Wonderings and Wanderings

Here I am in Bamako, sitting behind my little desk watching mangos fall from the tree and toads skip across the newly watered ground.  Mali is a fascinating place and it seems to change before my eyes every day.  I arrived here on Christmas day after a wonderful week in Europe with my mother.  It was all expensive hotels, glasses of wine, and of course a wonderful history lesson.  We spent 4 days in London after the Eurostar got stuck in the Chunnel, stranding us in our West End hotel.  2 days in Paris were fantastic, but much too short.  And then I had to say goodbye to my mother, one of the hardest moments of my life – not knowing when I would see her again.  It’s amazing just how much you take for granted until it is gone. 

Amsterdam was a wonderful place.  Aside from the usual recreations at the British Bulldog Hostel, there I was able to see the Anne Frank Haus on an exceptionally un-touristy day which was a highlight there.  I never realized how small of a building it was and it really made the story come to life.  The nightlife was one for the record books.

Arriving in Bamako, however, was a dream come true.  Mali has always fascinated me and seemed like one of those places, so far away, from a dream, that you could never get to.  It was an expensive plane ticket, but worth every penny.  Just the drive from the airport to the Hotel Tamana was beautiful.  It’s the Sahara Desert and everywhere you go you can feel it.  The dust blowing in the unpaved roads, Touaregs at stoplights on their camels, the 45 degree (celcius) sun beaming down on you without relief.  To some it may not be a dream come true, but to me it was that and more.  I knew immediatley I would love it here.

The Tamana Hotel is a stunning Malian institution.  The old trees provide valuable shade and the perfectly clean swimming pool beckons you for a dip in the sweltering afternoon.  Just outside the hotel is one of the glitziest parts of town with The Terrace bar looming overhead pumping out salsa music and serving up oven-baked pizzas.  And then there is the Bla Bla Bar.  Where the rich and pretty, both Malians and tourists, go to be seen.  Floor to ceiling windows help them in their endeavor and those on the street only wish they could afford the $30 prawns and $50 bottles of wine.  Of course it was the first restaurant I visited.  And I met Nasser.

Our first date was a trip to the market where I needed a towel, scissors and other basic items.  He paid for everything.  I knew then he wasn’t your typical tourist-seeker.  Our second date put me on my first real motorcycle ride.  And ended in my first motorcycle accident.  We were passing the market when someone tried to pickpocket my backpack, forcing the moto to overturn.  My dress got caught in the tire, pulling my leg into the spinning rubber and burning off two huge chunks of flesh.  Locals rushed to my aide and I found myself with my foot in someones hand – they were rubbing toothpaste on the wound explaining that it keeps it dry.  I only experienced an intense burning sensation from the peppermint flavor.  Needless to say it was a very cultural experience, if not slightly alarming.

The accident changed my plans, essentially changing my life.  Nasser took full responsibility for me and carted me around from hotel to clinic to hospital where I found out my leg was badly infected.  I was unable to walk properly for about three weeks and I missed my flight to Ghana where I was supposed to start a study abroad semester in January.  I moved to the Hotel Sahel Vert where I met Modibo, the owner.  It was atmospheric, laid back, African, and best of all it was cheap (in Malian standards).  I found myself feeling more and more at home with my surroundings, the city, and Nasser. 

 When Modibo offered me a job working in the bar at night, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to become a resident of Bamako and I started work right away.  I wouldn’t say it was difficult, counting the number of beers before I started and serving them to the mostly male clientele was one of the simpler jobs I’ve had.  It was learning French that was difficult.  And the 48 hour work week.  Plus I was earning just over $150 US a month, a vast difference from my salary in the US.  Some people wonder how I get by, others wonder why I do it.  But all I have to do is wake up in the morning and see the naked children playing in the street, the fresh fruit waiting for me in the road, the camels chomping at the fresh grass and I know that I’m in a paradise few ever experience.

I moved in with Nasser in February, just a little over a month after we met.  Our relationship was perfect and even our language barrier provided entertainment.  It always gives us more to learn about each other.  His apartment is in Razel, a small suburb of Bamako.  Some would (do) call it a slum, I call it home.  We live in about 200 square feet of un-airconditioned space.  A small salon, bedroom and a bathroom with no running water is where we stay.  It’s cozy.  But we have electricity (usually) and our neighbors are always entertaining.  Living among the people, earning a comprable salary, eating local food… it gives me a perspective on African and Malian life that I have never had before.  And I’m a better person for it.

Within 3 months Nasser had proposed (multiple times) and soon I couldn’t find any more reasons to say no.  So in April we took a 48 hour bus ride to his home town of Lome, Togo.  I met his wonderful, hilarious family.  I ate delicious fresh fish and prawns from the morning catch.  I swam in the dangerous waters of the Gold Coast.  I visited my husband’s village near Aneho which was one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.  It was an experience I will never forget.  On the morning of April 24th we were married at the Mayor’s office.  During the ceremony we had to choose between monogamy or polygamy.  It was a hilarious moment for everyone.  I never thought twice about it.

It’s now been seven months since I came to Bamako.  The seven best months of my life.  Every day I wake up I have a smile on my face.  I have my friends here.  I am building a family.  I love my little job.  Life could not be better.  Mali is an astounding country.  Even though it is the 5th poorest in the world, you would never know it from the smiles on everyone’s faces.  It’s a place where the most pressing order of the day is who is going to win the World Cup.  Where you can sing for your supper.  Where cats and mice live harmoniously and lizards are a man’s best friend.  Where you sweat and no one notices.  Where you won’t find a McDonalds, a Wells Fargo, or a burrito.  Where the cure for cancer is tree branches marinated in grain alcohol.  And where you are welcome; black, white or purple – Muslim, Christian or Hindu – healthy or infirm – rich or poor.  It’s where I live, love, and dream.