by phil | Nov 5, 2010 | Mali, Stories, W. Africa
Niafunke. Nee Ya Phone Kay. I arrived arthritic because of the pinasse. I left ridden with amoebas. Here’s what happened in between. A gap-toothed man with angry eye brows was waiting for us on the shore of the Niger River. His name was Hassan Arby and he was...
by phil | Nov 1, 2010 | Mali, Stories, W. Africa
I was planning on telling a tale of Ali Farka Toure’s family, fulani herders, sandy streets, bloody toilet bowls, dust, amoebas, and a tortuous quatre quatre ride with only one ass cheek on a seat. That story will come next. Right now I want to write about...
by phil | Oct 27, 2010 | Mali, Stories, W. Africa
2AM on the BT N Segou. A sheet of urine sails over my head. This is the third time tonight. Like a letter dropped into a post box, the flying saucer of piss fits through the two foot opening between the railing and the roof of the boat’s upper deck, landing in...
by phil | Oct 22, 2010 | Mali, Stories, W. Africa
These items will be expanded in upcoming posts – Overland Bamako to Mopti – Mopti to village of Niafunke in overloaded-somehow-still-seaworthy pinasse on Niger River – Hanging out in Niafunke, meeting the rest of Ali Farka Toure’s family,...
by phil | Oct 20, 2010 | Mali, Stories, W. Africa
This post is automated. I scheduled a few before I left Bamako. While you read this I may be looking at the world’s largest mud mosque. More likely, I am sweating it out in a bush taxi, resting my feet on a goat, listening to Sekouba Traore. The paperwork for my...
by phil | Oct 15, 2010 | Mali, Stories, W. Africa
When two Malians meet for the first time, they greet and introduce themselves. Then they insult each other. In this way, Mali has avoided Civil War for centuries. The insults are based on family names and they are mostly hilarious. When a Keita meets a Coulibaly, the...
