Yesterday when walking around the place where indigo prints and fabrics are made, and along the big pond, a drink guy mentioned to Amadou that he had two baby crocodiles to sell for a very good price. So this morning we went to look for this guy and go check out the crocs. It took us quite a while to find him. It seems that if white rice is my diet these days, liquor is and has been his for quite a while day in and day out. But we finally found him and went to check the beasts. Babies indeed, but still quite big to carry inside a 20l plastic jar. Hmm...this is Africa. They know I guess.
The deal was sealed. Amadou would carry two live baby crocodiles in two plastic jars tomorrow in the 20hr bus ride from Sanga to Bamako. Ufff!!!...
On our way back we stopped at another house which also had two crocodiles in a tiny pond of muddy water. These we closer to adult size though.
In both cases, after living in Miami and having access to quite huge caimans, seeing crocodiles is not something that impresses much. However seeing them in this context is quite interesting, though it made me a bit sad to see how bad conditions they are living in and to know that they are destined to being killed eventually for their skin. Not something I necessarily support.
As we walked around and saw a few frogs jump into ponds, Amadou informed that in Mali, people eat toads but not frogs, as frogs are apparently much dirtier. Interesting fact, no?
Towards mid day, we stopped at the main corner of town, in front of these little antic shops, mostly closed due to dead tourism, and sat there on little wooden sculpted stools, chit chatting and watching the village life go by. Totally stereotypical of what you would think men do in an isolates African village: sit down and so nothing...other than complain about the lack of revenue and jobs. I am always amazed at that the ones complaining are usually the ones best fed, chubbier, and best dressed. The other ones are usually active and doing something, but rarely complain.
In the afternoon I went to buy a couple of pieces of indigo fabric. Beautiful pieces I hope to use in our future home. The negotiation scene was so much fun and cultural. I really enjoyed it. In the back yard of this mud house on the edge of the big pond. All the neighborhood women who make indigo fabric showed up and showed me their goods. I chose and we started talking prices. It was such a comedy show.
Later on, as the sun was setting, we went on a race after the sun and crossed the whole village as well as the one bridge in town to hike up a little viewpoint where all the villagers walk by on their way back home and from the field where they have been cultivating for day or weeks to get the land all ready for the heavy rains to come. So it was all such a colorful local defile of people as well as cattle. The large majority were women, all carrying heavy loads on their heads. Kids bringing the cattle back, and men usually on motorcycles. Strange how men are the ones doing the least physical effort. I wonder of in the fields of is the same way.
Tonight is my last night in Sanga... still no family meal, so tonight, despite my stomach big, screw it, we are cooking pasta! It was so yummy! Same recipe as last time but cooked much better. :-)
I keep on thinking about how lucky and privileged I have been to see this with Amadou rather than on a typical touristy tour. Yes it has meant less comfort and hygiene, perhaps, but so much more authenticity, hospitality, and genuine culture.
As usual, I fall asleep on my bed outside as Amadou is sipping his tea by the fire while playing games on his cell phone. The sounds of the peaceful night are so soothing and relaxing.
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