Bamako, First Impressions

Our first day in Mali, we arrived mid afternoon after 23+ hours of flight time. I felt such relief seeing the red dirt with cinderblock houses and specks of white sheep come into focus as we made our descent through the clouds.

At first glance from the ground, Mali is poorer than Mozambique and absolute chaos. And of course, opportunists look for, well, any opportunity. We got shaken down for bribes pretty much the minute we stepped off the plane even with Gie and Abou, his brother, speaking the local language. Apparently, customs suspected food in our bag and this guy offered to "help", grabbed one of our bags and led us to the customs guys saying "they are with me." Of course it was a setup. Immediately I got suspicious and started waving him away, telling the guy to back off, telling Gie to tell him to back off in Bambara. But he wouldn't leave us alone. He then demanded payment for greasing up the customs agent for us. When we refused to pay, he got irate and followed us all the way to the car berating and cursing us. I let loose some Portuguese/Xitswa reflexively, from another lifetime. Anyways, Abou got us in the car and pulled around to the exit but as we went to finally leave apparently we didn't get the "right ticket" to pay. So poor Abou had to walk back to the airport to get the ticket that allowed him to pay! A perfect TIA (This Is Africa) moment... and one heck of a welcome! 

We took a collective breath and put all that behind us though once we started driving. Gie and Abou were chatting nonstop making up for 15 years of lost time - pointing out things that were the same, things that had changed. I loved this homecoming moment for my husband. And it allowed me to just take everything in. So many things feel familiar - the humidity that leaves your skin constantly dewey, the contrasting red dirt and bright green of rainy season, the trash absolutely everywhere, and all the half-completed abandoned projects strewn across town - skeletal evidence of temporary, fleeting wealth bartered for dreams. As far as driving goes, the four lanes of traffic acted as mere suggestions rather than rules. It was not uncommon for Abou to tap the horn mildly, politely in the face of an oncoming vehicle crossing into our lane, or motor bikes buzzing past us in packs. I tried to imitate Abou's level of chill - if he's not worried, I won't be either. Still there's a reason car accidents remain to be one of the top causes of death. TIA.  

We finally arrived home, and it was the homecoming Gie had been dreaming of for so long! We pulled up to the big iron door gates and with an impatient beep of the horn we are let into the compound and immediately surrounded. Big hugs to brother Zanah, a firm handshake to his father, and a mother grasping her son in happy tears. "You really are a man now" she told him finally stepping back and taking him all in. I also got the universal mama bear hug. "Welcome to your home, daughter" she said and with that we all paraded into the house for a tour. 

The rest of the evening was spent eating supper and lounging in the living room, telling stories. I told them that I felt bad not learning French to communicate and it was waved off by his mother saying, "Don't worry, you need to learn Bambara instead, French is not really our language." Take that colonialism. Bamabara it is.

So here we are! This is bound to be a month of culture shock, integration, and adventure. But I did tell Gie when we married that I wanted anything but a dull life. He's certainly keeping to his end of the bargain.