It always starts with the taxi drivers. Understanding the culture, getting where you need to go and keeping your finger on the tone of the people, the politics and the history. The most useful thing would be to speak Bambara. It would make them happy and it would help me get to the right destination without a lot of touring the city, which occasionally happens. We could probably also have some good conversations. Malians do seem to be pretty friendly once you break the language barrier.
I had intended to learn Bambara and even wanted to get a head start before leaving Abidjan. But something has happened. An unexpected emotion has crept in and made this new-country experience a bit different from the others. I was talking with a friend who has noticed a similar reaction.
Its the fatigue of learning a new language, discovering new rituals and meeting new people. I don't want to play the introduction game with other ex-pats (where are you from, how long have you been here, where else have you been?.....) I don't want to hear about long job titles that explain nothing. I don't want to ask questions about the hideously inflated job title and I don't want to explain myself. It's rare that swapping stories of countries visited leads to a meaningful exchange. Mostly it feels like someone trying to impress me with tales of their egos and adventures.
Telling you where I am from is even less effective. It only leads to labels and stereotypes that don't fit anymore, if they ever did. The kind of information to be gotten by asking about my American life is bound to be misleading. And I can't explain my African experiences with any greater clarity. Can't we talk about other things than where we've been and where we think we're going?
It's the first time I have arrived somewhere with an idea of about how long I'd like to stay. And it is affecting my ability to become engaged. Sure, I want to see things, learn about the culture and dance- of course. I want to absorb the music and the dance and the art as much as possible. But I am wary about investing. Learning a language means I might end up staying longer than intended. Making connections means I might end up feeling comfortable and at home, which will make it harder to leave.
Resistance. It's like a little rough edge around everything I do. I have a very keen sense that there is a fine line for me to be walking here in Bamako. It appears to be the kind of place you don't expect to stay, but then 5 or 10 years later, you find you are still there. And I don't want to still be here in 5 years. I think.
There is great music. Stunning dance. Beautiful art. Strong traditions and interesting history to explore. There are a lot of attractive things. So why am I in such a hurry to get out of here?
It's complicated. Or maybe I am complicated. The only thing to be certain is that dance show I saw last night was amazing. The costumes were a modern, brilliant interpretation of shiny bazin. The whole effect reminded me of a fireworks show. The grand finale when you think each explosive display is the last, only to see it followed by something more colorful with a pattern more complex and breathtaking the previous compilation.
It was a good show. I saw a few artists I know and maybe strengthened some connections. Simply put, one nice evening in Bamako. It did inspire a series of flashbacks, reminding me of so many other good shows and artists and experiences that I loved. It was impossible not be confronted with the temporality of it all. While I am reminded of the importance of living in the moment, enjoying each experience in the present, I can't help but feel a tinge of resistance.
