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Published: February 6th 2006
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not in kansas anymore...
this mud mosque, a mali classic, is a sure sign one is not in senegal anymore! Mali is big. I mean REALLY big. One becomes acutely aware of this when travelling from one end of it to the other on a 1985 Yamaha Tenere 600 motorcycle. While it took 'just' two weeks to get from Dakar to the most eastern part of the Niger River in Mali (a dustbowl called ‘Gao’), it seemed to take forever to get back - and moreover, after four weeks on the road (literally) I am afraid I can’t report on seeing much of anything, exactly. And given the rushed nature of the drive, and constantly trying to stay alert and a bit standoffish to protect ourselves and retain sanity in preparation for whatever may arise, I didn’t even get a good feel for the people or the culture.
What little I can tell ya’ is that Mali is laid back compared to Senegal, houses made of clay instead of the straw or concrete I am accustomed to here, the terrain varies from picturesque Arabian desert to outstanding Arizoniaesque cliffs, there is a serious lack of vegetarian cuisine, the biggest herd of migrating elephants in Africa is found here, and most people we met didn’t speak French, or didn’t speak it
changing earth
the landscape slowly changed heading east...ravines and hills dropped and rose...trees took on slightly different shapes and colors...but the means of survival persisted...these malian fishers in similar conditions as their senegalese counterparts... fluently - whether in the cities, or ‘en brousse’ (in the bush). And though many people acknowledged us with friendly nods or waves, and kids shyly giggled at us, and they all asked if we were part of the famed Paris - Dakar Rally, well - overall, white people are scarce, and Malians didn’t seem to quite know what to do with us. (Another thing people kept asking us as we would pull into somewhere was, ‘is your escort right behind you?’; after which a few days of this, I realized our vulnerability/ stupidity/ adventurism in being out there, on the road, on a 600, in the middle of Mali…er, middle of nowhere.)
As far as how safe I actually felt…generally speaking, whether out of ignorance or false security - I felt fine…most of the danger lies in the road conditions. Though, at one point, we had just entered into Touareg country, and for the first time since I have been on the African continent, I sensed a complete lack of understanding or shared humanity with my fellow man. They looked at us. We looked at them. Fear does not quite capture that moment when smiles don’t quite cut
elephant country
ok, so we saw not-a-one, not even any dung...BUT, it was the first time for me to be in real, unartificial elephant territory - i would look out and easily imagine one standing there, flapping its ears... and our excursion into the bush did end up landing us in timboctou - so it wasn't all for naught... it anymore, when no common language is there, when I bought the ONE pack of biscuits sitting on the otherwise empty shelves of this village’s dark, filthy boutique. Yes, one. I always imagined one day I would get to visit some deep tropical rainforest and feel like I was at the ends of the earth - but I got it right there, on a paved road to Gao, on a motorcycle, with no animals or plants in sight, in the middle of the day - with bright sunlight and sand as far as the eye could see.
And I am not trying to romantize this - in any way. And it is not like I haven’t gotten used to seeing turbans, blacks, albinos, arabs, odd clothing, guns, camels, and dubious edible goods…and the occasional bizarre, out-of-place graffiti of ‘Brooklyn’ scrawled across some concrete village wall…no, all of that is status quo at this point. The quaintness of these visual spectacles when travelling in a new land had faded…and while in any other village or situation we managed to maneuver OK - never feeling particularly threatened due to the passiveness or helpfulness of the Malians, well, this one time -
fatima's hand
don't ask. just the name it is given - i could sorta see the allusion. in any case, it definitely was one of the most spectacular formations we saw out there...if i could just provide the 360 shot - so the contrast of the flat desert against it is included... I felt chilled as I stood before these staring eyes - both sides were zombies. I stuffed the biscuits in my pocket and off we drove…(and one week later while driving back through that exact village, no one had really moved from their spot. Though I think one villager recognized us - for I caught a smile as we passed…so perhaps we were linked, afterall…)
This is hopefully just a start to what I can share from Mali - for even though I returned to Senegal feeling like I barely had a taste of Mali, and understanding at the same time just how comfortable I have become in Senegal, well…I know there are treasure moments hidden in my scanty journal I tried to keep - which was lacking lots of depth, for it was a mindstrain just to keep track of what day it was out there. And well, that loss of time and some space made it truly a vacation - not in that relaxing on a lounge chair type of holiday - but a vacation from one’s normal churning of the mind…
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