Adventures

Mali: and the tale of the magic string

I was in Mali, I was in Djenne, when I met him.  He was there in front of the mosque selling string.  Selling magic string. 

My Malian colleague was deep in discussion with him, and money exchanged hands.  When I asked what was on offer, I was told it was string.  It was magic string to cure bad backs.  One simply tied it around the waist against bare skin and there it would do its business until your back felt better, so much better.  Really, I said.  How very interesting, I said.  Tell me more, I said.

I asked the seller how the string's magic had been procured.   He and my friend both gave me a sharp look.  It appears that was a terribly impolite question; after all, everyone knows that magicians don't reveal their secrets. 

And so I asked the next best thing -- if there was a money back guarantee.  And the seller peered at me straight in the eyes and said, Yes.  Yes, there is.  And so it was that I dug in my pocket and I paid for my string.  My very own magic string.

In the days to come, morning after morning, night after night, my Malian colleague exclaimed that his back -- his aching back -- had never felt better.  It was remarkable. Why, he was positively nimble. 

And deep inside my bag, safely in a pocket, there my string lay, waiting, just waiting, one day to do its magic.  For me.

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Mali photography: and a global tale of mothers and babies

She had named her baby Timbe, or the Second, in the Dogon language. 

 

Timbe had cooed through the workshop, passed from hand to hand, fed on demand, napping here and there.  The mother, Aissata, told me that – like all her colleagues -- she brought her baby to work. The mothers organized among themselves to make sure that the babies were cared for and happy, each mother nursing her baby when needed.  The male co-workers came by and tickled the babies on their bellies.  I told Aissata that in America, women didn’t bring their babies to work -- that it wasn’t really allowed.  She patted me sympathetically on the arm and said, I’m so sorry for that.

 

And I said I was sorry, too.

 

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Mali: a tale of the mayor who had and had some more

He was a mayor of a town in Mali, somewhere along a highway that started suddenly and stretched until forever. 

He shook my hand and he told me that this one, she was his wife and the other one, she was his wife, too.  And there was another behind who...........was his wife, too.  And then the little ones came and he laughed and said that this one, she was his grandchild, and that one, she was too.  And the tiny one there, well, she was, too.  And then he told me that there were more, many more.   And he smiled the biggest smile and stretched out his arms as far as they could reach. 

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