Here, I offer a look into the simple village of Kaniaso located within the Ivory Coast of Africa. A look into the life of simplicity, minimalism, and contentment. In such a demanding and material driven world, my question always returns. As humans: do we need all this?

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m just like everybody else in this technological age. You can easily find me glued to my Facebook feed on my phone or suctioned to the screen of the latest Netflix release. However, this past weekend I spent out in the serene atmosphere of the village called Kaniaso got me thinking.

I came to Abidjan, the capitol of the Ivory Coast, to visit a friend and help out with English at the school. However, I can’t lie and say I didn't also come to experience my fair share of sights, smells, and people of an entirely different place. I’m a bit of a traveling spirit and tend to look for these opportunities to arise. The Ivory Coast has proven to be a beautiful country full of life and vibrant vegetation and I am constantly lost, staring into the magnificent pale orange African sunsets.

My friend and I were given the opportunity to travel to Kanaiso ten hours by car with the tropical landscape whipping by us on both sides.When we finally arrived, we were shuffled around to meet the elders and then, we settled into our abode for the night, exhausted from the long day. We woke up rather late the next morning and decided to venture out and see what we could find.

The first thing that struck me about this place was the cement and straw huts. They were expertly built (for huts), and seemed to have quite enough room to house families, especially considering the fact that they were one room. But the thing is, the children and even the parents seemed to spend way more time outside of them in the balmy sunshine. I absolutely loved that. You could find the women wrapped in their colourful patterned skirts and head dresses out all day cooking some delicious smelling food. That seemed to be their main preoccupation, and it was evident they thoroughly enjoyed it.

The children were free to roam and walk as far as they wanted to free without fear. I think the only fear they felt was the one I aroused when I chased after them playfully. I also think it would be sufficient to say, they had never seen skin my shade before; but by the end of my stay, I had them hugging this crazy La Blange (the white girl). Their clothes were tattered and missing partners. One sock here. One shoe there. One with a shirt. One without. But they did not care. They wore the biggest smiles. In fact, everyone in this place seemed not to have a care in the world. It amazed me that they weren’t dying internally from lack of social media. Having computers and cellular devices wasn’t a necessity or even a desire. The fresh air was quite good enough, in fact, even better than the refrigerated boxes most people reside in.

The men seemed to hang out and talk aimlessly before or after work and their general demeanour was one of absolute tranquility. The time and pace of Kaniaso was almost non-existent. It was so appealing to me. Even the cows, chickens, and goats came and went as they pleased, perfectly content to be chewing on a weed until a wandering child came around to kick at them half-heartedly. Even they lived in this “calm”. The “calm” of a self-sustaining, family-orientated community. We surprisingly had wifi in our place, but it seemed to be the furthest thing from my mind when I stepped outside. I climbed in the trees, read books in those trees, ate fresh mangoes from those trees.It was as if this life was as life was always meant to be. It was not the rushed, aggravated, caged thing it has become today.

I find we are literally trapped (myself included) by our own addictions to material things and the next thing that we don’t have to lift a finger to get. Kaniaso taught me to at least pursue the lost art of “calm”. It taught me that, sometimes, it is OK to just go outside to watch the sunset all by yourself. It is OK to go walk to a friend’s house just to have an actual physical conversation. Modern technology is a beneficial part of our society, no doubt about that; but I think we would all also benefit from occasionally asking ourselves: Do we truly need all of this?