given most of the people's life histories), they would still chat with me briefly -- asking how my own family was and wishing me good luck for the day and for my safety on the road.
Indeed, a few months into my fieldwork, I was neigh to struck dumb one day when I realized that most of the folks at the roundabout were, by and large, more at peace with their lot in life and even, shockingly, perhaps happier than an awful lot of people I knew back home in the states. Many Americans seem to spend a lot of time complaining. Be it the price of gas or how little they like their jobs, family, or neighbors, complaining about something is almost like a hobby.
Perhaps the results of last year's World Values Survey, which ranked Nigerians as the world's happiest people and Americans as 16th (out of 65) can be instructive.
Goodness knows that whenever I catch myself foolishly lamenting my lot in life I try and think about the Mutanen Murtala (people of Murtala). It rarely fails to bring a smile to my face and, often, a near-tear to my eye.
In particular I am reminded of one of the greater incidents of epiphany in my life. During my fieldwork in Kano, Nigeria, in the early 1990's, I passed through a certain roundabout (traffic circle) several times a day. By virtue of its strategic location, it had a larger-than-usual population of folks whom life had dealt a particularly rough hand. Old folks without family, lepers, those crippled by polio, children with debilitating birth defects, accident victims missing limbs... you name it, they were there, often clustered in their own little communities, segregated by disability. There was also a large compliment of almajarai, the young (age 6 to 13 or so) Qur'anic students who generally beg for food.
Inevitably, cars stopped at the roundabout were visited by the local residents (or their more mobile assistants -- lepers were almost always aided by small children, for example). As a white guy, I tended to attract extra attention. Over time, I got to know the residents of Murtala Mohammed Roundabout as well as could be expected for somebody who passed through five minutes at a time a few times a day. Despite being among what might be considered some of the least lucky people on the face of the earth, almost all of Murtala's residents were pleasant and polite. Even if I didn't have any"small money" on me on a given day (growling"get a job" wasn't really appropriate given most of the people's life histories), they would still chat with me briefly -- asking how my own family was and wishing me good luck for the day and for my safety on the road.
Indeed, a few months into my fieldwork, I was neigh to struck dumb one day when I realized that most of the folks at the roundabout were, by and large, more at peace with their lot in life and even, shockingly, perhaps happier than an awful lot of people I knew back home in the states. Many Americans seem to spend a lot of time complaining. Be it the price of gas or how little they like their jobs, family, or neighbors, complaining about something is almost like a hobby.
Perhaps the results of last year's World Values Survey, which ranked Nigerians as the world's happiest people and Americans as 16th (out of 65) can be instructive.
Goodness knows that whenever I catch myself foolishly lamenting my lot in life I try and think about the Mutanen Murtala (people of Murtala). It rarely fails to bring a smile to my face and, often, a near-tear to my eye.