I got my first taste of Mali in Banjul, Gambia, while trying to localize the relevant consulate. This had turned out to be a decaying shack from whose balcony hung the remaining shreds of what must have been once a flag. Inside the courtyard, written in chalk on the wall, there were a name, a phone number and the invitation to call. Had I been elsewhere I wouldn’t have given credit to what I was actually seeing, but in Africa, I’ve learnt it by now, impossible is nothing. So I just found a phone booth and called and -most surreal of all- the consul of Mali himself, Mr.Hariri, actually answered and explained me that the Banjul consulate had been closed and that therefore I would have to get to the one in Dakar to arrange for
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