August 18th

Today was just a relaxing day. It rained a lot in the !morning, which cooled down a not the air.

In the afternoon we went to Astou's farm land to check out the new gardener/guard's work and give a few more instructions. He had done a great job and seemed way better than the previous one. Ufff...the more I see farms and lands being cultivated, and the more I want to do the same once I am settled. The work of the bland is so rewarding and exciting. Producing your own food in a peaceful and calm environment.

Then we went to Astou's mom beach ruin cabin to see and plan how to renovate it. The location of the plot of land is amazing. Right on the water.

The day went by quickly and I wasn't even that tired. Being back in Dakar with my friends was in itself a boost of energy.

In the late evening, the best part of the day: we had dinner at Baye and Sally's place. Everyone was there. Francois, Xidex, Baye and Sally, and a couple of Sally's cousins. It was so good to hang out with them again and have some exciting conversations like we used to have when i arrived in Dakar. Great news, Baye will have to be in Sao Paulo January and February of next year to take a training in farming. Perhaps I can join him as well. I seriously want to learn more about farming for personal reasons but perhaps later for professional/commercial reasons as well.

And so voila...a good and productive day. I haven't spoken to Angelina since I left Bamako though, so tomorrow for sure I will call her. I miss her. :-)

Never ending bus ride...

The bus was supposed to take off from the main station in Bamako at 6pm on Saturday and it did take off on time.

The part to get to the Senegal/Mali border that was supposed to take about 12 hours took 21 hours!

The whole trip from Bamako to Dakar which was supposed to take about 24 hours, ended up taking almost 34 hours. Scandalous!

The bus was this old reconditioned bus from the years Mali got its independence. No AC and no ventilation system. For a ride that long, this is a huge disadvantage.

The driver took a half hour break every half hour. I am not even joking. It was absolutely ridiculous and beyond any logic. Pure waste of time. And the passengers, despite always complaining about how delayed we kept on being, always got out of the bus at each and every stop.

It was such a long and uncomfortable ride.

The seats were to narrow for the passengers to fit in. I am not a big guy with broad shoulders at all, and yet, I needed at least a seat and a half just for myself. But I didn't have such luck and had to share two seats with a big Malian, who never understood that because I had a window seat, I didn't have any other choice but to take some of his seat space, and the fact that he had an aisle seat meant that he had plenty of space on the other side. But no, the whole ride he kept on insisting that I stay in my seat space and kept on crushing me against the window wall, and fall asleep and spread himself all over the whole time. And this guy was disgusting. Peeing and eating at every single stopped the bus made. Not in a clean or elegant manner. Trust me.

Anyhow, as we were getting close to Dakar, time felt even slower. As if each 50km we drove forward, the distance was being extended by 70km. Ufff...I just wanted to arrive.

People in the bus were all boiling of impatience, yet didn't seem to be bothered by how late it was in the night and yet how many km we had to go. Just like it had been all throughout the Pays Bassari and Mali when talking with people about their challenges and society's problems: that's the way it is. Just accepting it and getting over it without any kind of attempt or will to change or improve things. Pure carelessness.

At 3:30am 33.5 hours after having departed from Bamako, we finally arrived in Dakar. A totally new bus station. A mega huge station, far away from the city. It was so late I told Astou I would take a cab. I managed to negotiate quite down the fare all the cabbies wanted to charge me and boarded a cab with two other families.

4:00am I was at "home". At last!!!

Mali, you are a gorgeous a country populated by the kindest of people, but I am quite happy to have left you. Thank you for everything.

August 15th, interesting day

Today was quite interesting and not what I had expected.

In the morning I met with up with Seydou, who is the director of a private business and technology school in Bamako and who is trying to restructure and dynamize his school and curriculum. Initially I had met him and gone to talk about an Ashoka funded project from Dakar who was trying to extend to Bamako and I was going to try and help out brain storm on this. But we ended up not even touching on this topic and rather chat only Aout the school. I got so excited about the endless opportunities to develop a school in a place like Mali. Obviously my focus was to implement an additional curriculum around social entrepreneurship, and improve the different axes of weaknesses in the country: Tourism, arts, and agriculture. A few very good ideas came up to my mind, especially the exploitation of the Niger river area with rice culture.

Anyhow, we got talking at a 100 miles per hour because of how many ideas came up and how excited we got. Unfortunately the meet cut short because Seydou had to travel to Segou for WOR. But at least, we got the fire started and Seydou realized the importance and the potential of social entrepreneurship. To be continued...

In the afternoon, I met up with Bibi, the founder of the orphanage I visited right before going to the Pays Dogon. The plan was to seat down with Bibi and rework her mission statement and business model to improve the situation of the orphanage and find ways to not be so dependent on the generosity of donors.

Lost cause. Bibi is impossible to talk to. All as does is talk talk talk, but without really listening to you. Very frustrating. And yet she kept on saying that things were not easy and that she needed help. But no, impossible to have am actual conversation. I got so frustrated. But it made me realize how disorganized and unplanned her enterprise/organization is. In many ways it fully reflects the hole in which most of Africa is today. Thinking a day at the time without trying to look at the long term picture and plan accordingly. Very frustrating.

I also got very shocked at one point. The orphanage receives a lot of donations of a sorts. Mostly in kind though. And so it has a big closet with lots of donated clothes that are then redistributed to community kids in desperate needs. But towards the end of the afternoon, I see Bibi go in the closet and pick up some of the most colorful pieces of clothing, match up some nice full outfits, and give them to her five nieces who didnt seem at all to be in desperate needs but rather to be spoiled kids. The cherry on the cake of this frustrating afternoon.

So it was time for me to go, as I wasn't being of much use and the situation was not changing.

Apparently some of the community people tend to believe that Bibi is slightly wealthy. When I saw how her and her kids are, and how she is in some sort leading a mini empire rather than a from the heart social organization (the only kids she seemed to have affection and attention for were her own), I started to have my doughts as well.

Interesting information, according to her historical list of donors, one of her biggest donors was the Kadafi foundation, back when Kadafi was still in power/alive. I am not familiar at all with the Kadadi foundation, but I found the fact very interesting.

When everyone left the orphanage without even giving the kids a hug or a kiss, Bibi and her entourage dropped me in my neighborhood.

Ufff...what a day! But an exciting day.

It did make me want to be part of the creation of a school focused on social entrepreneurship to address the different issues in countries. Or perhaps create an incubating center where projects are crafted and in charge of pairing potential students with foreign universities to build a huge network of social entrepreneurs looking for opportunities to do something good and impactful using their school and studies as the main frame of action.

It also made me want to create a private orphanage built around the model of a limited amount of children raised more like a family than an adoption center.

Ideas, ideas, ideas...life is so exciting!!!

August 14th

Today was a slow day. It rained a lot which didn't allow us to do much outside the mission.

We mostly hung out on the mission, playing with Adama and his infectious laugh. This kid though devilish at times is just to cute. Igf only he spoke French we could actually communicate. Lol

In the evening we went to have dinner at the usual street food stall before Claudio took off to the airport.

I secretly envied him. I miss being in an airport and taking planes. I love the airport environment. Being surrounded by anonymous people, all going somewhere, for any kind of reason. The energy in an airport is quote unique and exciting. It is almost the place where anything is about to happen. Someone might be on its way a boring work meeting, but someone else can be about to start the wildest of adventures. It would be so interesting to survey 100 people walking through am airport asking them their destination and the purpose of their trip. Just imagine the diversity of stories.

Anyhow, a cab came to pick up Claudio. I walked home to get yet another good night sleep. Soon I will be on my way as well, by bus, less exciting or rather less comfortable, but on the move again...

Where logic and common sense are foreign concepts...

I keep on seeing cars and motorcycles who go to the gas station and while getting refilled with gas, leave the engine running?!

August 13th

Today was a relaxing day.

We took our time to have breakfast at the Mission. The weather was beautiful and the patio of the mission so peaceful.

The we walked most of the morning, getting lost in the big !market and the little streets. We slowly made our way to the Artisanat to go say Hi to Amadou and buy a few souvenirs and stuff. We spent quite a bit of time there, just roaming around watching every single artisan work at its craft. It was so entertaining.

On the way back we went to the train station to inquire about trains Kaye. They are much cheaper, yet absolutely not reliable and slightly slower. So why not?! Sounds like a fun way to get to Kaye. My plan is to get on the Saturday evening train...assuming the train does show up at all. Let's hope so. I don't want to spend much more time in Bamako.

We got back to the mission right on time before the storm started pouring all over the city. And what a storm. A tropical one, so not that long, but definitely brutal.

Once the weather was back to sort of normal, we headed out for an early dinner and to get on line to sync my emails. Such a long time since I last connected.

The city is always so peaceful and cool after the storm. Much more enjoyable.

Tomorrow another slow day and on Friday I am supposed to go to the orphanage to help out the director rework some issues and strategy. I can't wait.

Til then...buenas noches.

August 12th, back to Bamako

What a long day!

I was at the bus station at 4:15am. There were already a ton of people there. Pretty much the only people awake in the town were us.

Such a ridiculous thing to take off at 5am when the bus has to stop at 5:30am for the first prayer. Departing at 6am would make so much more sense. Sometimes I tend to forget I am in the country/continent where logic is a foreign concept. Oh well...

And so for once the bus departed on time. Who knew this was possible in this country?! Lol

The bus was full. Not a single seat empty/ not single window either, and no AC nor ventilation. It was going to be a long ride for sure. 10 hours is the average for the Mopti-Bamako leg. Aiiiii!!!!!  The seats were so uncomfortable.

The worst part as is usually the case in every bus ride, people were eating like pigs. Instead of keeping detritus in a plastic bag like we do in the West, they just spit everything out on the floor in the aisle of the bus. I am dead serious. Everything. And often, they don't even actually spit, but rather drule things out of their mouths and onto the floor. The most disgusting animal behavior I have ever seen on my travels thus far. I just don't understand how such eating habit can still exist nowadays. As if cavemen still existed. By the end of the ride, the whole floor of the bus was no cleaner than the floor of a garbage dumping site. Even with sandals I was reluctant to putting my feet on the floor.

The ride was terribly long. I just wanted to arrive, take a good shower and go eat the yummy ground beef sandwich near the big boulevard. Lol I just wanted to arrive.

At last we did arrive. It was good to be back in Bamako. I had my marks. I knew my way around, sort of. Interesting how my first weeks in Bamako didn't go so well. I didn't actually enjoy my time here when I first arrived in Mali. And now I am happy to be back here. Strange...

Anyhow, once at the mission catholique, I saw the nuns again. We both were happy to see each other. Little Adama with his cute smile was here too.

I took a good shower, washed some clothes, and we headed out to eat the yummy sandwiches at last.

Long day but and early night.

Exhaustion took over. Am already in bed...and will be dreaming about Senegal, Mauritania, Morocco and Brazil, I know it.

Sweet dreams...

August 11th, Djenne market day!

Mike took off at 5:45am this morning as he had a bus at 6am to Bamako.

Claudio and I got up at about 7am and were at the market by 8am.

Hmmm...not much was happening just yet. Barely any stands were set up. The floor was still quite muddy., and big trucks were still dominating the big square in front of the mosque.

Bummer, we woke up to early. So we walked around a bit to check out the whole perimeter and then found a wooden bench just in the axis of the entrance of the mosque and sat there for hours, watching everything get set up, while having all sorts of conversations with all the locals either stopping by or just standing there like statues in front of us. Lots and lots of kids, begging for food, money, or a soccer ball. All these kids begging and for whom white skin is synonymous of money, almost makes it seem that there are way more children than adults around. And worst of all, it also feels like these kids are all homeless, which they are not. But as if their patents even cared. I am assuming that as long ad the kids are at home for the meals and at night, the parents won't pay any attention to them. Apparently, here (in rural west Africa) as soon as you are old enough to walk, you are on your own during daytime.

And so we waited, and waited. Hoping that the marvels of this market would eventually come to live. But no, nothing much exciting really happened. We got told at some point to check out the little harbor by the bridge. Loads of villagers coming from all over walking into the town with their merchandize. We made our way there. Now that was definitely worth it. Loads of people carrying all sorts of things on their heads or in little wheeled carts walking in a long line, looks an exodus. A beautiful exodus of traders hoping to make some good money today. On the other side of the bridge, a collection of horse, buffalo, and donkey carriages "parked" for the day, waiting or their owners to return with a lighter load of merchandize. A beautiful sight. A very unique parking lot, nothing like the western shopping malls parking lots. Lol

We hung out there for a while, in awe.

Then the sun being way to strong and there being no shade at all, we made out way back to the market which had become much livelier, yet not any lovelier.

11:30am, we walked back to the hotel, just to be there in case they asked us to check out by noon, and to rest a bit from the unbearable heat. I think we both passed out for a while. Our public ride to Mopti wouldn't leave before 4pm or so. So we stayed put in the shade and resting until 3pm.

The "car" we were about to ride in with 7 other passengers + the driver is not what most people would call a car. Just picture a 50 year old European car, remove all plastic and foam and only leave the metallic parts. The initiation system is done by hand, rubbing two wires together. The windshield, well, it better be just a breeze only and it better not rain, because the glass is all cracked up and looks like it went through war, and the wipers might as well be made of wood. The doors close and open. How? Am still not sure. The suspension, the what?! What is a suspension?! Lol and yet we drove 130+ km in that. Oh and I forgot the bread pedal which is held in its location by a piece of wire. Each ride the driver makes, he makes a ton of cash, in relative terms for the local cost of living. Not sure how long he has had this car for, but it now looks like a car zombie. And it doesn't seem to worry its owner into giving it a bit more care and maintenance.

Oh, I also forgot, as we were walking back to the hotel with Claudio, he got a text message on his Italian cell phone which reminded him that today was his birthday. Lol he had forgotten.

The car ride felt much longer than it actually way. Glad to arrive in Mopti, we both check in to our respective hotels. He needed internet access, I didn't.

A good shower and a little nap and I went to Adams's for dinner and to hang out. Claudio joined me there soon after. The food was delicious. I even had two portions. Uffff...I was stuffed!

Then we walked up to his house roof top. Paradise. Quiet, overlooking the town, and overlooked by the full moon. Wow! We sat down on a large mat and just hung out there for hours, chatting about everything. I even fell asleep while Adama was talking to me. But the situation was so relaxing/ I couldn't help it.

Claudio bought a few pieces of jewelry from him and by 11pm we took off. Our but to Bamako tomorrow departs at 5am!!!

Tomorrow a very long, uncomfortable, sweaty, dirty day awaits...

Good night!

August 10th, tourist harassment!

I am not a fan of Djenne!

This morning started beautifully beautifully well. Woken up by the songs of the little yellow birds in the patio and seeing the white doves flying around the big tree was such a delightful way to start the day. It reminded me so much of when my patents still had a little ryad in the Medina of Marrakesh.

We took our time before this peaceful patio and hitting the noisy muddy streets.

Our first goal was to try and check out the mosque. This kid last night told us he would speak with the Imam to get us at least a few seconds with him to see if we could enter.

Such lies! It seems there is a big mafia around the mosque business, and most probably the Imam is in on it. We had to negotiate with some sketchy guy before someone who pretended to be the Imam would let us in/ I personally insisted that if I were to pay to get into a mosque I wanted to personally give the money to the Imam. Everyone got suddenly really mad and almost aggressive. I said that was my condition.  After a few arguments someone who pretended to be the Imam came out and told us to pay him if are wanted to get in. How were we even supposed to know how to identify an Imam?! I don't know why I was so stuck on going into the mosque. Perhaps because the mosque itself was quite disappointing and I was hoping that the inside would reveal its true beauty. I don't know.

In any case, the whole mosque tour moment didn't last long and really got us three extremely upset after the guys behind it and even the religion. Such a shameful thing and the whole village is obviously backing it up.

As we left the mosque, all the pseudo guides and sellers from last night showed up again harassing us to use their services or just walk along with us. I don't think I have ever seen anything like this before.

Both Claudio and I were initially thinking to stay an extra day to enjoy the town, but this morning we decided to get the hell out of here right after the market tomorrow.

While Mike went his way to walk alone, Claudio and I decided to walk away from the town and hide from this upsetting scene. We just wanted to find the nearest bridge and cross it.

And so we did. We walked and walked. Don't get me wrong, Djenne is a gorgeous city. Terribly filthy, just like the rest of Mali, but the people living in Djenne are so desperate for tourism that they jump on ever white person they see passing by and try ad long ad possible to harass them to get money from them.

When we finally crossed the bridge, it was all peaceful. No one on our back. Just people walking around, giving us big smiles and saluting us along. What a change.

We reached the cultural mission of Djenne who is in charge of backing up and developing the archeological sites around the town. Since the beginning of the crisis, the mission has basically been dead. The director of the mission was very nice and welcoming and spent a good hour with us telling us about the sites and the town. Very interesting conversation. He himself even told us that he was very scared of the guides of Djenne as they have been threatening him in the past to not get in their business with the tourists. A real mafia, I swear!

The sky quickly darkened, so we walked back towards the town and met Mike on our way.

We all went back home to nap during the rain.

Lucky us it stopped raining after a couple of hours and still left us a few hours of sun before night. So we all decided to go visit the little villages on the other side of the river, opposite side of here we walked to in the morning.

Because of the rain, the entire trail was deeply muddy. We had no choice though. Half way in the mud and half way crossing the river by foot made the adventure so much fun and entertaining. And well, we were away from harassing Djenne. So we were happy. Lol

Little kids trying their hands at fishing in the middle of the river helped us find the best path to walk through the river where the water was shallow.

On the other side we were met by a few fishermen on the pirogues, kids from the nearby village, and lots of sheeps.

The landscape was magical and the light was perfect.

When we got to the villages, the people were so friendly is was al most shocking. So close to Djenne, yet so different.

We couldn't stop playing with the kids. They kept on calling out "toubabou!" with huge smiles and excitement, yet if we stared at the or stepped towards them they would start running of fear in the opposite direction. It was hilarious. And the adults around were having so much fun watching the kids reactions. The whole thing was really addictive. It was hard to leave one village to go to the next. But we did anyway.

In both villages only one or two persons spoke some French. The rest of the villagers only spoke their dialect.

We magnetically spent the rest of the afternoon in these villages, totally changing our mood from the morning. How fulfilling!

As the sun started to make its way down, we had to go as we were not sure how or where we would have to cross the river again to get back to the town.

We crossed a first stream of chocolaty water too arrive at a sort of large semi flat field where a soccer game was happening. One side line was the river, the other side was the stream. The game was overlooked by the mud village of Djenne right across the river which is perhaps actually just a large pond.

We watched the game for a while and then crossed the water to climb up a little trail between the piles of garbage dumped there by the villagers. Ufff...first crossing the dirty water and then climbing this filth...while wearing sandals was slightly uncomfortable.

The day was long and not all pleasure, but definitely ended on a great note.

I couldnt help but have a big snack after the afternoon activities. And so I made myself a huge banana sandwich. (I think I grew an addiction to this sandwich) this got me full enough for the rest of the evening. So no dinner. Since Djenne is a small town, there is not much to do at all at night, especially in terms of free activities. And being three white men, it also makes it a bit challenging to bond with the locals like I am used to. So off to bed early. Good thing anyway since we've got an early start tomorrow with the market.

What a day!!!

August 9th, off to Djenne!

Long day!

I was at the bus station by 8am like I had been told yesterday. In Africa you never know how delayed the transport will be, but if you are out of luck, it might fill up very quickly and even leave before announced time. So better safe than sorry. Anyhow, I was there early. Waited for a good hour before the little kid, Mahmood, from the other day came up and recognized me. A very nice and respectful kid.

Since the bus was obviously going to be quite late and I wanted to buy bananas, we left on a quest for bananas together. It is strange how the days you don't need bananas in Mopti, you bump into them everywhere, and the days you absolutely want some, you can't find them anywhere. We walked so far away to finally find bananas. And funny enough, when we almost arrive back at the station, a banana food cart was just setting up shop in front of the station.

I waited and waited...note and more.

At around 11am, I see two toubabs (white men) pop up at the station. Wow! The first foreign tourists I see since I got to Mali. We quickly start chatting. Mike is Canadian from North Bay and Claudio Italian from Florence. Mike just got back from Timbuktu and shows me photos of a desert sand storm that totally make me want to go there. He used to live in China teaching for several years, the moved to Libya right during the conflict there. Interesting stories. Claudia was in Burkina Faso before getting to Mali. We were in the Pays Dogon at the same time.

And so we chat. Another down pour takes over the city for a couple of hours.

Soon it is 3:30pm. We finally take off. It's about time! 7,5 hours of wait for a 2 hour ride. Uffff! The ride was not that interesting in terms of landscape. It was however very comfortable compared to the ride from Sanga to Bandiagara.

After crossing over the river by ferry with the bus, we finally arrive in the majestic town of Djenne. Wow! It is really something impressive. The mud architecture, mixing Sudanese and Moroccan influences not on regular one floor houses but on two floor houses is just superb!

Only hick up, the town is filled with guides and tours who just won't stop harassing us. It is exhausting and really annoying a the same time. As much as we try to decline every offer politely, they don't give up and keep trying on and on.

We took a while to find a decent hotel for a decent price with a room with three beds. Might as well stay together to negotiate and hold the fort strong against the touts.

The hotel we found is beautiful. A huge central courtyard, Moroccan style with a big tree filled with little yellow birds and their nests in the middle, almost looks like Christmas decoration between the nests and the colors. Rooms all around a large corridor. The whole patio is invaded by numerous white doves flying through the patio and the corridor. Quietness.

We check in, drop our bags, and head back out to enjoy the last minutes of sun light.

We just can't make a step without having several guides around us, aggressively trying to be smooth about the way they suggest their services. Hopefully tomorrow they will get it: we don't want any guide of any sort. No means No.

After dinner, we chit chat with different locals every 3 meters trying to ignore the guides and talk about things other than the cultural sites and tour itinerary subject.

Finally back in our room. Peace and quiet. No one around. Perfect!

Sleepy time.

Monday is the big market day here. It promises to be quite a spectacular day...or so we have been told.

August 9th, off to Djenne!

Long day!

I was at the bus station by 8am like I had been told yesterday. In Africa you never know how delayed the transport will be, but if you are out of luck, it might fill up very quickly and even leave before announced time. So better safe than sorry. Anyhow, I was there early. Waited for a good hour before the little kid, Mahmood, from the other day came up and recognized me. A very nice and respectful kid.

Since the bus was obviously going to be quite late and I wanted to buy bananas, we left on a quest for bananas together. It is strange how the days you don't need bananas in Mopti, you bump into them everywhere, and the days you absolutely want some, you can't find them anywhere. We walked so far away to finally find bananas. And funny enough, when we almost arrive back at the station, a banana food cart was just setting up shop in front of the station.

I waited and waited...note and more.

At around 11am, I see two toubabs (white men) pop up at the station. Wow! The first foreign tourists I see since I got to Mali. We quickly start chatting. Mike is Canadian from North Bay and Claudio Italian from Florence. Mike just got back from Timbuktu and shows me photos of a desert sand storm that totally make me want to go there. He used to live in China teaching for several years, the moved to Libya right during the conflict there. Interesting stories. Claudia was in Burkina Faso before getting to Mali. We were in the Pays Dogon at the same time.

And so we chat. Another down pour takes over the city for a couple of hours.

Soon it is 3:30pm. We finally take off. It's about time! 7,5 hours of wait for a 2 hour ride. Uffff! The ride was not that interesting in terms of landscape. It was however very comfortable compared to the ride from Sanga to Bandiagara.

After crossing over the river by ferry with the bus, we finally arrive in the majestic town of Djenne. Wow! It is really something impressive. The mud architecture, mixing Sudanese and Moroccan influences not on regular one floor houses but on two floor houses is just superb!

Only hick up, the town is filled with guides and tours who just won't stop harassing us. It is exhausting and really annoying a the same time. As much as we try to decline every offer politely, they don't give up and keep trying on and on.

We took a while to find a decent hotel for a decent price with a room with three beds. Might as well stay together to negotiate and hold the fort strong against the touts.

The hotel we found is beautiful. A huge central courtyard, Moroccan style with a big tree filled with little yellow birds and their nests in the middle, almost looks like Christmas decoration between the nests and the colors. Rooms all around a large corridor. The whole patio is invaded by numerous white doves flying through the patio and the corridor. Quietness.

We check in, drop our bags, and head back out to enjoy the last minutes of sun light.

We just can't make a step without having several guides around us, aggressively trying to be smooth about the way they suggest their services. Hopefully tomorrow they will get it: we don't want any guide of any sort. No means No.

After dinner, we chit chat with different locals every 3 meters trying to ignore the guides and talk about things other than the cultural sites and tour itinerary subject.

Finally back in our room. Peace and quiet. No one around. Perfect!

Sleepy time.

Monday is the big market day here. It promises to be quite a spectacular day...or so we have been told.

August 8th, artistic day

This morning I finally found the strength to meditate an hour. I really need to meditate these days but cannot seem to find the energy to do so. Lame excuse, I know. Anyhow, I will try to progressively get back to it.

After meditation and some laundry, I finally made it out of my room. It was already quite hot outside. And the thick dusty air here makes it even hotter.

I went and purchased my usual bread and bananas to make my breakfast, and was set on walking around the big mud mosque and find a spot on the bank of the lake to eat.

However, behind the mosque, as I was looking for a street access to the lake side, I bumped into this intersection art/furniture store, which because of the crisis now mostly sells cooked foods, and got saluted by its owner, a Guinean named Adama, in front of the gate. For some reason I don't know, I stopped and started chatting with him. He seemed very well educated and spoken. At first he just wanted to show me what used to be his atelier and boutique. Then we sat down on a chair and the showed me photos of old creations he made and events he was part of.

We said Hello at around 10am. I left his house by 6pm or so.

We basically spent the entire day chatting about tourism, about art and decoration. About ideas for the tea house he used to have on the first floor and will renovate when tourism starts again. About other business ideas I had for him. The whole day. I bought lunch from his wife. He showed me some of the jewelry he had in stock. Beautiful pieces. I even bought one for my mom, because I liked it but also because I wanted to help Adama and his family. He gave me another piece as a gift and also so that I can use both pieces when in Morocco to try and maybe fins him some contacts who might be interested in his art. Who knows?

The roof top of his house has a fantastic view over the city, the lake, and even the big mosque.

Late in the afternoon, the sky suddenly turned black. We went up to chat and watch the light change. It was spectacular to see how the clouds and send storm were progressively sort of eating up the whole city and spitting back tons of rain over it. An incredible sight. Almost paralyzing because it was so beautifully cataclysmic.

And in a second, a diluvial rain was pouring over the city. Something unbelievable. Like a dirt brown wall blocking the sight of the sky and the horizon.

We sat by the windows to watch the street life change, the kids run naked and play in the water, the adults trying to run back home and get as little wet as possible, and the muddy water level rising and rising slowly taking over the whole street.

What a moment!

Finally short after the rain stopped and the street life started again, almost as if nothing had happened.

We walked out. He accompanied me to check out the times and prices for the vans going to Djenne tomorrow and then he dropped me off at my hotel.

Later on, after resting for a bit at the hotel and waiting for Mamadou, the kid from last night whom I was supposed to help again tonight, who never showed up, I went back out to Adama's house to have dinner and spend a few more hours chatting about creative ideas. His house and his neighborhood are so relaxing and entertaining at the same time at night. The wind was blowing relatively strong. So it was just the right temperature.

By 10:30pm I was beat. My medicine is really knocking me out on and off throughout the day. Can't wait for the treatment to be over.

What an interesting day. Not necessarily productive or active in terms of sightseeing, but so fulfilling in terms of cultural and human interaction. I was missing some of that.

Voila...buenas noches.

August 7th, a beautiful day!

Today was such a beautiful day!

I woke up early, feeling much better than yesterday, yet no improvement with my intestine still.

I was set on ignoring all the touts and guides without exception. All of them. I wanted peace and non commercial interaction.

My first task was to find bananas for breakfast and try to force myself to eat as much food per day as possible to not lose weight.

So I headed out to the Barbour to walk along the water. I didn't know the water side was so long. Silly me because the Niger river goes all the way to Nigeria. Duh! And so I kept walking and walking.

I found my bananas. Yesss! 1kg! Now I am set to walk all morning. And so I walked. I passed by a lot of neighborhoods, government buildings, army camps, police stations, boat docks, and so on...such a beautiful day and such a beautiful walk.

At some point I reached a little rock staircase. I walk up out of curiosity and see numerous animals in cages. It was like a mini private zoo/bar/restaurant overlooking the river. At first am not to upset. Geese, monkeys, boa...but then I see an eagle in a tiny cage where it can't even open its wings, and even worse, I see three pelicans in a small cage. Pelicans are huge birds! I am so upset and pissed. I cant believe what I see. I look around to see if anyone is here. The place seems empty. My intention is to open the cages of the birds and release them. But as I am about to do so, I see a dog and a man move in the back of the yard. Bummer! The owner. I retreat. What sucked is that he hasn't even seen me, so I could have released the animals and escape. An eagle and pelicans in a cage!? Really!? Who is so dumb and inhumane to dare doing this?! and worse, who is stupid enough to come here and enjoy this?! I can't believe this country.

I walk away, knowing that there is nothing I can do anyway as their brains are formated in a very dramatically different way than mine.

I get to a little village where bunch of boats are there and people going in and out. OK, I had thought of crossing the river to check out the other little villages on what seems to me an long island.

I get close to a boat, some fancy guy tells me $2, I dodge him and walk further. I tell a guy I want to cross for 40 cents. And off I go. Ends up the actual price is 10 cents. Oh well, now I know.

We cross that chocolaty Niger river. I get to the other side. It is so peaceful and beautiful here. No electricity. No automobile. No dist. No pollution. No touts. Just nature, traditional mud houses, beautifully genuine people, and village life.

And so I walk, wandering around as I usually do. Going with the flow.

Soon o reach this little plateau right by the water, filled with mango trees. I see the man sitting in a chair, just chilling and watching the river. He salutes me and tries to start a conversation. Bummer, a pseudo tout. As I am about to dodge that one as well, he tells me he is a teacher. The magic word. A guy with a brain (kind of), and educated who just wants to chat. Yay!

I shake his hand and we start chatting. He shows me his house, his family, his chicken and duck ponds he just built to try and make extra money from it. Him and his family are very nice and polite. I quickly like them.

He tells me he has malaria. I ask him if he vomits and has nausea. He says no. Only fever. I reassure him and tell him it is not malaria. Fever can be caused by many things but does not always mean malaria. Seems that all the malaria prevention campaigns done in west Africa for decades now have been done wrong. Not only do people (and even educated ones like teachers) think mosquitoes net is enough prevention, but they think that fever equals malaria. So I then I tell him about citronella. He had no idea. And once again I am in shock to see that not a single malaria campaign has ever been focus on the benefits of growing citronella in your backyard. This is purely shameful coming from western NGOs who have been pouring so much money into Africa, yet missing one of the key crucial elements for the help to be effective. Shame! Those NGOs should probably have sent people to come spend some time in Africa before designing their programs from Paris, Washington DC or any other capital.

For someone who says he has a fever and thinks he has malaria, he is more talkative than me when I am at the top of my health. Lol

Anyhow...it is not a secret I suppose. If the work of these NGOs were really effective, Africa would not be where it is today.

Soon after the teacher offers to walk with me to the Peul village a bit further behind. So we go. I was curious about this village as it was on the other side of the fully sun exposed field and looked very cute.

The Peul is an African ethnicity of nomads and travelers. Hence on some levels, they are much more world educated than the other ethnicities.

As we are walking through the village I am just in awe in from of every house, every little street, the mosque, and the market. Wow! A real jewel of a village...so far away from everything and all the superficial things that city people seem to be focused on. Magnificent village. I get introduced to the village Chief, Abdalah. A 31 year old extremely well Africa traveled young man. He even talks to me in Spanish at some point. He lived in Equatorial Guinea for several years, his favorite country in Africa. He is very nice and very motivated by making his village and his people progress. We tell him about citronella, he is happy about such info and says he will get on it ASAP.

We walk back to the mango tree area, lay a straw mat on the floor, and sit there, watching the river, the pirogues go by and the women of the surrounding villages come here to do their weekly laundry and cleaning. Beautifully relaxing. I quickly dosed off as the teacher kept talking. The combination of the antibiotics and the sun totally knocked me off.

He wakes me up soon after as his wife brings us lunch for him and I to eat, right there on the mat under the mango trees. Magical. The wind is blowing and keeping us cool the whole time. The food is rice with some veggies and sauce. Good for my stomach. Yay!

We eat. Him super duper fast as usual. And me, super duper slow, as usual. Hahaha!

I finish eating much after him. And when I finish, I doze off again. Seems he does too.

And so we spent the whole afternoon like that, half awake, half asleep. Chatting from time to time. Him doing his prayer when he has to. And the women are still washing and washing and washing...

I suggest to him that when he has the money to build one or two guest room in his house. Tourists would absolutely love to come stay here than be in polluted loud commercial Mopti. And tell him how much money he could make. He loves the idea.

The sun is now not facing us anymore but behind us, on its way down. It's 4pm. Time for me to get up and go. I still want to walk along the after and go check out this village he told me about far away.

A 17year old who is in the area on vacation and trying to be a walking medical supplies sales rep was hanging out with us and also has to hear out that way to cross over to Mopti, so we take off together.

I tell the teacher I will try and come back again tomorrow to spend some more relaxing time. I will bring bananas and they will grill fish. Hmmm...not sure I want to eat fish from this Ganga looking Niger river...

As we are walking along the water, we pass some more gorgeous little villages. We even get to a point where the whole village is house boats of people who very recently arrived here by boats and are just starting to build their houses on the land. Beautiful. While the men and boys are busy building the houses, the kids are dancing to the sound of some loud Tibetan sounding Mali music, and the women are weaving straw mats for the house. This place is really like a mini heaven.

Why do people even live in Mopti?!

After a bit, we finally get on board this long public pirogue and cross the river. A somewhat long and delightful ride. As we ride, some people wash their feet and face with the river water, other dip a plastic cup in the river and drink from it. The whole time am just thinking to myself, why do they do this when they all have access to filtered well water or even in Mopti, tap water? The core of the problem seems to be that they simply don't know the risks of bathing in and drinking such water. But the traditional laziness wants that they won't bother wait to get to a tap or a well. Why complicate things by having to take all these precautions? No comment.

I get to the other side, I finally buy some water (I was so dead thirsty), and buy some bread, and start walking along the whole harbor as the sun is setting.

The walk is unbelievable. Today was market day in Mopti. So that means a ton of people from all the surrounding villages came over by river or by road and turned the city upside down with activity and trade. Today was also the first day of the season when the public ferry boat took off to go to Timbuktu. So quite a busy and chaotic day in Mopti. A good thing I was out most of the day. But the evening seems to be just as entertaining. So many different activities are taking place around the harbor. I just can't seem to take my eyes away from the scenes.

I finally find a spot over looking both the harbor and the sun set.

I make myself a banana sandwich and watch the show.

Oh, I must specify, this harbor only has pirogues, no actual boats.

Women are carrying lots of tall baskets and vases on their heads, down to some boats. Old men are unloading huge bags of produce and coals. Families are loading their pirogue with goods of all sorts to get ready for a long trip back to their village. Some men are fixing their boat with fire tar and nails. Some other men are actually finishing up building the roof of a boat on the water. The place is just hyper vibrating with energy. No photos would do it justice. Silly me I should have shot a mini video. Didn't think of it.

And yet again I observed the same thing I have been observing since I got to west Africa and I can no longer postpone mentioning it in my blog. It is the first and only place I have seen in the world where men go pee in the street or in the bush and always rinse their penis with water right after. As if they were preoccupied by the hygiene of their manhood. Am not sure what kind of social marketing campaign triggered this behavior. And I would fully accept it as is if only they wouldn't use the Gang like river water to do so. Yet, I do wonder why they do this, and also why we, westerners don't. Isn't it strange to see Africans do something to improve their hygiene that we westerners don't even do? And another little funny detail about this is that contrary to westerners who just unzip standing and just pee, here they squat down and pee. But they will do it absolutely anywhere. No shame nor timidity. Between women who hang around bare chested and this, it makes me wonder why they even wear clothes.

As the sun is now almost in bed, I walk back home. Angelina calls me. Hearing her voice is a perfect final touch to make this day a perfect day.

I miss her...

The sun is now in bed. I go back yo my hotel room to rest a bit, cool down, and write about my day.

After a while, all of a sudden I hear a knock on my door. "Yes?"... No answer. I keep writing. Whatever. Minutes later, another knock on the door. I get up, almost naked just wearing my boxers, and I go open the door. I find the guy from yesterday who wanted me to go help me send/write an email. He sees am half naked and resting and yet tells me, without apology, that he brought his scooter so we can go now to the cyber cafe. Hell no! "Meet you downstairs in half an hour." Apparently he looked for me all over town today. Poor guy. It's for the good cause...or maybe not a cause other than helping him with his French.

Ha! That's a thing that really upsets me to the highest level here and in Senegal. The official language of education is French. Yet, not a single kid no matter how old, even tweens barely speak any French. And seeing the way they write is even more shameful.

So I met up with him later on. We went to the old part of town, passed the big mosque, to the cheapest cyber cafe in town. Before that we dropped by his house to pick up the email address he wanted to send his email to. So I met his whole family who even insisted I say for dinner. I was way to tired and a bit nauseous because of the medicine am taking. So no thank you.

He basically wanted me to write to one of his French friend a big time music producer, to ask if he could send some of his mom designed jewelry to the producers girlfriend in mexico so she could try to sell them for him. Hmmm...I told him mexico was no Europe. Purchasing power is not all that high, and African jewelry might not work so well if prices are to high. But who knows...

So tomorrow night we will take photos of the jewelry to send to the guy and give him some price ranges. We'll see.

Then he dropped me off at the food stall I ate last night, right near my hotel. I quietly ate the same dish as last night. Only slightly disturbed by the sadly crazy woman who spoke very good French and asked me where I had left my child. Hmmm...I felt bad for her because the kids around made fun of her after she left.

And off to sleep. A beautiful and delightful day is over...next!

(As I was writing this, a big spider jumped on my face and walked away. Yikes! Time to kill it and go to sleep. Darn useless mosquito net!)

August 7th, a beautiful day!

Today was such a beautiful day!

I woke up early, feeling much better than yesterday, yet no improvement with my intestine still.

I was set on ignoring all the touts and guides without exception. All of them. I wanted peace and non commercial interaction.

My first task was to find bananas for breakfast and try to force myself to eat as much food per day as possible to not lose weight.

So I headed out to the Barbour to walk along the water. I didn't know the water side was so long. Silly me because the Niger river goes all the way to Nigeria. Duh! And so I kept walking and walking.

I found my bananas. Yesss! 1kg! Now I am set to walk all morning. And so I walked. I passed by a lot of neighborhoods, government buildings, army camps, police stations, boat docks, and so on...such a beautiful day and such a beautiful walk.

At some point I reached a little rock staircase. I walk up out of curiosity and see numerous animals in cages. It was like a mini private zoo/bar/restaurant overlooking the river. At first am not to upset. Geese, monkeys, boa...but then I see an eagle in a tiny cage where it can't even open its wings, and even worse, I see three pelicans in a small cage. Pelicans are huge birds! I am so upset and pissed. I cant believe what I see. I look around to see if anyone is here. The place seems empty. My intention is to open the cages of the birds and release them. But as I am about to do so, I see a dog and a man move in the back of the yard. Bummer! The owner. I retreat. What sucked is that he hasn't even seen me, so I could have released the animals and escape. An eagle and pelicans in a cage!? Really!? Who is so dumb and inhumane to dare doing this?! and worse, who is stupid enough to come here and enjoy this?! I can't believe this country.

I walk away, knowing that there is nothing I can do anyway as their brains are formated in a very dramatically different way than mine.

I get to a little village where bunch of boats are there and people going in and out. OK, I had thought of crossing the river to check out the other little villages on what seems to me an long island.

I get close to a boat, some fancy guy tells me $2, I dodge him and walk further. I tell a guy I want to cross for 40 cents. And off I go. Ends up the actual price is 10 cents. Oh well, now I know.

We cross that chocolaty Niger river. I get to the other side. It is so peaceful and beautiful here. No electricity. No automobile. No dist. No pollution. No touts. Just nature, traditional mud houses, beautifully genuine people, and village life.

And so I walk, wandering around as I usually do. Going with the flow.

Soon o reach this little plateau right by the water, filled with mango trees. I see the man sitting in a chair, just chilling and watching the river. He salutes me and tries to start a conversation. Bummer, a pseudo tout. As I am about to dodge that one as well, he tells me he is a teacher. The magic word. A guy with a brain (kind of), and educated who just wants to chat. Yay!

I shake his hand and we start chatting. He shows me his house, his family, his chicken and duck ponds he just built to try and make extra money from it. Him and his family are very nice and polite. I quickly like them.

He tells me he has malaria. I ask him if he vomits and has nausea. He says no. Only fever. I reassure him and tell him it is not malaria. Fever can be caused by many things but does not always mean malaria. Seems that all the malaria prevention campaigns done in west Africa for decades now have been done wrong. Not only do people (and even educated ones like teachers) think mosquitoes net is enough prevention, but they think that fever equals malaria. So I then I tell him about citronella. He had no idea. And once again I am in shock to see that not a single malaria campaign has ever been focus on the benefits of growing citronella in your backyard. This is purely shameful coming from western NGOs who have been pouring so much money into Africa, yet missing one of the key crucial elements for the help to be effective. Shame! Those NGOs should probably have sent people to come spend some time in Africa before designing their programs from Paris, Washington DC or any other capital.

For someone who says he has a fever and thinks he has malaria, he is more talkative than me when I am at the top of my health. Lol

Anyhow...it is not a secret I suppose. If the work of these NGOs were really effective, Africa would not be where it is today.

Soon after the teacher offers to walk with me to the Peul village a bit further behind. So we go. I was curious about this village as it was on the other side of the fully sun exposed field and looked very cute.

The Peul is an African ethnicity of nomads and travelers. Hence on some levels, they are much more world educated than the other ethnicities.

As we are walking through the village I am just in awe in from of every house, every little street, the mosque, and the market. Wow! A real jewel of a village...so far away from everything and all the superficial things that city people seem to be focused on. Magnificent village. I get introduced to the village Chief, Abdalah. A 31 year old extremely well Africa traveled young man. He even talks to me in Spanish at some point. He lived in Equatorial Guinea for several years, his favorite country in Africa. He is very nice and very motivated by making his village and his people progress. We tell him about citronella, he is happy about such info and says he will get on it ASAP.

We walk back to the mango tree area, lay a straw mat on the floor, and sit there, watching the river, the pirogues go by and the women of the surrounding villages come here to do their weekly laundry and cleaning. Beautifully relaxing. I quickly dosed off as the teacher kept talking. The combination of the antibiotics and the sun totally knocked me off.

He wakes me up soon after as his wife brings us lunch for him and I to eat, right there on the mat under the mango trees. Magical. The wind is blowing and keeping us cool the whole time. The food is rice with some veggies and sauce. Good for my stomach. Yay!

We eat. Him super duper fast as usual. And me, super duper slow, as usual. Hahaha!

I finish eating much after him. And when I finish, I doze off again. Seems he does too.

And so we spent the whole afternoon like that, half awake, half asleep. Chatting from time to time. Him doing his prayer when he has to. And the women are still washing and washing and washing...

I suggest to him that when he has the money to build one or two guest room in his house. Tourists would absolutely love to come stay here than be in polluted loud commercial Mopti. And tell him how much money he could make. He loves the idea.

The sun is now not facing us anymore but behind us, on its way down. It's 4pm. Time for me to get up and go. I still want to walk along the after and go check out this village he told me about far away.

A 17year old who is in the area on vacation and trying to be a walking medical supplies sales rep was hanging out with us and also has to hear out that way to cross over to Mopti, so we take off together.

I tell the teacher I will try and come back again tomorrow to spend some more relaxing time. I will bring bananas and they will grill fish. Hmmm...not sure I want to eat fish from this Ganga looking Niger river...

As we are walking along the water, we pass some more gorgeous little villages. We even get to a point where the whole village is house boats of people who very recently arrived here by boats and are just starting to build their houses on the land. Beautiful. While the men and boys are busy building the houses, the kids are dancing to the sound of some loud Tibetan sounding Mali music, and the women are weaving straw mats for the house. This place is really like a mini heaven.

Why do people even live in Mopti?!

After a bit, we finally get on board this long public pirogue and cross the river. A somewhat long and delightful ride. As we ride, some people wash their feet and face with the river water, other dip a plastic cup in the river and drink from it. The whole time am just thinking to myself, why do they do this when they all have access to filtered well water or even in Mopti, tap water? The core of the problem seems to be that they simply don't know the risks of bathing in and drinking such water. But the traditional laziness wants that they won't bother wait to get to a tap or a well. Why complicate things by having to take all these precautions? No comment.

I get to the other side, I finally buy some water (I was so dead thirsty), and buy some bread, and start walking along the whole harbor as the sun is setting.

The walk is unbelievable. Today was market day in Mopti. So that means a ton of people from all the surrounding villages came over by river or by road and turned the city upside down with activity and trade. Today was also the first day of the season when the public ferry boat took off to go to Timbuktu. So quite a busy and chaotic day in Mopti. A good thing I was out most of the day. But the evening seems to be just as entertaining. So many different activities are taking place around the harbor. I just can't seem to take my eyes away from the scenes.

I finally find a spot over looking both the harbor and the sun set.

I make myself a banana sandwich and watch the show.

Oh, I must specify, this harbor only has pirogues, no actual boats.

Women are carrying lots of tall baskets and vases on their heads, down to some boats. Old men are unloading huge bags of produce and coals. Families are loading their pirogue with goods of all sorts to get ready for a long trip back to their village. Some men are fixing their boat with fire tar and nails. Some other men are actually finishing up building the roof of a boat on the water. The place is just hyper vibrating with energy. No photos would do it justice. Silly me I should have shot a mini video. Didn't think of it.

And yet again I observed the same thing I have been observing since I got to west Africa and I can no longer postpone mentioning it in my blog. It is the first and only place I have seen in the world where men go pee in the street or in the bush and always rinse their penis with water right after. As if they were preoccupied by the hygiene of their manhood. Am not sure what kind of social marketing campaign triggered this behavior. And I would fully accept it as is if only they wouldn't use the Gang like river water to do so. Yet, I do wonder why they do this, and also why we, westerners don't. Isn't it strange to see Africans do something to improve their hygiene that we westerners don't even do? And another little funny detail about this is that contrary to westerners who just unzip standing and just pee, here they squat down and pee. But they will do it absolutely anywhere. No shame nor timidity. Between women who hang around bare chested and this, it makes me wonder why they even wear clothes.

As the sun is now almost in bed, I walk back home. Angelina calls me. Hearing her voice is a perfect final touch to make this day a perfect day.

I miss her...

The sun is now in bed. I go back yo my hotel room to rest a bit, cool down, and write about my day.

After a while, all of a sudden I hear a knock on my door. "Yes?"... No answer. I keep writing. Whatever. Minutes later, another knock on the door. I get up, almost naked just wearing my boxers, and I go open the door. I find the guy from yesterday who wanted me to go help me send/write an email. He sees am half naked and resting and yet tells me, without apology, that he brought his scooter so we can go now to the cyber cafe. Hell no! "Meet you downstairs in half an hour." Apparently he looked for me all over town today. Poor guy. It's for the good cause...or maybe not a cause other than helping him with his French.

Ha! That's a thing that really upsets me to the highest level here and in Senegal. The official language of education is French. Yet, not a single kid no matter how old, even tweens barely speak any French. And seeing the way they write is even more shameful.

So I met up with him later on. We went to the old part of town, passed the big mosque, to the cheapest cyber cafe in town. Before that we dropped by his house to pick up the email address he wanted to send his email to. So I met his whole family who even insisted I say for dinner. I was way to tired and a bit nauseous because of the medicine am taking. So no thank you.

He basically wanted me to write to one of his French friend a big time music producer, to ask if he could send some of his mom designed jewelry to the producers girlfriend in mexico so she could try to sell them for him. Hmmm...I told him mexico was no Europe. Purchasing power is not all that high, and African jewelry might not work so well if prices are to high. But who knows...

So tomorrow night we will take photos of the jewelry to send to the guy and give him some price ranges. We'll see.

Then he dropped me off at the food stall I ate last night, right near my hotel. I quietly ate the same dish as last night. Only slightly disturbed by the sadly crazy woman who spoke very good French and asked me where I had left my child. Hmmm...I felt bad for her because the kids around made fun of her after she left.

And off to sleep. A beautiful and delightful day is over...next!

(As I was writing this, a big spider jumped on my face and walked away. Yikes! Time to kill it and go to sleep. Darn useless mosquito net!)

August 7th, a beautiful day!

Today was such a beautiful day!

I woke up early, feeling much better than yesterday, yet no improvement with my intestine still.

I was set on ignoring all the touts and guides without exception. All of them. I wanted peace and non commercial interaction.

My first task was to find bananas for breakfast and try to force myself to eat as much food per day as possible to not lose weight.

So I headed out to the Barbour to walk along the water. I didn't know the water side was so long. Silly me because the Niger river goes all the way to Nigeria. Duh! And so I kept walking and walking.

I found my bananas. Yesss! 1kg! Now I am set to walk all morning. And so I walked. I passed by a lot of neighborhoods, government buildings, army camps, police stations, boat docks, and so on...such a beautiful day and such a beautiful walk.

At some point I reached a little rock staircase. I walk up out of curiosity and see numerous animals in cages. It was like a mini private zoo/bar/restaurant overlooking the river. At first am not to upset. Geese, monkeys, boa...but then I see an eagle in a tiny cage where it can't even open its wings, and even worse, I see three pelicans in a small cage. Pelicans are huge birds! I am so upset and pissed. I cant believe what I see. I look around to see if anyone is here. The place seems empty. My intention is to open the cages of the birds and release them. But as I am about to do so, I see a dog and a man move in the back of the yard. Bummer! The owner. I retreat. What sucked is that he hasn't even seen me, so I could have released the animals and escape. An eagle and pelicans in a cage!? Really!? Who is so dumb and inhumane to dare doing this?! and worse, who is stupid enough to come here and enjoy this?! I can't believe this country.

I walk away, knowing that there is nothing I can do anyway as their brains are formated in a very dramatically different way than mine.

I get to a little village where bunch of boats are there and people going in and out. OK, I had thought of crossing the river to check out the other little villages on what seems to me an long island.

I get close to a boat, some fancy guy tells me $2, I dodge him and walk further. I tell a guy I want to cross for 40 cents. And off I go. Ends up the actual price is 10 cents. Oh well, now I know.

We cross that chocolaty Niger river. I get to the other side. It is so peaceful and beautiful here. No electricity. No automobile. No dist. No pollution. No touts. Just nature, traditional mud houses, beautifully genuine people, and village life.

And so I walk, wandering around as I usually do. Going with the flow.

Soon o reach this little plateau right by the water, filled with mango trees. I see the man sitting in a chair, just chilling and watching the river. He salutes me and tries to start a conversation. Bummer, a pseudo tout. As I am about to dodge that one as well, he tells me he is a teacher. The magic word. A guy with a brain (kind of), and educated who just wants to chat. Yay!

I shake his hand and we start chatting. He shows me his house, his family, his chicken and duck ponds he just built to try and make extra money from it. Him and his family are very nice and polite. I quickly like them.

He tells me he has malaria. I ask him if he vomits and has nausea. He says no. Only fever. I reassure him and tell him it is not malaria. Fever can be caused by many things but does not always mean malaria. Seems that all the malaria prevention campaigns done in west Africa for decades now have been done wrong. Not only do people (and even educated ones like teachers) think mosquitoes net is enough prevention, but they think that fever equals malaria. So I then I tell him about citronella. He had no idea. And once again I am in shock to see that not a single malaria campaign has ever been focus on the benefits of growing citronella in your backyard. This is purely shameful coming from western NGOs who have been pouring so much money into Africa, yet missing one of the key crucial elements for the help to be effective. Shame! Those NGOs should probably have sent people to come spend some time in Africa before designing their programs from Paris, Washington DC or any other capital.

For someone who says he has a fever and thinks he has malaria, he is more talkative than me when I am at the top of my health. Lol

Anyhow...it is not a secret I suppose. If the work of these NGOs were really effective, Africa would not be where it is today.

Soon after the teacher offers to walk with me to the Peul village a bit further behind. So we go. I was curious about this village as it was on the other side of the fully sun exposed field and looked very cute.

The Peul is an African ethnicity of nomads and travelers. Hence on some levels, they are much more world educated than the other ethnicities.

As we are walking through the village I am just in awe in from of every house, every little street, the mosque, and the market. Wow! A real jewel of a village...so far away from everything and all the superficial things that city people seem to be focused on. Magnificent village. I get introduced to the village Chief, Abdalah. A 31 year old extremely well Africa traveled young man. He even talks to me in Spanish at some point. He lived in Equatorial Guinea for several years, his favorite country in Africa. He is very nice and very motivated by making his village and his people progress. We tell him about citronella, he is happy about such info and says he will get on it ASAP.

We walk back to the mango tree area, lay a straw mat on the floor, and sit there, watching the river, the pirogues go by and the women of the surrounding villages come here to do their weekly laundry and cleaning. Beautifully relaxing. I quickly dosed off as the teacher kept talking. The combination of the antibiotics and the sun totally knocked me off.

He wakes me up soon after as his wife brings us lunch for him and I to eat, right there on the mat under the mango trees. Magical. The wind is blowing and keeping us cool the whole time. The food is rice with some veggies and sauce. Good for my stomach. Yay!

We eat. Him super duper fast as usual. And me, super duper slow, as usual. Hahaha!

I finish eating much after him. And when I finish, I doze off again. Seems he does too.

And so we spent the whole afternoon like that, half awake, half asleep. Chatting from time to time. Him doing his prayer when he has to. And the women are still washing and washing and washing...

I suggest to him that when he has the money to build one or two guest room in his house. Tourists would absolutely love to come stay here than be in polluted loud commercial Mopti. And tell him how much money he could make. He loves the idea.

The sun is now not facing us anymore but behind us, on its way down. It's 4pm. Time for me to get up and go. I still want to walk along the after and go check out this village he told me about far away.

A 17year old who is in the area on vacation and trying to be a walking medical supplies sales rep was hanging out with us and also has to hear out that way to cross over to Mopti, so we take off together.

I tell the teacher I will try and come back again tomorrow to spend some more relaxing time. I will bring bananas and they will grill fish. Hmmm...not sure I want to eat fish from this Ganga looking Niger river...

As we are walking along the water, we pass some more gorgeous little villages. We even get to a point where the whole village is house boats of people who very recently arrived here by boats and are just starting to build their houses on the land. Beautiful. While the men and boys are busy building the houses, the kids are dancing to the sound of some loud Tibetan sounding Mali music, and the women are weaving straw mats for the house. This place is really like a mini heaven.

Why do people even live in Mopti?!

After a bit, we finally get on board this long public pirogue and cross the river. A somewhat long and delightful ride. As we ride, some people wash their feet and face with the river water, other dip a plastic cup in the river and drink from it. The whole time am just thinking to myself, why do they do this when they all have access to filtered well water or even in Mopti, tap water? The core of the problem seems to be that they simply don't know the risks of bathing in and drinking such water. But the traditional laziness wants that they won't bother wait to get to a tap or a well. Why complicate things by having to take all these precautions? No comment.

I get to the other side, I finally buy some water (I was so dead thirsty), and buy some bread, and start walking along the whole harbor as the sun is setting.

The walk is unbelievable. Today was market day in Mopti. So that means a ton of people from all the surrounding villages came over by river or by road and turned the city upside down with activity and trade. Today was also the first day of the season when the public ferry boat took off to go to Timbuktu. So quite a busy and chaotic day in Mopti. A good thing I was out most of the day. But the evening seems to be just as entertaining. So many different activities are taking place around the harbor. I just can't seem to take my eyes away from the scenes.

I finally find a spot over looking both the harbor and the sun set.

I make myself a banana sandwich and watch the show.

Oh, I must specify, this harbor only has pirogues, no actual boats.

Women are carrying lots of tall baskets and vases on their heads, down to some boats. Old men are unloading huge bags of produce and coals. Families are loading their pirogue with goods of all sorts to get ready for a long trip back to their village. Some men are fixing their boat with fire tar and nails. Some other men are actually finishing up building the roof of a boat on the water. The place is just hyper vibrating with energy. No photos would do it justice. Silly me I should have shot a mini video. Didn't think of it.

And yet again I observed the same thing I have been observing since I got to west Africa and I can no longer postpone mentioning it in my blog. It is the first and only place I have seen in the world where men go pee in the street or in the bush and always rinse their penis with water right after. As if they were preoccupied by the hygiene of their manhood. Am not sure what kind of social marketing campaign triggered this behavior. And I would fully accept it as is if only they wouldn't use the Gang like river water to do so. Yet, I do wonder why they do this, and also why we, westerners don't. Isn't it strange to see Africans do something to improve their hygiene that we westerners don't even do? And another little funny detail about this is that contrary to westerners who just unzip standing and just pee, here they squat down and pee. But they will do it absolutely anywhere. No shame nor timidity. Between women who hang around bare chested and this, it makes me wonder why they even wear clothes.

As the sun is now almost in bed, I walk back home. Angelina calls me. Hearing her voice is a perfect final touch to make this day a perfect day.

I miss her...

The sun is now in bed. I go back yo my hotel room to rest a bit, cool down, and write about my day.

After a while, all of a sudden I hear a knock on my door. "Yes?"... No answer. I keep writing. Whatever. Minutes later, another knock on the door. I get up, almost naked just wearing my boxers, and I go open the door. I find the guy from yesterday who wanted me to go help me send/write an email. He sees am half naked and resting and yet tells me, without apology, that he brought his scooter so we can go now to the cyber cafe. Hell no! "Meet you downstairs in half an hour." Apparently he looked for me all over town today. Poor guy. It's for the good cause...or maybe not a cause other than helping him with his French.

Ha! That's a thing that really upsets me to the highest level here and in Senegal. The official language of education is French. Yet, not a single kid no matter how old, even tweens barely speak any French. And seeing the way they write is even more shameful.

So I met up with him later on. We went to the old part of town, passed the big mosque, to the cheapest cyber cafe in town. Before that we dropped by his house to pick up the email address he wanted to send his email to. So I met his whole family who even insisted I say for dinner. I was way to tired and a bit nauseous because of the medicine am taking. So no thank you.

He basically wanted me to write to one of his French friend a big time music producer, to ask if he could send some of his mom designed jewelry to the producers girlfriend in mexico so she could try to sell them for him. Hmmm...I told him mexico was no Europe. Purchasing power is not all that high, and African jewelry might not work so well if prices are to high. But who knows...

So tomorrow night we will take photos of the jewelry to send to the guy and give him some price ranges. We'll see.

Then he dropped me off at the food stall I ate last night, right near my hotel. I quietly ate the same dish as last night. Only slightly disturbed by the sadly crazy woman who spoke very good French and asked me where I had left my child. Hmmm...I felt bad for her because the kids around made fun of her after she left.

And off to sleep. A beautiful and delightful day is over...next!

(As I was writing this, a big spider jumped on my face and walked away. Yikes! Time to kill it and go to sleep. Darn useless mosquito net!)

August 7th, a beautiful day!

Today was such a beautiful day!

I woke up early, feeling much better than yesterday, yet no improvement with my intestine still.

I was set on ignoring all the touts and guides without exception. All of them. I wanted peace and non commercial interaction.

My first task was to find bananas for breakfast and try to force myself to eat as much food per day as possible to not lose weight.

So I headed out to the Barbour to walk along the water. I didn't know the water side was so long. Silly me because the Niger river goes all the way to Nigeria. Duh! And so I kept walking and walking.

I found my bananas. Yesss! 1kg! Now I am set to walk all morning. And so I walked. I passed by a lot of neighborhoods, government buildings, army camps, police stations, boat docks, and so on...such a beautiful day and such a beautiful walk.

At some point I reached a little rock staircase. I walk up out of curiosity and see numerous animals in cages. It was like a mini private zoo/bar/restaurant overlooking the river. At first am not to upset. Geese, monkeys, boa...but then I see an eagle in a tiny cage where it can't even open its wings, and even worse, I see three pelicans in a small cage. Pelicans are huge birds! I am so upset and pissed. I cant believe what I see. I look around to see if anyone is here. The place seems empty. My intention is to open the cages of the birds and release them. But as I am about to do so, I see a dog and a man move in the back of the yard. Bummer! The owner. I retreat. What sucked is that he hasn't even seen me, so I could have released the animals and escape. An eagle and pelicans in a cage!? Really!? Who is so dumb and inhumane to dare doing this?! and worse, who is stupid enough to come here and enjoy this?! I can't believe this country.

I walk away, knowing that there is nothing I can do anyway as their brains are formated in a very dramatically different way than mine.

I get to a little village where bunch of boats are there and people going in and out. OK, I had thought of crossing the river to check out the other little villages on what seems to me an long island.

I get close to a boat, some fancy guy tells me $2, I dodge him and walk further. I tell a guy I want to cross for 40 cents. And off I go. Ends up the actual price is 10 cents. Oh well, now I know.

We cross that chocolaty Niger river. I get to the other side. It is so peaceful and beautiful here. No electricity. No automobile. No dist. No pollution. No touts. Just nature, traditional mud houses, beautifully genuine people, and village life.

And so I walk, wandering around as I usually do. Going with the flow.

Soon o reach this little plateau right by the water, filled with mango trees. I see the man sitting in a chair, just chilling and watching the river. He salutes me and tries to start a conversation. Bummer, a pseudo tout. As I am about to dodge that one as well, he tells me he is a teacher. The magic word. A guy with a brain (kind of), and educated who just wants to chat. Yay!

I shake his hand and we start chatting. He shows me his house, his family, his chicken and duck ponds he just built to try and make extra money from it. Him and his family are very nice and polite. I quickly like them.

He tells me he has malaria. I ask him if he vomits and has nausea. He says no. Only fever. I reassure him and tell him it is not malaria. Fever can be caused by many things but does not always mean malaria. Seems that all the malaria prevention campaigns done in west Africa for decades now have been done wrong. Not only do people (and even educated ones like teachers) think mosquitoes net is enough prevention, but they think that fever equals malaria. So I then I tell him about citronella. He had no idea. And once again I am in shock to see that not a single malaria campaign has ever been focus on the benefits of growing citronella in your backyard. This is purely shameful coming from western NGOs who have been pouring so much money into Africa, yet missing one of the key crucial elements for the help to be effective. Shame! Those NGOs should probably have sent people to come spend some time in Africa before designing their programs from Paris, Washington DC or any other capital.

For someone who says he has a fever and thinks he has malaria, he is more talkative than me when I am at the top of my health. Lol

Anyhow...it is not a secret I suppose. If the work of these NGOs were really effective, Africa would not be where it is today.

Soon after the teacher offers to walk with me to the Peul village a bit further behind. So we go. I was curious about this village as it was on the other side of the fully sun exposed field and looked very cute.

The Peul is an African ethnicity of nomads and travelers. Hence on some levels, they are much more world educated than the other ethnicities.

As we are walking through the village I am just in awe in from of every house, every little street, the mosque, and the market. Wow! A real jewel of a village...so far away from everything and all the superficial things that city people seem to be focused on. Magnificent village. I get introduced to the village Chief, Abdalah. A 31 year old extremely well Africa traveled young man. He even talks to me in Spanish at some point. He lived in Equatorial Guinea for several years, his favorite country in Africa. He is very nice and very motivated by making his village and his people progress. We tell him about citronella, he is happy about such info and says he will get on it ASAP.

We walk back to the mango tree area, lay a straw mat on the floor, and sit there, watching the river, the pirogues go by and the women of the surrounding villages come here to do their weekly laundry and cleaning. Beautifully relaxing. I quickly dosed off as the teacher kept talking. The combination of the antibiotics and the sun totally knocked me off.

He wakes me up soon after as his wife brings us lunch for him and I to eat, right there on the mat under the mango trees. Magical. The wind is blowing and keeping us cool the whole time. The food is rice with some veggies and sauce. Good for my stomach. Yay!

We eat. Him super duper fast as usual. And me, super duper slow, as usual. Hahaha!

I finish eating much after him. And when I finish, I doze off again. Seems he does too.

And so we spent the whole afternoon like that, half awake, half asleep. Chatting from time to time. Him doing his prayer when he has to. And the women are still washing and washing and washing...

I suggest to him that when he has the money to build one or two guest room in his house. Tourists would absolutely love to come stay here than be in polluted loud commercial Mopti. And tell him how much money he could make. He loves the idea.

The sun is now not facing us anymore but behind us, on its way down. It's 4pm. Time for me to get up and go. I still want to walk along the after and go check out this village he told me about far away.

A 17year old who is in the area on vacation and trying to be a walking medical supplies sales rep was hanging out with us and also has to hear out that way to cross over to Mopti, so we take off together.

I tell the teacher I will try and come back again tomorrow to spend some more relaxing time. I will bring bananas and they will grill fish. Hmmm...not sure I want to eat fish from this Ganga looking Niger river...

As we are walking along the water, we pass some more gorgeous little villages. We even get to a point where the whole village is house boats of people who very recently arrived here by boats and are just starting to build their houses on the land. Beautiful. While the men and boys are busy building the houses, the kids are dancing to the sound of some loud Tibetan sounding Mali music, and the women are weaving straw mats for the house. This place is really like a mini heaven.

Why do people even live in Mopti?!

After a bit, we finally get on board this long public pirogue and cross the river. A somewhat long and delightful ride. As we ride, some people wash their feet and face with the river water, other dip a plastic cup in the river and drink from it. The whole time am just thinking to myself, why do they do this when they all have access to filtered well water or even in Mopti, tap water? The core of the problem seems to be that they simply don't know the risks of bathing in and drinking such water. But the traditional laziness wants that they won't bother wait to get to a tap or a well. Why complicate things by having to take all these precautions? No comment.

I get to the other side, I finally buy some water (I was so dead thirsty), and buy some bread, and start walking along the whole harbor as the sun is setting.

The walk is unbelievable. Today was market day in Mopti. So that means a ton of people from all the surrounding villages came over by river or by road and turned the city upside down with activity and trade. Today was also the first day of the season when the public ferry boat took off to go to Timbuktu. So quite a busy and chaotic day in Mopti. A good thing I was out most of the day. But the evening seems to be just as entertaining. So many different activities are taking place around the harbor. I just can't seem to take my eyes away from the scenes.

I finally find a spot over looking both the harbor and the sun set.

I make myself a banana sandwich and watch the show.

Oh, I must specify, this harbor only has pirogues, no actual boats.

Women are carrying lots of tall baskets and vases on their heads, down to some boats. Old men are unloading huge bags of produce and coals. Families are loading their pirogue with goods of all sorts to get ready for a long trip back to their village. Some men are fixing their boat with fire tar and nails. Some other men are actually finishing up building the roof of a boat on the water. The place is just hyper vibrating with energy. No photos would do it justice. Silly me I should have shot a mini video. Didn't think of it.

And yet again I observed the same thing I have been observing since I got to west Africa and I can no longer postpone mentioning it in my blog. It is the first and only place I have seen in the world where men go pee in the street or in the bush and always rinse their penis with water right after. As if they were preoccupied by the hygiene of their manhood. Am not sure what kind of social marketing campaign triggered this behavior. And I would fully accept it as is if only they wouldn't use the Gang like river water to do so. Yet, I do wonder why they do this, and also why we, westerners don't. Isn't it strange to see Africans do something to improve their hygiene that we westerners don't even do? And another little funny detail about this is that contrary to westerners who just unzip standing and just pee, here they squat down and pee. But they will do it absolutely anywhere. No shame nor timidity. Between women who hang around bare chested and this, it makes me wonder why they even wear clothes.

As the sun is now almost in bed, I walk back home. Angelina calls me. Hearing her voice is a perfect final touch to make this day a perfect day.

I miss her...

The sun is now in bed. I go back yo my hotel room to rest a bit, cool down, and write about my day.

After a while, all of a sudden I hear a knock on my door. "Yes?"... No answer. I keep writing. Whatever. Minutes later, another knock on the door. I get up, almost naked just wearing my boxers, and I go open the door. I find the guy from yesterday who wanted me to go help me send/write an email. He sees am half naked and resting and yet tells me, without apology, that he brought his scooter so we can go now to the cyber cafe. Hell no! "Meet you downstairs in half an hour." Apparently he looked for me all over town today. Poor guy. It's for the good cause...or maybe not a cause other than helping him with his French.

Ha! That's a thing that really upsets me to the highest level here and in Senegal. The official language of education is French. Yet, not a single kid no matter how old, even tweens barely speak any French. And seeing the way they write is even more shameful.

So I met up with him later on. We went to the old part of town, passed the big mosque, to the cheapest cyber cafe in town. Before that we dropped by his house to pick up the email address he wanted to send his email to. So I met his whole family who even insisted I say for dinner. I was way to tired and a bit nauseous because of the medicine am taking. So no thank you.

He basically wanted me to write to one of his French friend a big time music producer, to ask if he could send some of his mom designed jewelry to the producers girlfriend in mexico so she could try to sell them for him. Hmmm...I told him mexico was no Europe. Purchasing power is not all that high, and African jewelry might not work so well if prices are to high. But who knows...

So tomorrow night we will take photos of the jewelry to send to the guy and give him some price ranges. We'll see.

Then he dropped me off at the food stall I ate last night, right near my hotel. I quietly ate the same dish as last night. Only slightly disturbed by the sadly crazy woman who spoke very good French and asked me where I had left my child. Hmmm...I felt bad for her because the kids around made fun of her after she left.

And off to sleep. A beautiful and delightful day is over...next!

(As I was writing this, a big spider jumped on my face and walked away. Yikes! Time to kill it and go to sleep. Darn useless mosquito net!)

August 6th, Mopti the Venice of Mali

Ha! Sometimes I am a bit stubborn and proud...maybe it is bad, I don't know...it always turning out OK in the end.

I got to the bus/pick up station at 6:30am like I had been told. There was already a line up but enough tickets left.

As I walk to the ticket man, I don't even have the time to say Hello or ask the price, and the guy doesn't even say Hello himself. All I here is the price, in a mean disrespectful way. I don't like him already. Then he tells me I have to pay extra for the bag. Hmmm...and then he tells me I have to put my back on the roof. I insist and tell him I prefer to take it on my lap. It's OK for me. He just pretends he doesn't hear me and repeat his disrespectful order to out it on the roof. I insist again, and the same thing happens. I just thank him, give him his ticket back, and decide to start walking. What the hell!? If the locals allow people to treat them like dogs, up to them. I don't.

Mopti is 75km away. Hmmm...I just hope I can hitchhike a ride from someone.

After an hour of walking and barely any 4-wheelers passing by, I get concerned that maybe it was dumb of me to have decided to walk am not even sure they are used toi seeing tourists hitchhike around here.

After a couple of hours walking, a kid finally stops by on his small motorcycle. He wants gas money. Fair enough. But he wants $10! Hell no. The pick up ticket was $3. His bike would definitely not use more than 3 liters of gas. So I tell him I will not give him more than $3. He agrees. Off we go.

His bike was so small, it was the most uncomfortable ride ever. Didn't know where to put my hands to get stable. I could barely put my feet anywhere. Ufff...

At one point we got to a Police check point. They check his papers. He worked for a big NGO here. Probably another inefficient money sucking NGO. The cop looks at my passport, not even sure he could read. This check point is the exact same one I went through when I arrived by bus from Bamako with Amadou. And the cop dared telling me that I should have notified the police when I arrived and entered the Pays Dogon. Is he really that dumb? I told him that when I did enter the Pays Dogon I went through this exact check point, so the police was notified. What else was I supposed to do?! Doh?! Another retarded corrupt lazy ass of a cop trying to act smart and maybe get extra money from people.

He let us go.

The kid actually dropped me off in Sevare, where he was going. There I quickly met up with Alleye who works there during the week. It was good to see him. He helped me buy some anti biotics and get on a shared taxi to Mopti.

Arriving in Mopti was just as the guide books say: filled with annoying guides and touts. One guy helped get to a cheap hotel. My own room and bathroom for the same price I paid in the dorms in Bamako. Great! Still a bit overpriced if you ask me.

I take a good shower and a very long nap. I was so tired from the long exhausting day and from my illness.

I get out at last and am quite set on walking around town and discovering it all. It is boiling hot and pollutes outside.

Tout after tout. I just dodge them. I keep walking away, passed the big mosque, passed the old town, far away and into parts of the whole town no tourist would ever go for sure.

At some point I bump into this little 11 year old kid, Mahmood. He does not want money or gift or anything. He is just happy to communicate and even tells me about how good the French president acted against the rebels in the north. And so we chat a bit as we all a lot. Just like two friends. We walk around the whole town until we reach back the town front entrance gate.

I gave him some bananas. We say good bye. I go my way he goes his.

Mopti is surrounded by water. A lake on one side and two connecting rivers on the other. They call it the Venice of Mali. Yeah right! Not even close to that! But I guess it is a tourism strategy. Not sure how well it works though.

August 5th, last day with GAAS

Today was another interesting day.

First GAAS picked me up an whole hour late without any apology.

I spent the whole morning with one of GAAS animators visiting a few villages by motorcycle. Beautiful villages with fantastic people. Had I not been sick and would I have been more prepared, it would have been a total adventure to spend a few nights in any of those villages. A bit like in Sanga, yet more rustic and authentic I believe. Oh well...

The project I was visiting was about social marketing campaigns and workshops on the need to build latrines in each house as well as malaria prevention campaigns.

Surprisingly almost all the houses had built their own latrines at their own cost. So big success on that end. However, none of the latrines I saw met the standard hygiene norms and should thus be totally refitted. Latrines have specific norms they must respect so that you don't pee or pooh on your feet, so that the feet or pooh stays in the retention space, so that flees do not fly in and out of the retention space, and so on...

When I mentioned that to the animator so seemed quite educated, he dared telling me that there are no such norms to build latrines and that the way GAAS proceeded was just to tell the villagers to build latrines but actually never showed them how and why such norms. Yet another scandalous project showing the absolute uselessness and inefficiency of this NGO. I couldn't believe it.

The worst part is that this project is funded by UNICEF, and so when I got back to the office, I actually managed to find the official guiding document from UNICEF for this specific project, and trust me, the standard norms of hygiene and very precise directions on how to build proper latrines were all in there. It made me wonder of organizations actually really give a damn about the project they fund in developing countries or if they just pour out money in projects just to justify the salaries of their inefficient careless staff. It is scary.

In one of the villages I bumped into this old hunter named Kaltibi. When I shook his hand he have me a little wooden frame made in China containing a passport photo of himself a few years back. I thought he wanted money for it so I tried to politely decline his offer. But he strongly insisted with the most genuine of smiles. So I accepted and gave him a passport photo of myself in exchange. He was happy.

How strange a gesture. We didn't even know each other.

When we got back to the office, I sat in the project director's office for a few hours before the supervisor showed up. He said Hello and went about his business on his computer. I asked a couple of questions about the project and also if he had any of the guiding documents for the project as well as for the workshops they periodically run in the villages. He said no. They don't have a single document in the office.

I've had it. Enough waste of my time trying to help inefficient uneducated corrupt lazy people who pretend to be and do something very far away from the reality.

I thanked him for his time and left the office. No good. He to . No one cared anyway. I felt so relieved.

I walked back to town, and sat down at my usual grocery store where I buy and sip up a cold bottle of Coke while watching the street life and chit chatting with random passerby's.

Sunset over I go eat some delicious braised chicken. A lot of it. Really hoping that my intestine will contain it and correctly digest it.

I walk back home, pack everything ready for a very early start tomorrow morning.

Sweet mosquitoless dreams...