A trip to the suburbs

Last Sunday, my wife and I made the hour-long drive out of town to her manager's village outside Bamako. There was a memorial service that day for his aunt which was being held in his village and he graciously invited us to attend. In Muslim countries, there's a tradition where forty days after someone is buried there's a sacrifice and prayer, and then everyone stays to eat the sacrifice. In this case, there were two cows and some goats which were sacrificed, which was kind of a big deal. My wife said that in two years in a village in Senegal, she never saw anything more than a goat being sacrificed for this kind of thing.


We got on the road early Sunday morning before it started to get too hot and made it to the village without incident. The roads here in Mali have been fantastic, by the way - so much better than what we saw in Kinshasa. We averaged around 60 mph most of the way. I don't think I was ever able to go that fast in DRC thanks to all the potholes and traffic snarls.


Once arriving at the village, we were welcomed warmly by my wife's manager and his extended family. His father had four wives, and this service was for one of his wives, though the deceased was not the birth mother of my wife's manager. More like a stepmother, I guess, though he referred to her as his aunt. I hope that all makes sense. The mood was far from somber. It felt more like an Irish wake, though without all the booze (these people are Muslim, after all). There were groups of people sitting everywhere, and I can't count how many hands I shook and greetings I exchanged with them. Everyone was incredibly kind and welcoming, and I didn't feel out of place or like an outsider at all.


We spent most of the day sitting around in the shade. The primary focus of our energy was moving our chairs from shady spot to shady spot as the sun made its way across the sky. While the men sat and talked, the children looked after each other and played, and the women prepared the food which was rice and meat from the animals killed earlier that day. People were also eating rice and beans, and there was lots of strong tea being served througout the day. I was up late the night before and must have had five cups of tea. Despite the heat, my wife and I both had a great time. The food and the company were both top-notch, and it was refreshing to get out of the city and be a part of what most of the country of Mali is really like.


We had to be careful when we took out our camera because all the kids would come running over and want to have their picture taken. This never got old to them. We did get a few shots of the rest of the goings-on that day.


Here's some of the women cutting up onions for the meal...




and cooking up giant pots of rice...





and here's some of the meat, cooking in a pot (note the spare parts at the top of the picture).





Most people sat under a large tarp that offered protection from the sun...





while a few fortunate souls were able to cool off in a bucket.





We took a short walk around the village where I helped a girl pull water from the well...





and showed off my rippling muscles.





And finally, here's a shot of my wife with her many adoring fans.