I awoke to the unrelenting sun creeping up in the sky and the sound of impatient commerce in the street below. It was 7 a.m., and more than 100˚F. My location was the open rooftop of a zero-star hotel in Djenné, Mali. I’d started out in a windowless room the night before, but after miserable hours of the fan throwing hot, heavy air in my face, I dragged my sleeping mat up to the roof in search of relief. It had worked, for the most part, though I was still groggy when I took a seat in the hotel’s outdoor restaurant and ordered some coffee.
Almost immediately, a young man of about fifteen approached the restaurant, the sand kicking up around his feet as he crossed the street. He stopped at my table and introduced himself as Philippe. “I am a tour guide. I would like to give you a tour of Djenné,” he said.
In my head, I was thinking ‘Can’t deal. Just want to be left alone. ’ Out loud, I politely replied, “No, thank you. I’m not interested.”
Undeterred, Philippe explained that the best views of Djenné were obtained from the rooftops of private homes, and he could take me up to some in prime viewing locations. For a one-hour tour, the cost was about three U.S. dollars.
He looked at me and waited expectantly. As a woman traveling alone, I was a bit wary. I rubbed my eyes and slowly said, “Can I get back to you on this later?” Philippe, persistent entrepreneur that he was, didn’t move. “Look,” I said, “let me have my coffee, then I need to go to the market and get some mangoes, and then I’ll talk to you after that.”
“But you already bought two mangoes last night!” Philippe said with indignation, as if he didn’t trust my delay tactics.
I frowned. “How do you know that?”
“I saw you get off the bus and go shopping in the market.” Ah, the joys of being a conspicuous traveler.
“Look, Philippe. I love mangoes. I eat a lot of mangoes. I need to get more mangoes,” I said. He shrugged and ambled off.
I was telling the truth when I said I intended to go back to the market that morning. Since arriving in Mali, I’d been consuming up to three mangoes a day. Not only were they inexpensive, they were ambrosial and abundant. One hour later, Philippe was back at my hotel. Somewhat resignedly, I agreed to a tour, but first negotiated a new price of two dollars. With that, we set off.
The tour itself was pleasant. We went to an art gallery, walked around the town, and ascended to the top of two houses to view scenes of how a desert community utilizes its flat mud rooftops for a variety of aspects of daily life. At the end of my tour, Philippe invited me to his family home for some African tea.
Again, I was wary, but this time for different reasons. I was not sure how appropriate it was for a 32-year old woman to go alone to the home of a teenager in a Muslim town. In the end, though, I went, and any concerns I had about being alone with Philippe were quickly dispelled as one after another of his friends filed up the stairs of his home and planted themselves on the floor of the narrow patio where we sat.
The tea-making ceremony was slow and precise. The teapot was very small, and once the first cup was poured, it had to be poured again, over and over, from a height of about 16 inches. With deft skill, the server cascaded the tea from cup to cup, never spilling a drop. Served one cup at a time, by the time the last person received their cup, the rest of the group was long finished. I decided against asking for a refill.
About that time, Philippe’s sister came up the stairs, carrying a tray of cut up mangoes. She delivered it right to me, and as I tried to share it with the others, Philippe said, “No, it’s all for you, because you like mangoes so much.” I told him I was more than happy to share, but he insisted I keep the tray for myself.
I was touched by Philippe’s sweet gesture, but in that moment I also felt uncomfortable with the recognition that he had used part of his tour earnings to buy a gift for me, even after I had ruthlessly bargained down the cost of the tour. I remembered the feelings of suspicion and annoyance that had come to me when he had disclosed that he’d been observing my movements upon my arrival in Djenné. Assuming that Philippe was targeting the tourist to make a quick buck, I’d treated him as a hustler.
Yet there I was, at his family home, amongst his friends, sharing tea and accepting a gift that had been thoughtfully chosen. I finished the entire tray. It was all so simple and innocent, and different from where my imagination had led me at the onset of our acquaintance. I reminded myself that this was why I had come alone to West Africa in the first place: to have greater opportunities for meaningful interactions with local people. My morning with Philippe had been exactly that. I’m thankful he was so persistent.
A version of this story originally appeared on www.goodfoodworld.com in 2011.
The best experiences in life are often unexpected and come with some risk. Thank you for sharing
Just beyond the risk lies the reward! Thanks for stopping by, Jack.
Laura, I will never tire of your West Africa stories, and can’t wait to hear all the lessons you’ve learned from your other travels. I love this picture! And to your other readers who want more – don’t miss “Tro-tros and Potholes,” Laura’s book about her west Africa trip!
Thanks, Molly! For the book plug, too. A writer holds their supporters very dear, as you know. 🙂
Laura ~ Your fears were warranted, but you obviously are happy you beat them into submission, took a risk, and now have a wonderful experience, feeling and memory from which you can draw whenever you wish. You are right…that is what travel is all about for most of us…experiences we can share and remember. Thanks for sharing with us.
Can’t wait to read more!
Haha! At first read, I thought you meant I beat Philippe into submission on the tour price… which I kind of did… (my bad) but then I realized you were talking about FEARS! Yes, the best things happen when you move past your fears (which doesn’t mean we don’t all still have fear all the time; fear is a constant companion, but one that you just have to leave at the bus stop). Thanks for your comment.
Laura, you must have had some interesting times! I have never been to Africa but have always wanted to go!
It’s pure magic, Jodi! Thanks for reading.
Great piece, Laura, insightful, entertaining, honest and well-written. I really enjoyed that, thanks
Thanks so much, Chris!
I’ve never been to Mali (was next door in Niger) but I love your story, brings back memories (and a lovely pic, btw). Have you been to Mali recently? I wonder what the putsch is doing to that country…but of course they’ve been having many problems with the Touaregs to the North…Have you been there too? What is your take on what is happening now in Mali?
Hi Claude, thanks for your comment and questions. I’ve never been to Niger but came very close to the border when I was in Burkina Faso!
I haven’t been back to Mali in the last 10 years and when I was there I didn’t go up to the far north. I also don’t know much about the Tuaregs/land rights issue, but what seems to be a common thread in the Mali situation with other West African countries is that the far north is ‘the hot spot’ and cries foul, often citing under-representation and under-allocation of resources compared to what is doled out in the power centers of the central and south parts of the country. Ivory Coast has seen this, Cameroon has had some grumblings about this. One thing that Mali has going for it is more homogeneity in terms of religion; in those other places, the Muslim North/Christian South divide contributes to the conflict. At any rate, I am happy to see that ECOWAS has stepped in and is trying to take a hard stand with economic penalties.
Thanks for the exhaustive reply! I see that like me you’ve got Africa in your blood: once there, it never leaves one entirely! And yes, the North-South divide is interesting, a repetitive pattern you find in so many countries in Africa (Sudan in particular) but also in Europe: France, Italy, Spain, even Belgium (the Walloons against the Flemish). Very odd…
It definitely does get in one’s blood, that is so true. And I’d never thought about the North/South in relation to Europe, but it seems so obvious now that you pointed it out. And then there was the American Civil War…
Yes, you’re right. Even America has a North South divide – actually human societies are rather full of divides, alas…
What a perfectly delightful story, Laura! Things are not always what they seem, are they? What a wonderful way to personally experience that truth! There is so much good in people and this is a lovely reminder.
Thank you, Jo! xo
Fears are a concatenation of the mind.When we are ready to truly see this, we do. Your gut is your true gauge, and that’s what encouraged you to go with Phillipe. It is an important distinction as too often our baseless fears rob us of much life has to offer. I spent time in South Africa, not long, but long enough to love what I encountered. The African continent is yet a place of exotic differences, making those areas of terrible strife all the more distressing.
I love the word concatenation, and hadn’t seen or heard it in so long, so thank you for bringing it back to me! I actually just coached my nephew the other day on the gut vs. the mind/ego as he was trying to make a decision on a job offer — the gut always knows, doesn’t it? We just have to trust. I’d love to hear more about what you did in South Africa, Christina.
I love when people surprise you in a good way and prove to be just that – people. I’m so glad that you got to break “mangoes” with people so different from yourself. What a touching post.
A sweet and touching story. People think of Africa and war and poverty come to mind. Your post, and travellogue, show the kind and human side of Africa. I love that!
PS: I also LOVE LOVE LOVE Mangoes 🙂
Sarah
Sarah, thanks so much for stopping by and for your kind words. Mmmm mangoes make the world go round!