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From Morocco, where delicious food helped me gain some much-needed pounds, I continued on to Mali. In 2005, I spent time working in a Senegalese border town just a stone’s throw from Mali, but had never crossed. This time, I was set on seeing this desert nation. Carol joined me for a trip of transport mishaps that combined to make an unforgettable experience. We hiked in Dogon country. On New Years’ Eve we went to the sweaty disco. On New Years’ Day, our bus broke down in the desert. We drank roadside bissap from plastic baggies. We slept in the coolest spot: on rooftops, under the stars and our mosquito nets, serenaded by donkeys. We saw Bamako from the back of motorbikes.
My return to West Africa felt like a return to something familiar. From the moment my plane landed on Christmas Eve, there was that smell of something I cannot name that I have only ever found in that region of the world. I like it there.
