La Venise Malienne Bamako

... that they wouldn’t diligently apply themselves to whatever would be asked of them. I felt they deserved a chance.

If for no other reason, then because I knew no other place open to look for. It seemed that the fact that we were only two days away from the New Year gradually caught up with the city life. Not counting places like Grand Market, and ever humming tourist restaurants, it was increasingly difficult to find businesses still willing to trot it over into the ...

... were simply begging. There were turbaned guys and those dressed in western-style shirts and pants. There were women with children, sometimes on their back, sometimes off them. Some were sitting, some were carrying loads on their heads. There was a vast sea of motorcycles and a fair number of cars, all parked around.

I am not sure how much money any of those who pretended to do any business could rake in there. There didn’t seem to be any pressure on any of the vendors and ...

... because of the Route de Koulikoro, Bamako looked more of a capital to me than Ouagadougou ever had.

Naprisca was not much of a walker. In a way, I could certainly understand her. The climate of sub-Saharan West Africa isn’t the first thing that comes to your mind if you try to picture an ideal setting to stretch your legs. But I believe she wouldn’t be an avid walker in Northern Europe, either. So when we decided where we would go first, we flagged down ...

Far from fighting off fine establishments all intent on putting us up, we were lucky to find the functional and friendly Nunnery in the centre of Bamako to call home for a few days. Despite the man-hating holy ones having a few words with Stu when he accidentally smashed a glass, we stayed there in the thick of the rat race but who knew, nestled in the central ...

... ally infested with check-points. Why exactly, I am not sure. I know that if you asked authorities, they would surely come up with all sorts of important reasons and explanations. For all that, they remained incomprehensible for me. I am even tempted in my bouts of petty malice to claim that those roadblocks didn’t s**ve any purpose oth** than giving the police a good excuse to collect more bribes. But OK, it was as it was and as a tourist, you just take it all as it comes.
Bamako, Mali the_wayfarer

... by the opposition leaders in the capital Conakry. Details are still sketchy as to the whys and how many but the army opened fire on a crowd of 50,000, killing at least 157. Women were raped in the streets by uniformed men.
All volunteers were put on stand-fast, which basically means we can't leave where we are and we need to keep in contact with Peace Corps everyday. There was no more extreme violence but small banditry continued. The Malian ambassador was mugged. The ...

... must work). They would go crazy when we gave them the 'la crayon' ou 'la bic'. Many cannot afford tablets to write or pencils/pens. This was heartbreaking and we wanted to leave/give so much more ev**y time.

The villag**s bathe, wash dishes, swim, etc, basically using the ***** Riv** as their source for EVERYTHING. They live in mud huts and get up at 5:30am each morning to begin the day of work which could include fishing, farming and/or harvesting. Each day is about ...

... Lodge are a Dutch lady and her Malian husband. We met Moussa and his four year old son at breakfast. We were educated about the political situation (stable and democratic) and the countries exports (Cotton, Gold, tourism...mangoes..mmmn). Tonight we meet Oussmane, the founder of Katene Kadji, the local manufacturer of efficient cook stoves in Mali. Our task, like in Ghana, is to understand his business, the macro environment, the barriers to ...

... country. So when we found a bar that was open in Mali it made some good money from us. It was midday and still 40 degrees (as normal) so the 2 litres of beer in an hour made an impact on my ability to talk with any kind of sense. Yes, I am a cheap drunk. The locals were friendly and cheery as we were exchanging stories. Before long it was time to make the long drive to the Mali capital of Bamako. We were advised that it ...

... her friend Ciaka who is a doctor on the way back. He took my blood pressure, told me it was low, and said I could have Malria. My eyes must have widened in shock as he followed that swiftly with, "You coming to Africa and getting Malaria is just like me going to the UK and getting a cold.". I DON'T THINK SO! Malaria or a digestive parasite were not the type of souvenirs I had in mind. We went home ...