du mali!!

Aw ni tile from Mali!

8 hours of air travel (accra-lome-abidjan-bamako) and one lost suitcase later, i found myself bartering in bambara for a taxi to hamdallaye - the 'cartier' where i once lived during four months that have ingrained themselves in my memory for three years as if they were yesterday. the driver took me across down, across joliba (the niger river), past the elephant statue, along the 'goudron' (paved road) through a city that felt somehow like home. i navigated as if i had never left - "go straight past the harlem store, turn right at the michelin man painting, turn left at the 'coiffure'". a herd of goats ran in front of us and red dirt was rustled from the ground, past women with babies on their backs and buckets on their heads, past men drinking tea in circles to the sunset. 'tu peux me deposer ici... n be jigin yan" (you can let me out here) i said, a few blocks from the entrance. i wanted to walk the final stretch to the house. as soon as i jumped out some kids yelled "ey! toubabu!" (hey! white girl!) and then "Bintou!" from behind me. the voice was Matou - my teenage host sister coming back from the market.

i've had a few opportunities to return to mali in the past 2 years that i've decided not to take because they would bring me here for a very long time. each time that i've deliberated these opportunities, the image that i've replayed in my head endlessly (the image that has made it hardest to say no) was my reunion with my malian family. i've imagined turning the corner to their road and seeing a mix of boys playing soccer, herds of goats, and lots of women and girls carrying things (babies, plantains, wash basins) amidst the mango trees. i think i've imagined this scene a thousand times - i've even dreamed it.

last night that scene was real. i came in to a courtyard full of familiar faces - aida et maimouna (my big sisters), aboubacar, abdallah, et mohamed (my big brothers), matou (my teenage sister/cousin), and mamadou - my little host brother that was 2 when i left. as soon as mamadou saw me he ran up and hugged me although we all agreed ["i hakili be n na?" (do you remember me?)] that he probably doesn't remember me. he's five now and the sweetest, most adorable little troublemaker you can possibly imagine. lala came in soon after - she's 7 now, though she was 4 when i left. she's gotten taller and more shy, but is warming up to me again. there is also a new 'bonne' (house maid) named asanatou and... a new baby! maimouna delivered a beautiful baby girl on valentines day - named aichatou. she's soooo tiny and sooooo cute and sooooo quiet. mamadou loves to shower her with kisses.

what has amazed me the most since i arrived last night is the fact that everything is exactly where i remembered it - both in the house and in bamako more broadly (the map in my head is unbelievably accurate!). i noticed a new wall that was put up next to part of the local marketplace, and a new boulangerie that opened near the goudron - but otherwise its all pretty much the same. this, by the way, makes me really happy, because this place and this culture is so beautiful.

all the neighbor kids are in and out of the courtyard all day - playing mostly with a jump rope, a half-stack of playing cards, and hand games. "biiiiiintou" they call. or "toubabou!" to which i reply "ne te toubabou ye" (i'm not a white person) to confuse them and make them laugh. mamadou still loves kicking things, putting on shoes that are too big for him, and pretending to ride the motor bike. last night he kicked around a plastic bag for like 30 minutes. he's about a foot taller than last time, but has the same face and is sweeter than ever. he talks now and pretty much just wants to climb me all the time so i end up holding him a lot. i love it. aboubacar gave up his career dreams of working in refrigeration and is now training to be a comedian at the local art school. he says he also plays a drum that is like a small djembe and i want him to teach me. everyone still watches latino soap operas dubbed in french and the mud wall across the street still has "hot men" graffiti-ed onto it. many of the kids and adults that have come in are people i recognize and some of them even remember me.

since i have no clothes here yet (all my luggage is somewhere else in west africa), i went to the grande marche (big market) today by moto with my host brother aboubacar. i got a new "tafe" (wrap skirt) to serve as my skirt/dress/towel etc in the meantime, and found myself completely comfortable in the marketplace. i remember a lot of bambara, surprisingly, which makes malians laugh and high five each other. i dont think there's any other country in the world (other than the US of course) where i feel so at home after no time. it's really amazing.

have you ever woken up to torrential rain pounding on a corrugated tin roof? this is one of the most relaxing sounds you can imagine. after a sweaty night (~95 degrees) under a bed net with a fan blowing full force, the rain this morning brought a certain calm and a certain coolness that gave me chills. i laid there for a long time before getting up to wash. in mali, you have to wash your hands and face before you're supposed to greet anyone/say good morning.

now i'm in the cyber cafe i used to come to everyday. later (maybe tomorrow) i will climb the old hill behind my house (lasa / la colline des rastas) and visit the farming cooperative where i once worked. i'm hoping to find some good music around town and maybe take a trip to another city or village for a day or two.

i hope you're all well and i'm thinking of you lots - wishing i could share this special place with more people from home.
love, rain, and rhythm,
bintou