closer than… a cousin?

At this time of year, far from home, I think of family. While I know family is not what this season is “about”, it is, nonetheless, a time of year uniquely associated with festive and memorable family gatherings. Watching my Sudanese friends has taught me unexpected lessons about family and reminded me of the much we have to learn.

In Sudan, as in many other places in the world, you are, first and foremost, not an individual but a member of your family. This has profound implications for almost everything. One seeks to marry, first of all, within your extended family. In fact, one would never dream of marrying without the consent of both the parents and the uncles. The Western distinction between “nuclear” and “extended” family is largely irrelevant here. You often live in very close proximity with aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. Your cousins are some of your closest friends, you see them everyday. Your maternal uncle is often closer than a father. If you are wealthy, it is your responsibility to take care of your extended family. If, on the other hand, you need a job or money, it is only natural that you would ask family members to help. If you car breaks down on the other side of town in the middle of the night, you call a cousin or uncle who knows something about cars.

A friend, Adam, was recently stopped by two men claiming to be police officers. They threatened to take him to jail on fabricated charges if he did not give them a significant sum of money. Adam called his cousin’s husband, a police investigator, someone he barely knew, and asked him to come and help him. This was the absolutely natural thing to do. It would not have mattered what time of day or night it was or no matter how he was otherwise occupied. What mattered was not the depth of the relationship or the convenience of such a request but, only, that they are family. The cousin understood that, to the extent which he was able, it was his duty to help.

Another friend, Abdul, was in love with a girl. It had all the marks of a good marriage. Two upper class, moneyed, Western-educated families – the cream of Sudanese high-society. They were planning on getting engaged within a month, thereby publicly legitimizing their romance and allowing the families to acknowledge and bless their relationship. (Interestingly, both of the mothers knew of their affection, but the fathers, as heads of households, feigned ignorance in order to maintain propriety.) One day, Abdul’s father, for whom he also works, ordered him to break-up the relationship for a few years (!) and focus on his work. In Abdul’s mind there was no question of disobeying. He was frustrated and angry for a few days, but accepted his father’s command as the only option. Now he is dedicated to helping his father’s businesses in any way he can and waiting for the day when he will have the family consent to marry his love. It is not about what he wants, but what is good for the family. The phrase, “No man is an island”, was never truer than in Sudan.

Now, I am not defending “traditional family values” (an idea which, while elevated as a political fetish, is increasingly meaningless) nor the collapse of the “nuclear family,” as such. No, I am observing that family is the first and natural bond. In many ways, Eastern cultures teach us that family is the structure to which we should default. In the West, we often allow ourselves to overlook this truth. It is with my family that I share the abundance of success. It is to them that I turn for aid in times of trouble. Sure, as Abdul can attest, it can be pretty painful at times, but I imagine the benefits out-weigh the pain. At the very least, you are never alone