Adventure in a sauna wind tunnel

Whew. This weekend was not restful in the best of ways.

To tell the story properly, I need to go back six weeks. Picture Vermont in mid-December. I've just gotten stuck at the Burlington airport and am making small talk with the shuttle driver to the Doubletree Hotel, where I've decided to stay because lord knows my dear friends do not need to drive me to the airport at 4 a.m. on a Monday morning.

The driver, Issa (last name withheld to protect the innocent), and I strike up a conversation in French when I find out he's from Senegal. And, when he finds out I'm headed to Mali, he tells me that his dad actually lives in Kayes, a town in western Mali, and that he will be going home in six short weeks. So, of course, we trade contact information.

Fast forward six weeks. Issa and I have been in touch by e-mail and finally chat by phone. He's in Kayes and I'm trying to get transportation out there to take him up on his invitation to meet his family. The first option falls through (crazy me, I wanted to drive to a town called Kita on Friday afternoon, drive on not-very-good roads to Kayes on Saturday and then home on Sunday). Instead, I'm able to hire a driver, Mamadou (again, last name withheld to protect the innocent, though perhaps I should just Google real quick to find out if there are so many people with his last name that it won't even matter. No, it matters. But it seems he's also playing soccer in France!), who'll take me out to Kayes on Saturday and back on Sunday.

In the meantime, I also learn that Kayes is the second-hottest place in Africa after Djibouti, although it is still currently the cold season, and that everyone I talk to about this idea for a "weekend trip" thinks I'm barking mad. I am. No matter.

As Saturday dawns and Mamadou and I get on the road in a little, old white sedan, it's beautiful out and I've got Juluka singing in my heart.

Actually, I'm in Mali, so I should have Oumou Sangare singing in my heart. There. It just needs to be something upbeat.

The ride to Kayes was pretty uneventful, but long. We stopped a little over half-way for some freshly roasted mutton and Fantas. We also saw the cars of the Budapest-Bamako rally, pictured below, making their way to the capital city. I don't want to judge, but they weren't going very fast. In fact, I saw some guys stop to play with kids near a sheep-trading town! Hmph. Hee hee.

By the time we got to the hotel, we were both bushed. The air conditioner in Mamadou's car doesn't really work. So you've got two choices: windows down and hot Harmattan winds washing over you or windows closed and weak air conditioner chugging along. The only thing I could compare it to is a sauna wind tunnel -- I'm sure some folks would pay good money for that. I drank tons of water in addition to my drink at noon, but, despite my worries, never had to go to the bathroom. All the H2O was coming out my pores.

Anyway, when we arrived I took a quick shower to try to perk up and gave Issa a call to find out how we were going to meet up. He and his little brother came over to pick me up and we went over to his house.

I cannot say how incredibly welcoming his whole family was to me. We greeted everyone. We took pictures -- Issa hired a guy to come take a family picture with me...the fellow left for a few hours and then came back with developed images. The official pictures are just me with all the men. And Issa and I were the only ones smiling. I guess that's what living in the U.S. will do. We smile. The only pictures of mine that turned out well were the ones that were taken with Issa's sisters, plus one amazing one that one of his brothers snagged when he was doing some independent snapping.

Then we took a drive around town to check out the sites: the Senegal river, which was full of people washing their clothes, cars and motorcyles; the train station; the casino; the stadium built for the 2002 African Cup. Like an idiot, I'd forgotten my camera at Issa's house. Of course.

But, then the best part! Dinner! We had apples and oranges, couscous with some kind of meat-spinach sauce (I honestly have no idea at all what was in the sauce, except that it was good.) and salad. The salad dressing was so good that I meant to ask his sister what she'd done, but I forgot.

After dinner, we watched the news on the the TV in the family compound and shared some tea. I'd been wondering about the tea here, because I'd seen it around a lot, but hadn't had any yet. The tea at Issa's house was made with very strong mint and lots and lots of sugar. So, of course, I *loved* it. I don't care how hot out it gets, I'll take some!

Some of Issa's friends and neighbors came over, but I have to admit I was bushed. Absolutely bushed. So when the invitation to go out dancing came up -- I'm embarrassed to admit it -- I declined and headed back to the hotel. This is terribly unlike me and I cannot believe I didn't go out. In my defense, all I can say is that I was really, really tired and really, really well-fed. All I wanted was to sleep. Plus, I'd managed to pick up a headache from the bright sunlight and dehydration. So while I wish this blog was about how I stayed out until 3 a.m. going to all kinds of awesome Kayes dance clubs, which in my younger days it would have been, the truth is that I went to bed before 10 p.m. and slept until 7 a.m. Nice. Issa came over for breakfast at the hotel, we said our goodbyes, and Mamadou and I were back on the road again.

Except, this time, we had a little stop planned! The French had a trading center and fort on the Senegal river not too far from modern-day Kayes, which holds a little bit of West African history. Fort du Medine was the last point of French control in the 1850s as they worked their way inland from Dakar.  When Hadj Oumar of the Toucouleurs was trying to take over neighboring African kingdoms, he beseiged the French at Medine for a long, long time. The fort nearly fell, but the reserves got there just in time, and so Oumar decided to turn his attentions to other folks with thinner walls and fewer guns.

In addition to the commandant's house, we saw the prison where French and African prisoners were held -- the Africans were sold as slaves down the Senegal river, destined for Mauritania or Goree Island and the New World. We saw the first mosque, which was built by a Mauritanian, and the first French school in Mali. The historic trading area was completely ruined, but the later trading building is still standing, along with the ruins of the railroad that used to run from Medine to Kayes and Dakar. It was taken apart during WWII.

I didn't know any of this, but we hired a guide to take us around the place and tell us what everything was. According to Wikipedia, he seems to have done a pretty accurate job!

After the touristing, we were back on the road -- that's a picture of Mamadou and me on the right.

(Ok, on the road back we picked up a guy with two women and two kids, one who looked very sick. Apparently, he'd already had his son treated twice for malaria, but he was still sick. He'd tried acupuncture, which he said he'd learned from a Chinese doctor. The kid was still sick. So they were taking him to a traditional doctor, in case it was a genie who was making him sick. Aside -- when I was in Kenya, I remember interviewing a woman whose kid was in an NIH-funding malaria study. Because she was enrolled in the study, her kid got free health care for five years. When her kid got sick, she *immediately* started walking the 6 miles to the health clinic. And thank god she did. Doctors said that the kid's parasite count was so high that if she hadn't started moving immediately, he probably wouldn't have made it. It (obviously) made a big impression on me just how much a) relatively small health care costs make people delay seeking medical attention as long as they can and b) transportation costs keep people from seeking medical attention immediately and c) no one wants someone's kid to die when the prevention was cheap. I was happy the U.S. paid for that kid's treatment. Unfortunately, I don't think NIH is currently doing any genie-related studies.)

The ride home was pretty uneventful except for the length and the fact that I ate sheep's intestines. The sheep's intestines were pretty good -- kind of like bacon except for a little tougher. The bad news was that the awesome sheep intestines were roasted, wrapped around a bunch of innards that also ended up on our plate. I accidently had a mouthful of liver. I think. Blech. I washed it down as best I could with my tamarind drink, but I will not order that again, unless I can get the intestines-only meal. The Kayes bananas are awesome, though. Firm and tart and delicious. And Issa's father gave me a ton of peanuts -- half cooked and half uncooked (which really give you a sense of why they're called PEAnuts. Uncooked, they kinda taste like peas!).

Anyway, kids, I'm beat. It was a really fun, really dumb weekend -- about 18 hours of driving in two days. I met wonderful people who fed me good food and put up with me. And now I'm going to eat some leftover pizza and hope that at work tomorrow no one notices the odd strip of sunburn on my inner left arm from having the window open three inches.