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 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]