Design that Matters Field Journal

Mali

Mali seems to be a living juxtaposition. I have travelled throughout the world, but have never visited a place where such kind people could live in such a beautiuful natural setting but in such a disturbing world.

Since I have been here, I have met a man who built a hangglider from scrap materials and actually flew it; have been offered tea by complete strangers; and have made ‘friends’ with Malians just by sitting on the bus or watching a soccer game on the street. On the way to the internet cafe I saw two parties in the street with live music and dancing. In Dogon country I witnessed one of the most spectacular natural vistas I have ever seen.

However, all this exists in a land where most people die before 50; malaria and other diseases seem to be more of a way of life than an epidemic; and homelessness is a fact, not a problem. The sewers in the city are meant to be covered by cement blocks, but many sewers are still left open on the sides of the streets. There are no trash cans (as we know it), so people just litter wherever. The markets are an array of nauseating odors, from rotting fish to animal defecations.

I doubt there is any city in the United States which has such a poor infrastructure and is so polluted than Bamako. But, amidst such poverty, you learn to appreciate any little luxury. Here, a first class hotel is one that has a toilet and a shower. A 'smooth' highway is one that is paved. A nice taxi is one that only stalls once or twice on the ride and where all the door handles work.

One thing which I sort of disliked in my more recent travels is that you can always find someone who speaks English and you can always find food and lodging that is just like home--in otherwords, it's possible (and likely) to travel thousands of miles from the US to experience something which is not really unique. This trip has satisfied my thirst for the extreme travel experience. And, athough I have been able to fall back on pizza a few times, most of the trip has been so completely unique, that, for one of the first times, I really am beginning to miss all the luxuries which I have become accustomed to back home.

More than anything else, it is the people that make Mali not only a bearable place, but a country which I am proud to have been to. Earlier, I mentioned how much of Mali looks like the slums in Brazil, and,if I were to have come here alone, I probably would have imagined most of the people to be violent crooks (in Brazil people never go the slums) and would have stayed in the toursist hotels, never eaten in any of the shacks--and never experienced the people, who really make Mali great. (ironially, it was our only real tourist adventure--the one to Dogon country, where they actually have tourist camps built for the Americans and French--where we got sick). Were it not for the extreme generosity of people here then not only would this trip have been unproductive but also probably unbearable. Unfortunately, most of my interactions have been secondhand (with Tim as a translator) and i really wish I spoke French or Bambara (besides 'hello', 'how are you', and 'get lost').

This trip has been an eye opener into the developing world and I now have much more respect for how many people in the world live. It's hard to imagine how life is here from the documentaries and infomercials to donate money who live off a dollar a day, but once you're here you not only realize just how hard their lives are, but also just how hard it is to improve themselves in such a poor and isolated environment. Honestly, I can't wait to get back home to TV, air-conditioning, and fly-free food; but at the same time, I can't wait to use my new-found knowledge and experiences to help make the Kinkajou and other related endeavors successful.