A secret cave

Big trucks and watermelons. Motorcycles and red dust. Flies. These are the things that I imagine when I think of Bamako. Living in the Zone Industrielle means we are inundated with big trucks. As a landlocked country, Mali is dependent on it's trucking industry to trade goods with its neighbors and get its exports to sea.

The trucks are not allowed to drive on the roads at certain hours, though I haven't yet determined what those hours hour. During early morning commutes to school they are parked along the roadside, 2 by 2 in rows of 3 or 4.

I am intrigued by their set up- wandering kindred spirits that we are. The relationship with their truck does not seem to mirror their American counterparts- who have decked out cabs, complete with sleeping quarters and kitchen sinks. Malian drivers sleep outside. Their trucks become oversized guard animals, protecting them and providing shelter. Often, they can be seen underneath the long back, stretched out on a colorful plastic mat, the large kind used for everything from prayers to picnics to sleeping under your truck.

Avoiding the mid-day sun

I find their ability to sleep, a meter or so from a busy roadway, unbelievable. I cannot imagine being able to relax enough to fall into slumber while laying out in the open with nothing but a thin sheet covering me, taxis and motorcycles rumbling by every minute. There is a deluxe camping model- it looks like a tall, rectangular tent. It's usually made from a heavy brown canvas and looks just long enough to house a narrow cot inside. A private outdoor bunk. The material appears thick enough to buffer some roadway noise, but surely it is a trade-off in heat factor.

During some- most for me- early mornings, when I was still wearing a sweater (I even recall wishing for a hat one morning, a nice fuzzy winter hat) I remember thinking how cold they must be, sleeping outside. During those times, all you can see is a person-shaped blanket. The deluxe model provides some luxury on those chilly mornings.

In heat of mid-day, you can also find drivers napping under their truck or stealing a bit of shade. Sometimes they have the low seated slanted chairs common around West Africa. Occasionally they are stretched out in a black rope hammock swaying in the breeze. And always, there is the plastic mat option. 

Friends gather and play cards, drink tea or just watch the commotion of people selling, unloading, and waiting. Ordinary activities of daily life. It seems like a great place to people watch, a secret cave from which to peer out at the unsuspecting masses. A little spot of your own amidst the busy cramped bustling of the day.

Trucks everywhere