Afro Kiwi in Mali

Afro Kiwi in Mali Blog

04/03/2013

Morning in Bamako.

I wake to the routine sound of grass brush on pavers as the neighbours sweep their entrance way to clear the way for the beginning of a new day. Sweaty from another hot night I find relief in a cold shower before taking a quick stroll to the corner store to buy some bread to go with my favourite breakfast: “boro ni namasa” or banana sandwich. My friends here had never seen that combination before and were a little dubious, although they gave it a try . . . . once. Not quite the African breakfast. Omelets are easily devoured.

Bag check: Wallet. Phone. Sun glasses. Hand sanitizer. Water. Jounal. Camera . . .

Health check: 5ml Echinacia. Vitamin and Mineral powder. 9 Spirulina tablets. Protein powder. Arsenicum 30c.

Boro ni namasa. Ok. A Clara, Ungata. . .

The morning sun is beating down already, and it seems we have been beaten too. Every taxi is full and a jumble of familar and not so familiar hand gesture indicate en ville is not on the chauffers menu. Unusual for this time in the morning but after half an hours walk and finally a interested signal we meet up with the seething flow of cars and motor bikes heading for the city.

Maison de Jeune, literally home of youth is our destination where the days activities take part after greetings and respects are paid. “Anisohoma” “N ba” “Un che” “E rasera” “Somogwo be di” “Toro ste” “N Ba” “Ungata balani foli” “Good morning” Hi” “Did you sleep well” “Is your family well” “All is good” “Thanks” “Let’s go play Balaphon”. . . . . .

And the music begins.

27/02/2013

Well it has been two weeks since I left Australia and still I havent managed to write a single blog entry. Time has passed so quickly in some ways and even faster in others. And time in Mali is like a completely different thing altogether. Mundane things pass quickly for me through the constant effort of countless people making their way in an African life. Here my classes pass so fast that three hours has already gone and my hands and mind are still attempting to catch Bassidi’s music between the splits, bisters, and complex rhythms. As Bwazan keeps reminding me, you must understand time. Their are lots of people that play music but time escapes them. Good music always plays with time. So in many ways I am chasing time. Trying to grasp it in the notes of drums and bells, in the keys and melody of the Balaphone. Thousands of notes per minute. Thousands of moments per minute. All played with precision and carefully calculated to create music to make you move, and smile, and sweet with sweat. Music to change your mind, your perception of time and your connection to it.

The fluidity of this incredibly dry place is surprising. With little regulation the people of Bamako weave through resurrected cars, Power K motor bikes, fumes, and plastique rubbish forming an incredibly vibrant fabric that emerges in bright cloths, jovial chat and smiles and beautiful powerful music.

I’né ché Bamako, thank you bamako