July 27th, welcome to Pays Dogon!

When we got off the bus, 19 hours later, it did feel we were at the end of the world.

It was quite spectacular where ever I looked. Sanga is atop a high rocky plateau. Wherever you look you see slabs and slabs of irregular rocky ground on top of which is settled the huge mud house village. It is apparently one of the largest villages of the area. But the most beautiful part is the incredibly numerous quantity of baobab trees separating the different sections of the village. I love how they have managed to cultivate all sorts of cereals and vegetables on top of the rocky ground. The whole plateau which looks more like a valley is so bright with the contrast between the light brownish color of the mud houses and the lush green of the baobabs and the cultivations.

As we walk through the village, at any time there are a bunch of women and little girls carrying huge tanks of pots filled with water on top of their heads. The village has no electricity not running water. So for the water supply, even though a few NGOs and such have built some tube wells at different specific points of the village, women prefer their ancient habits of going to the numerous wells and haul water up little bucket after little bucket, risking to fall in at any moment.

After we spent a lot of time saying hellos to villagers all over, bought some warm bread, some veggies and a carton of water bottles, we finally made it back where we had left our bags, I call it the honey house because it smells strongly like honey, to rest, nap and clean up. At last. I just couldn't function any more.

We slept a long time, pretty much until mid afternoon. Then a light lunch, just like my first few days in Indar or when Angelina and I were doing the Camino, a sardine sandwich. It's OK, we made up for it at dinner.

Well rested and with something in our stomach, we walked out and went around other parts of the village. Petit Dogon showed me the sacred parts of the village and explained to me their significance. Very interesting and beautiful. I am fascinated by the mud houses, so smooth and well and simply designed. They are just beautiful. The. Village kind of reminds me of the Ait Ben Addou in Morocco. The mud village in the desert, a UNESCO world heritage site.

When we got to one of the ridges, we saw that on the other lower side of the plateau, across from the little eater stream where the kids are having a blast swimming and splashing, it was market day. Our luck!

So we went ahead to the market to buy some more veggies and for me to see what this market is like. Beautiful is what it's like! Women dressed traditionally, sitting on the floor or on wooden stools, and spread between mud and brick huts. A lot less abundance than in any other markets I have ever been to. But only women, not a single man was selling anything on the floor. Men here usually are the ones handling the little shops and the women then ones selling things in the streets. So since tourism is totally dead in the region, I was the only foreigner around, hence a bit of the cheer of attraction. It keeps on bugging me a not now, after such a long time on the road. Even though these people have seen quite a lot and still see from time to time, they still stare as if it were the very first time they see a white person. At first, when I started my trip I was getting used to it, especially since I dis go to places where few whites went to, but now, I am getting a bit tired of it. It's not that it makes me feel uncomfortable but rather that it annoys me. Oh well...

So we hung around the market for quite a while. It was quite big actually. I bought Amadou a cold soda, and we left, walking down by the water stream and following the people leaving the market carrying things on their heads zig zagging between the baobabs and climbing up the rocky floor ridge. Such a spectacle!

This place often feels unreal, as if it had been designed by computer for the purpose of a sci fi movie.

We got home, where we would sleep, by sun down. At last no more walking around. This village is just so hot, and shade seems rare. So since there are so many and long salutations to make all the time, often in the sun, it just gets exhausting after a while.

The plan was, Amadou would sleep in the room (it was so hot, no clue how he would do it), and I would sleep on a foam mat on a bed frame outside, under the stars and a mosquito net.

Now that we were back home, we cooked, mostly me hehe, some yummy pasta with an onion and sweet potato sauce. Delicious and exactly what we need. Some heavy meal to make up for the past 24 hours. It reminded me a lot of the Camino. (Yes, I keep on thinking about it every single day) And so while Amadou gathered wood branches and coal to make the little fire, I prepared the food to be cooked. We finished cooking under the stars by 9pm or so. It was delicious, and so relaxing. Just us, one little solar powered light bulb, and no one else in the little yard. It felt a bit strange though as I was expecting us to spend every meal with his family. But apparently Amadou prefers his space. Why not. I was to tired anyway. And the starry context was just as amazing as it would have been to chit chat with the family.

It was so serene. We were in the darkness. No light at all in the village. A bit like at Iwol. We could guess we were surrounded by other houses and families because we could hear the chatting of each family in groups around us here and there.

We finished dinner, had some hot tea, and now, off to sleep. We both need it very much.

Tomorrow is "la fete", the end of Ramadan, so the whole village, well the whole Muslim world, is supposed to celebrate, each village in its own way. Should be interestimg.

July 24th

Today wasn't much of a busy day.

The highlight however was when I went to the zoo with Serre and her little boys. Right from the start it felt like the storm was very near...almost above our heads. We went in anyway.

The zoo in itself was not that impressive. Rather small with few animals. However, when we got to the lion park, we got to witness the most adorable, impressive, fascinating spectacle of the zoo. The three adult quite big lionesses were playing around with their little ones. About 6 or 8 cubs. They were in their own little park. Our only fence was a sort of little water stream and the fact that we were a good 5 to 7 meters higher than them. And so they were playing all together, at times running, at times jumping on each other, at times a moaning...as if we were not there. And all of this as the sky is getting black, the clouds are getting thicker, and the sun is setting. Magnificent colors all around.

Funny note though was that when we got to the lion area, a monkey ran free behind us, he had just escaped from his cage. Lol

Anyhow, so that was most of the day. Aside from that I was kind of bored actually...

July 23rd

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

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

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

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

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

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

No news from Angelina today, I miss her.

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