MAD in MALI Journal #4 November 2, 2007
Posted: 12-21-2007 08:14 PM
MAD in MALI Journal #4 November 2, 2007
FIRST FOUR WEEKS IN BAMAKO
Finally, a creative moment to write! The first two weeks was about adjusting the second two weeks are about a plan of action. I was so fatigued a few days after arrival, each day was a challenge. I worked to arranged belongings, and find things. One item missing, a Turkmen carpet was missing but later found.
This is the first time we had anything lost and we had a few items damaged. Items were sent from Israel via Oslo, and reached land at port in a country south of Mali. Our Jeep will arrive end of November from States.
My driver asked what I think of Mali, and I replied that I learned one thing that to be African is to be patient, he agreed. My experiences are many, and I can only share moments.
The morning I watched two little love birds on the fence outside my kitchen window, The sounds of birds singing in the morning, and the silence at night. The rare sound of a train, slowly traveling in the distance and the occasional sound of an ambulance. The Gecko, climbing the bedroom wall to hide behind the air conditioner, and our cats watching his escape. Our three cats gathered around a lost cricket on the living room floor, we rescued the little thing. The children playing on the red dirt road in front of our home, and the goat tied to the tree, his only task is to eat the grass until the owner moves his services elsewhere. One woman balancing a foot tall sack on her head, not unusual, but she is also toting an enfant, which is tied to her chest! The hundreds of scooters and motorcycles, throughout the city of Bamako. Traffic is fast or slow, the pedestrians crossing here and there whenever the traffic stops. I have not seen one dog, but I heard one barking and and have seen one cat at each of two kiosk.
Starry, night skies. Floating on our backs in the pool. The banana tree, in our yard. The sounds of French and Bambara being spoken. The smell of baking bread, at the bakery. The colors of the woman’s dresses and there hair wrapped in long scarves, that they unwind and rewrap while talking to you. La femme du vegetable that comes to my front garden to sell her white beans and tomatoes and whatever she has that day. My most pleasant guard named Smile, who truly smiles. The housekeeper washes the floors bent over and pushes the large towel side to side. He hesitates to use the mop for some reason.
Then there is the rain, it is a heavy rain with large drops that hit the dirt and stones with force and the winds that move the trees side to side. The sounds the rain makes on the metal roof covering my front yard where the guards spend their time and the sounds of thunder. This morning I see six goats, loose, eating all they see as they walk to the corner and another day about 40 goats stampeding down the dirt road. Could they have escaped? The Mosque sending calls for prayer. My guard setting out the little prayer rug, and he kneels to pray facing Mecca.
At nights when we return from some visit, we see people gathered around a TV at this corner, as they sit on benches and never look up as we drive by.
The market is full with eager vendors hoping you will buy their produce. Bartering is required, you never settle on the first price, which is always, too high.
Our rooms arranged, the kitchen is in order and I have already started to fill the freezer with a selection of fruits and vegetables. Our dehydrator is for dehydrating, papaya and banana and other assorted items. This week I will be making jams, blanching more string beans and making more fruit rolls in the dehydrator. Garnish here consist of celery leaves and parsley, so I will be growing my own Basil and mint and continue to pray for a source for cilantro. They have cilantro in the restaurants and it is my goal to find a supplier. So when you visit Safeway market, remember me and feel bless to have such easy access to your needs wants and desires, culinary speaking, because it is a different matter here.
The songs of Africa being sung by my neighbor, who is a recording artist, and the sounds of her musicians playing drums. The wonderful smells from my kitchen as our cook passionately prepares dinner for us.
The sounds you do not hear are in my mind, I remember the sounds of sirens or emergency vehicles such as in Israel after a bombing. Here there is less street noise and horns and engines of trucks such as we had in Moscow from the streets outside our apartment. There are no airplanes flying overhead. There is an airport, but no private or small planes, at least not that I have noticed. I have not seen or heard the large passenger planes, either.
Can you recall the feel of heat on your face when you walk outside? Can you recall the pleasant coolness of your home when you return during a very hot day?
This and more have been a part of my first four weeks in Bamako.
RESIDENTIAL STREET
FIRST FOUR WEEKS IN BAMAKO
Finally, a creative moment to write! The first two weeks was about adjusting the second two weeks are about a plan of action. I was so fatigued a few days after arrival, each day was a challenge. I worked to arranged belongings, and find things. One item missing, a Turkmen carpet was missing but later found.
This is the first time we had anything lost and we had a few items damaged. Items were sent from Israel via Oslo, and reached land at port in a country south of Mali. Our Jeep will arrive end of November from States.
My driver asked what I think of Mali, and I replied that I learned one thing that to be African is to be patient, he agreed. My experiences are many, and I can only share moments.
The morning I watched two little love birds on the fence outside my kitchen window, The sounds of birds singing in the morning, and the silence at night. The rare sound of a train, slowly traveling in the distance and the occasional sound of an ambulance. The Gecko, climbing the bedroom wall to hide behind the air conditioner, and our cats watching his escape. Our three cats gathered around a lost cricket on the living room floor, we rescued the little thing. The children playing on the red dirt road in front of our home, and the goat tied to the tree, his only task is to eat the grass until the owner moves his services elsewhere. One woman balancing a foot tall sack on her head, not unusual, but she is also toting an enfant, which is tied to her chest! The hundreds of scooters and motorcycles, throughout the city of Bamako. Traffic is fast or slow, the pedestrians crossing here and there whenever the traffic stops. I have not seen one dog, but I heard one barking and and have seen one cat at each of two kiosk.
Starry, night skies. Floating on our backs in the pool. The banana tree, in our yard. The sounds of French and Bambara being spoken. The smell of baking bread, at the bakery. The colors of the woman’s dresses and there hair wrapped in long scarves, that they unwind and rewrap while talking to you. La femme du vegetable that comes to my front garden to sell her white beans and tomatoes and whatever she has that day. My most pleasant guard named Smile, who truly smiles. The housekeeper washes the floors bent over and pushes the large towel side to side. He hesitates to use the mop for some reason.
Then there is the rain, it is a heavy rain with large drops that hit the dirt and stones with force and the winds that move the trees side to side. The sounds the rain makes on the metal roof covering my front yard where the guards spend their time and the sounds of thunder. This morning I see six goats, loose, eating all they see as they walk to the corner and another day about 40 goats stampeding down the dirt road. Could they have escaped? The Mosque sending calls for prayer. My guard setting out the little prayer rug, and he kneels to pray facing Mecca.
At nights when we return from some visit, we see people gathered around a TV at this corner, as they sit on benches and never look up as we drive by.
The market is full with eager vendors hoping you will buy their produce. Bartering is required, you never settle on the first price, which is always, too high.
Our rooms arranged, the kitchen is in order and I have already started to fill the freezer with a selection of fruits and vegetables. Our dehydrator is for dehydrating, papaya and banana and other assorted items. This week I will be making jams, blanching more string beans and making more fruit rolls in the dehydrator. Garnish here consist of celery leaves and parsley, so I will be growing my own Basil and mint and continue to pray for a source for cilantro. They have cilantro in the restaurants and it is my goal to find a supplier. So when you visit Safeway market, remember me and feel bless to have such easy access to your needs wants and desires, culinary speaking, because it is a different matter here.
The songs of Africa being sung by my neighbor, who is a recording artist, and the sounds of her musicians playing drums. The wonderful smells from my kitchen as our cook passionately prepares dinner for us.
The sounds you do not hear are in my mind, I remember the sounds of sirens or emergency vehicles such as in Israel after a bombing. Here there is less street noise and horns and engines of trucks such as we had in Moscow from the streets outside our apartment. There are no airplanes flying overhead. There is an airport, but no private or small planes, at least not that I have noticed. I have not seen or heard the large passenger planes, either.
Can you recall the feel of heat on your face when you walk outside? Can you recall the pleasant coolness of your home when you return during a very hot day?
This and more have been a part of my first four weeks in Bamako.
RESIDENTIAL STREET