Tag Archives: Mali

Things To Do In Bamako When You’re Bored

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One day you may find yourself in Bamako, the capital of Mali. I know – crazy, right? But never say never! And if you ever want to see Timbuktu (which I suggest you do), you will have to go through Bamako. Besides, as I learned the hard way, YOU JUST DON’T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE GONNA END UP! And, as some of you may be aware by now, one of my (many) mottos is: Poor Planning Pisses Me Off.

So, After the jump I present you with a list of fun filled, fabulously odd things to do in Bamako that may just change your life:

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Ladies: Thank God Every Day You Weren’t Born A Woman In Mali

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The discarded women of Mali live behind these walls. Photo from Family Care International.

I have mixed feeling towards Mali. I loved my time there and would go back in a heart beat… but. and it’s a big BUT. It’s one of the few countries in the world where female genital mutilation is still widely practiced and is legal. Many countries at least pay lip service and outlaw the practice on the books (it is performed anyway). But at least if it is technically illegal – it can be prosecuted AND when a government publicly proclaims something to be illegal, it is the first step in the permanent eradication against FGM. If FGM is still legal, there is not even a toe hold for the battle to begin.

On my three and a half week journey up the Niger River, we stopped at a small village, miles from any road and days from a major city. A woman who looked to be about 50 [she was 31] came up to me crying, begging and pleading. My interpreter said, “She wants to know if you have medicine. She is sick.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“All women out here have the female cut when they are young. When they get married and have children, there are problems. She is in a lot of pain. If something doesn’t happen she will be turned out.”

TURNED OUT. As in – you are no good to your husband anymore so get the hell out. The “lucky” ones end up at the Fistule hospital in Mopti, where the women and some of their children have a roof over their head and access to food. The unlucky ones just disappear.

This shop next to the Fistule home is how the women make money to eat. Photo from the Catholic Relief Services.

The hospital – which is really more of a “retirement home” for women past their prime (read: anyone who has had complications due to an unsanitary and brutal cut)  is a few blocks from the port of Mopti and the courtyard is full of discarded women and their children. Next to the mud walled courtyard is a small metal shop which sells jewelry and trinkets made by the women in an attempt to get money to eat and pay their rent at the home (because yeah – it ain’t free).

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Lost In Translation: The Best of The Worst Signs In The World

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Warning: you may lose your head on the train to Morretes, Brazil.

Warning: you may lose your head on the train to Morretes, Brazil.

You have no idea how many times I’ve walked through a random street in some random section of the world and tried to figure out just what the local government is trying to tell me.

Don’t take a picture of rats? [Fine].

Don’t stick your head in the fire? [Yep. Figured that out].

Wild Monkeys may eat my hat? [I didn’t really like it much anyway].

Don’t feed the volcano? [Considering volcanoes historically only eat virgins, I don’t qualify].

You learn so much about a place from its signs. Mali has an AIDS problem; Colombia is more concerned with drugs;  Egypt apparently has a huge sex trafficking issue… and everyone is concerned with where and how you poop.

So, for your viewing pleasure, after the jump I offer some of the best signs I’ve found all over the world…

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Meet Penny: The Hedgehog Snatched From the Bowels Of the Bamako Death Market

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Penny, the hedgehog I saved from the Death Market

Penny, the hedgehog snatched from the bowels of the Bamako Death Market

Fun fact: People in the West African country of Mali will say, “The country is 80 percent Muslim, 20 percent Christian but 100 percent Animist.” Which means that everyone carries amulets, “passports” (leather pouches) and rings that are all full of magical potions created by a witch doctor… and that are made with all sorts of animals parts. Which also explains why Mali has almost no wildlife to mention, as every animal has been hunted to the point of extinction (Which is awful, except for the times you are forced to camp on the side of the Niger River in No Man’s Land and have to get up to pee at night. The absence of crocodiles comes in handy then, and only then). The dearth of crocodiles in Bamako is even more ironic as “Bamako” is taken from a Bambara word meaning “Crocodile River”… not so much anymore, just saying.

A stall in the Death Market

A stall in the Death Market

The main Witchdoctor (aka Death) Market is in the capital, Bamako, where you can find every animal that roam(ed) the country in a state of decay. There are hippos, hyenas, snakes, birds, dogs, lions… and hedgehogs. All waiting to be ground up into powder, blessed and put into a pouch so the wearer can traverse the Sahara or the Niger safely. For $2 you can videotape the stalls and take pictures – all while trying not to gag on the smell which is… potent, to say the least.

So there I was, in the Middle of the Death Market, when a vendor pointed out a ball of bristles. It was a tiny hedgehog-y ball of life in a sea of death. It freaked me out – I mean come on, can you imagine being stuck in a pile of rotting corpses just waiting for your turn? UGH. So I started haggling and walked away with Penny, the hedgehog, who was a little expensive, but how often can you save a life for $20?

The full story, WITH VIDEO of the rescue and release, after the jump!

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