Goodbye, Douentza

I am on my way home. I have already left Douentza, spent a night in Sevare, and made it to Bamako.

My party on Friday went well. A lot of people showed up, a lot of whom I didn’t even really know. But Fatimata was one of the first to get there and the last to leave, along with the two bartenders from the Tango, my tailor, the neighbor kid Hamidou, his dad, and my Peace Corps friends who were in town (Dave, Phil, Ashley). We ate goat and drank sodas at around 4:30, and just hung out in my courtyard listening to music, taking pictures and talking. I was quite pleased (and the goat was delicious).

Later that night, Oumar and Ashley and I went to the Tango for one last time. Dave and Phil were supposed to come, but they were “too tired”. Lame. I helped Minkailou import his pictures into what’s now his computer (and not mine), then went to bed.

I didn’t sleep very well. It was sort of the Christmas Eve syndrome—too excited to sleep well. I spent the morning packing and sweeping out the AC room. Ashley came over to help me, then around 10 am, we got ready to walk to the freeway to meet our transportation. I had to say goodbye to Ramata then, which was pretty sad. I wanted to just envelop her in a huge hug, but it’s not totally Malian. We held hands and grasped each other’s shoulders, and I think she was as sad as I was.

Hamidou walked with Ashley and I to the freeway, carrying my bag, as is respectful for someone who is leaving that you like a lot. Oumar came with my big suitcase on the moto after us. We ended up getting to the freeway much earlier than need be, but that’s okay. I was getting antsy sitting at home. About an hour later, the Peace Corps 4x4 drove up and we loaded our stuff. Ashley didn’t go—she was just saying hi to someone passing through in the car—but Dave and Phil went. I was saddest about saying goodbye to Oumar, since he was probably my best Malian friend here. You could tell he was really upset but couldn’t show his feelings.

And with that, we pulled out of Douentza. I just watched the well-known scenery slide by me, disappearing into the distance. The only time I cried was walking down my street leaving my house. The feelings are just too mixed. And I don’t think the reality of it has hit me yet.

The car ride was good. It was a little cramped, but much faster and much more pleasant than any Malian bus could be. When we got into Sevare, we went out and got lunch (yassa rice—rice with a delicious onion sauce) at a little place called Chez Damou. Afterwards, some people went to the bar, and I went and checked into the Mankante where I stayed last night.

This morning, I got up at 6 am and ate my delicious Mankante breakfast. Just as I was packing up, Phil called me to make sure I was on my way to the burea, since the bus was about to leave. I hustled over there (it’s just around the corner), and in the process accidentally took my room key with me. Oh well, I’ll send it back up with some PCV.

It turns out that in addition to the minibus, the 4x4 from the day before was also going down to Bamako. And we didn’t have that many people. This meant that there were five of us in a minibus meant to hold twenty, so we each had a row to ourselves. It was by far the best transportation experience I’ve had in Africa. I napped, listened to music, chatted with the volunteers, and watched Mali roll by. We stopped in San to get gas and then in Segou for lunch, finally arriving in Bamako around 4 pm.

As soon as my baggage got down, I hailed a cab and came to the SIL guesthouse. They gave me a room on the third floor, so I had to haul all of my luggage up the three flights of stairs. Not so great. Since it’s the weekend, the hostess’s office is empty, so I couldn’t ask for an internet access card. But I am crafty, and here I am on the internet now. First, I saw a young woman coming out of the apartment next door and I asked if I could borrow her access card, which she let me do. She’s an American who’s been here working with SIL for about three months. Perhaps we’ll chat more later.

I took my prize back to my apartment, ready for some quality internet time, only to find that there was no Ethernet cable. I gave up my internet dreams for a while and headed out for dinner at Amandine’s. When I was on my way out of the compound, I heard a woman greet the SIL guard in Tommo-So, of all things! I started talking to her in Tommo-So (much to her surprise and joy) and we chatted all the way until I found a cab. I think she might come by tomorrow and we might chat some more. Go figure that I come to Bamako, the city where I feel linguistically useless (since I don’t speak Bambara) and then I find not only a Dogon speaker, but a Tommo-So speaker. Who knew TS was such a useful language.

I had a mango smoothie and pizza for dinner, half of which I brought back for lunch tomorrow. I also brought back a couple croissants for the morning and an apple tart for later this evening. Mm mm, civilization tastes good.

Minkailou is coming in tonight (hopefully) with my other suitcase. That was when I realized that SIL had also left his and Jeff’s keys out, so I figured it was only questionably dishonest to take them and get the Ethernet cable from their apartment, which I did, and now I’m in business. Here commences my ten days of waiting until I come home. I will probably get pretty bored, but oh well, I can wait it out, since the light at the end of the tunnel is growing ever brighter.

Happy mother’s day!