On Saturday, we went to a sale put on by some missionaries here who run ‘businesses.’
(Sorry, that is a weird sentence, but I don’t really know how else to explain it. There is certainly no profit involved, but either the missionaries buy and make items themselves, or sell items on behalf of nomadic Africans who don’t exactly have shops of their own. There are also ministries that rehabilitate and give vocational training, such as sewing, dyeing, etc. to former prostitutes, so it was a collective sale of all these missions. I believe it’s a bi-annual sale that the people here seem to wait for with bated breath; for me it was a great opportunity for Christmas and thank-you presents!
After the sale, SG and I went to the National Park, which is... pretty. (For this fair city, at least. For a snotty girl who grew up in Banff National Park? It barely passes muster as an overgrown forest.)
The most hilarious part of the Park is called the 'Sports District,' or something of that nature. There are different sorts of exercise machines - the sort that you would see in a gym, except made of neon-orange plastic. It's like they themselves realized this was a really awkward excuse for a park and thus decided to throw in any they could to capture any demographic.
Kids? Swings.
Couples? Fountains.
Old people? Paths.
White people? Rap music and cheeseburgers.
Health nuts? Everything but a personal trainer.
Then we unexpectedly (at least on my part) met up with a couple of other missionaries and enjoyed a nice surprise lunch (involving delicious burgers and all of five fries and a dollop of ketchup the size of my fingernail - until we sent the waiter back for more... repeatedly) for the occasion of my birthday, went hiking to the elusive Grotte, and visited the Great Mosques in Djenne, Mopti, Gao, etc…
(Alright, we saw miniature versions of them set up in the National Park. As this was the closest I'd probably get to seeing these amazing sights unless I wanted to be kidnapped for Christmas, I was pleased as punch.)
The most hilarious part of the Park is called the 'Sports District,' or something of that nature. There are different sorts of exercise machines - the sort that you would see in a gym, except made of neon-orange plastic. It's like they themselves realized this was a really awkward excuse for a park and thus decided to throw in any they could to capture any demographic.
Kids? Swings.
Couples? Fountains.
Old people? Paths.
White people? Rap music and cheeseburgers.
Health nuts? Everything but a personal trainer.
Then we unexpectedly (at least on my part) met up with a couple of other missionaries and enjoyed a nice surprise lunch (involving delicious burgers and all of five fries and a dollop of ketchup the size of my fingernail - until we sent the waiter back for more... repeatedly) for the occasion of my birthday, went hiking to the elusive Grotte, and visited the Great Mosques in Djenne, Mopti, Gao, etc…
(Alright, we saw miniature versions of them set up in the National Park. As this was the closest I'd probably get to seeing these amazing sights unless I wanted to be kidnapped for Christmas, I was pleased as punch.)
The hike to the cave (‘La Grotte’) needs further explanation.
A group of missionaries and French people had done the Hash there in the past.
(That is also a weird sentence, and most definitely not what it sounds like. – Aaand I just learned from SA that ‘HHH’ was an acronym for it, ‘H’ in French… geddit?)
So the Hash is a hike that happens in and around the city every so often, open to anyone who wants to join in, and they leave ‘trails’ of stuff for stragglers to follow. Thus, Spike (a biker), SG, and I exercised our way to the trail and followed it until it… ended (passing quite a few things that looked like altars, and even the bones of an animal sacrifice). There were white arrows made by the National Park to follow, but they’d stopped as well, so there we were – in the heat, with nary a grotte in sight. Suddenly we stumbled on a house made of bags and sticks. The owner of the house was outside, bathing.
So the Hash is a hike that happens in and around the city every so often, open to anyone who wants to join in, and they leave ‘trails’ of stuff for stragglers to follow. Thus, Spike (a biker), SG, and I exercised our way to the trail and followed it until it… ended (passing quite a few things that looked like altars, and even the bones of an animal sacrifice). There were white arrows made by the National Park to follow, but they’d stopped as well, so there we were – in the heat, with nary a grotte in sight. Suddenly we stumbled on a house made of bags and sticks. The owner of the house was outside, bathing.
…Well, he was shirtless. And wet. And that’s all I saw before heading quickly and purposefully back to the trail and off someone’s front yard. But I’m sure he was fine, as Spike talked to him for a bit, asking him for directions to La Grotte. When I next saw the man, he was wearing a voluminous robe and a turban and saying that we had missed LA Grotte, but he could lead us to UNE grotte.
Me: Hah! I wasn’t born yesterday, yannow! We’re not going any--
Spike: ‘Kay. Let’s go.
SG: ‘S hot. Let’s go.
Me: Yeah. What they said.
So our impromptu guide began to lead us up a hill with no discernable path.
Me: So he’s not going to kill us, right?
Spike: Hope not. Ha ha.
Me: See, ‘hope’ is a funny word. Sort of implies uncertainty, doesn’t it? Funny. Ha. Ha.
Spike: … Ha ha?
Me: So we’re sure about the, uh, no death, right?
Spike: Ha ha.
Me: Stop that, or I will brain you with a rock. Don’t push me.
But we did finally get to a cave filled with empty bleach bottles and IV bags and IV tubing.
…Yeah, that confused us as well. Apparently people went up there to wash their clothes, which explains the bleach, but the IV stuff – not so much.
On the way back to the park entrance, we were stopped by a wedding party and photographed. I'm not sure if the Malians thought they were doing us a favor, or whether we'd upped the Cool Factor of their wedding by being in the album and the video. My three fellow sweaty hikers were converged upon by the entire wedding party and beamed happily into the camera as if they'd been hired specially for the occasion. I, like any properly awkward humanoid, scuttled to the side and stared into the video camera for a bit before realizing what I was doing. Aside from the general weirdness associated with everything in Mali, or maybe because of it, I had a great time!
Later on that evening, we gathered at Steve/Becky’s house to again celebrate my birthday – properly, with some popcorn, cake, pizza, and Star Wars action.
Later on that evening, we gathered at Steve/Becky’s house to again celebrate my birthday – properly, with some popcorn, cake, pizza, and Star Wars action.
(To all you Star Wars fans out there who are waiting to murder me for not watching it with you – I’m still not totally convinced. But with Jar Jar Binks by my side, I am willing to try.)
On Sunday night, we had our first performance of Handel’s Messiah. I thought we petered out a bit just after ‘His Yoke is Easy,’ but everyone else thought it was fine, so clearly I was the only one headed downhill. At least I didn’t sing out of turn, though! The soloists were fantastic, as were the musicians, and the venue was beautiful. All in all, a pretty good end to a busy week!
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