A Journey to the Cradle of Civilization

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by Armando S. Sarlat

On January 3, my mother and I embarked on what would be the greatest journey of both our lives - a trip to Mali in West Africa. There we would attend the wedding of our friends Miah and Boubacar. I would also have the opportunity to promote the business of iTravel with a local travel company there. To complete the vacation, we planned two days in Morocco in Northern Africa, and three days in Barcelona, Spain.

Before I get into the wonderful aspects of this trip, let’s start with the not so good stuff - the actual travel itself. Frankly, it was a little brutal because we traveled economy style. We started from Baltimore-Washington Airport on a little commuter jet to New York. In the windy cold, we made our way to the middle of the tarmac and I assisted mom as we walked up the stairs to board the plane. This would not be the only time we would board a jet from the outside. This became the routine for the vast majority of our connections.

We spent half a day at JFK, until it was time to board our evening flight to Casablanca on Royal Air Moroc. I was a little apprehensive about the airline based on a plethora of negative reviews I had read online. Negative posts included rants that flight attendants were indifferent and not very attentive. This turned out to be true. With the exception of one caring flight attendant on the return flight home, all they did was their food service routines in a rushed, mechanical fashion, and not much more. I noticed that unless one spoke a language other than English, most requests were doomed to be ignored. I had also read that many of their jets were old. True. On the return flight from Casablanca to New York, my drop down tray dropped down onto my lap, saturating my pants (and underwear) with cold sticky orange juice. TMI? Hey, they don’t call it a drop down tray for nothing!

So, what wisdom do I have to share from all of this? If you’re going to Northern or West Africa and you’re on a budget, Royal Air Moroc will certainly get you there. If you’re willing to pony up a few hundred dollars more per person, go Air France instead! Granted, these were my observations. Mom says her experience onboard was more enjoyable than mine. She even reminded me that she really enjoyed the coffee and, as a result, the flight attendants had given her samples to bring home.

I was a little frustrated with our Spain connection through Iberia Airlines as well. Sure, the jets were sleek, clean and new, but we sat at the airport in Madrid for a connection to Barcelona that was two hours late. Later, I’ll share more of our woes when we actually arrived in Barcelona. Suspense!

Now let’s get to the actual trip itself. From Silver Spring, It took us a day and a half to get to Bamako, the capital of Mali. Miah and Boubacar greeted us at the airport late at night and brought us to a brand new three-bedroom concrete house that his brother, Adama, had built in the outskirts of the city. Five of us would be staying at the house -- Miah and Boubacar (the bride and groom), Arlie (Miah’s aunt from Detroit), my mother and me. Although Adama would utilize the house as a rental, as his guests we were its first inhabitants.

Often when I travel to another country with a different culture, I experience surreal moments. I sometimes wonder if I really am in such a place so different from home. I felt a little of that at the airport in Bamako waiting for our luggage. Yet the next morning, when I ventured outside the house to take in the views, the sun and the air, I felt a close association with this environment. Many years ago, I felt something similar when I lived in the town of Cholula in Mexico. Also, back in the ’70s many African-Americans were coining the phrase “get back to your roots.” Here we were in Africa, looking out at the red earth. My mother and I had finally gotten back to our roots.

There was virtually no automobile traffic in front of our house. The dirt road, however, was busy with people, clad in their colorful African clothing, making their way back and forth on their daily routines. Many walked in animated groups of two to four. Everyone seemed happy. In the distance you could see a mountain range, which I believe is the Bambouk. Mali is the third largest producer of gold in Africa because of it’s mines in the Bambouk Mountains. We saw on a few occasion herders leading multitudes of cows or goats in one direction or the other. On our first morning, my mother literally walked into the center of one such herd of adult cattle and shouted excitedly, “take my picture!” OK, she scared the Silver Spring out of me. Clearly, even more so than me, she experienced a communion with this wonderful place and the many friends that we would make over the next week.

To say that Mali is a very social and friendly country would be an understatement. Visitor upon visitor came to the house both before and after the wedding. Unlike in the U.S., people would just pop by unannounced, open the front door and extend warm greetings. In Mali I would befriend many including Boubacar’s parents, his brothers and sisters, and their extended families, as well as others like Oumar, Ali, Lemine, Ursula from Kenya, and her boyfriend, Gilliam, from Paris. I also want to extend my special thanks to Oumu for preparing our wonderful meals daily.

The wedding itself was a joyous occasion. It was heralded by resonant “Griots,” praising the union through their African songs. Those songs of the Griots touched my very soul. Miah as a bride was most beautiful. I was honored to ceremoniously walk the bride as a father would give his daughter away. Many people attended, and there were two simultaneous receptions - one with the wedding party at a club in town and another traditional, family-style reception at Boubacar’s parents’ home.

One of the highlights of our stay in Mali was a trip with Boubacar’s brother, Modibo, to a center of art and culture - the city of Segou. Our two-hour drive took us through the bush and several small villages. Segou, like Bamako, is situated on the banks of the Niger River. Modibo treated us to lunch at the outdoor gardens of the Independance (that’s how they spell it) Hotel. We visited a pottery market on the Niger, a small woman-owned textile mill, a museum-type complex where bogolan (mud cloth art) is made by hand. Although he understands English, Modibo speaks mostly Bamara and French. So we extend a special recognition to our friend and tour guide, Oumar.

I cannot express sufficient thanks to Miah, Boubacar, and the family in Africa for their fine hospitality. We thank them for allowing us to share in the momentous occasion.

From Bamako, we made the long trip to Barcelona. When we arrived in Barcelona, Iberia Airlines had lost our luggage. Tada!!! Mom was a bit upset but hey, I took it as an opportunity to do some shopping in Europe. That I did to my heart’s content. We stayed at an old, small hotel off of Las Ramblas called Nouvel. I was given a tour of the property, which is quite lovely. The staff is friendly and extremely helpful. The location was perfect as it was walking distance to all of the attractions. Among the highlights of our long weekend in Barcelona was a trip to the market, where we did some inexpensive clothes shopping, and dined at a wonderful little home-style restaurant. We visited the Familia Sagrada cathedral, and took a bus tour throughout the entire city. OK, Barcelona rocks.

When we returned to Casablanca, mom said that we should try to find our luggage. It turned out to be an excellent suggestion, as our three bags were just sitting outside the door of the baggage claims office. It turned out to be a win-win situation. We bought new clothes at the expense of the airline and got our bags back as a consolation prize.

Our first day in Casablanca was several days before, when we were on our way to Mali. At that time, we stayed at an airport hotel until our evening flight to Bamako and really didn’t get to see much of anything. This time we would spend the night at the Barceló Hotel in town. The Barceló is a modern property on the main boulevard with spectacular views. When we arrived at the hotel, I handed my iTravel business card to the front desk person. Granted, Lori’s and my company is not the only one known as iTravel. I guess I must have truly impressed the folks at the Barceló when they noted that I am an “Owner” of this fledgling enterprise. A call from the front desk was made, and we were almost immediately greeted by the General Manager, who handed me his business card with his personal cell phone number, which he had hand written in my presence. He welcomed us and asked that we call him personally if there was anything he could do to make our stay more pleasant. The bellman took us to the top floor of the hotel and our room was in the far corner. Our jaws dropped when we entered our beautiful suite. The living area was enclosed on two sides by all glass, offering the best views of the Medina (the ancient market), the boulevard, the main mosque, and the Atlantic Ocean in the distance. After we settled in, mom and I walked about a mile to the Medina. From there we cabbed back to the hotel in the early evening, where we had dinner in the hotel’s gourmet restaurant. The next morning the bellman confirmed that we had slept in the premiere room in the entire hotel.

After almost two weeks of an enlightening and exotic vacation, we headed back home. Such was our culturally enlightening travel experience.

Happy Travels!

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Photos

Monument
A monument on the road in Bamako

Bogolan Artists
Bogolan Artists in Segou

Cool Dude
A musician walking by our house

Scooter
Buddies on a scooter

And Barcelona
Taxis lined up in front of the Familia Sagrada Cathedral

The Plaza Catalunia
All the hustle and bustle of a big city with Spanish flair.

A Room With A View
Amazing view from our room in Barcelo Hotel in Casablanca, Morocco