by phil | Nov 8, 2010 | Mali, Stories, W. Africa
The quatre quatre ride between Niafunke and Timbuktu was manageably uncomfortable. There were four people in the backseat, four in the trunk, and three on the roof. I shared the front seat with a husky man who knocked me into the gear shifter every time he laughed. He...
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...
