Holy S%&*, I’m in Africa!

I ni ce! (Pronounced: E nee chay! )

Action on the pitch.
Hello! Our first full day in Mali had us going nonstop. We started out by meeting Yacouba and going across the street from the hotel for some breakfast sandwiches at a small shack. People were gathered around eating breakfast and watching a small TV set up on a shelf playing a movie. We took a seat on a bench and the two boys (probably in their early teens) manning the shack cooked us up some eggs and put them in some delicious bread. It was an absolutely gorgeous day, by northeast American standards anyway, at about 70 degrees. Many of the Malians walked around in winter jackets and scarves.

Once we scarfed those down, we took a taxi (really extravagantly painted with Green, Red and Yellow stripes on the side and the word “Champion” written across the top of the windshield, and a big Ghadaffi sticker on the dashboard) across the city to Yacouba’s house, tucked away down an alley. A number of neighborhood kids (many of whom knew Scott) came to watch us, and stood tentatively in a corner as Scott and Yacouba talked, and the women prepared food and washed clothes. We were served a frothy, strong tea served in a glass the size of about a double shot, which we sipped on.

The neighborhood behind the goal.
A little while later, Sekou showed up on his motorbike, and we excitedly hugged and got acquainted. I gave him a Black Little Eagles jersey, which he gleefully ran into the house and changed into. After he came back out he became my karamoko, and began teaching me Bamanankan, the local language. I quickly filled pages of my notebook with words for greetings, soccer terms (of course), colors, body parts, numbers, days of the week, and tons of random words (and how to tell a girl she’s pretty. That makes 5 languages now).

We kept at it until lunch, and Scott, Drew, Sekou, Yacouba, and I went inside to sit around a small table with a large bowl on top in one of two small rooms in the house (the other being the bedroom). The bowl contained Senegalese rice, delicious fish (some kind of freshwater carpe), eggplant, ochre, and some other vegetables. Absolutely splendid; I loved it. We all sat in a circle around the bowl and dug in (with our right hand of course), balling up the rice against the side of the bowl and tossing the savory morsel in our mouths.


Once we had all had our fill, we hung around and chatted for a while about the plans for the upcoming two weeks. Scott also showed off the new trailer for an upcoming documentary about African Sky (which is awesome, I’ll post the link when it’s available). Sekou then took Drew and I to go to the local field to watch some soccer. The “field” is a relatively flat space of sand and crushed rock at the bottom of a quarry (although a creek runs through the side of it), that is enclosed by rock, making a natural walled indoor court with ledges where spectators would watch. Behind one end was a high ledge with houses on top and hills in the background. On the other side was the trash runoff from the neighborhood. The group on the field was a neighborhood team in their late teens/early 20s, which sported neon yellow and orange bibs and played 7 a side. Some of the players had cleats, while others had sandals that were heavily taped around the foot. Man, were these guys tough. Despite it being a practice, these guys went all out and played out a very physical game with bone crunching tackles. It was very entertaining and we watched for about an hour, along with a couple dozen other spectators and a group of children that followed us from Yacouba’s house. (Links of the videos will be posted – the upload speeds are really slow at the Hotel. More pictures can be found here ) Occasionally, the game would pause for mothers walking through the field with their children to get to the other side of the field, or a boy with a sewing machine would run through. A couple of the younger kids grabbed the balls when they were shot behind the goal (there weren’t any nets).

Watching the Practice



We then said our goodbyes and headed back to the hotel to meet none other than “Bill Clinton”. Bill was our money guy, and converted our US dollars to Mali CFAs. With our new money, we went out to Savana restaurant for dinner. After the BlaBla Bar and seeing the Savana, I’ve realized that it’s incredibly difficult to explain Mali restaurants without showing someone a picture. Savana, like BlaBla, is an upper end spot, except that this was open air. It was actually a little chilly out (lower 60s), which is very rare. There were a couple of trees growing through the middle of the restaurant, with a bunch of smaller potted palm tree plants. The wooden tables (just barely enough room for 4 people) were surrounded by zebra print chairs, which matched the print around the side of the bar. The whole restaurant was surrounded by various colored Christmas tree lights. These lights also formed a makeshift drape in the doorway, which you walked through to enter. On the wall on the side of the kitchen, there was a mural depicting an African tribal scene. On the other side were wooden booths under a canopy, with African styled stick figures painted on the wall doing various activities, such as playing instruments.African tribal symbols lined the edges of the canopy.

Two younger boys playing behind one of the goals.
They also served as ball boys.
The crowd was mostly non-African when we arrived, which eventually turned to predominantly Malian as the night progressed. The expats there drive mostly smaller SUVs and jeeps, which lined the street outside. We each ordered a personal pizza (mine was pretty decent, with sausage and bacon), and listened to the house band (guitar, keys, bass, percussion, and two female singers), who were fantastic. They played an interesting mix of Malian music and very, very random American songs. And when I say random, it was like a trivia game trying to identify the song as soon as you could recognize it. Songs that included the likes of Lauren Hill, Headway’s “What is Love”, John Lennon’s “Imagine All the People”, and an Oliver Mtukudzi (Zimbabwe) track, which I was incredibly impressed with myself for recognizing. They were all exquisitely played and sang, and added a little African flair with the guitar licks. I really enjoyed it.
Tomorrow is another landmark for Little Eagles, as we host our first major tournament between 4 local Bamako teams!
-R






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