Snapshots of a trip through Senegal and Mali

Day 1: Introduction to the coast of West Africa: drinks with the son of Liberian warlord Charles Taylors right hand man (formerly the president for a month) in downtown Dakar, Senegal
Day 2: disastrous departure from Dakar, safe arrival in Bamako. welcome to mali's rainy season--lush and green, dirty and muddy, markets like i have never seen. Toto we are not in Botswana anymore.
Day 3 : Bus to Mopti. 12 hours, no windows, broken tires and asbestos filled broken seats. le chaleur est incroyable...
Day 4: preparation for our evening departure on a ferry up the Niger to Timbukto. 3 days supposedly but who knows. at least we have bought mozzie nets. why do terrible lines from heart of darkness keep appearing unwanted in my head?
Day 5 and 6: smelly boat, stifling hot cabin. but unreal scenery: huts on little sand islands, men paddling on canoes silently through the water, pulling up to catch a ride with the ferry ( but they'll still have to paddle back!), hippos, pulling into small ports where women hock bread and fish from big baskets on their head, much welcomed sunsets slipping gently into night, silhouettes of palm trees, the moon reflecting on the water, sleeping on the roof under the stars...something so timeless.
Day 7: Timbuktoo, weve reached it. Sandy, hot, men covered up in long loose clothing and turbans, offering us tea, Tuareg silver. Couscous and meat brochettes for dinner, eery de Chirico buildings. A solar eclipse in the night sky.
Day 8: the artisan market in the morning--i buy handcrafted sandals from a crippled shoemaker who cant walk. an afternoon camel ride into the desert (they are as uncomfortable as they look), arrival at a friend of a friend of a friend's desert outpost. a little like the cattle posts in the kalahari. mats laid out for us, another meal of meat and rice, simple but good, and of course more tea. dinner fades to sleep, the silence of the desert soothing.
Day 9: return to Timbuktoo city center on the camels, already blazing hot by mid morning. stifling. a city tour, interrupted by a brief sandstorm, sanctuary in a library housing illuminated Islamic manuscripts from the sixteenth century. forbidden entry into the mosques, windy narrow streets lined by mud buildings, ornately decorated gold and silver doors, islamic "jealous windows". Dinner at Hussein's house, our most delicious meal yet, cooked by his wife. who sat outside while we ate. Little gifts for us, brightly colored Tuareg money pouches to wear around our necks. The kindness of semi-strangers you meet while traveling around strange places. Words of wisdom bestowed upon us, money means nothing without the relationships we have with each other.
Day 10: 4x4 adventure ride returning back to Mopti. In my mind the prettiest landscape yet; green rolling savanna land, dotted by bright green trees and mountains off in the distance. Almost Serengeti like. Im happy we are here in the rainy season; despite the layer of red slippery mud we are all wearing
Day 11-14: Trekking through Dogon country. My favorite part of the trip yet. Words just cannot do justice. Dogon villages seem almost medieval somehow--mud rectangular structures with pointy roofs huddled together climbing up the escarpment, the green valley stretching below, the red sand dunes just beyond that. Its the type of village you imagine to be strategically placed in times of war, at a vantage point. Yet you look closely and see that there is more; there are actually cave like dwellings carved into the face of the cliff itself--long abandoned by the Pygmy Tellems who were driven out when the Dogon people arrived. Our days are relaxed-finally--walking from village to village each morning (the first day we walk through what can only be described as the Malian grand canyon), arriving at a different village each day by lunchtime , where we set up camp, have lunch and chill till dinner. early bedtime out here. each village unique: Nombori with its enchanted market under the baobab trees, Amane with a caiman inhabited pond, the chief whistling softly and calling them over to us...Sanga with its crowded overwhelming sensory overload hot as blazes market, and further along a little shop tucked away with Dogon masks, peering out from dark dusty corners.
Day 15: Djenne. the largest mud constructed mosque in the world. supposedly one of the top 10 things to see before you die but all I am struck by is the all powerful filth on the streets, mud mixed with sewage and trash and little kids playing in it, then reaching out to grab our hands and ask for a "cadeau" (present) or our empty water bottles. malnourished kids, an old lady laid out on a dirty mat in a small mud room. nothing in it but that. the most depressing place I can remember having been in a long time.
Day 16: 12 hour bus ride back to Bamako. on a mini-bus. oven hot. diarrhea. need I say more.
Day 17: Bamako. a cess pool. at least we finally get to pick up our clothes we had custom made at the market! small victories...
Day 18: Air Ethiopia screws us over again. Departure time on ticket: 2pm. Actual departure time: 2am. 12 hour delay spent in the Bamako VIP airport lounge (chris works his magic) Apparently in the VIP lounge you are not allowed to sleep though. I am woken up by the bartender repeatedly and told I must sit up in my chair. ridiculousness. I steal the airplane pillow just to spite them.
Day 19-21: After Bamako, Dakar feels like heaven. Ice-cream, the ocean, brightly colored villas lining the beachfront. I like it here. Our senegalese "maman", Maimuna, treats us better than any grandmother ever could and keeps us well fed. Poisson yassa, maffe, beef stews, fluffy couscous and ripe mangos...yum. By day, I write a dissertation proposal on Chris' laptop in my room, the fan working overtime. By night, we go out. Dakar at night is fun. a lot of fun. despite streets flooding with sewage and power cuts, I could live in Dakar. maybe.
Day 21: Night flight home. Smooth sailing, except for a heart-flipping drop in cabin pressure off the coast of West Africa. other than that, blue skies and no delays. sunset landing in San Francisco, I love home.