The Malian in me

There have been times when I hated Mali. There have been times when I loved it. This time, I missed Mali.

It's amazing how humans can adapt. During this round, in Europe, I felt somewhat out of place. Now, I'm back in Mali and I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be.

Today, I rode the soutrema (city bus) and walked around the market. I listened to the sounds of Bamako. I heard the swooshing of the brooms, the rattling of mufflers, the beeping of motos, the rolling of cartwheels and the people bargaining above the kicked-up dust. I couldn't help but smile at the sound of the orchestra playing around me.

I even missed the smells. The smell of grilled meats, mixed with the smell of manure, exhaust, burning charcoal, urine and sweat. These are the smells that I can only equate with being in Mali, and I truly missed it.

I can only imagine how hard it will be for me to leave this place in July.