Bamako: city of dust, city of bougainvillea.

The friends who turn out to be heroes;

The ones we break bread with who nourish our own hearts;

The colleagues who become family;

The neighbors who anchor our days;

The greetings that never end;

The showers that bring relief, both from dirt and sweat as well as from anxiety over the season’s harvest;

The mornings that stun you into submission;

The village chiefs whose class and style are unmatched;

The history that keeps you guessing;

The magic around every corner.

After two years in Bamako, i’ve said (a long, rather drawn-out) farewell. Hopeful to be back soon and see an old friend with fresh eyes. Until then, starting over again somewhere new:

[View of Hargeisa, Somaliland]