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.

Rolling on the River

Ok, so this image has nothing to do with the subject of this blog post. But it's an AMAZING CHOCOLATE CREPE with GRILLED PINEAPPLE!! What's not to like? They make it at my new favorite brunch place, and it's every bit as amazing as it looks -- just as tasty as the rest of their menu.

Last Friday, I went on my first float down the Niger River. While the Niger may not be the same transportation corridor that it's been in the past, it's still *the* key resource in the country for irrigation, food and fun times. Ok, there are plenty of others ways to have fun, but it's quickly become a top 10 for me.

Some coworkers have shares in a pirogue and can take boat rides whenever they like. We took a little sundowner cruise and it was wonderful. Even though it's getting much hotter these days, as the sun dropped lower, it wasn't so hot. And with a bit of a breeze picking up as we set off, I was positively comfortable.

We passed the Spanish ambassador's house -- gorgeous in every way -- right next to the first shantytown I'd seen in Bamako. It's shocking that as fast as the city has grown, there doesn't seem to be a South African- or Kenyan-style slum on the outskirts with clustered roofs of corrugated aluminum. I like that.

When driving over the bridge, you often see fishermen in their pirogues using throw nets to fish and even jumping in for a dip. But it was fun to see the river from their level. I liked what I saw. (Note: We did not hit this guy. We did say good evening, though, and inquired after the health of his family.)

So, yeah, that was pretty much the evening. In fact, I pretty much could have summed it up like this: "I took a boat ride. It was fun." But the layout of this post would have looked funny, so I rambled instead. Sorry. Next time I'll edit myself and save you time.

Hugs to everyone -- definitely missing all you wonderful people. Consider this blog my long-term plan to 1) maintain friendships with people I love, 2) make it seem like I'm not so far away and 3) subtly give you all reasons to visit. I mean, chocolate crepes with grilled pineapple! For goodness sakes, what more reason do you need?

Sushi in the Savanna

This weekend actually ended with sushi, so I shouldn't lead with it. But the picture is fun, and I shouldn't have to present my weekend in chronological order, right?

Two especially awesome things happened since the last time I went to work. Friday night, I went to see Samba Toure at the CCF. He totally lived up to his reputation as a Malian bluesman, mixing styles. Here's one of my favorite songs that he played:



Then Sunday was a fun field trip with some coworkers. We went to Koulikouro for a hike to see where Soumanguro finally disappeared after his battle with Sundiata. I'd love to tell this medieval Malian story, but I fear I won't do it justice. You can read more here. It's historically interesting. It's socio-culturally interesting. It's economically interesting. Basically, read Sundiata, because that wiki article does NOT do it justice -- you can probably get it at your library -- and then read a few more footnotes about what came after.

Here are some photos of the Niger River and the hike that followed:

It's definitely hotter out now than it was just six weeks ago during the last coworker field trip. The hot season is coming. This last week was the first time I've turned on an air conditioner outside my bedroom.

And it also feels like the humidity has gone up a bit, though that could just be in my head. We're now awaiting the mango rains, which will be followed by mango season, which will be followed by the *real* hot season.

I've decided to stay focused on the awesome mangoes. Not the awesome temperatures.

After the hike, we went to the local market, where we were each assigned a different item, in Bambara, to find and buy. I found my incense burner fine, but the problem was finding someone who could make change! The woman who helped me find the incense burner eventually just gave up -- she bought me the burner herself. It took me a while to figure out what was going on. After that I went and bought some garlic from her. But, yeah, very nice.

I also stocked up on some sweet mangoes and an avocado, which brings me to the most important part of the trip: FOOD!

We went to an awesome restaurant on the side of the road, in between Bamako and Koulikouro, where there was much deliciousness to be had. As alluded to in the headline of this post, we were given the opportunity to order sushi ahead of time. And, of course, I was down for that! (This picture is not sushi at all, but dessert, in keeping with the last-things-first theme of this post.)

The sushi was yummy too -- my favorite was an avocado-grapefruit nigiri that I've never had before. Not only was it a really interesting flavor combination, but it just *looked* really interesting. Good times.

Sole medaillons in buerre blanc + petit legumes followed. And then coffee and a bunch of desserts. We ended up going in on them, so everyone could get a little bit of everything. And boy, am I glad we did. Above, you see this awesome chocolate custard coconut pie pastry thingie that hit the spot. And below you see my two favorites -- strawberry melba and strawberry cheesecake.

So yeah, good times, good company, good weekend. I even used the pool for the first time, properly. (I'd taken dips in it twice, but honestly just hopped in and hopped out.) There are plans in the works to paint the house and I may even just get my home life cleaned up and organized. Hope springs eternal. And sometimes, just sometimes, so does sushi in a landlocked semi-desert.

Sweet Home, Ouagadougou

It took me a number of days to catch my breath, so the full report has been delayed. Last weekend, I took a short vacation to attend FESPACO, the massive African film festival in Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, with films running at nine sites across town over seven days. I'd read coverage of FESPACO years ago and always wanted to attend. But when I saw the price of a plane ticket to Ouaga, for just three nights, I nearly changed my mind. FESPACO only comes every two years, so I bit the bullet. Ouaga or bust.

Arriving late on Friday evening after a hard week's work, I didn't have much gumption to do anything. I had some yummy Indian food, read some Bill Bryson (thank God for Bill Bryson books when you're traveling) and went to bed early.

Saturday, I was up early...or, wait, I should qualify that. Saturday, I didn't set an alarm, thinking that I'd gotten to bed early enough that my body would wake up on its own. But when I checked my clock, I saw that it was after 2 P.M.!!! How on earth could I have done that, just blown through a half-day of vacation while unconscious!!! I hopped in the shower, determined to make the most of what was left of my day, and when I got out, I realized I'd been looking at my watch upside down. It was between 8-9 a.m. and I had plenty of time to see all the sites I had planned for the day.

First, did you know that before becoming an international pop music superstar and fashion icon, Stefani Germanotta had a thriving insurance company in Burkina Faso? Well, she did:

I took a nice long walk to Burkina Faso's national museum. The place was oddly deserted -- are there hordes of tourists in for the week or aren't there?!?! -- so one of the guides gave me a private tour. I learned all about which animal masks should hear my prayers (Wouldn't you like to know what is appropriate to ask from a crocodile or monkey mask? I'd tell you, but then they might sic a hyena mask on me.).

There was also a special exhibit on Burkinabe women. I'd tell you how Burkinabe folks feel about twins -- good or bad? Who knows? -- but I think you should just put the Ouaga museum on your bucket list and find out yourself.

After the museum, I hit the Moro-Naba Palace, which a nice young man told me I could only visit on Friday mornings. There were signs asking me not to take pictures, so I didn't take any. All I can say is, it looked interesting. So, unfortunately, the Moro-Naba Palace remains on my bucket list. The national stadium, however, does not, though I didn't enter as there weren't any games planned during my visit.

Then, so not to give religious preference to the monkey and crocodile masks, I went to the national cathedral, which was pretty pretty. I was also looking for some shade. I don't know if Ouaga has more direct sunlight or Bamako has more trees or I spend more time in the sun as a tourist, but the sun nearly killed me!

Not true. Hyperbole. But still. It was hot.

(Below are the shutters on the National Cathedral.)

At this point, it was about time to head over to the August 4 stadium for the FESPACO opening ceremonies. I had no idea what to expect. They could be boring. They could be amazing. I found it positively magical.

And, I gotta say, I'm disappointed that RFI or Monde5 or some other broadcaster didn't do a neat Olympics-style round-up of the opening ceremony. Each time something awesome would happen, I would think to myself, "Oh, I need to capture this! Photos! Video! Action!"

And each time, by the time I pulled out the iPod and revved it up, the action had changed slightly, and, in any case, I wasn't able to capture the wild trippiness of the moment. And, each time, I thought to myself, "Oh well, someone will make a nice 3-minute video clip." I haven't been able to find one, but here's one short video I took:



If asked to describe the opening ceremonies, I'd say they were everything an opening ceremony should be, filled with music, dancing, acrobatics, horses, Lady-Gaga-esque dudes on stilts.

The closing music and fireworks were the most I've ever enjoyed music + fireworks. I think it was partly the geometric designs made by the fireworks. It's the closest to the Gandalfian ideal I've ever seen. The crowd was also very appreciative -- I don't think there was a jaded person in the stadium. Here's a video I found on Youtube of just the fireworks, though it may make you dizzy:



Kind of amazing, I happened to be sitting next to a couple folks from the Midwest who are associated with "DuSable to Obama: Chicago's Black Metropolis," an American documentary showing at the festival. They were lovely, and one of their Burkinabe friends helped me find a ride back into town. Here's a nice promo about their doc, which I can't wait to see (Unfortunately, it was scheduled to show after my return to Bamako.):

After a quick shower, I headed out to start my evening, when I ran into the guy who'd helped me find a ride. He had stopped by the hotel lobby to make sure I'd gotten back ok! We ended up going to see this incredible dance opera (I don't know how else to describe it.) at an outdoor theater -- Zalissa La Go. It's the latest production from Burkinabe choreographer Irene Tassembedo and it was the single best dance performance I've ever seen in my life. Granted, that's not saying much. But I'd say that has more to do with my ignorance than with the quality of the performance. I kept thinking it would be an absolute hit in Washington. Charles (the guy who came to see the show with me) was even surprised and delighted -- he hadn't known the theater was there. And, in another random American connection, the lead actress/dancer/singer is either American or Canadian, if her accent was anything to go by! Small world.

So, yeah, Saturday was overwhelmingly good and the festival had barely started! Sunday, I rose early to start attending some films. I watched three shorts from Cote d'Ivoire (Lossogo, refuge ou poudrière de Samory Toure), Congo-Brazzaville (On n’oublie pas, on pardonne) and the DRC (L’eau va à la rivière). Then I did some important shopping in the big market/festival area and had some important lunch.

Movie-watching started again in the evening with short docs on refugees in Morocco (Parcours de réfugiés) and the experience of a Senegalese retiree who fought in Vietnam in the French army and was now fighting to get equivalent military benefits (Tirailleur Marc Gueye, ma plume, mon combat).

Then I hopped in a cab to run across town for a series of short films: Allah kabo from Mali, Jusqu’au bout from Burkina Faso, Le linge sale from Burkina Faso and The Tunnel from South Africa -- though it's actually about Zimbabwe. I was torn about whether it was really worth making the trek, especially if I risked missing parts of the late show. But I am so glad I did!

It was my first time in an open-air movie theater. I'd seen this gorgeous photo documentary project of Bamako's open-air movie theaters that have fallen into disrepair. It was awesome to see a neighborhood open-air theater that was still working. And with the cool night air, an appreciative audience, and the faint (or not-so-faint) sounds from a nearby disco washing over me, it was an excellent movie-watching experience.

But the movies weren't yet over! I zoomed back across town to catch Zwelidumile, a documentary about South African artist Dumile Feni who died in exile in New York City. And I'm really glad I did, because it was the best film I saw all weekend.

At this point, I could have gone to bed. But the festival isn't over just because the film schedule has been paused for the night! FESPACO, in addition to film, plans free concerts for festival attendees every night from midnight to 5 a.m.

I made my way to the concert grounds, though I could only keep my energy levels up for a couple songs. I caught a moto ride home with a nice lady rapper-accountant (as the best rappers and accountants indubitably are) and got ready for one last day in Ouaga.

Monday morning started off in the best possible way: STRAWBERRIES AND CREAM!!! AND SAUSAGES!! AND COFFEE!!! AND FRESH ORANGE JUICE!!! It was so good that I had to capture it forever.

I had another nice walk and stopped by an art exhibit at the French cultural center. In addition to a number of the Burkinabe/Beninois artists I saw at a local art gallery and at the festival grounds, I wanted to take home every painting of Patrick Singh's.

As much as I loved it, it also made me think quite a bit about African artists and the collection of African images by non-Africans -- the largely white market for mostly black art. It's an interesting thing. And, in fact, the documentary about Dumile Feni dug into it quite nicely, so perhaps that's why being at the CCF and seeing all the great art put it on the forefront of my mind.

In any case, my stay in Ouaga was nearly over. I watched an American film in the competition, Bullets Over Brownsville, which no one should ever watch. Ever. I lost part of my innocence, and not in a good way. I suppose that's harsh, but it was disturbing. Here's the preview, which is not suitable for all audiences, but does make the movie look pretty good:



Anyway, I'm very lucky that I got to go to Ouaga and very lucky that I get to live in Bamako. I played soccer with the embassy team tonight and did my taxes, and I feel pretty good -- if pedestrian -- about that, too. Now if only I had also done some laundry...