T in Mali: In [sic] Brousse

I'll try to keep this post short and sweet so you can get to the good stuff: the pics!

I've spent the last two weeks roadtripping to the country equally for work and pleasure. Being in ~~brusque~~ "brousse" is kind of like roughing it, or camping even, since there's not always running water, electricity, or a trou even. What was supposed to be my second sojourn "en brousse"* in Zantiébougou, turned into an extended stay in the well-equipped Bougouni team's house, and it was there that I had yet another hilarious misadventure.

* I have since learned that when peole were talking about going to the country or the bush, they were saying "brousse" as opposed to "brusque", like I originally thought. A linguistic, hilarious misunderstanding on my part.

Last Thursday, I decided to take advantage of the clear village air and go for a run through the countryside after a particularly long day surveying shea butter co-op members under the hot sun thinking it would re-energize me before this pre-holiday feast the NGO in Bougouni was organizing. I set off down a road that looked straight with the idea that I would just run straight for 20 minutes, then turn around and run straight back. The narrow village roads started to meander, so I tried my best to make some mental "cairns" (re: a crooked tree, a giant rut in the road, a particularly giant pile of donkey poop etc.) to remember how to get back. I did right by myself until I was about 3/4 of the way back and took a wrong turn. I ran in circles a couple times to try to retrace my steps to get back on track and on my third passing a group of kids started chanting "Toubabu, perdu! Toubabu, perdu!" (White person is lost! It loses the lovely rhyming couplet in translation sadly) at me.

Embarrassed, I realised that finding my way back was harder than following Allan Kane's scrambling directions and just ran until I saw something recognizable enough that I could stand in front of and wait for a pick up...and to think that I momentarily pondered not bringing my third (I'm hard on phones apparently) unlocked Nokia. I eventually got a hold of a colleague and told her I was standing in front of a hill, a cellphone tower and a building with "Kremlin City" of all things written on it. She then dispatched the watchman to pick me up with his moto. As we rode back to the house, which took a remarkably long time, I couldn't help but feel a little proud of myself that I had gone all that distance on foot. There's a good side to almost everything.

Obviously, my misadventure became the joke of the night and everyone laughed at me while dined on this dish I actually love called "ouijila", that consists of seasoned dough balls that are dipped into a tasty red sauce. Seriously, it's a big deal that I found local some food that I like, I could probably write a blog post just on the food here...it takes some getting used to and it's definitely tremendo-meatatarian.

On Friday night, while I sipped whiskey and played crib around a fire just days before the winter solstice (trip-out), I told my gang about my running "misstep" and the kids chanting "Toubabu, perdu" at me and this snow-balled into an even bigger joke, that now includes a song. I should invest in a compass...

Below are some pics of my countryside adventures. I'll post some pics of Bamako when I have more. I've only just begun to explore this massive, crowded, complicated but amazing city. In the meantime, enjoy "In Brousse!"