Sylvia's Journal

Political rallies were announced the other day for Friday. I knew this before I heard about them locally because I received several emails warning me. The previous rally had turned bad with several people wounded, and enraged more people, so more rallies are in the making. The emails reminded me to not go to these rallies and take pictures. I wasn’t planning to – but I had one more assignment in my scope of work that required another trip across town to a state agency I was supposed to work with. When I learned this morning that it was not a good idea to travel across town on Friday, especially since more spontaneous demonstrations could develop, and also that all the people in the agency that could make decisions about governance were all at some rally in Mopti, I decided to change my flight home.

My colleague was amazed I could actually arrange this in about 10 minutes – he had discouraged me to even try. But I was motivated – the heat and the food arrangements had started to get to me, and there was nothing else to do. Spending another day in my hotel room sitting in front of my computer was simply not appealing anymore. I had done too much of that already.

My reports written and reviewed, we made one more trip across town to see progress on the manual (and there was, quite significantly, and not ‘de la literature!’). The roundtrip once again took over two hours (heat, filth), while I was munching on ‘beschuit’ and drinking oral rehydration liquids – to replace lost fluids and avoid upsetting my stomach again (unfortunately mangoes were no recommended foods).

I returned to my hotel to pack, get cash (credit card machines never work here), pay my bill, say goodbye on Skype to my US-based boss who is leaving MSH tomorrow and sort out some administrative stuff. The driver picked me up early to go to a communal breaking of the fast (‘la rupture’) at a fancy Bamako hotel – I was invited to partake in the meal before he would take me to the airport. I had some simple communal meal in mind, like we had last week at the zoo/conference center but I was wrong. Everyone was in their best and most colorful outfits, white and light blue for the men and all colors of the rainbow for the women. The setting was an impressive buffet, all manners of dishes and delicacies. Here I was in my travel clothes, but warmly welcomed by colleagues I had never met. We sat around the table waiting for the sign that the fast for the day was over.

There was some comparing of smartphone clocks before a round of kinkeliba tea was served and the dates were passed around.  People had told me that, this far into the month of fasting (it’s over next week) people had gotten used to not eating from 5AM till 7PM and their stomachs had shrunk. And so I expected people to put small portions on their plates. Not so. First they piled their plates high up with rolls, beignets, mini pizzas, pain au chocolat and such. Then they filled up plate after plate with stews, skewers, fried potatoes, couscous, and then there was desert. If this is restrained eating, then I wonder what regular eating is. Actually, I kind of know.

And now I am at the airport, watching two teenage girls preen and posture to continuously improve their selfies. It’s kind of entertaining to watch. They don’t seem to get tired of looking at themselves, try out new poses. Smartphones have democratized style and beauty – anyone with looks can now be a glamour girl, pretend to be on a magazine cover that is her own phone.