Bye Bye

Ok, it's over.
After the long trip from Tombouktou to Bamako, I made it home.
Thanks to all those who had the patience to read through this.
I'll miss this funny tool. Really kept my mind thinking!

Seeya soon!

Twin sisters

Djenné, Tombouctou’s twin sister city, was not exactly it. First of all its architecture is amazing: there are two main architectural styles, the Maroccan and the Tukolor, and both kinds of houses are gorgeously looking and have beautifully decorated windows (similar to those in Tombouctou but not as beautiful). Crafts are of higher quality and more varied; streets are more lively and the Monday market is huge and colourful. Nothing can compare to the charm of the desert but Djenné does have something special, so I’d say that if I had to choose I’d surely pick Djenné for a day visit. However the desert was astonishing (although short because of the Gheddafi rent-a-camel initiative), and nothing beats it.

Le pays du Moulhoud

Islam’s second most important festivity celebrates the anniversary of Mohammed’s birthday and baptism (one week later). It is a huge deal in the muslim world. Eveline and I left Bamako a couple of days before the celebration of the birth and Tombouctou already was in a little turbulence. As to the trip it really turned out being the trip to the Pays du Moulhoud: intense prayers every day and night, when believers sing Koran suras. Even on our pirogue trip on the Niger we were obliged to listen to religious songs all night long, one night that we camped in front of a little village. Eveline (who did Arabic-Muslim studies) had never heard those melodies before; they actually sounded like repetitive traditional songs (one was just like Amazing Grace). So she woke up every morning singing “Allah in the greatest” or (night best hit) “There is no god like Allah-la lala lala…”.

Monsieur le Niger

In the course of out trip, Mopti was quick and fast. But from Mopti the best part of it began: a 3-day-cruise in a little pirogue on the Niger to Kouakourou, on the way to Djenné. Seidu and Sidi, our two piroguiers, they cooked for us, made tea for us, rowed all day long, accompanied us in several little villages on the way and gave us the chance for interesting chats. As to Eveline and I, we just had to look, be cradled in the slow and reassuring motion of the pirogue, enjoy the scenery and the visit to the villages, where hospitality could be exchange with some cola nuts, a tuberous with a slight hallucinogenic power that Malians like to chew.
“Mali Mali” (tranquille tranquille, i.e. calmly, no worries) were the key words of the trip, together with other mottos like “Mopti by night, Tombouctou by day” or “Hakuna Matata”. Seidu and Sidi kept repeating all this several times a day, sometimes adding thinks like “Jusq’au Niger c’est Mali”, “En Angola c’est plus Mali” et “En Italie… bon… c’est pas Mali”. Eveline, right from the start, was named “Madame Mali”.

Sleepy Tombouctou (but not too much)

The Moulhoud, one of Islam’s main festivities, had a very special celebration this year in Mali. Gheddafi arrived in Tombouctou and had a very long and quite aggressive speech in front of a huge crowd of Muslim believers, gathered at the municipal stadium (since no mosque in the city was big enough). Those who couldn’t make it there, followed the solemn event on TV.
Because of this special occasion, the city was more crowded than normal, while the rest of the year, it is a quite sleepy and silent village of 4.000 inhabitants. Here in particular, toubabs are targeted and spotted as soon as they get off the plane of 4x4, but since Eveline and I were accompanied by a local, everything turned out fine. We even had a short desert trip, which was amazing but short, since all camels in town were rented by Mr. Gheddafi for his self celebration and had to be in town most of the Mouhoud week (he rented 5.000 camels and 5.000 horses).
The city is extremely hot: in april from 11 am to 16 am it is impossible to get out of your house. In fact we slept and drank all the time, until we were finally able to stand the weakening heat and walk a while.

Hot spot

Too hot in this country, so we ended up sleeping on the roof. We attached some rope to some nails in order to place the mosquito net, and… done. The mattress was ready to use.
Sleeping of the roof seemed great, but then a series of unfortunate/bothering elements came along:
1. Annoying/noisy neighbours (laughing and/or making parties and/or chatting until dawn on the roof)
2. Unexpected chill at 3 4 a.m.
3. Blasts of wind (some nights had severe storm warnings whose rain never came)
4. Appelles à la prière (the first muslim prière of the day is announced by a sonorous Carnegie-Hall-like echoing of Koran’s suras, coming from the tens of mosques in our neighbourhood)
5. Unexpected heat (in April, even the roof is too hot).

City of comb (and of needle)

Hairdressers’ and tailors: the most widespread jobs in the city. You find their boutiques every other meter. Plus, people have an average of 20 pairs of shoes per person. Why?? And they take extreme care of them: I often catch my neighbours washing them all in a bucked late at night, or early in the morning.

Le Dimanche à Bamako

It really is the official wedding celebration day in Mali’s bright and sandy capital, not just the title of one of Amadou et Mariam’s hits. And you notice it! If you walk in any dirt road city neighbourhood (so if you just get out of the few cemented streets in Bamako), you will unquestionably run into a canopy made from scraps of UNHCR (or other UN agencies) plastic sheeting, and a hundred wedding celebrants, singing, clapping hands and dancing in the colourful frame of fresh jacaranda flowers; a local percussion band play and bang; everybody celebrates.
Of course, no problem if you stay and watch.
A recent NY article perfectly describes the scene. You can find it here.

Hail to the mango tree

Beautiful, simply beautiful. It comes directly from our childhood drawings: the beautifully green tree, ending with a sharp cut, perfectly parallel to the ground, and spotted with beautiful orange/yellow fruits.
It's the mango tree, the baobab's counterpart in Mali's wet region. This tree makes the fortune of so many families, who sell its fruits to anyone who buys them. See some pics of mango sellers in Sibi and in Sibi again.

Dam: it’s forbidden to take pics

Eveline and I took off early in the morning (too hot to sleep) for a day visit to the Sélingué Dam, 150 km from Bamako, heading south. Strictly forbidden to take pictures there! So forbidden that nobody checked and I took like 8. The dam hosts Mali’s most important hydroelectric power source and provides energy to the whole capital and the surrounding area, although when the water level is low, the dam is hardly able to produce any electricity at all.
The dam retaining basin forms an artificial lake of 430 km², which allows agriculture on the irrigated perimeters as well as fishing (the provisioning of Bamako of fish comes mainly from Selingué).
The lake shores are dwelled by many fishermen, their women and children. We asked one of them to take us for a pirogue tour whose price was negotiated from 5 to 1 euro. With our 30 minutes tour the guy probably made his month (in fact he kept chuckling and laughing all the time). While Eveline and I took pics to us and to him, he said “Don’t take the dam; it’s forbidden!” But he couldn’t explain why…
We then aimed at a toubab hotel, where no toubab could be found, just 30 very noisy and happy Malian teen-agers, making a total mess in the big hotel swimming pool. Whenever one of us girls were alone in or by the pool, all boys started calling: “CHERIIE!!! Viens ici!!” or making that nasty noise we are used to making when calling our dog or cat, in order to catch their attention...
So by the 10th call I was totally upset and replied "Cherie tu le dis à ta soer" (Cocca lo dici a tua sorella) (You call your sister sweetie). I don’t know if the guy got it since he carried on.
Then four teen-girls showed up, all dressed up and jewelled up. One among them was particularly sexy-dressed and amicable to the guys; so when they appeared the guys completely forgot about us and ignored us ever since.
16.30, time to leave before it gets dark!