Love Letter To Mali Part III: Timbuktu

The next hiccup was waiting for me back at the Bamako airport on the way to Timbuktu.  I saw 2 women with 5 cartons of baby chicks.  You’ll have to take my word for it, since when I got their permission to take photos, I realized I had left my little camera in the truck.  And, when I pulled out the SLR I realized it didn’t have a memory card (the extra memory card was in the camera case with the little camera).  So, I went through the motions of taking the photos, which was a little bit of fun with the women.  Then I called Camara (my driver) and asked him to come back with my camera which he did.  I love my driver.  (it’s only now in writing this that I see the humor of Camara being my camera hero).

So, then I was waiting to go to Timbuktu!!!

And waiting.

And waiting.

After having no idea what was going on for hours, and getting up to board for every flight that was departing, only to be told “non”, I learned that apparently “the plane needs to be plugged in and charged, so we will be taking off at 11am”???

I think in this kind of situation where frustration feeds off frustration, and since I was by myself I was happy just to sit and wait.  If I had been with someone else I am sure I would have been agitated.  There were 6 other Americans also waiting, 2 men I didn’t meet, 2 women from Miami (Nancy and Arlina) and 2 women from outside Atlanta (Barbara and Suzy).

Finally, we did board, a tiny little prop plane with 21 seats, and a VERY cute Australian co-pilot.  We flew for an hour to Mopti, stopped to let of the people off and get 5 more on, and to refuel.  I guess our plane only carries an hour’s worth of fuel.  As we were getting ready to take off for the 45 min flight to Timbuktu, our adorable co-pilot gave us the safety brief.

When we landed in Timbuktu, I met my guide, Sana.  Sana had me sit while he collected my bag, then we dropped it off at the hotel and we were off on the city tour.

I really liked Sana and my driver (whose name I forget–so many names were thrown at me, as Sana seemed to know everyone in Timbuktu and I met most of them).  He and I did most of the tour on foot since our car wouldn’t fit down the narrow streets.

I loved that afternoon.  Rich history.  Warm people.  Once in a lifetime experience. All the kids wanted to touch me, so they would shake my hand, touch my leg, or reach up and touch my hair.  Some were super cute and would walk up and say “bonjour” or “comme ca” or something as they reached out their hands for a shake.  Others were shy and would just sneak a touch.

There is annual desert festival near Timbuktu that sounded amazing.  Maybe I should say there was.  I can’t imagine that festival will be happening again.  Everyone camped out and listens to music and such.

Seeing the markets where to this day people from the north bring salt and gasoline and other goods to exchange with people from the south who bring herbs, etc. was amazing.  There was one moment when we had climbed up on top of the building the big market is in, when Sana had to use the restroom so I waited for him while taking pictures, that I realized I was in Timbuktu, in the middle of nowhere, without my ID, phone or money or even knowing the name of my hotel, and was basically a complete idiot.  I had total and complete faith in Sana, but what if for some reason beyond his control he didn’t come back?  Fortunately, he did, and I learned not to leave my backpack in the trunk of the car.  When we walked by the incense stall the woman wanted me to buy something.  When I declined she said I must be single, as any married woman would want the incense to keep her man at home.  Sana thought that was pretty funny!

We toured museums and mosques that house thousands of ancient Islam manuscripts. Sana and the proprietors did a great job explaining the origins and means of many of them, but it would take several lifetimes to really understand the depth of writings contained in this tiny city.

After looking at the peace flame, erected in the mid 1990s after the last uprising, I went home to get warmer clothes while Sanna and the driver swapped our BMW sedan for a 4×4.  And, we headed 30 minutes into the Sahara for dinner at a Tuareg camp, complete with traditional dancing.  Dinner was a yummy spicy veggie soup, followed by lamb and couscous.

It was just a year ago I was there, but it was an experience that won’t be possible again for a while.  Hopefully sooner than later, but I am not confident that is the case.  Timbuktu is now controlled by the rebels.  I have read reports of some of the manuscripts and shrines being damaged, and of a form of Sharia law being imposed, keeping most people inside their homes.  I have read of extreme food shortages, since most of the food comes from Bamako, and those routes are closed now.  The woman at the market, Sana, the manuscripts, the ancient mud building, the Tuarags who fed and performed for me, I think of them with a sense of hope, and hopelessness.

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