Beverly Kent - The weekend was a welcome change after the hard work of the first week. We had two days off and were determined to enjoy our free time in exploration of as much of the Malian culture as possible. Saturday morning we split into two groups. Three people decided to stay in Bamako while the rest of the group accepted Mai’s invitation to visit both her mothers who live south of Bamako.
The group of 10, “The Village People”, started out on our three-hour bus trip towards the town of Bougouni on Saturday morning. We didn’t leave as early as we had planned, but we were well on our way by 9:30 AM. The road out of town had been recently paved and we started out at a fast pace. Unfortunately, the new pavement ended after about 10 miles and we were forced to endure the holes and bumps of the unrepaired road that stretched all the way to the town. It got worse and worse as we got further from Bamako. Apart from the bumpiness and slow going, the scenery we were witnessing outside the bus was amazing. My memory of Mali from 8 years ago was of the desert — miles and miles of unending sand. This was probably because the team flew directly north east to Timbuktu from Bamako. The southern region is obviously agricultural and deliciously luscious, at least in comparison to the sand dunes of Timbuktu.
Our first stop was at the house of Mai’s biological mother in the town of Zantiebougou. She warned us that the definition of family is all-encompassing and there were many people who resided with her mother. She had prepared us for the number of people who would be awaiting our arrival. We were a bit surprised by the number of people who arrived once they had heard of our visit. There were dozens sitting in the garden and they had prepared a large meal for us. Mai’s mother is in her nineties and she appeared to be as sharp as a woman years younger. It was important that we greet each and every person there before we were set out for a leisurely visit of the town. One of the neighbors owned a small restaurant and several of us plopped down out of the hot sun and had a drink while others wandered around exploring the town. Finally after Mai felt she could leave without causing too much of a fuss, we set out for the village where her father’s second wife, her “little mother”, resides. Zantiebougou also is the site of a woman’s cooperative that manufactures shea butter, used by all the big cosmetic companies in their beauty products. Apparently shea butter costs about $50 for a small jar in the U.S. The shea nut is first cracked open and the fruit is pulverized by pounding on them with a wooden instrument. The end product is a smooth, thick cream and Bevin and Lorry swear by it for making the skin super soft. Apparently they both use it every day. We all bought several jars. I felt that at least we were supporting the local cooperative and giving the women a well-deserved boost. After the visit to the factory, we headed to Mai’s second mother’s house. Once again we were surrounded by extended family and greeted each one individually. Soon afterwards we left the house and started on the return trip to Bamako. We were all hot and exhausted but so pleased with our experience. We never imagined that we would see close up the rural life of Malians and it is something we will never forget.
We arrived at our hotel close to 10pm and most of the team turned in right away. The three team members who stayed in Bamako had a great day visiting the market and the various museums. Dorothy and I were heading for the elevator when Mai stepped out and burst into tears. I immediately thought that it was the exhausting day with the team that had been too much for her, but she informed us that she had just gotten off the phone with her older sister and one of her brother in laws had died of heart failure just that day. He was a famous sports journalist and died in the Dominican Republic attending an international boxing competition. Dorothy and I did our best to comfort her, but she was feeling extremely guilty as she hadn’t been able to phone that sister, his wife, since her arrival in Bamako. I told Mai to take whatever time she needed, even if it meant her unavailability to the team. We would manage without her. The next morning we saw her at breakfast and she explained that one of her sister’s was coming to pick her up and she would spend the rest of the day with her newly widowed sister receiving the visitors who always drop by expressing their condolences. She also explained that the culturally sensitive thing for us to do as a team would be to drop by the house as well. I told her that we would of course be there and she gave instructions to our bus driver on how to get to the house. We planned to go in the late afternoon.
The team was split into two groups on Sunday. Our new friend who we discovered in Bamako, Dr. Tim Herick, an American physician who is attached to a religious group that cares for street kids, was able to arrange with the head of USAID in Mali for us to borrow his boat and take a ride on the Niger. The boat only holds eight people so we knew from the outset that we would have to form two groups for the boat ride. The first group was scheduled to go down the river at 10 AM while the second group attended mass at the cathedral in town (the oldest building in Bamako). That group included even non-Catholics who were interested in experiencing the ceremony. We had our bus driver coming and going all day as the different groups coalesced and split apart in all sorts of permutations as we went to the National Museum, the market (of course the biggest group), the hotel, the second boat trip at 2pm, and an air conditioned restaurant at lunch.
Personally, I’m terrified of crowds and after stepping out of the bus at the market, I quickly jumped back in not able to face the constant pushing and haggling involved in buying crafts. I went and had a leisurely lunch with those determined to eat. Our bus driver, Ibrahim, told me that he would accompany me to the market and do all the bargaining for me. I jokingly asked him if he would hold my hand as we entered the market place to protect me. Paul heard that I was going with Ibrahim and stated that he wanted to go holding the other hand. So the three of us went back to the market place while the second group was on their boat tour. It was quite a different experience. We explained what we wanted and he led us to the little stalls that had the merchandise. He did all the haggling for me…it took quite some time but I was happy to wait as he got me reasonable prices.
We picked up the museum group and the boat group and headed back to the hotel in the late afternoon. All of us were very pleased with our day. I arranged with the help of our bus driver to have a money changer come to the hotel as everyone wanted to change more dollars. We put him in a corner of the bar and I sent the volunteers in to exchange their money individually. I felt like some sort of gangster but the business is all above board. The guy even has a business card with his face on a 100 dollar bill. I knew the rate that Mai was able to obtain for us the first time we exchanged money, so I insisted he give us the same rate. We haggled—for the team I was willing. He finally gave in with a smile when I told him we could find someone else.
On the way to dinner shortly past 5, we went to Mai’s sister’s house to pay our respects. Mai had left shortly before our arrival but I was able to take my cues from a young woman who greeted us in front of the house. Everyone was aware we would be coming and we joined a long line of people going into the house. We were let in front of everyone. After expressing our condolences to the widow and the other family members in the room, I wasn’t sure what to do next. The young woman accompanying us told me that we should sit for a moment before leaving. It was truly an incredible and unique experience for us. There was tremendous sadness in the room but we felt the overwhelming sense of support of extended family and friends that the immediate family was experiencing. It was a wonderful glimpse once again into the Malian culture that we were privileged to be a part of.
Dinner was fun and we ate in a new restaurant (to us) that the three team members who stayed in Bamako the day before had tried. Some of us ordered a bottle of wine for the first time—a French Muscadet. Then back to the hotel rather early for a good night of sleep and the beginning of our second week. We all thoroughly enjoyed our weekend.