Good cop, bad cop

Once more, I find myself in Bamako, with only a slightly arduous tale behind me.

Yesterday afternoon, Oumar and I got on the motorcycle and managed to get all of my baggage and ourselves to the highway. I wanted to go a bit early, after the debacle with the bus arriving way early in late August. While sitting there chatting about needing visas for Ghana and Burkina, it struck me that I had forgotten my passport back at the house. Without my passport, a whole lot of my trip to Bamako (embassy, banks…) would be impossible.

We left my bags under the perhaps not-so-watchful eye of the ticket man and zoomed back towards the house. However, yesterday was police check day in town on motorcycle papers. Oumar had known this since the morning, so I gave him the papers we have and we figured it would be fine. Not. This one particularly mean cop demanded our license (‘vignette’) and actually compared the number to the number on the motorcycle—turns out, they didn’t match up. This meant that he had the right to confiscate our motorcycle. You better believe I got pretty upset. My bus was about to leave, our papers weren’t right, the cop was being mean… another nicer cop came by to try to sort things out, and he took me to the house to get my passport, all the while consoling me as I sniffled with rage.

In the end, we went to the town hall and had to buy a new license. The one we had was for our DT motorcycle that was in Songo with Kirill, not for the Star. 12 dollars later, it got worked out. Perhaps it also helped that I sort of knew the guy working at the town hall. He’d given me a ride back from the internet before, so he knew my name. It was all rather upsetting, but it turned out all right.

I even got my bus on time, which turned out to be a nice, actually air-conditioned Gana bus. In Sevare, Seydou met me at the station and we had dinner together before the bus carried on its way. It was nice to see him, if only for ten minutes. Back on the bus, the man sitting behind me asked if I was American and if I was going to the embassy. When I answered yes to both questions, he told me he had a courier for Gaoussou, whom I’d met before, and asked if I could bring it to him, which I agreed to. We talked about politics for a while (the election is on everyone’s mind). It was nice to not feel so alone on the bus.

We pulled into town when the first tips of dawn were just beginning to show. I found a taxi just fine, who even told me a fairly reasonable price, and the only problem was that my bag got peed on by the sheep who was in the baggage hold. Now I have even more clothes to wash than I had planned.

I got to SIL and took a nap and a shower before heading back out to the embassy. When checking in, I ran into Rosemary, another Fulbrighter, but of the professor variety. Friendly doesn’t even begin to describe her. She’s married to a Liberian (who lived in Guinea after the war?), has spent a lot of time in Africa, and was bursting with excitement to be back.

We went through the security briefing, which was pretty ridiculous. To sum up: don’t make friends with your guards because they will just ask you for money; if you meet any Russians, North Koreans, Iranians, Cubans, etc., report your interaction to the embassy; north of Mopti, there is crime; north of the Niger, don’t go there, except if you want to, in which case, it’s okay.

I had lunch at the cafeteria, where I could get a bacon cheeseburger! That made my day. Then I used their fast internet and headed back to SIL to do some laundry and get some groceries. For the next couple days, I intend to just sit at my computer and use the internet, when I’m not running errands or seeing friends, that is. I may be busier than I thought.

I really like Mali, though. The people are so friendly and it feels so safe. It’s good to stay on your guard, but taxi drivers, store keepers, embassy workers, everyone is full of humor, which makes it a very pleasant place to stay.