I’ve recently picked up running again (well, more like a  vigorous jog; I certainly am no speed demon) and the first day I went out was a drainer: I went only about two kilometers, but a road full of rocks, dips and other hazards, in addition to less than desirable (read: not made for running) shoes, meant that my calves and ankles got a serious run for their money. At one point I tripped and landed on the side of my foot. I had to walk the last stretch and by the next day both ankles were throbbing and extremely painful.

Aware of the rest, elevation, and ice treatment for muscle strain,  I found it less than practical given a) it was baby weighing day at the CSCom  and there were about 20 mothers waiting for consultation, making rest and elevation not feasible for the moment, and b) ice? yeah right. I settled for an Ace bandage wound tightly around the ankle that hurt worst, along with two ibuprofen and a prayer.  Time to go about my day.

I arrived at my host family’s to eat a quick breakfast and Mamu immediately commented on my slow, uneven walk. Everyone first assumed that I’d gotten into another accident with my hoe and cut my foot again (that injury was so last week ….but the apparent humor of imagining the tubabu lady bringing a daba  right down onto her foot, just as practically all Malians do at least once per farming season, seems not to have worn out). Then they saw the Ace bandage, and after I explained that I had been running (this alone is confusing for them; running? Whatever for?) and tripped and strained a muscle, I just got the usual knowing smiles. Ah, Awa and her accidents again.

My host father’s brother Nyaraga is a farafinafura dogotoro, a traditional medicine practitioner, and he immediately offered to do something to help my ankle. I was hesitant. Sure, I’d seen him “work” on various villagers, and most of the time it seemed nothing more than a few incantations, some spitting and light massage of the afflicted area. Still, I spend so much time encouraging villagers to go see the actual doctor for their injuries and illnesses, that I’m not sure accepting his treatment sends the right message. I turned the whole thing into a joke about how I had my own tubabu medicine, and the suggestion was forgotten for the moment.

By the next day, though, my ankle felt, if anything, worse than before. My host moms were insistent this time–why don’t I at least just let Nyaraga try a little something? Satisfied that I’ve at least demonstrated faith in the proper modern medical care for muscle injury. I decided it couldn’t hurt. To the great delight of everyone sitting in the vicinity eating their breakfasts, I sat down in front of Nyaraga, placed my ankle on a low wooden stool in front of me, and waited.

He first asked me to show him the part that was most painful, at which time I pointed to the top of my foot where the ankle meets the leg. He took the foot gently, moving it in careful circles, his fingers tracing delicate lines along the affected area. He did this for quite some time, all while muttering soft, incomprehensible (to me) incantations, prayers for my recovery. After about five minutes of this he took my Ace bandage, re-wrapped it snugly around my bad ankle, and told me to come back the next day.

Who knows whether it had something to do with the prayer, the power of gentle massage for muscle strain, or the simple fact that injuries like these often need little more than time to heal (probably all three of these things are true), but I did feel markedly better after the next day. Nyaraga’s wife made a point of that fact that this simple, age old treatment had done more than my tubabu medicine did to help my foot. And I had to hand it to her, she was right this time.

When Westerners think of traditional medicine, perhaps they think of crazy witch doctors and animal-skin fetish rugs and elaborate blended herb drinks. That is, if they have any idea what to think at all. And maybe some of these ideas do have some basis in actual practices. But my point is that many traditional treatments for simple maladies and injuries are common sense, practical and…..can actually work. People often think of traditional medicine and Western medicine as two incompatible spheres. But I’ve seen here that they need not be, and in practice are not, completely separate from one another. Traditional medicine can complement modern medicine, especially, I think, in many illnesses that have a significant mental or stress component. The very act of sitting there while someone pays close attention to your pain, of having them focus on making you better, takes some of the edge off. And that, I’ve learned from my own experience with the psychological dimensions of physical ailments, can actually be powerful when used in the correct way. Traditional healers, often widely respected and revered, are also in a prime position to reinforce health promoting behaviors in a way that speaks more to the villagers than does the formal health system.

Where traditional medicine can perhaps become dangerous or detrimental is when it replaces modern clinical medicine for serious conditions or injuries, or life threatening illnesses. But in the context that most villagers seem to be using the farafinna dogotoro, it doesn’t seem as though it would do much harm, and it probably does some good, if nothing else than at least mentally. It’s something a clinical health system would be better off utilizing than ignoring or denouncing completely. Nyaraga certainly is not a doctor, and has no training to be dealing with medically complicated situations. But he does possess a certain knowledge of the human physical condition as a combined function of our actual ailments–what’s really going on in our bodies–and mental state, and there is something of value in that.

There may be something to the wisdom of the ancients. I’m not saying I’m going to tell the next villager  I see with a broken toe or malnourished baby to go to the  ”Africa doctor” and not the health center. At the same time, I’m beginning to appreciate some of the practicalities of traditional medicine practices, and realize that it’s not all some sort of ineffective hocus-pocus, but often a straightforward, simple and supportive way to treat uncomplicated physical complaints. Traditional medicine does, indeed, still have its place here.