Life on the Savannah

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I am currently in Bamako, the capital of Mali, as I
> write this, my town, Ouelessebougou, not being
> sufficiently advanced to have access to the internet.
> Bamako is a vibrant, bustling city of more than a
> million, but it is very much a local place with
> sidewalks filled with street vendors. There is no 5
> star hotel per se, but of course there are some
> luxurious accomodations and fancy western restaurants
> for the occasional foreigner who stumbles into this
> city. The national museum is pretty impressive, but
> unfortunately Mali, once the home of three great
> empires, retains little of its great heritage. Most
> artifacts have long ago been pillaged and plundered.
> I visited in Bamako the national zoo, a journey better
> not taken for anyone who cares about the welfare of
> animals. There I saw a chimpanzee take a lighter from
> a visitor, and process to light and smoke a cigarette.
> I assume that PETA lacks representation in Mali.
> Mali is the land where the sun shines fiercely,
> and the rains - when they come - turn red clay roads
> into virtually impassable puddles. It has the
> elements one might consider "African:" women with
> elaborately embroidered dresses balancing plates of
> food and wears on their head, carrying their baby in a
> sling behind them; free roaming animals: sheep, goats,
> dogs, chickens, all present wherever there may be a
> scrap of food to find; and everywhere there are
> children dressed in tattered clothes kicking around
> soccer balls made often of little more than wood and
> tape. Donkey-led carts carry goods to market, led by
> boys of 8 or 9. Men pass the hottest hours of the day
> sleeping, drinking tea, and gossiping, and the women
> fetch water, pound millet and take care of their young
> children, working from dawn until dusk.
> I live in a town of 20,000, the center of a
> collection of 72 villages where there are perhaps
> another 60,000. The town, Ouelessebougou, has a
> rapidly expanding electrical grid, a couple of ad hoc
> gas stations where you buy gasoline by the bottle, and
> a handful of restaurants and stores stocking little
> more than tea, cigarettes, condiments, and bottled
> water. The town, fortunately, lies on the main road,
> paved like few in this very undevelopped country, and
> thus transport to Bamako is an easy hour's drive from
> here.
> I admit that my conditions are better than most.
> I am housed in the compound of a joint Malian-US NGO,
> the Ouelessebougou-Utah Alliance where I have lights,
> running water, and even a Western-style toilet. I am
> jsu lacking hot water for a shower. I have my meals
> prepared by one of the staff, so I don't get sick from
> the food as much as anything. I eat rice and sauce
> with pieces of beef and vegetables for lunch, and
> spaghetti or lentils and bread for dinner. The
> Malians eat rice and sauce of which there are several
> varieties twice a day. Meat, beef or mutton, is
> reserved for special occasions.
> The most amazing thing about this place are the
> people: friendly, curious, quick to laugh, and quicker
> to befriend a stranger. They are mostly Muslim,
> upwards of 90 percent, but I have no hesitation
> admitting my Jewish heritage. They are religious, the
> men pray fervently five times a day, but there is none
> of the fantacism that one sees from adherents
> elsewhere. Indeed, Muslims and Christians celebrate
> the other's holidays in addition to their own. The
> language of this area, is Bambara, and most daily
> conversation occurs in this tongue, not in French, the
> official language. I have learned a small portion of
> the greetings; they are rather elaborate and
> omnipresent. Children are taught from a young age to
> greet family members and strangers equally and to
> respect their elders above all. All foreigners to
> come to this land receive a Malian name. Mine is
> Adama Samake. The first an obvious derivative of
> Adam, and the second, the surname of the mayor and the
> village chief. In short, a name that engenders
> respect and maybe a little fear? I have made many
> friends here, and I pass the hours when I am not
> working drinking tiny cups of strong, sweet green tea
> and talking about America, a land that now seems so
> very far away.

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