July 23rd

Just a thought/suggestion:
As I was making passport photos for visa stuff the other day, the TV was on, and so I watched the news. I hadn't watched or read any kind of world news in ages. (I made a conscious effort during my trip to stay away from the biased political negativity of the news). And all there was was news about death, crime, catastrophes...in other words, everything to demotivate populations, showing a world going down, hopeless. So why not commit to dedicating the last 33% of each news cast to places where everything is going well and people are happy and thus ending each newscast with a hopeful note? Do people really need to feel sad when they watch the news or should they have a picture of the reality of the world? The people who want to be change makers and help people in need will not find their inspiration and resources in the news anyway...just a thought. Maybe something I can work on in the future.

I just had an interesting chat with last nights priest about Africa's problem and corruption. He basically agreed that all of Africa was deeply corrupt and that a solution would be for all foreign organizations to stop providing aid to Africa and/or the need to have a Africa spring just like the Arab spring. All the government who refuse to get out should be killed. Literally, killed. His mission near Sikasso was supposed to have a fence built around the big school. Well, their need was to have additional classrooms but the government would not hear it and imposed a fence around the school. The enterprise who was contracted to build the fence and most definitely the mayor of the town are so corrupt that only a couple of meters of fence were built up. And the same happened in four schools apparently. Ufff! We both agreed that the general African population does not have any courage and is just scared of facing and fighting its government. Such a shame, when African populations ate not afraid to flight other ethnicities or even colonizers for their land, but they will be shit scared to fight their own government for a decent economy, for food in their belly, for a job, and for their health. I am not sure whether it is complacency or lack of courage that is the cause of Africa's extreme poverty situation and conscious submission to corruption...perhaps a mix of both.

I was in a supermarket this afternoon because I got caught by the storm (I call it a storm because of how diluvial the rain is here), and as I curiously walked the aisles (I strongly believe that food stores reflect in many ways the culture and economy of a country. And so I observed that almost 100% of the products of the shelves were all imported. Why? Cereals, pasta, rice, biscuits, dairy, vegetables, cans, etc...they could produce so many things locally if the local population were not so lazy. Yes there is a large part who are artisans and earning an honest living, but there is a huge part of the population, at least in the capital, who is just doing nothing...waiting for things to happen and money to fall from the sky. People go to school, the labor is here, plenty of it. The natural resources are here as well and could easily be expanded given the size of the country. Space to build factories is also plenty. I just don't understand. Or perhaps once again, the government is not encouraging local production because it is making so much cash from import taxes. The retail prices of all these  imported good are just ridiculously high. 2, 3 sometimes even 5 times more expensive than in Europe, when the purchasing power per capita is probably around 70 to 100 times lower. So of course all this creates a sort of superficial inflation leading people to get stuck in poverty.

On my way back after the rain stopped I noticed that in several streets there were signs saying that that and that street was paved (not tarred, but paved with slabs of cut stones forming a giant puzzle) thanks to the cooperation between Mali and the European union. Really? Is that what the people needed the most? And isn't tarred road cheaper and stronger than rock paved roads? Hmmm...another unthought action rushed to secure commercial contracts between two countries.

Ah! Today I guess I am just screaming out to the Malians and other Africans to wake up and realize that the poverty they are in today is not because white people are getting richer on their backs but rather and simply because their government are selfish business men who have absolutely no interest in developing the countries they govern, but rather generate as much cash as possible during their term. I say this partly because today on the street, just like some other times in other places between here and Senegal I have watched locals giving me  accusation looks. And today I thought to myself, why not print out tons of flyers listing the millions of euros and dollars given by foreign countries every year to the country and asking how much of it is actually being spent. But most of the people who need to know that can barely even read.

Africa needs its Che Guevara! It clearly hasn't come up yet.

No news from Angelina today, I miss her.

Another thing I was thinking about as I walked back is that my life is quite exciting and I am quite privileged to be who I am, how I am, and where I am. I worked hard for it for years, but still, when I look around the streets of Bamako, I am definitely blessed. So should i even allow myself to have the blues from times to times when I am home sick and miss Angelina to much? I don't know, but I did feel a bit guilty, a bit much actually. Matter for reflection I suppose...

July 22nd

Random thoughts:
-at a street tailor shop, I see a little boy trying to imitate by himself his father and cutting through some fabric. On the other side of the small table, three little girls are leaning over the table watching in awe the boy. Very cute. I wish I could have taken a shot of this moment.

-every time I pass by a neighborhood taken over by Chinese people outside of China, it makes me think of what modern smart discreet colonization is all about. You want to take over countries, why waste energy, people and money on wars and violence just so that the land or the country has your name on it?! Do it like the Chinese, from the inside.

-when in Africa, do not go to public clinics or hospitals or sometimes even doctors, chances are you will be worse off after seeing them. Self medicate. I am dead serious!

-apparently Mali mean hippopotamus originally.

-anyone knows the biological purpose of the existence of mosquitos on the planet and in the food chain?????

-malaria prevention campaigns in west Africa are a dramatic failure and total waste of money. People still believe that all they need is a mosquito net when they sleep. Ridiculous!!! Mosquito sprays or lotions should and must be applied on the body as soon as the sun is down, without exception. And the worst part is that all these countries have all the natural resources requires to produce such medicine wildly available all over in nature, but two very concerning problems have happened: #1 it seems that all these NGO campaigns and governmental campaigns have been useless in communicating the necessity to use such medicine in addition to the use of mosquito net, and #2 I suspect that not a single NGO or government initiative has done a thing to train the local populations on how to locally manufacture the medicine. What a shame! And I thought that Bill Gates was serious about his devotion to the third world...

Aside from that, today was a great day.

Well, I finally managed to be out of the mission before 9:30am. Good sign! I am definitely recovering. But last night was still not a good night.

I walked all the way to the national museum. Or so they call it. What a shame! How dare they even call it that way?! National? The place does not have a single exhibition about the history of Mali. Museum? The place only had two small rooms displaying a few masks and wooden statues as well as several pieces of fabrics with barely any light. And yet, according to some guide book (Le Petit Fute, which in Mali is the #1) it is the second biggest museum in Africa and one of the best. I was so upset because they charged me full fare, $5 when half of what the brochure is promoting is down. I went to all the admin departments to complain, and even to the vice director of the museum (the director was out) but no one was able to do anything. I even made the vice director tell me word for word that when the director is not here he has no power at all. Uffff....Africa. I suppose things like that are bound to happen from time to time. Bunch of people with a high title and just doing nothing all day. After all, the French administration is full of such people. Lol

So after a while of waiting and seeing that a storm was rising, before it started pouring rain, I walked fast to the artisan market where Dogon was working to hang out with him a bit. This place is so interesting! So many artisans working on so many interesting pieces all over. It is like a big messy entertainment park for antique collectors, music lovers, art lovers, and souvenir hunters. Or, once you pass the shyness level, it can be a heaven for photos...next time hopefully.

After a lunch of street food eaten at Dogon's work, one of Astou's cousin, Serre, who lives in Washington, but who is from Bamako and is here now on vacation, called me to meet up at her dad's hotel. So I went.

Ufff! It was good to see a familiar face and have a normal conversation. And well, Astou had told her to take good care of me. Lol so she wanted to male sure I ate as much as possible to gain weight back. Hahaha! So I did. I asked for the heaviest dishes. The hotel is located in such a gorgeous spot of the city, right on the edge of the river, over looking all the fisherman's pirogues, and far far away from a y kind of street noise or pollution. What a perfect place tom rest and take a break. Serre asked me if I wanted to stay there instead of the mission, but I declined...by politeness first but also because the hotel is far away from everything. Of course it would be fantastic for a night or two...hmmm...maybe, when I come back to Bamako and right before I go back to Dakar. We will see...

Very early this morning the nun from Kalana let me know that it would be better of I came down there in a couple of weeks instead of now. Perfect. Dogon himself is going to his village in Sanga, the Pays Dogon, Thursday or Friday to be there for the end of Ramadan, la fete as they call it. So I will tag along. It is supposed to be a LONG ride. So better with someone that alone.

The world is small, and there is no such thing as a coincidence.
I just met the priest from the mission of the Colombian nun I had met the other day. He is flying to Spain tomorrow for a month of vacation. (Obviously I raved about the Camino so he would check it out). He just told me that in his mission, there is also a Colombian nun who only speaks Spanish and who is managing an orphanage with a lot of difficulty and could most definitely use some help. Ha! Voila! So I will connect with her and go there when I am back from the Pays Dogon, where Patrick, who I used to work with in Washington, connected me with a local consultant who is connecting me with two solid NGOs there who might need help as well. Funny, how it took 6 days, but now I have enough options to keep busy. :-)

I guess I was just supposed to stay a few more days in Bamako not just to recover but also to meet up with Serre, connect with the consultant, and meet tonight's priest.

July 21st

6 days I am here already, and I don't feel I have accomplished or done much with my time.

Everyone says things are slower during Ramadan. I guess so. Perhaps I would have thought about it before and planned accordingly. Lesson learnt for the future when I go to a mainly Muslim country.

Have I mentioned how Bamako is like the empire of the rats?
Everywhere you look you see them. It is quite a incredible phenomenon, yet quite easily explainable: this is the first time I am on a developing world city and so not see a single cat or dog in the street. None. Absolutely none. Strange.

Now that I think of it, I will try and ask people when I have the chance as I am very intrigued.

But it was funny, last night when some of the nuns were walking in the patio, they had a little scare by a few rats passing by. Strange considering that this mission is like a rat HQ given how many of them they are all over. I myself have never ever seen so many big rats in a house before. Even if I tried to breed rats I would never get to that quantity. You hear them all day and night, fighting and screaming.

And so the head nun looked at me saying "I don't know what to do to get rid of them." My first thought was "get a gin and shoot them one by one, could actually be fun." But I figured it might not be the most appropriate thing to say to nuns. But now, I will tell them to just buy a cat. Why not?!

I spent most of the day at the cyber cafe, the connection was super slow today. Baye in Dakar was so funny. He was trying to convince me for hours to go back to Dakar for a week to get better and back in shape before heading back to Mali. Everyone in Dakar tried to do the same thing last night over the phone. Ah, I miss the gang!

Yesterday I finished a big book I started when I had fever and didnt want to read on my tablet. Today I am about to finish reading On the Road on my tablet. Final!y, I am getting tired of this book.

I went to get muy dinner where Dogon's sister sells already cooked dishes she has prepared. I got lots of pasta and beans. Hopefully it will help me gain weight a bit. That's my secret mission these days and until I get to Brazil. It's so easy for me to lose weight and yet the work of a life time to gain just a little bit. Ufff...

The whole day the sky was invisible, hidden behind a thick ugly grey layer of pure pollution. Welcome to Bamako! Yet another similarity with Dakha.

While I was reading outside after dinner, I met this nun who has been here for a few days but so I was sure was from Asia. So I finally asked her. It sao happens that she is from Alleppey in Kerala. I was so happy to meet her. Reminded me of our India days. So we chatted for a. It about Kerala and India. She was a bit surprised. She has been in Mali for 9 years now!!! As I was helping her and another Malian nun, I noticed they were speaking Italian to each other. It was because they are both from the same Italian congregation. I found it funny that an Indian nun from India ends up being helped by a French guy while packing with a Malian nun and speaking Italian. Another little trick of globalization.

Oh, I asked Dogon about the no cats and no dogs in the street. Seems to be because kids just kill them. Sometimes they even eat them. They are afraid of them. Strange culture. But I suppose it is smart in a weird way, less mouths to feed and less bug nests. Yet, that means more rats all around, and thus more dangerous bug nests as well. Hmmm...am not sure what to think of it just yet...

Funny late evening sitting on the outside wooden wobbly bench with Dogon and one of his older less educated brother. While Dogon was playing some kind of candy crush game on his cellphone, his older brother tried to start a conversation being smart and all. We ca!e to a point where for some reasons he told me in Mali there is a saying that says you never point your country with your left hand. When I asked him why, he gave me a example or so he said. "For example, no matter what country you are from, what is Tokyo like?" I told him it was nice, but a lot of buildings, concrete and cement. The asked me about Paris and I said I found it a bit nicer in some ways. And right away he said "well, that's why!". I kind of felt stupid, thinking I missed something. Lol. But no. Then I told him that in some other countries where people use their hands to eat, the left one is never used because it is the hand used for the toilet. He said right away " that's the same as what i was saying". Hmmm...OK. Anyhow, it was funny. Apparently there another saying in Mali that says that if you are not jealous in life then you were not supposed to be born. Hmmm...I saved the debate for another time...bed time.

OK, tonight I finally manage to sleep a bit though so far I am still coughing quite a lot and quite violently. :-(

July 20th

Finally I had enough strength to go to a pharmacy and talk to a doctor.

In Mali, the medical system seems to be like in the US, a total scam focused on generating cash only.

So the doctor didn't even look at me. I told him my symptoms and he told me to buy some medicine.

It was funny at one point, because he recommended I buy some specific brands. When I saw the prices I asked if they had generic brands instead. The said yes and gave them to me.,the price was a third of the one before. The doctor's reaction was "are you a fan of generic medicine?". I told him that I wasn't bit that I was a fan of not paying three times the price for a medicine when I can buy the exact same thing three times cheaper. In other words I do t like to be screwed.

So I went back home, made myself a little banana sandwich, (reminded me of our days riding trains in India with Angelina), and took my medicine.

I spent the whole day laying down again and reading my book.

In the afternoon, I met up, in front of the mission, with Abdullah, a young local who runs an association here to help kids, orphans, street kids and so on. They haven't really done much concrete yet, but I could feel the motivation and passion was there. So we chatted for a while, exchanging ideas.

I told him to gather as much info as possible to define a specific cause they want to work on and a specific problematic with figures to support it. Then, when they have more data gathered after door to door surveys, I will work with them on a few ideas to help the identified issues when I am back in Bamako.

Later in the evening, Dogon took me to get some food to go, and I went back home to eat and rest. I was beat.

I am really hoping I will sleep at last as I haven't slept for two days now. But I am having doubts. Seems I still have some fever.

Gosh, fevers in Africa are beyond those of any other part of the world.

I hope my cough stops as it is most definitely the cause of this fever, as well as the one on Indar I believe. Incredible! Such fever for a cough.

July 19th

I pretty much spent the whole day in bed. No strength to get up and still a strong fever. So I laid down all day reading a book. Lucky me Mary, the cook of the mission accepted to go buy some food for !e if I gave her some money. That way I could eat.

I was very surprised, though, that being in a catholic mission with quite a few nuns, and me laying down on the sofa in the hallway where they all have to pass to reach their floor, none of them even offered once to bring me some food or water. It really came as a big shock to me and made me wonder even more about their religion,  the reason why they joined the religion, and their mission as nuns.

It is even more strange as I am in such an incredibly hospitable country.

Oh well...my dorm mate, a Senegalese - Mauritanian Belgium guy about my age doing some research here had the same behavior. "Oh you have a strong fever and you can't move. You need to eat and drink a lot." But he never asked if I needed anything.

After thinking about it more, that is maybe why it made me miss the Camino so much. That spirit of a tight community looking out for each other.

But I try not to judge. As Goenkaji would say "They don't know. It's not their fault." So I try to be compassionate. Not an easy task.

Voila! That was my day.

Fever slightly went down during the afternoon, but then peaked back up starting in the evening.

July 18th

What a day!

This morning, I managed to join a group of French graduate students from Angers who have all come here within a city pairing agreement with Bamako. I had seen a little flyer at the cyber cafe where I go, and so I asked the owner. He then hooked me up.

And so I went this morning to help them on their community initiative which basically consists in renovating/mostly painting, the city hall building of this small town on the outskirts of the city. I had initially wondered why the city hall rather than a school or a community center but then I heard that the Bamako organizer had some political ambitions, so that explained...smart guy to get bunch of French people to come repaint his potential future office. Lol

The whole thing was quite badly organized for sure. Way to many volunteers and barely any equipment. But it did spark my interest for this kind of activity, pairing two cities together via student bodies and building up social and cultural projects around it.

In any case, while I was there scraping the walls, I got a call from the guy I had contacted via couch surfing. He was supposed to be in Bamako, but told me that instead he was based in Kalana, the exact same town where the Hermana Magdalena is. Some would call it a coincidence, I saw it as a sign. So it dis motivate me even more to go check it out.

When the two hours of work on that city hall were finished...yes, they only do two hours per day. Ufff! Shame! I headed back home for a good shower. I was covered in white cement.

I checked again for tickets to Brazil, but nothing new...overpriced for my meager budget.

I spent some times playing a bit with the kettle devilish kid of the mission. His name is Adams, he is around 5yrs old max. Such a character and a trouble maker.

Marie, the help/cook of the mission showed me a new place to eat. Since I got to Bamako, I haven't really had lunch since it is so hard to find food during the day time and since what I can find is usually not appetizing at all. So I had a nice poulet yassa. Expensive, but filling and nourishing, so it's OK.

Later I met with Petit Dogon to hang out and also to go get some passport photos done. I ran out of the after my Mali visa, and will,need some for Burkina as well as to renew my Mali visa and Senegal visa.

And then I went to mass again. Such a different experience from last night. Almost no one in the place. No songs, and no emotions. Just the loud noise of the fans covering up the voice of the priest.

But I stayed till the end. It made me feel good to be there. Yes, I still have a bit of the blues to be far from the Camino and far from Angelina. It shall pass.

On my way back home I started feeling feverish.

When i got home, the fever was at its peak. Beyond any kind of fever I have ever had before. My body was on fire. I was shivering because I felt so freezing cold. I went to lay down all wrapped up in sheets and shirts. (Yes, I am obviously not writing this on July 18th as I am in no condition to do so. I can't even walk, but on July 19th).

I was scared it would be malaria. Thankfully I had a similar fever in Indar, and it was just a fever. Let's hope for the same. The fever was so high that even talking was hurting. I just wanted to be home with my mom or with Angelina. But definitely as far from Mali as possible. Bummer...because I was here in Mali.

Astou called to check on me, as usual. This time she stayed on a bit given how sick I was. It was good to hear her voice. I wished I were at her house in Dakar. Would have been less painful for sure.

I just want the night to go by fast and the fever to go down...

July 17th

The highlight of the day today was to meet two nuns from Colombia. I was so happy to speak Spanish and be able to do so here. In a strange way, since I got to Mali, I haven't been feeling so good. The place is not making me feel happy.

The people are amazing, and the street scenes as well. But somehow, o don't feel at peace here. Something is bothering me very deeply.

I am not quite sure what it is. But since I left Spain and the Camino, I have not been feeling the same at all. There is something missing inside of me. Aside from Angelina's presence, off course, the energy of the Camino was really something magical. Giving without expecting anything in return. Sharing everything you have with everyone else. All being on the same boat. Walking together. And that magical sentence that we would say to each other day in day out: "buen Camino!".

I know I have been obsessed but my Camino experience since I got to Africa, and I should try to move away from it and leverage that to move forward. It is a work in progress. I think I just never though something like that could ever mark me so deeply. I have experienced numerous things in my life and along my backpacking trip, but without a doubt I can say that the Camino was the most incredible and intense experience.

So to go back to the Colombian nuns, after chatting for a while, and as they were on their way back home after 4 years of Mali, one of them connected me with another Colombian nun down south of Mali in another Catholic mission in a small gold mining village. So I spoke with that nun, Hermana Magdalena. And it seemed that she could use my help in her endeavor. So I am strongly considering going there for some time. After all, I was looking for a project to work on and help. That might just be it. I will however not rush any decision and see in a couple of days.

This morning, because the mission is so close to the cathedral, I decoded to go check it out. During the Camino, Angelina and I went to so many churches, cathedrals and masses. I figured, since I miss her and the Camino so much, it would be a good way to bring me back there for a minute.

Ufff, I didn't expect I would feel that way when I walked up the stairs of the cathedral and entered. It felt hard to breath, like a big ball stuck inside of me unable to get out. I even had tears come to my eyes. Very strong feelings. But somehow, it was almost as if all the emotions I had during the Camino came back and resurfaced, but with more intensity. And so I stayed there, sitting on the back bench reflecting and digesting the emotions...feeling happy about what the Camino have me, but also sad about it being finished.

For a few days now I have been pondering with the idea of cutting my trip through Africa short and heading to Brazil much much sooner.

Since I started traveling with Angelina, and the few times in between, and now without her, only makes me realize that once you have met the right one, there are some things that are just much better done together. Or at least I feel that way. Traveling alone now is not all that exciting. It feels dull almost. Ha! Maybe after actually being with someone for a long time one will feel the total opposite Lol but for now, I just feel like not postponing the start of my life with Angelina until December...quite a dilemma.

On the other end, I am in Africa now, and have always dreamt of being here. I haven't really given a chance to the place yet, so I don't want to be a quitter.

I looked on line for plane tickets, bit they are way to expensive anyway, so that's settles it for now I suppose. But everyday I wonder...perhaps I won't go to Burkina and will head home to Morocco to spend more time with my parents and fond some projects there.

Tonight I had decided to actually attend a mass at the cathedral. Again, to sort of being me back to the Camino and to Angelina. It is finny, because multiple times, during the Camino masses we attended, I was just there, sitting and standing hoping to feel something or at least feel part of it, but no. So after a while I just got over it and just went, because it was part of the Camino and in order to enjoy the full experience.

And the exact same thing happened tonight. I was there without really being there. I would sit and rise, but not pray, sing, or sign myself.  The mass was beautiful though. It so happened to be the day when all the priests of Mali were congregating, and so the cathedral was filled with black priests. And so to honor this, the mass had set up multiple songs sang by a live choir. Beautifully moving. I was also surprised by the modesty of the decoration in the cathedral. Almost nothing. Barely any paintings and sculptures.  That made me feel better after seeing the opposite in Spain.

When the mass was over, I walked back with the head nun from the mission. At that time a terrible storm road in the city. Apocalyptic! Everything was blowing and flying all over. Thick dusty air took over the pseudo oxygen. And then, as we arrived back at the mission, it started pouring a very heavy tropical rain. Wow! The strength of the downpour was incredible and sudden. But after an hour it was all back to normal...

Voila...quite an interesting day overall I suppose.

Bonne nuit!

July 16th...

[...]

Last night I forgot to mention that with Buba yesterday, we also went to the fetich market. Very interesting and way way way more impressive than the similar market in Morocco.

Tons of dead rotting bats, porcupines, goats, crocodiles, even rats. It was such a spectacle...a dark spectacle, but I had never seen this before. And the market was huge. Spread out over blocks and blocks, just in between kids cloths and hardwares. I was to shy to take photos that time, but I guess I will have to go back there sometimes to get at least one shot.

[...]

This morning I spent a couple of hours on internet, catching up at last. Lots of emails and messages.

I am not sure as to what my plan is in Mali yet, I just know I need to find some place to volunteer if I don't want to go crazy or depressed. And so I looked online...

It is incredible that it is so difficult to find an organization to volunteer when we are in one of the poorest countries in the world. Illogical.

I even asked the sisters at the mission for suggestions. The only thing the head sister told me was that she knew someone at the Toyota dealership who might need help with marketing. So much for the social impact.

For lunch, Petit Dogon walked me to another place. Same kind of place and food, but perhaps way more rats...and this time during day time.

The afternoon went by sort of quickly. I was tired, slept a bit and read.

For dinner, I had promised Dogon I would treat him to some dibi (roasted lamb like in Senegal), so we went there. Very interesting experience. In a dark alley, a shack on the side of the alley was all black of smoke. In it, this small lamb roasting, with a little TV screen in the corner which a bunch of people were squatting down on the curb and watching. We passed order and went across the street to wait and sit down. When the food was ready, they brought it over. And we ate on the aide of the extremely polluted road, seeing what we were eating thanks to Dogon's cell phone flash light...

That dibi was definitely not as good as the ones we ate in Dakar...

July 15th...chaotic Bamako

In many aspects Bamako reminds me of Dhaka in Bangladesh. So much chaos and poverty. No real infrastructure...though I would say that perhaps Dhaka is more developed. But Malians are just as welcoming and kind as Bangladeshis.

After my long nap, I shook myself and got up to go for a long walk in the city. No map, no landmark. Just hoping I would find my way home somehow later on. I always proceed like that. I always get lost that way. But I also always end up somehow finding my way back home.

And so off I went...aiming to start by walking along the river. A big disappointment as there is absolutely nothing, in Bamako, of interest along the river. Nothing. I was even shocked.

Anyhow, later on, as I approached the famous Maison de Jeunes, I met this rasta guy called Buba. Nice dynamic guy who offered to show me around the city. Why not? I tried to make him understand as early on as possible that I was not gonna pay any guide of any sort. So he'd better be doing this free. And he did. Him and his buddy, just walked around the whole city to show me every market and corner. It was interesting, but way to fast. They literally just kept walking, no cultural explanations. So all I got was visual discovery. I will have to walk those markets again on my own later.

I think that if I smoked tobacco or weed, and if I had any budget for liquor, them and I would have bonded a lot more and have become closer friends. But no...since I don't do any of these things, it perhaps made me a bit boring for them, I don't know...

We also went by the Carrefour des Jeunes, where luckily, a couple of old timers from the area were rehearsing some pretty good tunes. We hung around the big tree where they were playing. Relaxing. Had I been alone, I would probably have stayed there all day.

After a while of hanging out with them a bit everywhere, I decided to take off and head back home. I was beat, sweaty, and thirsty.

When I got home, after a good cold shower (finally here there is cold water, and only cold water), I walk out the door of the catholic mission and met this young guy who offered me to show me where to grab a bite to eat. I must admit, since kit is Ramadan here, it is quite a challenge to find food. And plus, the neighborhood where I am does not have a single restaurant nor sandwich place. So it is almost like a hunt when I need to eat. And so, this kid, Amadou, also nicknamed Petit Dogon as he is from the Pays Dogon, showed me around, hung out with me while I ate some already cooked street food sold from Tupperware on a side table surrounded by rats and still water. I am dead serious!

Then we walked back together and hung out in front of the mission, sitting on a bend and chit chatting about life and stuff. He happens to love photography and would like to make a career off of it some day. Tomorrow he will show me his work.

Now I am dead tired. Very long first day! Not sure I am a fan of Bamako, but am here and will make the best of it.

Night night...

July 14th...a long way to Mali...

July 14th...

What a long day to get to Bamako!!!

I woke up in Indar. The sky was very low and threatening. The whole village took quite a while to wake up. For once I was among the first few to be awake and up.

I could have rushed out and taken off by 8am like I initially thought I would do, but because I wanted to say some sort of goodbye to the villagers, I took my time. Marie and her 1 yr old daughter Sofia were the ones I had the hardest time to say goodbye. I like Marie because she is the only I really felt was working everyday. And she has such a nice smile and voice. And well, Sofia is adorable, and so cute when she breaks a dance.

I wish I could have said bye to Bernard and the kids up in Ethiwar. I felt bad about not doing so. But the plan we had all committed to was to go to Ethiwar today and tomorrow ad for me to depart from the village Wednesday at the earliest. But since as usual, neither Yohan nor the Bediks can keep their word, the plan fell apart. So in the end, I didn't really feel bad about an unplanned departure. On the contrary actually, I was getting tired about stalling surrounded by constant unambitious drunks. Don't get me wrong, the Bediks are amazingly nice people, but if only they could be reasonable on liquor and tobacco.

So it is relieved and free that, after sitting under the big mango tree for almost 45 minutes for a ride to pick me up, I decided to hit the road walking and hope that someone would soon or later pick me up.

Just like my first day, after an hour, I got lucky, a truck stopped by and picked me up. Interesting ride.

The truck owner, quite well educated since he actually owns a truck and can speak a very good French, reinforced my frustration with regards to the complacent, lazy, and educational waste mentality and behavior of those minority ethnicities of the region. Indeed, when talking about challenge and problematics for the local farmers, the pick up owner dared telling me that the situation was very difficult because locals need partners from the West, and also because it is impossible to farm well given how often cows end up all over the seeded land eating the seedings.

He was so dumb when just saying that alone it is not possible. They need western partners. Though I was unable to obtain a single tangible argument as to why.  And well I told him that farmers could just build up fences, and cattle herders could just monitor them closer and or tie them up, he didn't know what to say other than it is impossible.

There are so many simple basic solutions, but they couldn't seem to see them or even conceive them.

It just upset me to much to feel that they want others to do the work for them and they will wait for this to happen.

Anyhow, they dropped me off in Kedougou where they showed me where to inquire about vans to the Mali border town of Malasa.

It didn't take long until I found one. But I kind of got into a miscommunication argument about the price with the owner so I took off and hoped for another way.

The owner of the shop where I hung around told me that there are some big commercial trucks coming from Gambia going all the way to Bamako, but that they are infrequent. So he didn't know when would the next ones show up. Today, tomorrow, next week...

By luck, his son was also heading my direction, the town just before the border, and so he helped me get a seat in the van he was going to ride in.

The ride was not that long, but it was definitely hot. Our destination was this giant ghetto town of gold diggers who built this huge slum in the middle of nowhere, with no access to water nor electricity, but where the soil is supposed to be rich in gold. Or at least used to be rich in gold when only a few people moved in. Now it is easily tens of thousands of people who live there. Quite surreal!

Once there, the place where to get a car to drive all the way to the border was quite far, but since I was quoted a price way to high, I decided to walk. What the hell!? No way I was going to pay two dollars to do a few kms! Even if in the criminal heat and sun and even if crossing the whole slum.

This slum is supposedly composed of Malians and Burkinabes who came here out of desperation for gold. And surprisingly, though it is a slum which at times looked quite scary and strange, its people were super nice and welcoming. Everyone greeted me and welcomed me there. Ha! When I think that in the West, such behavior would never happen, it seems that the world is so upside down. The most educated people in the world would maybe need serious people interaction education in order to learn how to behave in society.

She I finally made it to the place where the transportation cars are, a guy on a motorcycle approaches me: Hello Mr white man!

I really expected all of Africa to be a bit like Asia, where people approach you with the main objective to make money off of you. But gosh am I wrong.

This guy asks me where I want to go. He checks his gas level and tells me to jump on. My reflex is to first ask him how much he wants. He got a bit offended, saying he never mentioned any money.

OK, I jump on and he drives the 25 km that separate us from Mali. He was actually from Burkina Faso. He just wanted to be kind and helpful to someone the same way someone helped him years back when he first arrived in the country. Beautiful west Africa and its extreme kind hospitality.

The border passport check point was funny. Just basically a small room with a big messy table, and this guy suffering from the heat. He even wished me a happy Bastille Day! (I had totally forgotten) that was for the Senegal exiting part. The Mali entry was in an even smaller room. Two guys dying of heat, barely able to read my passport. They almost didn't even pay any attention to my presence while looking at my passport as they were so caught up in their own conversation. I got my stamp and left. Voila! Welcome to Mali. Easy as that.

Right away I found where to catch the bus to get to Bamako. I was told that if I am lucky, the ride will not take more than 8 hours. Hmmm...not the most comforting of precision.

The guy running the bus ticket booth was this super nice guy. A semi pro soccer player who didnt make it to play pro soccer in Europe like his friends for lack of financing. But he is sticking to his plan and saving up little by little, when his mom, his sisters and his fiancee don't suck up all his money.

The bus was as basic as can get. I was sitting on the front row seat next to this 19yr old kid from Bamako who works as a jeweler in Keniebe by the border. Not much of a talker but very well educated and polite.

At one point, we took a break in the dark where tons of food stalls were selling their stuff thanks to flashlights. I wandered around a bit lost trying to find a snack and something to drink. After a while we went back in. He had bought two drinks and enough meet for the two of us, and just gave me the bottle, opened the bag of meet on the seat, and just told me "eat!". That's the first word he spoke. So I did. Was delicious. And I was starving. The rest of the ride was smooth. A couple of army check points here and there. We arrived in Bamako by 1:30am. He told me to follow him that if I didn't mind I could sleep on the floor of where his uncle works and that by 6:30am we would have to take off. Okidoki for me! He laid a foam mat and a dirtyish sheet on the floor of a pseudo classroom in this old building. Thank god there was a fan. I fell asleep right away. I was disgusting of dirt and sweat from the whole day of walking and bussing.

By 7am we had taken off, and I was in a cab on my way to the catholic mission dorm. But it is now July 15th.

It was so nice to see nuns again, after Spain. It reminded me of the Camino. Though here, they are not really talkative nor sharing. No real interaction at all unfortunately. Oh well. I fort my bed, showered, did some laundry and took a long nap...

July 13th...

Another day of lazing around reading and resting.

I am now reading On the Road...not a big fan. To much time spent on details which to my opinion don't necessarily add to the story.

Oh, this afternoon i discovered that the palm wine (the actual tree name is ronier) is illegal. It seems that the people producing it and taking it through the jungle got caught today and heavily fined. But I guess it didn't stop them. At sun down, the village still got its daily supply of wine for the pleasure of all...

Around the time of the mass, I got caught in the middle of a very interesting conversation with Xavier who just passed his Baccalaureate last week. I was making the point about the fact that the Bediks spent a lot of time and money every day drinking, rather than a dually farming or opening up businesses like their Muslim neighbors. He didn't seem to like much my observation. Being drunk didn't help at all of course! But I tried to push my point as much as possible. His drunk arguments were interesting, but unfortunately, I guess being drunk didn't help make the conversation all that productive or impactful. In other words, according to him, the Bediks don't necessarily have any problems other than perhaps health. And there still, his argument was so ridiculous. Apparently the villagers have never been tonight about malaria prevention and hence believe that using a mosquito net is the only solution. It kind of upset me when he said that, especially when you see all the villagers wearing all sorts of t-sirts from various NGO programs in the village in the past.

It's just like the way they do not take care of their belongings. Well, they don't really care about their health. Today is today Why worry about tomorrow.

I am slowly starting to understand why it is that perhaps all the big organizations like a Peace Corps and all do not Ru any project with the Bediks....they would probably be wasting their time. Hmmm...

Tonight was the big world cup final. Germany vs Argentina. Shame that Argentina lost, though the German goal was spectacular. It was fun to watch the game on the small TV screen though. Between the snow on the low quality screen and the flies, following the ball was a total challenge.

According to thew christian/animist believes of the villagers, they were expected a very special mask to come down from the mountain and inspect the village. When this happens, the tradition wants that the mask does not find a single soul outside, or else it throws stones and becomes a not violent. (I personally believe that this is purely to scare off the young ones...but I couldnt manage to find out. These things seem to be top secret in their culture).

But when we heard the mask noise coming from afar, I swear, everyone ran like mad to hide in their house. And not a single noise until the mask was gone.

The whole time I tried to peak through the window to see what the mask looked like, but no luck.

The noise it was making was a bit scary though, I must admit. What a shame! In would really have loved to see what that mask looks like.

Tonight everyone was way to drunk to carry on the plan we had talked about to go to Ethiolo for a couple of days, so I will most definitely be departing the village for Mali tomorrow. So let's get some good rest as tomorrow will be a long day!

July 12th...slowly...

Not much happened today.

Went up to Ethiwar to visit Bernard and his family and bring them some cola nuts. I missed his kids a lot and was so happy to play with them under the big tree. They didn't want to let me go when I decided to walk back down with Bernard. Apparently they even screened for !e to stay and live there with them. They were so cute. All of them climbing on top of me, each trying his/her best to catch my attention.

I learnt about the "sevrage" process in the Bedik culture. In the West this is when a new mom slowly trains her baby to stop being breast fed and transition over to the bottle. With the Bediks, this process consist in not only getting the baby used to no more breast feeding but also no mom. Indeed, for a whole week the mom will stay in another village. Tough one!

Once we reached back Indar, at sun down, I walked around Indar, Baniang, and Bandafasi with Bernard, family by family, as he was communicating to people the time and day of the next mass.

And in the evening, after dinner, i watched Brazil lose its bronze medal opportunity at the world cup...we were all sitting on the dirt floor, outside one of the hits, and watching the mini tv screen standing on a small table. sitting on the dirt floor in between huts, all of us.

July 11th...recovering

Last night Eunice called me from Trinidad. It had been so long since we last spoke. I was sooooooo happy to hear her voice and catch up with her. We spent almost an hour on the phone. (Good thing none of us had to pay for the communication. Lol)

Anyhow, because she is flying to Rio today for work, and because of her little weakness for Argentinian men, we ended up briefly talking about Argentina. And thus, strangely enough, I woke up seriously thinking that I was in Buenos Aires, and thrilled, because I had a great idea to do something I think good for homelessness. A project I will definitely dig deeper when I am more settled. Building simple assemblable and foldable house-looking carton sheds from carton scraps collected in the streets and dumps. I know today most restaurants and organizations have companies contracted to pick up all the carton scraps at the end of each day. Just not sure what they do with them yet. The format would be small, just to fit one or two individuals. A second bigger option could exist to fit a small family...sitting on the floor, not standing up.

The carton scraps could be collected and slightly refitted and waxed on one side, just to provide some waterproofness.

But the main thing to first find out is: do homeless individuals actually need to have a more decent looking shed than just a few pieces of carton arranged as can be? I have often read that being clean, groomed, and having something that instills a modest sense of pride and comfort to own and show for are some of the basic elements for a homeless to regain confidence and dignity. Is that necessarily true everywhere? No clue.

Aside from that I didn't do much today other than recovering slowly while sitting around in the shade and reading some.

I came to a little realization today regarding the Bediks. They don't seem to have any notion of caring for the things they own. In a way, they live like rich people. Why bother caring for their things today when they can buy new ones tomorrow for cheap? What a controversy!!! The most surprising is that they are fully aware of this.

July 10th...relieved

Today was a better day. Though I had intended on going to take the malaria test first thing in the morning, there was a tourist couple staying at the campement who were driving to Kedougou to send some emails and offered Yohan and I to tag along. Perfect. Free ride, and WiFi synch of my tablet. Good to catch up with the world a bit, though no news from my family at all. Sad.

Anyhow, I also took advantage of the ride to buy 20 liters of water, vitamin C and more mosquito spray. Ready for the jungle again. Hehe!

It was weird to be in a pseudo developed city again after two weeks away. Not sure I liked it, though being able to buy fruits and veggies whenever I want is such a treat.

When we got back to Indar I did ta the test. The interaction with the interim kid subbing for the doctor who was in Kedougou for the day was quite interesting and representative of the lethargic effortless behavior of countryside villagers and hence why there doesn't seem to be any potential of improvement.

In any case, the test came out negative. What a relief. It is probably just a bad cold or bronchitis. I showered, changed, took a gram of paracetamol, and a gram of vitamin C, and we ate lunch.

We all rested after lunch. The early afternoon was hot and humid. Amadou prepared some tea which took forever to be ready. The tourist couple decided to drive to the waterfall of Dindefelo (where I intended to bike to and spend a couple of days this week). Yohan and Amadou were offered to join. I jumped on the opportunity to go as well, that way I would check out the place and know whether biking all the way there would be a waste of time.

July 9th...rough day

Uffff...I definitely caught something. I woke up with the worst headache and quite feverish. I didnt feel like talking to anyone. I just wanted to take off, yet stayed a bit because I wanted to experience the early morning in the village.

The breakfast was only a cup of coffee and a couple of cookies. Of well, what to expect for USD2?!

Soon after I took of. The sky was very and quite threatening. I just hoped it wouldn't rain. I was not in the mood for that.

A kid led me to the trail to get to the next hill village of Andiel. Slight same scenario as to get up to Iwol, but this time, the trail was way harder and hidden and I definitely thought I had gotten lost many times. Or perhaps it was the threat of snakes that worried me the most. The potential of already having Malaria was bothering me enough to the get bitten by a poisonous snake. Anyhow...what else was I gonna do. I kept on hiking and jumping from tock to rock to try not to walk into the grass. I definitely got a serious sweat out of it. The views of the valley were incredible.

When I finally got atop the hill, I was so frustrated as I was convinced I had accidentally looped bad to Iwol. I felt so stupid. I kept walking into the village and happily realized that no, I had made it to Andiel. At last. But as expected, barely anyone in the village other than the old women and new mums with their new born.

I was so feverish I needed water. My two bottles were empty. So I asked where to find the well pump. "Down" they replied. Ufff...I didn't feel like walking around the village more and so made my way "down" hoping that it was not all the way down. Hmmm...it actually was all the way down. :-(  allllll the way down in the valley. As I was hiking down, I couldn't believe that women would actually climb all this way with buckets on top of their heads. Seemed inhumane for an NGO to have dug a well pump down there when the village is all the way up. Why?! (The pump was built by the Saudi Arabia Fund for Development...no comment)

Once I got my bottles filled and purified, I went to salute the woman who was farming nearby. She had something to her her smile. I should have known. She told me her name was Angel. When she saw I had fever she told me to go lay down by her hut under the tree, she would come up later to check on me.

So I went. It felt good to be in the shade. I watched her beautiful kids play around. Soon after se came up and brought over a bamboo mat she laid down on the floor and told me to rest and nap a bit. She would come by again later and bring me food.

The place was dream like. A big tree in the middle of the valley. A hut, couple of kids running and laughing around.

I went in and out of sleep for a good 2 to 3 hours. She later came by to see my photos of Ethiwar. She happened to be Bernard's cousin and used to live in Ethiwar. She was so happy to see everyone on the photos.

Then she went to a "corvee" nearby while her three kids where caring for each other. The 11yr old daughter was the one cooking for all three...and coincidentally for me as well. But I had zero appetite.

Later on I asked Angel if like the rest of the women, she was selling jewelry. She said yes with a big smile. Her stuff was up in the village. She actually ran up and down to bring it back to me. I felt it would be a nice way to thank her to buy a couple of pieces from her. So I bought a few things for Angelina from Angel. :-)

After resting, I felt strong enough to get up and walk...ufff...the sun was high up and strong. But I had to get going. I just wanted to shower up and lay down on a mattress. So I left. It was a long walk, in the dry hot sun hoping all along that I was on the right path and that Indar would pop up in the horizon soon.

After an hour and a half of walking, passing by the Patassy military training camp, I got lucky when some guy offered to give me a ride on his motorcycle.

It was good to arrive back at the campement. I showered and changed in the open air bathroom because Yohan, my hut mate had locked it while he went to Kedougou for the day. So then I just went to hang out in the tree roots with the guys, and rest.

The evening went by quick. A tourist couple from Dakar arrived. They seemed cool. He from Senegal and she from france. They apparently ordered a little baby goat to be grilled for dinner. We ate it all together. It was the worst goat I ever ate. Barely cooked. I forced myself though as I wanted to make sure to gain strength and most importantly, to not loose any weight over whatever bug I had caught.

Tomorrow I will go take the Malaria test. Strangely enough, after being so sick and losing so much weight in Nepal, the potential of having malaria didn't so much scare me for the excruciating pain, vomiting, or high fever, but rather for the sole risk of losing more weight.

Finally I am in bed. I just hope tomorrow will be better. I miss Angelina.

A demain...

July 8th...Iwol!

As I am seeing lots of young fathers and family heads just here doing absolutely nothing day after day, sitting by a tree, I am thinking about the industry of remittances and how the Asian culture is so much different from the African culture. Let me explain myself.

In Asia, young men or most men in age of working, with a little bit of smarts and motivation, will be willing to sacrifice their family life at home to travel abroad and work hard to make enough money year over year to send back home via remittances to help support their family. That way, entire villages in Asia manage to grow economically and in terms of infrastructure. Micro enterprises open up. Kids get schooled. Villagers have access to more information, and most importantly, the growing generations have higher and higher ambitions. This often creates entire villages of women farmers and entrepreneurs, which does inevidently increase and improve the role of women in society.

I went through so many villages in Bangladesh, India, and even Nepal where I saw a clear majority of women vs men, and when I asked why, I was told that the men were working abroad either in Dubai, Qatar, or the capital.

Here, no one is missing. Maybe only a couple of men are working in Dakar, but the rest of the men are just here doing nothing but drinking, smoking, and sitting around waiting for the day to pass.

When I ask them what they want to do they mention some low ambitious careers, which still require a minimum level of education. Yet for the majority, they seem to refuse to seriously commit to going to school or to even catch with the years of schooling they missed. It is not as if, like in Asia, going to school meant not helping your patents generate money in the farms, since here, the farming season is relatively short due to strong dependency on rain water.

I find this all so discouraging and frustrating. There is most definitely no impression of any kind of desire to improve their livelihood, but rather to continue being complacent. Everyone in the village is wearing each day different T-shirt imprinted by some past NGO or Foundation projects. Does it mean that the village and its livelihood is on its way to reach Asian or even Latin American countries? If you ask me, my answer is a clear NO.

On the other hand, are the people unhappy? Not necessarily. So is complacency negative? Perhaps not. But comparatively speaking, what a contrasting shock with my journey through Asia where you feel this constant vibrating need to improve and grow. You do feel a sense of fatigue and struggling at the same time, whereas here, in eastern Senegal, I wouldn't necessarily say, but rather that it feels that the villagers are waiting for something to happen, or for some new NGO to do something for them.

I definitely have a strong feeling that all the aid organizations pouring millions of dollars every year to help Africa are taking the wrong approach. Do I have a solution? Not sure, other than perhaps asking the locals what they want and crafting the solution with them rather than offering the things they might not even need.

I have been here for almost two weeks and it seen a single Peace Corps kid come around the villages yet. Yet, there are a ton of them located in Kedougou, 15km away in the regional capital. What are they doing? I don't know. Especially when the villages where I am now are part of the ethnical minority and have a definite need of training on farming techniques and livelihood. The villagers sont really have any source of revenue. They don't produce enough crop to make a real growing business out of it. And malaria is definitely constantly hitting the population. Sad, when the fertile land is far from missing, the vitality and energy could be here, and the natural environment produced way enough herbs and such to produce natural mosquito repellant.

Is the fact of having a very cheap malaria medicine available in every village a real solution for people to change their behavior a start really wanting to make an effort to protect themselves from malaria? I have my doubt...

Anyhow, these are thoughts I had this morning while sitting inside of the comfy roots of the big central tree of the village while observing the "life" of the village.

My plan for today was actually to depart from Indar and head to Iwol, the largest Bedik village in the region.

Lethargic me, I took off at 1:30pm, for a 7km walk in the sun, on the red laterite powder road. Ufff...it was only 7km but felt twice longer, like many of those days on the Camino, when we were convinced that the authorities measured it all wrong. Anyhow...the 7km was OK compared to the climb up I then had to take to get all the way on top of the mountain where the village is located. The fake thief pseudo guides at Ibel, before attacking the hike up, tried to convinced me that I would need their help to get up there. Honestly, when someone tells me the village is atop the 600m high mountain, after the trails in Nepal, it is almost a joke. All I got to do is hike up towards the clearly visible top. Trail or no trail. Oh well...just makes the hike a not spicier. Especially since the hills are like bumps and not chains of mountain. So no way to get lost. Just go up until you can no more.

Anyhow...on top of that the wild trekking I did in Indonesia help me improve my instinct quite about in the jungle. And as soon as I saw an old woman carrying logs of wood on her head while pulling a family of goats up, I knew I was on the right track.

And when I arrived at the top...wow! What a surprise! It was like seeing one of those villages they create specifically for movies like Lord of the Ring. Spectacular and timeless. Removed from the world.

Not many toubab, white people, go through the village usually, so they were a bit weirded out and shocked to see me appear, especially on my own without a guide.

Though most young people were in the field, farming, the people left in the village were mostly the younger kids and the older women. These women were as traditional as can get. Bare chested. Ears covered in piercings. Nose pierced with a long tooth pick, bull ring style. Hair braided and covered colorfully. Kids running around naked everywhere. Goats of all sizes all over. Some of the women stomping millet using a wooden mortar and a long wooden pole. Some women breast feeding their babies. Other women pumping water down the hill. Others bringing back buckets of water on their head.

Because I know that it is farming season, I know that the resat of the village is out farming and will be back in a couple of hours to celebrate.

I knew there was a sort of old campement called Jean Baptiste. So I looked for it. I expected it to actually look like a mini campement with the infrastructure of it. To my good surprise, not at all. It was just a couple of huts like any other almost, among the rest of the village.

I found it. Knew that Jean Baptiste was in Dakar, so chatted with his daughter(s?) to find out about price and meals. The daughters were laughing because they had no clue. It was so cute and funny. Finally they told me the price for a bed and two meals. 1,000CFA! Cheaper would be free. Lol

So I drop my bags, and walk with one of them to fill up a couple of buckets of water further down. The place was magical. The water pump was not as easy as Indar's, so I helped a few women to fill up their buckets. Took advantage to get a mini work out done that way. Hehe

After that, I just walked around alone. I just wanted to walk everywhere and discover every little secret corner the place seemed to have. My favorite spot was atop a big rock under the cheese tree. It so happened to be near the blacksmith of the village, and also in front of the place where the "corvee" mask takes his rest and changes. But best of all, I have an overlooking view of the village. Beautiful!

So I sat there for hours, taking a few photos but also soaking up the village vibe and activities as the farmers were coming back.

Bunch of kids came up to me to chit chat. After a while, it was getting late. As the sun was setting, the men were finishing up the palm wine that had just arrived fresh from the valley before getting ready for the evening of singing and dancing.

I walked back to the campement, showered, and sat down, watching the women shower their babies, and prepare the dinner. The moon was rising up, almost full, casting just enough light to be able to fully distinguish the silhouettes of everyone.

Then dinner was ready. We all sat around, men with men, women with women and kids. Absolute silence.

I was tired. I finished eating and went to bed.

I hope the mosquito net holds strong, and that the bad ass ugly duck walking around doesn't try to walk into my room.

Sweet kind of quiet dreams and we can hear the party starting a few houses down the village. I am too tired to stay up and check it out.

Bonne nuit!

On the move again...eastern Senegal!

...the Pays Bassari...

July 1st, 1:30pm, sitting on the bed of Auberge Thomas Sankara in Kedougou, where I finally arrived after a 17hr bus ride from Dakar.

After the luxury of the dorms in Dubai and in Turkey, of the Camino in Spain, of staying at Andrea's in Madrid, and at Astou's in Dakar, I am now back on the adventure trail again.

17 hours of non AC non ventilated windowless full bus ride with an outside temperature of 35 degrees celcius and 70% humidity. And the bus seats felt like they were made for dwarves. Just imagine...

My skin was so sticky and moist, it felt like I was in a bath of liquid syrup. Simply uncomfortably gross...but that is the taste of adventure. The ride brought so ma y flash backs of my trip through Asia...yet with a lot of nostalgia of the Camino. In a way I am glad I only have 5 months left of traveling alone, because I really can't picture myself traveling without Angelina anymore.

Despite it all, the bus ride had some fun moments.
*As soon as I boarded, I met 4 Peace Corps volunteers, who invited me to join them to plant trees tomorrow and celebrate 4th of July with them. So why not...
*Early this morning, because of the torrential rain, we saw a commuter car carrying 7 passengers almost drowned all the way into a muddy rain-created puddle which we were just about to try to go through as well.
*I had a doubt whether our bus driver was born with a brain or not: aside from breaking down twice through the night, he stayed almost an hour watching the commuter car being stuck in the puddle wondering how in the world we would make it through when no more than 10 meters to the right there was a perfectly flat and paved road.
*And I spent a bit of time chatting with this guy from the Gambia, in Spanish because he actually lives in Malaga. Funny...a French guy speaking Spanish with a guy from the Gambia in Senegal...

And so, now I finally found a hotel room...wouldn't really call that a hotel, nor a room...but hey, there is a fan, a bed, and running water. What else do I need? Oh, and for the Vipassana meditators the name of the hotel is Sankara...I found that interesting, hence why I chose to stay here.

So now since I haven't eaten anything since yesterday lunch, I will walk around to find some stuff to eat...especially mangoes!!!

(...)

The first thing I did when I walked out of my hostel was to go to the Ministry of health and social action. The name sounded like the perfect place to inquire about opportunities to offer my time to volunteer on projects. When I introduced myself and told them what I was a there for, they looked at me like I were from another planet. Then they finally got it and started taking about several projects going on. Interesting projects actually. But I quickly realized that being a government organization, it would probably take ages for them to make any decision and to allow me to help them. They took my info and said they would call me tomorrow. Hmmm...why not?!  Later on I dis the same thing with another place called the center for regional community development. They also took my info...oh well...

As usual, when I arrive in a new town, even though I should take the time to first eat and hydrate myself, I once again walked for hours, to venture a bit everywhere in order to get my marks, sort of, and get a grasp of what the town/city is like. Hmmm...the guidebooks call Kedougou a backwater town. Yeah right! Well, technically yes, there is a river running behind the town. But it has absolutely nothing of what I would call a back water town...especially compared to Kerala in India. I know I know...I shouldnt compare.

Anyhow...I walked for hours in the burning sun. Through the markets, along the river bank, in some sort of townships. This town is huge, it's a fact.

I am very curious to know how much different the town would be outside of Ramadan. Yes, I forgot to mention that today is the second day of Ramadan. Which makes me think a lot of last years Ramadan, when I was alone in Banda Aceh, in Indonesia, for the first night and woke up on time for the first evening prayer and walked the streets to see the sea of Muslims coming in and out of the main mosque. Such a beautiful spectacle. Though I had the strength to fast for the first three days of Ramadan last year, after all the weight I lost in Nepal and how hot it is here, I am in no condition to follow any fast this year. I need to gain weight!

So, after walking for hours in the heat...I finally decided to stop at the main grocery store in town to buy a half litter of cold Coke. Astou made me realize that I shouldn't be uncomfortable eating and drinking in front of fasting Muslims during Ramadan as it is part of what the Ramadan is about, resisting to temptations and accepting those who do not fast. And so I drank that whole bottle of cold Coke as if it were the holy grail because I was so hot and thirsty. And to my surprise, it didn't seem to bother anyone around. Later on, as I was walking through the market, I bought a huge mango. The first food I would eat since yesterday lunch at Astou's. I didn't have time to buy any food before boarding the bus.

When walking back to my hostel after buying the mango, this very tall young guy approaches me, asking me if I need any help and if he can show me around his house and the town. The guy is so suspicious. He right off the bat invites me over to meet his family so that we can build trust. Weird! And then even dares proposing to take me to places where I can see different artisans, schools, and babies who are suffering and dying. What the hell!? This guy is definitely not saying the right things to build any trust. I tell him I am tired and on my way home. Maybe tomorrow. Yeah right!

When night fell, I came out of my room, well decided to go eat some more consistent food. Surprised I met three young French girls who are volunteering in the local health center. We started chatting and then went to grab a bite the four of us. They gave me a concrete picture of the local health conditions of the medical system in the town. An extremely scary and disastrous situation. Beyond anything I had experienced in Kolonodale in Sulawesi last year. I really hope I never ever need to get anything done in a local health center.

We ate in this dark outdoor place, away from the center and near the hostel. Couldnt even really see what we had in our plates.

Today was the very first day I am really alone again since I left Turkey. More than a month ago. A month with my Angelina and then time with Andrea and Astou. So I have bee feeling quite blue all day, not really knowing what to do to cheer myself up. So meeting these three foreigners from France helped a bit. And then, cherry on the cake, as if  the universe had heard my prayers, Angelina calls me on my cell. It was such a huge relief! As if my heart was being glued back together all of a sudden. So despite the terrible internet signal we managed to video Skype for a few minutes. Enough to make me smile before going to sleep.

Tomorrow is another day...

July 2nd...

Life is just incredible!

It is now 10:15pm. I am in the village of Bandafasi, laying down on the bamboo mat bed of the hut of the night guard of the village who has allowed me to sleep in his hut at night for as long as I want. The hut is about 4 meters diameter with a straw cone roof. One electric plug, a small TV with one channel, a mosquito net, a couple of buckets of water for drinking, washing, and toilet, and two doors.

I wanted adventure, and so I am behaving accordingly to get it: gutsy and determined.

Kedougou is the main province of the south eastern part of Senegal, and thus the largest town of the region. 15km away is the main Bedik ethnic village of Bandafasi. Since I wanted to visit both the Bedik ethnicity and the Bassari ethnicity, Bandafasi would be my next stop.

I woke up a bit late this morning. The monsoon was pouring outside, so why would I rush out. Still, I took the time to clean up, work out a bit, and even meditated for the first time since I left Turkey. (My allergies in Spain totally prevented me from any meditation)

I left my room by noon. Probably the worst time to be outside. Oh well...

Since I had not heard back from the Peace Corps kids, not from the other tow places where I had offered my help, why would I waste time in this town which is definitely two big and commercial to my taste.

I paid my room and was given the direction to Bandafasi. So I started walking. After the Camino, any distance less than 25km sounded like a piece of cake to do in half a day. So 15km would not take more than 2.5 hours. And so I got walking, with my back pack on, the sun vertical above my head and the sky cleared from any risk of rain for the rest of the day.

On my way, I passed all the Peace Corps kids. Felt like the town was invaded by greengos. A lot of them all over the town. I guess Kedougou was the place where all the Peace Corps kids of Senegal had decided to gather and spend their independence day. I just didn't imagine that there would be so many of them.

Anyhow, I kept walking. And locals kept waving and giving me big smiles. The day was beautiful and the contrast between the green trees, the bright red of the earthy ground and the blue sky was magnificent.

So far the animals in this country have really surprised me. The sheep's here are not only huge but their faces look like the goats we have in  Morocco. The donkeys I have seen look like dwarf donkeys. The birds are beautiful. Since Indonesia, monkeys scare me quite a bit, so hopefully I won't cross any on the road. It's pretty much my only concern. Well...that and lions...but I just try to ignore them and consider that as long as I see people and cattle running free, the threat of lions is far away. (Yet a few people have warned me that this part of Senegal is crowed with lions).

About 8 to 10km in, this kid on a motorcycle offers to give me a lift. Though I was really decided on walking, I changed my mind and decided to jump on the bike to see where the flow would lead. I obviously got to the village much much faster. Once there, I found a huge tree right in front of the mosque and the main grocery store where I sat down to drink some water and rest for a bit. Silly me I left Kedougou without eating any breakfast or lunch, not buying any food. Only water.
After a short rest, as I get up to walk through the town, I meet Babacar. In the village they nicknamed him the tall guy, though I think I am taller than him. Anyway, Babacar is actually from Saint Louis, so he is from the Wollof ethnicity. Here in the village he is the night guard for this UNESCO cultural village project. So when I asked him where I could find a place to sleep for the night, he kindly offers me his hut as he doesn't sleep in it during the night anyway. And when I asked him where I could find something to eat, he tells me to follow him.

Soon he introduces me to the bread maker of the town where I can buy two small baguettes. I meet the bread maker's wife who sells fish in the village, and his mom who sits me down and offers me handfuls of peanuts. I quickly nicknamed her Madame Tiga (miss peanut in the local dialect). She laughed. The family is beautiful.

Then we walk to the grocery boutique where I buy more water and two cans of sardines. The most nourishing food I could find.

I found so amazing that though most of the village is Muslim and thus fasting during the day, the family offered me to eat peanuts and Babacar invited me to eat sardine sandwiches inside his hut in front of him.

I spent the whole afternoon chatting with Babacar about his life and culture as well as the village history. He only got here a couple of years ago. He has 8 kids from several wives. He used to be a successful wood artisan before living in the village but since he moved here, the village has forbidden him from working the wood as he is not from the wood carvers caste. Incredible system. I will try to understand better how it works tomorrow and why he prefers to stay here rather than somewhere else where he could work wood again. He also explains to me that he pays about $14 of rent each month and even has a maid who cleans his hut and fills up his buckets of water every day for a $10 monthly salary. And since he works at night he has additional time during the day to do little paying gigs here and there in the village to earn extra money. I am so amazed that a guy of his social class (extremely low I suppose) pays someone else to clean his tiny hut and fill up a couple of buckets of water. I suppose it is how the system works. So strange.

Babacar then takes me to the UNESCO project site where he works to show me around and introduce me to his boss. The project is basically a large piece of land on which have been built a few well equipped huts for tourists to rent, and several other huts to showcase the arts and crafts as well as the ways of life of the five main ethnicities of the region: the Bedik, the Bassari, the Peuls, the Coniagui, and the Djallonke.

The UNESCO project manager is a young man from the Dakar area who has a very interesting background not only as a government employee but also as a traditional ballet manager. We talked for hours. He explained to me a lot about the project, about his challenges, and about his past with the ballet business. Very interesting. Once again I offered my services to volunteer with anything he might need. I even gave him a few ideas right away about his project. It has so much potential but the fact that it is a government project managed by one isolated person might not be the right approach. But he seems like a very knowledgeable and educated man. So who knows...

As the time had passed and it was almost 7:30pm, he the offered me to break the fast with him and a few employees. So I did. As the sun was setting and the sky was filling up with future rain drops, the light and the colors of the atmosphere were magical. I felt like I was at the end of the world. Magical.

Once we were done, Babacar walked me back to his hut in the dark. There a little kid brought a sort of weird looking gewy casserole, (a good thing there was barely any light in the hut) for us to eat as part of the local fast breaking process.

The village only has electricity from 5pm to 1am. When walking outside, there were only a few light polls for this very big village, and only a few kids were outside. Well at least visible. The adults were either all gathered around their hut's TV sets or outside as well but around a weak flashlight, eating with their family. It is a bit surreal how now that there is electricity the piece of the night is a disturbed by the echoing single TV channel throughout the TV sets of all the huts of the village.

So Babacar had a spoon fool of the gewy dish, turned on the TV to have some light in the hut, and took off to his night job. I stayed all alone in this small hut...still amazed by the day I just had. Before making my second sardine sandwich of the day, I quickly undress and walk outside in the tiny straw fenced piece of land to take my shower. I am pretty much naked, standing in the grass, the straw fence isn't higher than my eye level, the stars are shining above my head, and as I am soaping and scrubbing my body before rinsing it with the help of a small bucket of water just like in Indonesia, I can see the villagers walking by a meter away from me. Surreal yet amazing. It is not even that hot outside, and the water is at room temperature, so it is perfect to cool down a bit before going to bed.

I shower, change, eat, and brush my teeth. The hut is mine. I pull down the mosquito net which reminds me that the three French girls from last night warned me against a very high level of malaria in the area and yet I forgot to buy the preventive treatment from Kedougou's pharmacy this morning. And while I am writing this post, I am also watching the only TV channel which is having an extremely interesting show on Islam and globalization. It was a very long day. Astou just called me to check on me.

I am finishing this post, I will now get up to close the doors and turn off the light, get back in bed and get ready to have probably the hottest night ever so far hoping that the malaria carrying mosquito have mercy for me.

I hope I don't need to use the toilets during the night, my cheap Nokia cell phone is all I have for flashlight, and well, the toilet area is not only outdoors and open roof but also quite a few steps away.

And I am a bit concerned about the tip of the cone ceiling/roof as it doesn't seem to be fully closed...and given how torrential the monsoon has been so far both today and yesterday morning, it could be quite a problem if water managed to fall through that hole. But I suppose that if it were a problem Babacar would have mentioned it...I hope.

Salam and good night.

July 3rd, or farming day...

Today was a spectacular day!!!

Babacar came back from his night shift by 8am. So I had to get up and liberate the bed for him to get some rest. After brushing my teeth and changing clothe, I managed to meditate for almost an hour, there, on the floor, in the hut, and facing Babacar sleeping. It was so hot and the floor was so hard.

I left the hut discretely so as not to wake him up, and went outside where a villager put me on the way to walk/hike to the Ethiwar Bedic village high up on the mountain.

The hike up was quick but I didn't feel so comfortable as I didn't really know what kind of animal inhabited that forest.

Once I reached the top it was magical. A large number of straw huts spread all around and overlooking the other valley.

Not a sound around other than the forest birds and a couple of baby goats screaming for attention.

All of a sudden I saw this women, bare chested, carrying a baby on her back, and preparing either a late breakfast or an early lunch.

I stayed back as I didn't want to disturb the peace of the village nor step forward until being invited by a local. So I stayed under the central village tree for about an hour.

Little by little flocks of kids and women started arriving from the field way further and under. Only women and kids. Since all of them passed by me, they were aware of my presence, and thus, soon after, I got up and dared walking into the village and ask the first woman I had seen and who had seen me, Therese, if I could get closer and walk around. She said yes.

The least curious boys soon offered to go fetch some fruits up in the trees for me...and for a fee. I said I would taste them first, and soon got into quick talk with them.

Soon after, the youngest kids of the village started playing monkey and climbing all over me. They all laughed, and so did the women. Finally I felt comfortable and sort of welcome.

And so I just stood there, making conversation with Therese and playing monkey games with the kids.

After a while, I finally saw the first and only man arrive. His name is Bernard, this is a christian village. Bernard happens to be a catechism teacher down in Bandafasi, and though he looks 25 years old, he is 40!

We quickly start bonding as he is very well educated and not shy at all. He tells me he is on his way down the mountain to go help at a "corvee" or a chore literally translated. Pretty much, whenever a villager needs to plow his land and doesn't have access to bull plowing resources, he sets up a date and invites all the villagers from the same community to join and give him a hand. And so, about 50 or so people, men and women of all ages, gather all day with their hand plow and spend the day plowing and having a ton of fun dancing and singing. Some people provide enough food for all and also enough drink (palm wine and millet beer). And so as the day goes on, everyone (both men and women) gets more ad more drunk, and the "show" gets more and more entertaining. Everyone lines up side by side, and following the rhythm of ethnical songs as well as a couple of men wearing the traditional costumes and masks ringing some special bells, everyone is plowing at the same pace and from time to time, a few fool around and jump around dancing as if in a sort of trance of joy.

When I arrived there it was like one of those authentic spectacles you only dream to see. Unlike in the documentaries usually showing such ceremony I was the only foreigner, no video camera and with the only intention of soaking up the culture and blending in. I didn't even dare or want to use my camera until the end of the day...just out of respect and also to send the message that I wasn't there just for photos but for real genuine cultural experience and also to give a hand.

But I was to shy to get my hands dirty before lunch, and thus when lunch time arrived, I felt uncomfortable. Yet they still invited me to sit down with them. Well, the men eat together in a corner, the married women in another and the unmarried girls in a third place. Thus creating like three small communities.

I sat down but made sure to say that if I eat with them I promise to join them and plow the land after lunch.

The stuff (I say stuff, because when I saw it at first my reaction was "what the hell is this thing?!") they served for lunch was the absolute weirdest and least appetizing thing I had ever seen. A huge bowl filled with an off whitish paste surrounding a strange green gewy jelly. And everyone was just digging in with their supposedly clean hands and then basically shoving the combo down their throats and licking their hands clean. Can't get anymore primitive than that. I am pretty sure that not a single one of my friends other than a perhaps Sebastian and Angelina, would have dared even touching that stuff. But as for me, it was unthinkable to play the picky foreigner and even ask what it was. So I sat down, rinsed my hands a bit, and just dug in. Surprise, the stuff was super hot, and the gew was super duper hot and gewy. Hmmm...if I wait I but my hand, so I just shove the thing into my mouth. And you know what? It was actually yummy. So yummy that I was the last one left around the big bowl still eating. Lol it looked so nourishing and I hadn't had any food all day yet. So what the hell?!

The paste is actual!y a millet paste, and the gew is made of baoba tree leaves. And well, since Bernard was sitting at another circle, I made more friends. This community is fantastic. All the men of the same age behave as if part of a fraternity. They all care for each other. Like a self regulating body of equals. Very impressive.

After lunch and during the resting time, I was offered to taste the millet beer (looks like a thick chocolate milk mix), not a big fan, and the palm wine, (looks like a skimmed milk liquid), very big fan as it was so refreshing and yummy and reminded me of an improved tuak from Sulawesi in Indonesia.

I met the head of the community, nicknamed the Puma, who also look s 25yrs old at the most but who is almost 40! Very nice guy. We end up chatting for quite a large part of the afternoon. After a while he tells me he has to get up and back to plowing so that the rest of the villagers will get the signal to start working again. So he does.

As people start working again, I quickly find a hand plow from a drunk kid, and join them all in the plowing. It is so much fun. It took a while for people to stop staring at me. Especially the women. Two very old women even fought to hold my arm. It was hilarious. It made me wonder, if 40 year olds look like they are 25, how old really are those who look 80?

And so the same work as this morning's goes on, except that this time I am among them, getting very dirty (I am white skin so he shows much more and fast), and quickly getting my first blisters. Silly me, I realized the mistake I made and what I should have done earlier to prevent the blisters from happening. Anyhow...such is life.

The whole afternoon all I hear from people coming up to me, young and elders, is "en tout cas, toi Tu cultives bien la!", which means that I plow like a pro. Very flattering, and it amazes them even more when I tell them that I am not a farmer and that it is my first time using a short hand plow.

The weather is spectacular. Barely any cloud. Blue sky. Sparkling sun...unfortunately.

Though I had put a layer of sunscreen this morning, with the sweat and all, it quickly wore off, and led my shoulder skin to become a BBQ. Ouch!!! I felt the burning intensifying as the afternoon went on, and only had the reflex of spreading fresh mud all over my skin, a bit to late. Again, to late to do anything about it. So I sucked it up and went on, hoping for clouds to arrive so as to get some shade.

Well, the clouds arrived, though a bit late as we were all done, but they arrived very fast, and filled with thunder and rain. The sky quickly turned black!

Bernard invited me to sleep in the mountain village tomorrow night. Most definitely YES! I offered my help to join him in planting rice tomorrow during the day. The Puma has a "corvee" for his own land on Saturday, another most definite YES. I also befriend the head of the Bandafasi Red Cross unit, offering my help for anything he would need.

Before the rain catches up, I hurry back to the red dirt unpaved road. Strangely I am the only man, walking along about 20 young women carrying buckets and pots on top of their heads. As I hurry, one of the shouts at me "wait for us!". OK, why not. And so I walk along them, getting more and more soaked as the rain starts pouring. Thankfully, it is only a flash downpour, and the rain soon stops, leaving place to a magnificent double rainbow. The colors of the sky and nature are now more beautiful than ever. Bright bright bright. Lush green, bright red, very contrasted clouds, sparkling sun behind the clouds, and two rainbows...and me walking on the red road along with several traditionally dressed women carrying lots on their heads. Am I dreaming or is this real!? As I was walking trying to protect my camera from the rain, I was trying to digest how spectacular and privileged of a day I had had. Unbelievable!

There a moment where I started laughing by myself though. During the afternoon I finally received a text back from the Peace Corps kids telling me to meet them up at their office in Kedougou. Hahaha! Yeah right! As of hanging out with a bunch of american kids speaking English could be any more magical than what I was living?! Thank you but no thank you. I knew there was a reason why they took so long to reply and why I decided to just leave town. Voila!

When I arrived in town, I ask the UNESCO guy for the favor of taking a shower in his building. I was way to disgusting and dirty to clean up with a tiny little bucket of water. He said yes. Yay!

On my way to go get my towel and stuff, I got stopped at almost every family hut to chat with their owners. At least on the Christian side. Since I spend the day with them all, they all wanted to chat. Everyone wanted me to meet their family and see their "compound" of huts. I felt like a super star. Lol

Because I took my time in the shower and washed some clothes as well, I missed the breaking of the fast with Mr UNESCO and Babacar, but that's OK. I just wanted to scrub myself clean and lay down in my hut to dry and rest. And so I did.

Though I was supposed to join the crowed in another village at 8pm for a sort of after party of the agri day (a night of celebration, more drinking, and more masks), I am to tired and changed my mind at the last minute. Good thing I dis as it is now 10:09pm, and it is pouring rain again. And I would have hates to have to walk at night, on the muddy unpaved road, the 2 km back to my hut. No way!

So voila...I just had my dinner sardine sandwich (little wink to Angelina, she knows why) and am more than ready to go to sleep, with for lullaby the rain pouring outside.

Sweet dreams...I can hardly imagine how tomorrow could get better than today, but I am hopeful and optimistic. :-)

July 4th, rice planting day...

Gosh last night was agitated in terms of rain! I definitely got confirmation that the straw roof of Babacar's hut was not waterproof. Water was dripping in from all sides. At least, the bed was safe and stayed dry.  But on top of the water dripping inside, the disturbingly loud and violent thunders prevented me from sleeping fully. I just wasn't sure whether the storm was going to either blow away or crush down the roof of the hut. At least I had fully waterproofed and packed my bag, just in case. A bit like my first trekking week in Nepal.

Anyhow, just like yesterday, I woke up to Babacar knocking on the door at 8am. By the time he fell asleep on his bed, I had changed, packed and left his hut in order to go meet up with Bernard as planned, to go help him plant rice. Or so I thought.

I obviously was way to early. When I reached our meeting point, the campement of Leontine which also happens to be inside the neighboring village, I met this 18yr old French guy Yohan who has been spending 2 to 3 months every year in this village since he was born. So he practically is a Bedik himself. Very cool and interesting guy. 18 years old and already has published two books, one on the Bediks and one on his trip to Brazil when he was 14. Like I said, very interesting guy.

This morning I was told that yesterday, during the day and evening celebration of the cultivation (I didn't attend because I was to beat) the villagers, mostly the me, no more than 20 of them, drank about 500 liters of wine! I am dead serious! These guys are hardcore!

This afternoon I realized not only that Bernard had misled me, the rice planting was actually a full "corvee", and that farmers around here stay farmers because they spend every penny they have on liquor. These guys are heavy duty alcoholics! And well, when you mix heavy drinking with blasting sun, the result is not so nice,

Anyhow, on a different note, today was Angelina's photo exhibition first day in Sao Paolo. Yes, she is an extremely talented photographer. I hope her show is nothing but success. I wish I could be next to her for the occasion. She actually texted me today again, and as usual, it was the emotional highlight of my day. I tried to send her a text reply but am not sure she received it.

Today is also the day the French soccer team got out of the world cup. Am actually surprised they made it that far. Lol Well, Brazil won, so at least half of me (Angelina being my other half) is still on the race. :-)

So today, as planned, I am going to Ethiwar, Bernard's village on top of the mountain, to sleep. And since we were late, we started to hike up at night. Ha! I learnt of a very cool trick of you don't have a real flashlight with you. Just get a bull, preferably your own, to ai ply lead the way. Domesticates animals always know the way on a trail. So that way you just have to follow the animal. Simple as that.

In our case, the bulls refused to cooperate, so we ended up using our cell phone lights. And gosh, the hike was hooooooot! I had rarely sweated that much before.

When we arrived at the top of the mountain, it was amazing, no light bit the stars'. Only a few conversation noises around hot red coals in the darkness of groups of huts. No candles nor fire. Just red coals and cell phone lights.

We had dinner under the stars. Spectacular. The air was cool, the atmosphere so peaceful. Only Angelina was missing. Then I spent quite some time just playing with the kids. Their laughs are so addictive. They were all around me. All 5 of Bernard's kids.

There were no options to lay down other than the ones already taken by the family, so after a while of uncomfortable sitting with the kids, I got up and went to my hut. It was already 10:30pm! Incredible how without light, internet, Facebook, smartphone, or video games, people can still entertain themselves so much and as a united family. If only families from the West were still like that nowadays.

Astou, Baye, Sally, Malik called me right before having dinner in Dakar and it made me so happy. I miss them.

Falling asleep happy with a big smile...praying once again for the mosquitos to have mercy.

July 5th, more cultivation...

Today was sooooo exhausting. I think, having been here for three days and done three "corvees" is taking a toll on me. Like one man told me in the afternoon "mon corps me fait mal".

Since I had promised Jack aka Puma that I would join them for his corvee, I stuck to my words. Gosh...little did I know there would be so much work.

I just don't understand how people think in this region. Since the weather is generally so hot and the sun so burning, why do they start such activities at mid day to finish late afternoon? It would make so much more sense to me to start early morning and finish by mid day. But no, it is not the case. I arrived on the site of the corvee with a few other guys by 11am. We were the first ones. And the land...seriously!? Not like the previous corvees. It was not about just plowing the soil with a hand plow, but rather to deforest a large area, about 1 to 2 hectares. Cut down the trees, remove the bushes, burn the tree stumps, cut the tall grass...so mi h work to do and no one showed until 1 or 2 pm. Perhaps because to get there we have to walk a good 4 to 5 km.

When I saw how much disaster we were making in terms of shaving down the forest I felt so bad. At first I hesitated at cutting trees and bushes, but the I figured that since I was there I might as well do something and help out. Pointless to try and explain to them. I guess they have to eat and survive. If only these villagers were not so addicted to liquor, they would probably do something more profitable and ambitious with their life.

At one point I was chatting with this kid (well, he looked 18 but probably was 30), and saw him throw a cigarette pack plastic wrap on the floor. When I scorned him for doing this his reply was: "what other options are there?" When I told him how long it takes to decompose he was in shock...yet am pretty sure it is not going to change anything in his behavior.

The whole afternoon the famous mask was here again to pace the day and motivate everyone to work. Another day filled with music, singing, and tons of dancing. As for me, I only took part to the labor, but not to the singing or dancing, as it seems there is some sort of special procedure to follow based on your gender and age. But it was so pleasant to see how everyone was having so much fun while working...though being drunk definitely helped I suppose.

I am pretty sure that the culture and their economy would be so dramatically different without the liquor factor. I had the reflex to think that if they had a healthier life, their life expectancy would probably be much older and their life would be much more productive. They might die at a young age, but if they live happy, does it really matter?

At one point I was chatting with this big guy soit the world cup and then performance of the French soccer team. And he said to me: "Il y a trop de noirs dans lequipe de france." There are to many black players in the team. I found that hilarious coming from a black guy.

Today was such a hot day! I've never wanted to run away from the sun so much.

The more I observe the Bediks, and the more I am amazed by how united and close people from same ages are. I finally understood today why that is. Pierre, one of Bernard's cousin told me about the initiation process. Basically the process during which a boy becomes a man. It is the most important and sought after celebration of the year in this part of the country. And it is still following ancestral rules. One of which being that the young boys of the same age, when their then is to be initiated, are supposed to spend the entire "hivernage" (rainy season) surviving on their own among each other in the jungle, and only comeback when the rainy season is over. During such phase of their life they have to learn how to survive in a hostile environment, build a place to sleep, find food, cloth, maintain hygiene, drink, and entertain themselves. Enough to create the most solids of friendship and bonds for life.

It is funny, because the hierarchical system in this ethnicity wants that adults can ask kids to do anything for them. Like their personal servants. When a boy is initiated, he can now do the same with younger kids as well.

I am still laughing a bit inside when villagers tell me their first names. We are in the middle of the "brousse" (countryside) and because of the spread of Christianity, people have the most christian French bourgeois names ever.

I actually had brief chat about religion today with a villager. Bit when I told him that I didn't believe in any religion but rather in the law of nature and in myself, all I got was confused look and then silence. One day I will push and try to understand what Christianity means to them.

This morning I asked Astou to send a message to Angelina via Facebook. I am so frustrated to not be able to stay connected with her every day.

Tonight I am sharing a hut with Yohan. I haven't slept well at all for days now, and the idea to finally have some sort of soft mattress sounded so delightful. Not sure how much they will charge me for the bed and food yet, but what the hell. I want a bit of comfort and some decent food. So for diner, Nicolas wife cooked some delicious spaghetti with an onion and mustard sauce. It was amazing. The hut, however, was an oven. I have never sweated that much at night in my life. As I am writing this post, I am dripping sweat as if I were sitting under the shower.

If only the fan that is in the room were working...

July 6th, a day of nothingness...

I really miss Angelina a lot. I can't wait to get to Brazil.

Today was a day of nothingness in terms of physical activity, it felt so good to just sit and do nothing but rest, eat, and chat with the locals.

I did some laundry in the morning. Water is not as abundant here as it was in Asia or in Spain, so I can't really wash my clothe everyday as I was used to...which means a bit of stinkyness. Oh well..,getting used to it every day.

Though we intended not to do any "corvee" today, we still wanted to trekk a bit through the jungle to get to Andiel, via Ethiwar. We had planned to so it with Bernard. But she we got to Ethiwar towards the late morning, Bernard was busy planting some corn down under the village. So we gave up on this plan. Another day...

Towards the mid afternoon, a group of 13 american highschool kids arrived at the campement. They are on a tour organized by Where There Be Dragons. Basically an organization that takes kids on a deep cultural and adventurous voyage. These kids are learning the dialects of each ethnicities as they go through their areas. Bright kids but you so can tell they try hard to be more mature than they really are. Americans are often like that though. Expected to be adults much sooner than they should be.

Anyhow, it was interesting to chit chat with them and their guides.

Then later on arrived two Spanish girls. Primary school teachers.  Off course I was immediately thrilled to speak Spanish with them. I just love the language. And chatting about the Camino and about travels was so delightful. We kept on chatting on and on as we toured the village with their guide. Really cool girls.

I had a beer before dinner. Reminded me of the Camino. Only wish Angelina was there to share it with her as usual.

Yesterday was the day of the "corvee" of the family right next to the campement where I am staying. So when they were done with the plowing of the land and back to the village, they started the evening/night celebration which basically consists in getting the Gods' blessing for the farming season. And it is and was a true spectacle. In the darkness, overlooked by the stars and the crescent of the moon, the whole family (a good 30 people) were dancing and singing like mad at the rhythm of the same mask that paces the "corvee". Such an incredible privilege to witness this. It was beautiful. In the obscurity of the night, people filled with total joy expressing their joy by dancing and singing. Based on the rhythm of the music, it was either the very young ones, or the girls, or the women to dance. It seemed, just like during day time, as if the villagers, by dancing, were trying to charm the mask.

Right before going to sleep, I called Angelina just to hear her voice. It seemed that her photo exhibition went super well. I am not surprised.

It is very happy, yet with a big rush to get to Brazil, that I am going to sleep. Lucky me, tonight, it seems that there will be wind.

Sweet windy dreams...

July 7th, snake day...

Today is the day of Bernard's "corvee", which means farming up the mountain and on a slope.

The morning was spent sitting inside the roots of the main village tree. Well, the biggest tree, casting the most shade, with the most comfortable roots. After a late breakfast in the coo! Very windy air, I went to sit down those roots, and chat with the locals for a few hours. So relaxing and authentic to just be there, waiting for the da to pass by, sitting on the aide of the road. Ufff...made me so convinced that my life should be about staying busy and not falling into the cycle of choosing the easy lazy way.

At 11am, Amadou and I took off to get changed and head up the mountain to reach the " corvee". We met our first snake on the trail. A long bright green snake. Surprise! It got more scared than we did and quickly sneaked away.

We reached Ethiwar soon after. So grateful that it was so windy outside. Hoping for it to last all day.

The village was not as quiet as usual. The group of huts of Bernard's family was busy getting everything ready for the "corvee". Food ams drinks mostly. I knew right away that it would take a long while for everything to get started. So i sat down and started to play with the kids and their infectious smiles and laughs. I could have done it all day. These kids are the most adorable ever.

All of a sudden, Bernard told me let's go, and so we went. No surprise, we were the first ones to arrive, yet again. I didn't expect the field to be so far away from the village. It was a good 40 minutes away, crossing a beautiful plateau. The field itself is on such a steep slope filed with rocks, bushes and tree stumps all over. Ufff...a lot of work ahead of us.

People took a long time to arrive.

We met our other two snakes throughout the rest of the day. Two short brown snakes which apparently are mortal. After we caught the first one, it got me a bit scared of just diving my bare hands, wearing sandals, into tall grass. For all I know, there could be snakes just about everywhere.

After thinking about it a bit, it occurred to me that I was totally insane to take such risks, especially after someone told me that a few villagers died of snake bites the year before...ut after all, all the villagers were doing the same thing.

We started to work by 1pm and worked for a good 2,5 hours before taking a break for lunch and liquids. I say liquids because the villagers here, like I mentioned before, prefer palm wine or millet beer than water.

Each day I can't help being shocked when I see 4 or 5 year olds getting their own share of the liquids, and walking around with their own little bottles filled with whichever liquor. Incredible!

Today I was strong though. No alcohol, not even a drop. And I stuck to it. They looked at me weird, but I insisted, and told them, jokingly, to give my portion to Kali, one of Bernard's kid who is about 5yrs old.

After eating so much "tot", I even fell deep asleep for some time, what a good nap!

The rest of the day was spent planting millet seeds, as well as watching the women dance and sing like crazy. Entering like in a trance. I swear, it is like a choreographed show. And me, I always just stay there, watching with a silly grin on my face, just happy to be there and allowed to be there...wishing I could fully share everything I am seeing with all my friends, as it truly is something impossible to fully convey with words only.

I really don't understand how they can keep on cultivating like this after nowadays. For days now, we spend hours just cutting down grass and weeds and bushes, but leaving it all where it was cut. Sometimes the roots are dead and sometimes, often times they are still in good enough shape to grow back. Yet, at no point the villagers will gather all the cut remains to clean the land and leave only plowed dirt. They just plant the seeds among the cut remains. The problem is that because of this, they need to redo the exact same work over and over again throughout the farming season in order to clean up the sprouting seeds they have planted. Wouldn't it be much more efficient ands effective to do a very thorough plowing once and for all before planting the seeds, that way the monitoring of it all is much simpler and requires a lot less effort?

When they plant the seeds it is just as chaotic. There is no specific line order to have clean easy to maintain seedings, but instead, the villagers just poke holes all over the place, sometimes even overlapping, and drop a couple of seeds, in such a way that when it grows back, it all looks like a wild forest.

I just don't get it. I am pretty sure numerous NGOs and other organizations have come multiple times to teach modern more productive farming techniques. Why hasn't it caught on? No clue!

When we finished the day, the sun was still high up, but because of the  thick white clouds. It made the sun appear as if it were the moon. Beautiful sight through the lush jungle trees.

We started walking up the slope, I picked up Kali on my shoulders, and followed the girls who were still dancing and singing as if they had drank a whole liter of red bull each. Just watching them made me tired. After such a long day of physical labor I couldn't believe that they would still have so much energy.

Anyhow, I followed them, smiling, with Kali on my shoulders...am pretty sure he fell asleep at some point, as the walk back was long, very long.

The girls stopped (walking, not dancing) by the well, I kept on going as it was getting dark and I still had to hike all the way down the mountain after dropping Kali home,

I arrived back to Indar, where the campement is, right as the sun had said its very last goodbye to the moon for the day. What I craved the most then was to take a good shower, I was black covered in dirt and cut all over my legs and arms from the tall grass.

As usual, before bucket-showering, in walked outside and filled up the bucket with water from the tube well, dreading for the bucket to be full so I could scrub off all the dirt at last.

Dinner was yummy...Marie cooked some spaghettis again, with her onion sauce. Yohan served himself, and I ate everything that was left. A good kilo. The more days I work, the hungrier I get. Good!

Now I am dead. Last night I slept so well finally after so many sleepless nights of discomfort. Hearing Angelina's voice before going to bed most definitely helped.

Tomorrow we have a long day ahead, as we planned to hike all the way to Iwol village, and spend the night there.

So sweet snakeless dreams.

...to be continued...