So I finally got up and out of Bamako. I had set up a Peace Corps ride with one of the coolest drivers in the country, Mohamed, but I ended up sleeping in a bit. I was unhappy I missed the free, fast ride up to Yangasso, BUT I was happier that I slept well. I think it is the first time I have really slept through the night without waking up in the good long while. I actually feel refreshed after sleeping. I don't know how it happened but I'm not going to complain.
Anyway, I ended up heading to the bus quartier, where all the major companies, and the not so major companies, leave for the interior of Mali. The two major companies, Bittar and Bani, had already sent their early morning buses so I decided to check out the cruddy transports and see what was up. The difficulty of using the lower-end transport is they do not have a set schedule and will only leave once the bus is full. My game was to find a transport that looked relatively full enough that I believed it would leave before 3pm (which is when the next Bittar bus was leaving). Low and behold, I found a bus who was promising to leave at 10:30am even if they weren't full. I waited a bit before I bought the ticket and around 10:00am things started looking good, so I bought a ticket... bad decision, Todd.
Around 11:30am, a group of Senegalese women who were in the same situation I was in decided to try and start a mini riot. They were yelling at everyone who worked for the bus company and a couple of people who were just sitting there. At one point, they almost collapsed the ticket booth with a couple people sitting inside... it was awesome. At that point, I started thinking I might have better luck with Bittar so I asked for my cash back. After the ticket taker refused, I told him I was going to go get a cop and we could discuss the situation together. He basically ignored me so I trotted off to go find any authority figure I could find. Keep in mind, I wasn't angry or upset like the ladies from Senegal... I was more or less bored and was passing the time. Anyway, it turns out there is a cop stationed near all the bus stations and when I walked in he took notes and then told me I needed a convocation. For anyone that speaks french, I still haven't figured out the exact meaning of the word, but it acted as an official writ from the police! So I wandered back to the bus and told the guys I had a convocation and the cop wanted to speak with them. I'm not joking around, they turned the bus on and we left in about 10 minutes. I keep wishing I knew that trick when I was here as a volunteer. Cripes that was great!
Anyway, I ended up sitting next to an English couple travelling through West Africa. They were pretty cool. Both teachers outside of London. I did a terrible job of telling them where Carolyn, my sister, lives and I did an equally terrible job of understanding where in the city they lived. They spoke French just about as well as Malians speak English, but they got things done. I was impressed. They just bowl through this country and don't look back.
So after my long journey up to the Segou region, I finally got close to Yangasso and it was pouring down rain and dark. I made the last minute decision to continue onto San and return to Yangasso in the morning. The idea of seeing everyone for the first time (since no one knows I am coming back) and getting my stuff settled during a monsoon didn't sound too inviting.
I made it up to the Peace Corps transit house in San around 9:30pm and plopped my stuff down. Sekou Coulibaly, the guardian, was there and was pretty surprised to see me. We spent roughly five minutes greeting eachother and saying "a kerra fami" until I noticed he was sporting a mohawk (it was dark and the hair had grown in a bit). Before I left the Peace Corps in 2005, I finally convinced Coulibaly to let me give him a mohawk. It's a pretty weird haircut to have in Mali, but I had told him about Mr. T and Glenn Plake so he went for it. I'm psyched he still keeps it up. **For Peace Corps folks: Coulibaly still has the cycle of growing his hair out and treating it with chemical straightener and then cuts it down... but now he cuts it down to the mohawk. He says it scares people.
There were also a couple volunteers there and we talked for a while. It was scary how comfortable it was to come back to San. It looks the same, just with a bit more dirt and grime, and the conversations with the PCVs was strikingly similar. We hung out and talked about the worthiness of Peace Corps development work, Peace Corps site selection process (or lack thereof) and food in America.
I also found a bunch of the books I read in Peace Corps with my stamp in it. I thought that was great.
All right, tommorow onto Yangasso.
Anyway, I ended up heading to the bus quartier, where all the major companies, and the not so major companies, leave for the interior of Mali. The two major companies, Bittar and Bani, had already sent their early morning buses so I decided to check out the cruddy transports and see what was up. The difficulty of using the lower-end transport is they do not have a set schedule and will only leave once the bus is full. My game was to find a transport that looked relatively full enough that I believed it would leave before 3pm (which is when the next Bittar bus was leaving). Low and behold, I found a bus who was promising to leave at 10:30am even if they weren't full. I waited a bit before I bought the ticket and around 10:00am things started looking good, so I bought a ticket... bad decision, Todd.
Around 11:30am, a group of Senegalese women who were in the same situation I was in decided to try and start a mini riot. They were yelling at everyone who worked for the bus company and a couple of people who were just sitting there. At one point, they almost collapsed the ticket booth with a couple people sitting inside... it was awesome. At that point, I started thinking I might have better luck with Bittar so I asked for my cash back. After the ticket taker refused, I told him I was going to go get a cop and we could discuss the situation together. He basically ignored me so I trotted off to go find any authority figure I could find. Keep in mind, I wasn't angry or upset like the ladies from Senegal... I was more or less bored and was passing the time. Anyway, it turns out there is a cop stationed near all the bus stations and when I walked in he took notes and then told me I needed a convocation. For anyone that speaks french, I still haven't figured out the exact meaning of the word, but it acted as an official writ from the police! So I wandered back to the bus and told the guys I had a convocation and the cop wanted to speak with them. I'm not joking around, they turned the bus on and we left in about 10 minutes. I keep wishing I knew that trick when I was here as a volunteer. Cripes that was great!
Anyway, I ended up sitting next to an English couple travelling through West Africa. They were pretty cool. Both teachers outside of London. I did a terrible job of telling them where Carolyn, my sister, lives and I did an equally terrible job of understanding where in the city they lived. They spoke French just about as well as Malians speak English, but they got things done. I was impressed. They just bowl through this country and don't look back.
So after my long journey up to the Segou region, I finally got close to Yangasso and it was pouring down rain and dark. I made the last minute decision to continue onto San and return to Yangasso in the morning. The idea of seeing everyone for the first time (since no one knows I am coming back) and getting my stuff settled during a monsoon didn't sound too inviting.
I made it up to the Peace Corps transit house in San around 9:30pm and plopped my stuff down. Sekou Coulibaly, the guardian, was there and was pretty surprised to see me. We spent roughly five minutes greeting eachother and saying "a kerra fami" until I noticed he was sporting a mohawk (it was dark and the hair had grown in a bit). Before I left the Peace Corps in 2005, I finally convinced Coulibaly to let me give him a mohawk. It's a pretty weird haircut to have in Mali, but I had told him about Mr. T and Glenn Plake so he went for it. I'm psyched he still keeps it up. **For Peace Corps folks: Coulibaly still has the cycle of growing his hair out and treating it with chemical straightener and then cuts it down... but now he cuts it down to the mohawk. He says it scares people.There were also a couple volunteers there and we talked for a while. It was scary how comfortable it was to come back to San. It looks the same, just with a bit more dirt and grime, and the conversations with the PCVs was strikingly similar. We hung out and talked about the worthiness of Peace Corps development work, Peace Corps site selection process (or lack thereof) and food in America.
I also found a bunch of the books I read in Peace Corps with my stamp in it. I thought that was great.
All right, tommorow onto Yangasso.
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