Hello from Bamako!

We’ve had our fair share of travel adventures thus far! We started on Monday leaving Carrboro early in the morning (5am!) for Atlanta. We were fortunately to have a rather uneventful drive and got Marc’s French passport application process started in the consulate there (we are STILL dealing with the fallout from the Madrid fiasco) with some time to spare before heading to the airport. Our flight to Paris went well, and we had a fair amount of time to kill in Paris, and so decided to go into town. It turned out to be a beautiful day – one of the prettiest winter day in Paris Shuwen has ever seen actually (it always seems to be cloudy when she has been there in the past). After a quick pain au chocolat and café by the Notre Dame, we walked around the St. Germaine area, went by Centre Pompidou (staff on strike!) and were hoping to check out the stained glass at la Sainte Chapelle. Unfortunately, the line was quite long, so we gave that a pass and went to the Latin Quarter in search of lunch. Shuwen has eaten escargots before, but in the US, these are typically canned and so already out of the shell. In France, that is not the case and it’s difficult to overcome the thought that you are eating snails! The escargots in France taste earthier than those in the US and a little like spinach actually—and you have to work hard to dig those buggers out. Oh yes, the French and the Chinese eat everything!

We thought we had factored in sufficient time to catch the RER back to Charles de Gualle, but did not count on a major electrical shortage on the train system which delayed us substantially…. It was quite a scare and running was involved (it isn’t a trip with Shuwen if running in the airport is NOT involved). But everything turned out OK and we had our flight to Bamako with little trouble in the end.

We were greeted upon our arrival in Bamako by Nana Toure and her son, Tidjane, who has now grown so much that Marc almost could not recognize him. The Toures were Marc’s host family when he was in Bamako, so even though Marc did not live with them he had dinners with them about 3 times a week. Nana used to work at the Mali Peace Corps office, but now is at the Millennium Challenge Foundation, and Mohamed runs his own company (but business has been getting tough with competition from the Chinese). Marc was very fortunate to have been connected with the Toures’ as they are a warm and open household with good cooks (esp compared to some of the other PCV experiences in the villages).

The next day (Wed), we visited the sanitation company Marc worked with during his time here, and chatted with Aminata Diarra and Assa, as well as some of the other co-workers who have stayed on. We also popped by the Peace Corps office and Marc caught up with a number of the folks there too. In the afternoon we stopped by Mamadou’s home (Mamadou was Marc’s Bambara teacher), and spent some time there. Mamadou’s wife had just returned from the Hajj to Mecca and had some interesting stories to tell from that experience. He appears to be doing very well, having recently added a new floor to his home and has a new car.

Patience is necessary if one wants to live ungrudgingly in Mali. One needs to be able to take long waits and things not working in stride, otherwise frustration can easily set in. Time is not money here… and folks can spend hours trying to accomplish what may seem to foreigners as the most straightforward of things. There is no value put on time, which can be a strange concept to many.

Marc wanted to bring Shuwen to see the historical mud town of Djenne (pronounced Jen-nea), which is an island in the middle of the Bani river. All the buildings in the town are made from mud, with the most impressive building there the grand mosque, which is a UNESCO Heritage site. In theory, one could get to Djenne from Bamako in 8-9 hours, but it took us far longer! We started our adventure Thursday morning by first visiting a bank to get some cash, only to have Marc’s card eaten by the ATM! Strange – apparently there was some kind of connection problem… luckily banks outfitted with ATMs are now not too difficult to find (compared to 2001-2004, when they did not exist). The scene at the bus station was complete chaos. Since we did not know which bus company to use and which to avoid, we were led to a bus company by a local who no doubt got a cut/commission. The bus to Mopti was supposed to leave at 10:30am, but we did not get going until nearly 12:30pm as it took a long time for the luggages to get sorted out, loaded and the bus company wanted to wait until the bus was really full. It was a really slow start on the bus with having to stop for gas, and everyone watching the management by the police of a rather bad accident that involved a motorcycle running into 2 women (one of whose head was bleeding quite profusely!) We also quickly learned that the multiple delays along the security checks at the bigger towns were due to the fact that the bus company had overcrowded the bus (there were a number of passengers sitting on jerry cans along the aisle), and so had to negotiate bribes with the guards at each station! One wonders if overloading the bus is even worth it once these bribery costs are factored in. We had hoped to arrive at the Djenne carrefour (crossroad) to catch a car/van to the Djenne ferry before dark, but realized that it was a piped dream soon enough. However, we were told (wrongly) that we should still be able to find transportation at the carrefour after dark. So, needless to say, we found ourselves stranded at the carrefour, with no where to go at 10:30pm Thursday night. Shuwen had also by now developed an unhappy tummy. Luckily, the police guard at the carrefour was kind enough to loan us a mattress on which we tried to sleep outside his hut, and the toilet was in close proximity. It was a cold night and we hadn’t brought any long sleeves or coats of any kind, so we suffered that night. Cuddling in the cold listening to the donkeys, roosters, guinea hens, sheep and snoring humans in the background on a night of a full moon will be a rather poignant memory for us.

The sky had beautiful shades of light blue and pinks as the sun rose Friday morning and we waited for some way to get to Djenne. A small group of people started gathering within an hour and we approached the owner of a run-down bachee (small truck outfitted to carry folks in the back), who wasn’t willing to leave until he filled his truck. By now, we wanted to make sure we actually got to Djenne, so we offered to pay extra. Then, of course the driver and a female passenger who had quite a number of bags with goods with her bickered and argued for almost 30 mins over a price! In the end, more passengers came on than we paid for, but we wanted to make progress on our travels and did not bring up the issue. It was past 7:30am by the time we left the carrefour for Djenne. Fortunately, the rest of the trip went rather uneventfully and we arrived finally arrived in Djenne almost 25 hours after we left the Toures’ home!

Djenne is a cool town… no concrete is allowed for the construction of the buildings, so almost all buildings are made of mud bricks, most of which were unbaked/uncooked bricks, meaning that over time and with rain will disintegrate. This means that households are constantly having to work on their homes (esp the exteriors) to reapply layers of mud. Some of the better-to-do households are able to afford cooked mud bricks, which last far longer. Djenne has also had some developments of its own since Marc was last there. Many of the homes now have slow drainage systems (soak pits) that prevent the alleys/streets from being overrun with dirty sewage water. This was a project that was started by a Peace Corps volunteer (Nathan) that Marc helped train, so it was great to see the value the program has had on the everyday lives of people here.

Unfortunately, the grand mosque was being repaired as one of the minarets collapsed earlier when they were doing some renovations. We also learned that the annual ritual of having the various neighborhoods compete to decorate the mosque after the reapplication of mud is now no more, which is too bad to hear as it is a big festival for the whole town. Apparently there was a donor who financed the use of a longer lasting, but costlier mud mixture (mud + shea butter + sap from the Baobab tree) which makes annual mud reapplication less necessary now. In Djenne, we learned about the various architectural styles, how to interpret some of the designs, and were shown the older buildings that used round ‘bricks’ rather than the now more common rectangular ones.

The 5 mounts denote the 5 prayers of the day.

The 5 pillars mean that there are 5 sons, and the four holes between the pillars denote 4 daughters (yes, lots of sexual innuendos).

The Moroccan-style windows traditionally allowed only the women’s heads to be shown for them to talk to others outside (since they could not leave the home). Those rules do not hold fast anymore in most of Mali.

The local market was small but bustling with activity, with women selling vegetables, smoked and dried fish, spices and the men hacking up meat. We also went by the Women’s Cooperative, and picked out a Dogon indigo dyed blanket (we also later on the way back to the ferry stop drove by a parcel of land that will be used by the women for growing mango trees and other crops).

We had lunch at the Campement and relaxed a little before venturing out on our own again, then got ready for the journey back to Bamako – yet another adventure! We caught a bus around 5pm from a more reputable bus company this time round, and things were moving along swimmingly until about 3 hours into the bus ride when it became apparent that one of the back wheels was having problems. The bus stopped numerous times and the driver and his apprentices would try to tighten a few bolts, but we were never able to go more than 10 mins before having to stop again. This slowed us down considerably, so at the small town of Bla, a blacksmith was found, awoken from his sleep and asked to help. Things took a while, but we were finally back on the road around 11:30pm. It was a long night for the poor driver who somehow managed to keep the bus safely on the road until we arrived in Bamako around 5:30 am in the morning. He had a blank stare by then! We got back to the Toures’ before 6am Saturday, but everyone was still asleep and so we were locked outside for a bit and waited at a neighbor’s place for a while before finally making it back. A shower never felt so good! Besides the layers of dust and dirt on us from the travels, Shuwen was slightly blue all over from using the indigo blanket while on the bus and was happy to be back to a normal hue again. We caught another hour or so of sleep and spent the rest of the morning – early afternoon hanging out with the family. The tailor across the street had also finished a shirt for Marc and a dress set for Shuwen out of a piece of fabric we had purchased from the market a few days earlier, so we tried those out. The textures, patterns and vibrant colors of the textiles here are amazing, and every piece of clothing is unique since most clothes are tailor-made. Even school uniforms are based off cloth with the school name/insignia, but everyone gets their own skirts/shirts/blouses made from that cloth… so there is some standard, but also variety within it.

In the afternoon, we moved to the L’Amitie hotel across the river (Niger), and finally are able to get online (although the connection is rather slow and spotty at times). It feels completely luxurious and a little strange to have a flushable toilet, shower and AC after our adventures on the road, but certainly also a nice respite. There is a small gym and pool here, so we are at least able to get a little exercise in even though the treadmill looks somewhat rickety and is unable to go any faster than 8 min miles (12 km/hour). Running outside is difficult with the dust and traffic (the motorcycles in particular!) The streets were full of cars and motos honking in celebration of the Malian soccer-team’s defeat of the Algerian team that evening – football is a big deal in Mali. Even the Malian restaurant we went to (San Toro) in the expat neighborhood was deserted because foreigners have been warned by their organizations to not go out on football nights. Marc’s WHO conference started this morning, and Shuwen is trying to catch up on some work.

Marc’s ability to speak Bambara and his familiarity with Bamako and its environs (since not too much has changed even in 5 years!) has been a real asset here. He gains more respect from the locals and we do not get ripped off as much as a result. He is constantly joking with the locals here (as a Fofana – his adopted Malian surname, he is known to be a trouble-maker and is the joking cousin to many of the other ethnic groups). Malian humor is somewhat strange, and Shuwen gets puzzled by it, but appreciates the lighthearted nature of the exchanges.