Getting Back Home... Again

I arrived at the Bamako airport a little past 10 pm. I think the Bamako airport literally is hell. This is what hell would be like. Getting in is the first challenge- you have people pushing and shoving and yelling at all sides... no lines of course. Just a mob. I'm slowly funneled to the door and I give my passport to the policeman. The police have took over today- the airport crew is on strike.

"Where's your Malian visa?" he asked.

"Its-" Shoot. I realized that I had taken my normal-person's passport, leaving my fancy embassy peace corps passport behind. Gets me every time. Two passports. So confusing. I wasn't even thinking that I would need that Peace Corps one again, and besides, I had to return it to Peace Corps anyway. But apparently you also need a visa to get you OUT of the country. Forgot about that.

"I have one! I swear I do! It's in my other passport. I'm Peace Corps!" But he totally wasn't listening to me. I was shoved off in to a corner, not allowed to enter the airport, still in the midst of this chaotic scene, aka hell.

So I kept bugging this policeman. Hitting him on his shoulder, yelling to get his attention, being obnoxious. Hey, everyone else was. And if I didn't make myself seen he would have just left me in that corner to rot. I had a plane to catch.

I called Peace Corps and tried giving the phone to him. Of course some friendly Peace Corps staff member would use their negotiating skills, let this guys know whats up, maybe even read off my visa number to them, and then I would be on my way.

He wasn't having it. He kept swatting the phone away from me, while other members of the angry mob yelled for me to get out of their way. I didn't know what else to do. I dropped my bags in my little corner behind the door and started to cry. I was upset, frustrated, but also admittedly using the last card in my hand. Maybe they'll take pity on my.

And then, in the depths of hell, an angel in a glimmering white Arab robe garnished with gold trim was sent from the heavens. "Why are you crying?" he asked. And not only was this young, compassionate, English-speaking man sent from God, he was, as my eyes excitedly glanced to his name-badge, sent by the airport.

"Are you with Peace Corps? Your office just called us." I took out my phone to call Peace Corps to confirm this, but the man thought that I just wanted his phone number. Umm...of course I want your phone number! (Which would prove to be handy getting through the rest of the lines once inside the building.) His name was El Hajji, and he was from Timbuktu, giving him a look more like a Middle Eastern Arab than an African. "It is my pleasure to help beautiful woman such as yourself. You give two year to help us, now we help you."

El Hajji saved the day. He talked to the policeman, and every person at every line who needed my passport. And a few minutes later, Chiek, a Peace Corps staff member shows up with my other passport. We volunteers do a lot of stupid things, and we make Peace Corps' job pretty rough. But I tell you, the staff here in Mali goes above and beyond and Mali would have chewed us all up and spit us out if it wasn't for them.

I was giving so many blessings, even bowing a little to show my thanks to Chiek and El Hajji. I was finally in line for the flight to Paris. El Hajji kissed my cheek and said, "If you are ever back in Mali, you call me."

"Of course!" I said. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be leaving in the first place.

He walks off. "And that is a promise," he reminds me. Time to go home.

My flights were not too bad until NYC. We were sitting on the runway on the small plane destined for Rochester when we were told of an emergency at the ROC airport. People were doing research on these fancy little computer phones that everyone seems to have. Explosion! Hydrogen tank blows up and injures 3 people! Airport Closed! The flight attendant was advising us to book tickets for a flight to Buffalo or Syracuse by phone. My mother has got to be freaking out, I thought.

After about a half hour of this, having made travel buddies and a plan to go to Buffalo, the flight attendant gets on the loud speaker and says, "Ok. Well I guess things are back on track." Oh. Ok. And now we're going to Rochester. Fantastic :)