A country recovers

Today, I learned why the inhabitants of this corner of the world (known today as Mali) have been enchanting visitors for centuries. Their beauty, in and out, is spectacular... that generous smile that is both in their mouth, and in their almond shaped eyes. Just the way they walk, that forceful grace, makes you understand why they’re so well known for their music, their dancing and for being incredible soccer players. Women all over town, in their colorful regalia, negotiate the traffic carrying their babies on their backs and enormous, heavy baskets on their heads… all with such apparent ease that leaves westerners speechless.

As  happened to me many years ago, in the 90’s, visiting war-torn Colombia, I feel even a more acute sense of injustice, when I see such peaceful, kind people being terrorized by a violent few. Nobody deserves a situation like this, but I can’t help thinking that Malians deserve it even less.

Bamako, the capital in the south of the country, is fighting to get back to normal. The conflict did not affect the south as much as the north. Before the invasion of a rebel partnership between the Tuaregs and Al-Qaïda, that forced the intervention of French troops, there was also a coup d'État here in the capital… so the peaceful Bamako is still recovering from a year and a half of instability: welcoming refugees from the north and living constant changes in government, all under the constant fear of extremist violence and the influx of international troops and workers from NGOs.

People in the streets are trying to get  back to their business. Restaurants are now open, but they're empty. Many people in Mali depend on the money from a tourist industry that is, for now, gone.

To enter our hotel, we must cross a checkpoint, where the military inspects beneath every car, in search of bombs. 

Before entering the front lobby, one must pass a security checkpoint as thorough as those in any airport.

When I get into my room: a surreal surprise. On my bed there are three German military uniforms, perfectly pressed. The laundry service was delivered tonight to the wrong room. Just another reminder, Toto, that we are not in Kansas anymore.