A wacky trip to Bamako

I am happy to report that I continue to feel fine and that I am now in Bamako with Kevin. Let me retrace our steps for you.

Things are getting wackier and wackier in Mali to give Kevin a last huzzah, it seems. First, there had been a mouse in the clutter of our room in Douentza for a few days, and in the process of packing, we discovered it had made a little home in Kevin’s suitcase, where it enjoyed regular peanut feasts. Then, I dumped a few bags of random garbage in the courtyard, a lot of which was Christmas wrapping paper, and sure enough, maybe an hour later, there are four or five kids rummaging through, playing with their new-found toys. And then as if the bathroom in Douentza couldn’t get any worse, there was a pile of poop on the floor in front of the door. Great.

On a happier note, I finally got my Nova Cuttlefish special I had ordered from Amazon about a month ago, which we enjoyed. If you don’t know cuttlefish, read up on Wikipedia, or just hang on until Kevin and I co-author an informative and entertaining book about the world’s coolest creature (move over, pangolin).

Before we left Douentza, I went back over to our Bella neighbors’ house to get Kevin a new ring made, since the Atlantic Ocean of Ghana ate his last one. The woman there is friendly. When she saw me, she jumped up and gave me a hug as if we were long lost friends. The Bella were traditionally the slave cast (more like indentured servants) of the Touaregs, so they speak Tamashek and share a lot of the same culture, but they are black Africans as opposed to Berber people. This is the family that Jeff always goes to when he needs any sort of leatherwork goods, such as the camel saddle I gifted to my brother and sister-in-law for their wedding.

Anyhow, while we were sitting there talking about it (rather Hamidou acted as translator and I just sat there), I could watch the men working the silver. Their techniques probably haven’t changed much in the last few hundred years. They start with a chunk of raw metal, which they nestle into some hot coals in the ground, and someone heats it with a simple bellows. Then they remove it with tongs and pounds it with a hammer on what looks like a railroad spike stuck in the ground. This process continues of heat and pound, heat and pound, presumably until (in the case of a ring) it becomes the ideal length and width. At this point, they take a chisel and pound a groove along the entire length, into which they will insert a strip of copper for ornamentation. I didn’t see how they join they ends of the ring or file it down smooth, but it was interesting to watch some as seemingly solid as metal bend to the desire of the smith. After the first ring they made was much too thin, they came around with a second one later that night which will serve as a better memento for Kevin when he leaves here all too soon.

On Sunday, the fabled Amelia and Abdoul Salaam came through Douentza. Abdoul Salaam had worked with Jeff for many years, for his language, Hombori Songhay, and more generally on the project. Then he met Amelia, who was in the Peace Corps in Petaga. They fell in love, got married, and are now in North Carolina. I’ve heard stories about them from Jeff and all of his assistants here, so it was nice to actually meet them. They were both charming people. We chatted for much of the afternoon before they headed out to Hombori in the evening.

They had recommended Sonef buses to us for our trip to Bamako, so on Monday afternoon, we went to the freeway to wait for the bus. We got there a little after 3, and of course the bus didn’t show up until 5. Amelia had said that Sonef runs a tight ship: insists on timeliness, doesn’t let people sit in the aisles, decent buses… Well, this is Mali, they got there late, the aisle was full of people without seats going to Sevare (then again between San and Bamako).

The bus was a death trap. It started with a burning smell before we got to Sevare. It was evening by this point, so when I looked out the back door when we stopped, I saw the light of the blinker on the trees and thought it was a fire. Adrenaline coursed through my body and I was about ready to vault the back of my chair and sprint off into the night when I realized that there was no fire. That would’ve been embarrassing. Later, it became clear that the burning rubber smell came from braking. Next, the driver drove way too fast. He would take the turns without slowing down, leaving Kevin and I clutching white-knuckled the backs of the seats in front of us. Not to mention that there was some army guy on the bus in full fatigues carrying a machine gun that would be pointed directly at my head whenever he got on and off the bus.

It was a long, bumpy, sleepless ride, but we finally got to Bamako a little after 6AM and made it back to Hotel Djenne, where Kevin’s adventure began. The only room they had ready was a small suite for $10 more a night, so now we’ve got two rooms and a couch, and of course, fast wireless internet again.

We took a nap in the morning then went out to L’Express for lunch, where we both got incredibly rich pizzas—him a 4 cheese pizza with Roquefort, and me a calzone with egg, ham, pepperoni and cheese stuffed in it. Mmmm.

I’m not sure what our New Year’s plans are yet. Jeremy should be in town, and he seems better at snooping out parties than we are, so I’ll just kick back and wait for that information to come to me. In the meantime, we’ll just be enjoying the Bamakois highlife.