Some Traveling

From July 25- Aug 1, I went what we like to call “yalla-ing” in Bamba-ish. I’d been “wandering around” the country, seeing what I’ve never seen before, discovering the Northeast of Mali, with its embellished mosques, devout Islamic-Arab culture, desert climate, and webbing of tribes and languages. For the first time in my service, I went to see the non-Bambara parts of the country. What a different land it was.
I traveled with the normal crew: Caroline, Dave, Chris, and our other friend Ryan to Mopti, and took a pinasse boat down to the city of Djenne. The boat ride was quite and adventure, and as much as I want to share it with you all now, I will hold off. It’s better told in person, which I will have the opportunity to do soon. And it also includes some details best left out of public access. To make a long story short, we took a very round-a-bout way to Djenne, ending up in an isolated fishing village of the Bozo tribe, fought rain and hunger and finally reached the ancient sister-city of Timbuctu, Djenne. (Timbuctu was on our travel-dream list, but because of Al-Quada action and kidnappings, we are restricted from travel there.)
In Djenne we toured the mosque, the biggest mud building in the world, and the Islamic library where families keep their heirlooms and ancient texts. Accustomed to tourists giving out empty plastic water bottles, pens, and taking tons of pictures, we were always being followed by children. Caroline and Dave journeyed back to Bamako, as Chris, Ryan and I met up with two girls from another region to do a tour of the Dogon country.
We hiked three days on the escarpment, staying in little cliff villages of the Dogon people. The region was very isolated, and most of the villages can only be accessed by climbing on foot. It was the West Africa I had heard about- animism, monkeys, tribal masks, and spectacular views from the escarpment over the sandy plains.
“This all used to be jungle,” our guide Omar told us, “I don’t remember these sand dunes from when I was growing up here.” It was the first time I really understood desertification and what is becoming of our world. These Dogon villages- in the next century- will they still be around?
Omar was the Crocodile Dundee of Africa, and hiked with a safari hat, green cargo vest, and a dirty mouth. He supports himself by giving tours of the Dogon country and is famous among Peace Corps volunteers all around Africa. His English is slurred and vulgur, thanks to 12 years hanging out with kids like us.
We hiked three days with Omar, and thoroughly enjoyed it. We joked with each other, had more serious, insightful conversations, and sometimes just went along in silence, taking it all in. Africa. It’s a wonderful and terrible place. This last week I saw desert oasis, fascinating culture, and breathtaking nature. I saw bands of beggar children, crazy men wandering the streets, and eight dead bodies being pulled out of a smashed up bus on the road to Bamako. I humbly received a warm welcome from local people, I disgustingly dismissed the cat-calls of the men I passed on the streets. I was an excited tourist, and a homesick traveler. With the Bozo village, the confrontations with the animist culture, the adventures of a group of almost broke Americans traveling around just South of the Sahara- the week was well spent. If anything, for all the stories I have to tell when I’m back.

Check out Ryan’s pictures here: http://picasaweb.google.com/vroegindewey/KouakoulouDjenneDogonDioilaMaliJuly2010
(He lives in Bamako and can do things like make nice online phone albumns)