Bamako, Mali

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been in four African countries in a little more than one week. The capital of Mali is sprawling and full of people, cars, and pollution. It’s gritty but it seems like a place that grows on people, as many of expats that I’ve met seem to love it. Frankly, I’m waiting for that to happen, as it wasn’t love at first sight, but I’m enjoying the fact that it’s an adventure. The road system (or lack of?) has, surprisingly, been one of the biggest adjustments for me. There are approximately 5 unpaved roads for every paved road here and I have yet to deduce any “rules of the road.” Distances between regions are large. I asked my colleague here how far away is Dogon Country, and she responded, “oh, it’s close, like 8 hours.” Close? 8 hours? We laughed together about her well-adjusted perspective of time and the distances in Africa.

There’s activity everywhere in Bamako. The main roads are paved but lanes don’t really exist. The dirt sidewalks are a rusty, burnt orange color and the smaller roads that weave throughout neighborhoods are deep red in color and are muddy, with huge puddles, following the thunderstorms that roll in around 5 or 6 most evenings. Motorbikes carrying dad, mom, baby on back of mom and two children - one in front of dad and one sandwiched between mom and dad - go flying down the roads and no one wears a helmet, and the minibus passengers don't even bother to shut the sliding door (if one actually exists).

Farming and fishing (along the Niger River) are main livelihoods (80% agriculture) and the main exports are cotton and gold. The main crops are millet, rice, corn, peanuts, and vegetables. Cattle, sheep, and goats are seen almost as frequently in fields as they are along the roads in the city center. I followed 3 goats down the road from the office, and had heart palpitations when the baby thought about venturing into the dizzying traffic for one rather ill-timed moment (fortunately, it did not). Along with pollution, overgrazing and deforestation are major environmental issues.

In both Mali and Senegal, I’ve observed more people wearing traditional dress than what I saw in Tanzania, even people wearing modern styles. I met a woman on the plane from Nairobi to Dakar wearing a gorgeous traditional-style dress made of black and gold fabric, with a matching scarf covering her head. She showed me photos of her daughters and told me that she works for the Global Fund in the Gambia. I sat next to two adorable Malian girls on the plane from Dakar to Bamako who giggled at my terrible French, but seemed amused by my attempts to chat with them. When we arrived and were in baggage claim, the older sister (age 12) grabbed my hand and took me over to meet her mother, a tall, statuesque woman in a beautiful ensemble (scarf matched the fabric and print of her dress, wearing lots of gold jewelry) clutching a cell phone and a Blackberry with her nicely manicured hands. She gave me her phone number and I felt grateful for her generosity in welcoming me to Mali.