Welcome to L'il Goat

My car is here!! I bought a 10-year old RAV4 on a Monday, shipped it on a Tuesday, and left for Mali on a Wednesday. For the last four months, I've been using motor pool cars, taxis, the kindness of friends and my two little feet to get around. The car, for its part, took a long boat ride to Europe, then another to Dakar, where it sat in the port for about two months before making its way to Bamako by train (I hope she had enough leg room.).

And now L'il Goat is here and she's so cute!!! I got the call that she was ready to go last night, but decided not to pick her up because it would have meant driving in the dark on Bamako's crazy streets for my very first outing. Instead I went down to the embassy today to sweep her off her feet.

I was delighted that a bunch of drivers who've put up with me for four months were at work. We took a celebratory picture -- me because I'll have a bit more freedom now and them because I am a *trouble* client. I actually went in to the office the other day and changed my name to "Trouble" on the schedule.

I often wait until the last minute to call. I can never make up my mind. And I'm somewhat disorganized. When I do call to see if I can get a car, I try to be really polite and understanding -- if I can get a car, awesome. If there isn't one available, I can take a taxi. I don't want to put people out. But if you're a motor pool dispatcher, it's incredibly obnoxious, even if I'm nice and relaxed about it. A fun pain is still a pain.

I'm really going to miss riding with the embassy drivers, especially some of the guys who weren't there today, but have put up with me for so long: Adama Coulibaly, Mamary Gillavogui, Yacouba Coulibaly, Mamadou Sanou, Fouseyni Fofana, Abdoulaye Diakite, etc. These were the folks who helped me figure out the layout of this town, put up with my bad French, and helped me begin to understand Mali. People were even beginning to help me with Bambara. I'm so indebted. I'll still see the guys when we reserve cars for meetings during the day, but I want to try to commit to myself to run down by the motor pool office every once and a while to say hi.

Having my own car is bittersweet.

Also, these dudes can drive. Bamako streets are crazy. There are thousands of motos, who do not come close to following any kind of traffic laws. Lanes are meaningless. Stop signs and red lights are sometimes meaningless (and sometimes meaningful -- you just have to know where you actually stop!!!). For example, to get to my house, you definitely have to turn left on a red light. The first time one of the drivers did it, I nearly screamed and climbed up the passenger's side wall. But if you don't, the policemen who work the corner will come over to find out why the heck you aren't going! Same thing driving through the stop sign at a roundabout on the way to work. Honestly, they might as well just take the sign down and stop confusing newbies.

She's such a coy little thing! And she'll need to be. This is the first car I've ever owned and this will be the first time I've ever regularly driven. I'm...ummm...unpracticed. So the idea of driving in an entirely unregulated environment is terrifying. I'm gonna try to just be slow and patient, but assertive. We shall see. I've already honked my horn once, but it wasn't a mean honk. It was a "Hey, massive 4Runner in the left lane, I know you want to get off at this exit, but I am in the right lane and I am corporeal and if you keep turning right, we are going to collide." It was a helpful honk.

Also, I thought to myself today, "What's the speed limit in town?" I have no idea, and I certainly haven't seen it posted anywhere. This is gonna be fun.

The bad news is that the poor little dear is a bit worn from her long trip. L'il Goat is fine on the outside, but has a bit of a mold problem inside. It's probably just a function of humidity during transport, so after some TLC, a good scrubdown and exposure to the dry Bamako air, she'll be just fine. Her battery can also be a little testy, but the guys assure me that that's not terribly unusual. If I keep having problems, I'll replace it. (Note to Brett: The dealership did indeed fix the windshield before shipping it. The car drives really great, both on two-lanes and unpaved, rocky roads.)

With the help of my baby, I made a trip to the frame store to replace some frames that had broken. Oddly, I think the guys there -- or the owners -- are members of Sun Myung Moon's church. There was a pretty nice photo of the smiling
reverend and his wife in the display case and also at the back of the shop. A display of framed certificates reflected the successful completion of a three-day "Course for Husbands" by some lucky Malian dude from the Church of Peace and Unification, among other related trainings. Nice. If I ever need a quickie marriage, I could save on organizing time.

I meant to ask the guys at the shop about the connection, but while they framed my painting, I forgot. It was an odd little reminder of home. I kept expecting to see a framed copy of the Washington Times. Perhaps I'll have to bring one back with me next time I'm in D.C.

From the frame shop:

FORE!!!

Today I went golfing for the first time! I believe I've "played golf" exactly twice before: Once when my dad let me tag along and once in South Africa with termite mounds and cows for obstacles. Lovely coworker friends George and Susan let me join them for the afternoon, and I just may have found a new hobby.

We planned our golf outing for the middle of the day. I'll admit that I was a bit nervous about the heat. The mid-day temperature is about 106 recently, and you all know I'm a delicate flower.

Luckily, it turned out that I was always comfortable. There was a bit of a breeze, plenty of shade on the course, and -- fortunately -- there's just something about dry heat that's not as miserable as Washington at 95. Or 92 for that matter.

Here's Susan walking down the fairway with two of the caddies. There was definitely no shortage of life on the course -- palm trees, baobab trees, mango trees, bougainvilla, cattle egrets.

I noticed that many of the groundskeepers were wearing Dogon hats. It made the course -- which could have been plopped down anywhere in the world and been perfectly comfortable -- seem especially Malian.

Here, George is shocked that I'm taking pictures, but have failed to capture for posterity his gorgeous chip in from the rough. So, let me give witness -- it was a great shot.

And here's a baobab tree. I hit a lot of trees. If I wasn't hitting the trunk at the bottom, I was getting stuck in the leaves up top, with my ball dropping from the heavens with a disappointing thud. I didn't really care, though. I was outdoors on a beautiful day with interesting people.

No matter how poorly I hit the ball, there's something about the scenery here that makes me pinch myself. I feel so lucky to be among palm trees and baobabs again.

Here's another image of the same tree -- you can just see the fuzzy little fruits backlit by the sun.

When I wasn't hitting trees, I was getting stuck in sand traps. I joked with my caddy that I could only really hit with "Lucky No. 7." When I tried to use the pitching wedge, bad things happened. Again. And again. And again. And again.

This is a picture of me with my ball right up against the damn hill. That's no good. But I'm still having fun, showing my father how he can come play golf and watch me get stuck in sand traps when he visits Mali.

You can't see it, but I'm making a very goofy face for the camera.

And here I actually get out of the bunker on the first try! About one-third of my shots were muffs with the pitching wedge. Magically, I seem to have learned how to hit tee shots in the last 10 years, without ever having hit a golf ball. Maybe height and weight make a big difference? But as I quickly learned, I "need to work on my short game."

Here George hits a second shot amongst the lovely baobab fluff. After our 9 or 12 holes (not really certain, because we took a break and I wasn't counting; also, there were soldiers hanging out on the first hole, so we decided to skip that one), we headed to the club house for a cold drink and good conversation.

I'm not saying I'm going to commit to a club membership, because it's still expensive, but I had a wonderful time. I'm sure I'll be back.