Segou Sunset

Segou Sunset as seen from our pinasse

The first time the alarm rings I am confused and can’t figure out what’s going on.  After my 10 minute “Snooze” grace period, I remember what the incessant beeping means and I drag myself out of bed.  After a quick shower I make my bed and straighten up- it’s always better to come home from a trip and be greeted by a clean house.  Ready with backpack and granola bars I walk out along the quiet dusty road to hunt for a taxi.  It’s early for me, but not really so early for my neighbors- the sun has already started to shed light on the day and the neighborhood is stirring.  I find a taxi without trouble and we stop to pick up Zak before heading to meet friends at a nearby restaurant, Amandine.

We arrive as they are hosing off the patio, washing off the grime and dust of one day to prepare for the traffic of another.  They aren’t popular at this hour, but at 6:30 they are already open.  We sit zombie like in front of the TVs and make simple conversation with two Canadian girls who will share our ride.  It’s too early for Zak to talk and my brain seems sluggish and reluctant to react to conversation.  This changes a bit when our car arrives.  Our friend, Cecilia, smiles and waves from the driver’s seat of a massive SUV with diplomatic plates and African printed seat covers.  She will be our driver for the weekend, a brave and economically sound choice for this trip.  Though they got as little sleep as I did, Cecilia, Erin, and Martha are excited for the trip and already energetic about the day.  I remember that despite my morning grogginess, I am excited for this trip, too! 

After a few hours in the car, expertly negotiating potholes and avoiding big speeding trucks, singing along to the iPod, and waving at villagers we pass along the route, we arrive at our lodgings- a cute little hotel and artist co-op at the edge of Segou near the river.  By this time we’re all awake and our group of five celebrates the start of our vacation with late morning beers, delicious tomato snacks, and some juicy juicy mangoes.  As the wind whips my hair and I laugh with friends on a lovely shaded patio I am so excited to be out of Bamako and starting this little adventure. 

Lovely travel companions Cecilia, Erin, and Martha

Bellies happy and legs stretched after the ride, fatigue begins to set in and even the enthusiasm we all share can’t buoy our energy levels quite enough.  A nap in the A/C is just what the doctor ordered!  After a couple hours sleep, I rouse myself and quietly shower and dress.  I choose a long skirt and wrap a scarf around my hair to keep it from turning to tangles in the wind.  I make a couple phone calls and set out to visit Mama Fatim, the woman who hosted me during my last visit to Segou in February.  Because we’re out of the center of town, I walk a ways before I find transportation.  It is hot hot hot this afternoon and I’m glad I’ve brought a nalgene full of cool water to stay hydrated along the roadside.  I pass venders and greet them in Bambara, usually getting a pleasant and encouraging reaction, but occasionally encountering some taunts and some “Toubab” chanting children.  Eventually, I find a moto taxi that will take me part way to my destination- all the way into town for just 100cfa (about 25 cents).  I attempt to make the entire transaction and trip in Bambara and it works until I realize I’ve gone too far and I have to explain to the driver that I need to stop immediately, please!  Luckily, I’m not too far off my route and I quickly find a taxi to take me the rest of the way.  A quick pause along the road to buy some mangoes and I arrive at Fatim’s, full sack of ripe orange mangoes in hand and only slightly sweaty for the effort. 

The visit with Fatim is a joy.  She is genuinely happy to see me and to inquire after my friends that she met during the last trip.  She demands why I would stay in a hotel when I know I can always stay at her place, and I explain that I am here just for one night with friends who will be leaving Mali soon- for good.  “Toi- tu ne vas pas quitter le Mali, n’est pas?” she asks.  You won’t leave Mali, right ?  « Il faut chercher un mari ici, » you should find a husband here !  “I love Mali,” I explain, “but my family misses me and hopes I will come home.  My grandmother recently sent me a note saying she loved me and thinks it’s time that I come home!”  This she understands.  “This is your mother’s mother?” she asks knowingly.  “It is like that with mothers and grandparents.  You should go home.  But you can find a husband here and come and go.  Some time here, some time there.  This is best.”  Madame Keita, a neighbor visiting for the afternoon, agrees with an appreciative cluck from over on her couch.  Now that this is decided for me, we move on to conversation about the politics of Africa.  Gbagbo on TV in his underwear, Gaddahfi and the rebel armies, and the dissolution of the government in neighboring Burkina Faso- “l’Afrique est gaté maintenant,” Fatim decides.  I offer my two cents, but there’s really not much else to say.  Africa really is “broken” right now in a lot of places.  So we move back to talking about friends and her son Cheik, who is in Bamako.  We see each other every so often and she inquires again about his health.  Then, nothing important left to say, a silence descends upon us, broken by only by the whirring of the fan, the soft snoring of Madame Keita who is now napping on her couch, and the sound of children playing outside in the courtyard.  I have grown more used to these silences, but they still remain more awkward for me than for most Malians, it seems.  When I announce a few minutes later that I should go, Fatim protests, “Already?” even though we’ve been sitting in silence for what seems like a while.  She ushers me to the road with a gaggle of children in tow and puts me on the back of a moto belonging to a man who eagerly volunteers to take me to town in lieu of looking for a taxi. 

Reunited with my friends in the city center, I peruse the offerings of artisan shops set up for the viewing pleasure of tourists.  This is the third time I’ve visited Segou in the past six months, and I’ve spent a bit of time near these stalls, so I have some old “friends” to greet as we walk up and down the street popping in and out of makeshift boutiques and dodging Tuareg salesmen all hocking the same leather covered boxes.  I do my best to greet salespeople in Bambara and try to pretend that I really know how to speak the language.  Even when a couple of vendors approach me in English, I respond in Bambara- it’s usually a better bargaining tool, it gives me practice, and it’s often met with enthusiasm along the way.  I make friends with a fellow Maiga (that’s my family name here in Mali) and buy a mirror that I didn’t even know I wanted.  When I become tired of the searching and the hounding, I sit under an awning and drink a coke with Cecilia while Erin and Martha play with the son of a fabric saleswoman. 

Drinking sweet and delicious bissap tea

The highlight of the day is just ahead.  We have arranged to take a pinasse along the Niger River for an hour and a half just as the sun is setting.  As we wait for Zak to join us, I negotiate with the boat guide and make a request for tea or delicious bissap (hibiscus juice) to be served during our tour.  I really like this guy, Ibrahim, and his crew member who is also a Maiga like me!  We share some friendly banter and I am assured that we have lucked out with this choice of guide!  As we set off on our journey along the river and across to peak at the neighboring Bozo village, the sun begins to set.  The setting is beautiful and the company couldn’t be better!  I sip delicious bissap tea (I guess maybe my Bambara wasn’t that great… instead of tea or bissap juice we got bissap tea- it’s awesome!) and look out over the river with my camera.  At this moment I am happy and I feel full.  A momentary silence comes over the group as the moon rises and the sun slips below the horizon.  Even a temporary loss of engine function goes practically unnoticed as we enjoy this relaxing ride.  As we pull into port, we thank the two guides who made our trip possible and I am genuinely happy to share some money with them and take their card so that maybe we can visit again.  In a place where I often feel pestered and have maybe become a little jaded, it’s nice to meet someone in the tourism business like Ibrahim, who is truly helpful, kind and accommodating. 

Fresh off the boat, we head straight to Djoliba hotel for brick oven pizza specials.  I load mine up with toppings, and the result does not disappoint!  Bellies really full and happy, we stop at another hotel for chocolate mousse, a glimpse of a soccer match on TV, and a wind down after the day.  I sleep well when I make it back to my bed and even sleep in a little the next morning because, hey- we’re on vacation!  And vacation it is on the lazy Sunday that follows.  After a lazy breakfast shared in the shade, all the girls pile into the SUV and we visit a Bogolon co-operative supported by the EU and run by local Malian women.  I debate over pillowcases and finally buy three after agonizing for far too long over decorating accessories.  We leave Zak to rest at the hotel (poor guy has come down with a cold) and continue on the Auberge hotel where we have made a date with their pool.  I spend the rest of my afternoon basking in the sunshine, swimming, and eating poolside, sharing girl talk with my friends.  I begin to take offense as the waiter acts annoyed at our group, his customers.  I would never treat customers with such an air of disinterest and resentment, I protest to myself, but I refuse to let him get me down because my food is good and the pool is brilliant!  This is a feat for me, and something I find I accomplish less easily during the day to day grind back in Bamako. 

Refreshed from a swim and an afternoon in the sun!

We pile into the car at the end of the afternoon, refusing the last pleas and offers from nearby vendors, and bid Segou goodbye.  I spend the next few hours singing songs with friends, swapping stories, and shifting back into Bamako mode as phones begin to ring and evening plans are made.  As with all good trips, I am sad to see this one end.  It marks the end of a weekend, the end of a “vacation” and the beginning of the end of my friend Erin’s stay in Mali- she will leave at the week's end.  I write about this trip now, in detail, because it was such a pleasant little surprise.  I always enjoy going to Segou and especially spending time with friends, but this simple weekend trip kind of jolted me out of a routine in a way that needed to happen.  I recently have come to feel as though I am sort of going through the motions here in Bamako- I research a few afternoons a week, teach English for a couple of hours, exercise in the evenings and schedule dinner plans with friends a few days in advance.  Even in Africa, things have managed to become a little “ho-hum,” and I’d like to avoid that as much as possible!  Mostly I think this will just take a slight change in attitude and a renewed sense of energy about each of my daily commitments- an effort that I need to make and a consciousness I feel I need to work harder to maintain every day.  But let's face it, a great mini-vacation once and a while surely doesn’t hurt!             

It's Getting Hot, Hot, HOT!

Hot season has arrived in Mali.  Ok, it’s actually been here for quite a while, but it’s now in full force and I am daily reminded of its fury.  The first time I came to Mali, I arrived at the beginning of February- a month that grows hotter each day and begins the period not so fondly known here as “la chaleur” (the hotness).  But during this stay, I was lucky enough to experience a cooling of things in October and then a period of cooler days and evenings (more fondly called “la fraicheur” or coolness) that even necessitated sleeves at times.  Whereas before, I knew nothing but hot, this hot season comes with the knowledge of how pleasant the times really can be in Mali.  In that respect, it is just a little more cruel.  “La chaleur” reared its ugly head in earnest for the first time this year in early March.  After our weeklong trip to Burkina Faso, we arrived in Bamako to a hotter city and some of the other tell-tale signs of hot season’s arrival. 

NOTE:  Mali is always hot (by Indiana standards anyway).  Even in the “cold” season, daytime temps were usually in the 80s and the temperature at night rarely dips below the 60s.  However, during the hot season, we often see 105-110 degree days in Bamako, and at night, we don’t get much of a break.  There are nights when newscasters warn viewers that sleeping inside is dangerous, and each year, several people die due to heat related illness.  Days and nights this hot are characterized by other special qualities that one can only attribute to “la chaleur.”

Hot season staples:

• A hotter wind- this quality is quite disappointing, because even on a hot day, a breeze can be enough to make things bearable.  But during the hot season in Mali, even the wind becomes warm, and driving with the car windows down just doesn't offer the same amount of relief that it does during other times of the year.
• Dust- lots and lots of red dust.  Again, Mali is always pretty dusty, but the hot season is hotter and usually drier than most other periods of the year, and thus, things become quite dusty.  This means that I have to actually dust the leaves of the plants that are on my balcony!
• Constant bathing- I have been bathing far more often than usual these past several weeks (and I typically bathe once a day anyway… ), like most Malians.  This is one of the things I was instructed to do by my host family when I was here before, and the necessity is still here this time around.
•  Excuses- sometimes welcome and sometimes frustrating, hot season brings with it the ability to duck out of things “because of the heat.”  This can be very useful if you want to get out of an afternoon trip to the market or explain why you can’t visit a friend or family member until the later evening hours (thus making the visit a bit shorter!), but also very frustrating when you are conducting interviews and women refuse to come because it is too hot to leave their houses in the afternoon.  This can also work to the benefit of others and you might find yourself with cancellations for plans because it is “too hot” for your guests.  As much as Malians like to talk about being used to the heat, it can still be a deal breaker for many activities.
• The sound of heat- I kid you not- this exists!  While sitting under the metal hangar in front of the Banankoro CSCOM a few weeks ago, I kept hearing a tinging sound that got me excited inside- I thought it was raining! Sadly, the sounds I thought were rain drops were really telltale signs of heat on the roof above me.  The flexing and swelling of wood and metal during these months really gives a sound to the heat that we feel all around us!

This post is probably not doing a lot for my case that everyone should visit me in Mali (seriously- I have a spare room!), but it’s really not all bad.  The hot season also brings a list of good things along with it and there are certainly other counteracting measures that I am grateful for during this time. 

Hott* stuff

A refreshing afternoon treat- lemonade by the pool!

• Mangoes- These are some of Mali’s greatest gifts.  Maybe even a way of apologizing for the heat and making it more bearable.  For those of you who love mangoes or mango flavor, imagine multiplying that love by 10, because Malian mangoes are at least 10 times better than the imported ones you find in the states.  And there are so many kinds!  Sweet, sour, juicy, and colorful, these are heaven sent!
• Mango rains- these little treats come just every so often, and usually at night.  The rain cools the air (before making it more humid) and brings that beautiful rainy scent to the ground.  We just had a little rain last night- just a teaser of what is to come in a few months. 
• Thin cotton complets- these puppies are great, and they are an introduction for me into a whole other realm of Malian style.  I am working to gather my own collection of hot weather clothes, just like any good Malian woman.
• Fewer mosquitoes- they don't like the heat either!  One thing we have in common....
• Cold water and frozen juice- Have you ever been so thirsty that nothing sounds as good to you as a fresh glass of ice water?  Nalgenes full of cool H2O are better than ice cream or chocolate on days like those found during hot season.
• Ice cream- even though cold water is sometimes all I crave, ice cream is definitely a welcome treat during hot season.  Never have I been so excited to have a soft serve machine a 3 minute walk from my house!
• Swimming pools- I have always loved to swim, but during the past few weeks I have honestly wanted nothing more than to spend every afternoon at the pool.  This, of course, is not really possible, but I have been able to spend my share of refreshing moments pool-side.  It’s so great to have friends willing to invite you over for a dip!
• The fact that I am constantly glowing- glowing or glistening… I use both of these terms.  I like to think of sweat in a positive light during these months.  It is my way of feeling less disheveled next to Malian women who look as though they’re constantly surrounded by personal air conditioning units

Oumou and I, "glowing" just a little

Which leads me to the number one Hott thing about hot season:

• Air conditioning.  I am not even ashamed to say (anymore) that I caved and bought myself an air conditioner.  It makes sleeping through hot nights possible and allows me to spend each night in my bed, rather than on the communal roof of my apartment building.  Though the first blast of heat each day can be a bit of a shock, air conditioning is more than worth it, and it’s like I have a sixth sense for scoping out places with air conditioners these days.

So in sum:  It’s really quite hot here.  But I get to wear cute summery clothes, eat lots of ice cream, and swim in pools before going to bed in air conditioned houses (ok, a slight exaggeration, but mostly true), so really I have it good compared to most of my friends and neighbors who find a way to suffer through the hot nights and deal with the heat each afternoon- without pools and a/c units.  I respect “la chaleur,” but I am grateful to be able to arm myself with little weapons to fend her off long enough to reach the rainy season!

  

*the two t’s denote a positive spin on “hot”