Mali: the Reality of Black Africa

The flight to Bamako leaves Paris in the late afternoon. I practically spend the whole day at the airport, because I only found a flight to Paris in the early morning and on top of that there's thick fog. Luckily, since mine is a connecting flight, it's one of the "guaranteed" ones. The flight is 5 hours, we land in Bamako rather late. It's scorching hot. The nightmare is getting the suitcases back, because there's a single tiny belt and the locals crowd around desperately. After 1 hour I manage to retrieve the duffel bag. Careful, don't throw away the boarding pass with the luggage tag, otherwise they won't let you out of the airport.

Visiting Bamako is impossible. Everything is closed. Today is the feast of Tabaski and you can't visit anything, so I get on the jeep with the rest of the troop and head for Segou. Once we arrive in Segou, after lunch, I get into a pirogue and glide gently along the Niger River. It's a beautiful sensation, there isn't a sound.... At the end of the navigation, we dock in old Segou, and after greeting the great chief we wander about, making our way with a flashlight, since there's no artificial lighting and by now we're at sunset. Tons of children follow us and lead the way.

The kilometers to cover by jeep are really many. We drive north on a dirt track, toward Djenné. Djenné, a UNESCO World Heritage site, is located on an island in the middle of the river. To get there you get on a barge (rowed) that docks a little far from the bank. After that you close the windows well and ford the river, hoping not to get stuck. Adà our driver carries out the maneuver very smoothly. Djenné is wonderful, but by now it's almost dark and it's New Year's Eve. Better to go and rest. The bad news is that the water in the village cistern has run out. There's no water for anyone, not even to brush your teeth or go to the bathroom. I'll have to get used to it....

Instead of having the big New Year's dinner at the hotel like the few tourists present, Gabriele, our guide, organizes an alternative evening for us. We go to the hut of a griot (the storyteller) and listen to a story sung in Malian. The atmosphere is very evocative, almost hypnotic. At the end of the story (a good hour or so), the griot's wife writhes in a tribal dance. It's already past midnight when we go out and we didn't even notice....

Today in Djenné is market day. We spend the day visiting every alley of this wonderful city made entirely of straw and clay. It feels like being in a living postcard. The market is very colorful and full of life. I even start tasting little sweets made of rice flour cooked in cast-iron bowls. Unfortunately in the afternoon we have to leave this enchanted place, get back on our rowed barge and head toward Mopti. Once we arrive we take the pirogue again and make a visit to a Tuareg village on the bank of the Niger. To get on the pirogue I fall into the river. I'm covered in mud, but at least I made all the village children laugh, who always welcome us with a thousand smiles. The hotel in Mopti is the only one with a bit of water among those where I stayed.

The morning is dedicated to visiting Mopti and its wonderful market, even more beautiful than the one in Djenné. Then kilometers and kilometers of dirt road toward the Dogon Country, where we arrive in the evening. Before retiring we go to visit the village of Sangha, where time has stopped. Here they still perform the initiation rites for boys and I am struck by the description. I still can't believe that in 2007 people still live as in the Middle Ages. It's all fascinating, even though it frightens me a lot. The hotel in Bandiagara is decidedly spartan and totally devoid of windows. In the sense that there are windows, but without glass. This is an area where the harmattan blows very hard, a desert wind, and at night it's a nightmare. Practically sand comes into the room and the wind is incessant.

I woke up submerged in desert sand... Today we go trekking on the legendary cliff. The cliff is an enchantment and it's worth spending an entire day trekking up and down the rocks. The villages with their granaries with straw roofs hide in the rocks. The scenery is breathtaking. Here I witness a wake in honor of the dead, a tribal dance with Dogon masks that is truly incredible. I was moved. This is the black Africa I imagined....

580 km on the road toward the south await me, with a stop at San and Sevarè. While we relax under a mango tree, the villagers, as a sign of welcome, begin a dancing celebration and invite us to take part. They're too good for us...even the children are better than John Travolta... The people here are wonderful and always smiling.

Here we are back in Bamako. Today is a normal day and you can walk around without a care. The archaeological museum is very interesting, but the market is even nicer, especially the one dedicated to hardware. It looks like a Dante-esque circle, you have to go there to understand what I mean. It's one of the things that will stay with me most from the village.

For the last day, a visit to Siby, in the land of the Mandinka, is planned. It's incredibly hot and the trek to the gorges feels heavy to me. Americans come all the way here to do free-hand climbing.... At the market I buy fabric and fruit, but I'm tired.... The diet of chicken and fish is killing me. I have to make it to the evening because the plane leaves at 11 pm. I advise you to do pre-check-in in the capital, you can even drop off your luggage. This is to avoid overbooking and crazy lines at the airport.

Even though we landed on time, I almost missed my connection. At that hour hundreds of flights from all over the world arrive in Paris, but only one counter is open at customs. I won't tell you about the arguments with the French. Anyway, Air France has the narrowest seats in the world and no legroom....