Mud mosques

I made tracks somewhat early out of Djenne, after a Sunday spent simply walking and exploring. The guides were not as bad as I feared and some people proved friendly and helpful. The kids were a mixed bag, some shy and friendly, others boisterous, a few demanding and one hostile. The beggar boys made friends with me and followed until the adults chased them off. It struck me that they’re really the lowest of the low and even at their young age, they know it. A couple girls asked to have their picture taken – for money, f course – but I was patently not into it. I fired off a couple shots of the gorgeous mosque, though and wished I could get inside. The Monday market was about what I expected, although a little more fleamarketish and not so much produce and livestock. I was exceptionally rude to an aspiring guide who followed until I refused to walk. Even though they hadn’t been too bad, I’d had it with false friends sidling up tot ell you all the things you missed while walking alone.

I got onto a tro-tro bound for Mopti, hopped off in Sevare and was immediately picked up by a “guide” who took me by mobylette to Macs, where I stayed cloistered and devouring books until sundown, when I ventured out to a Lebanese restaurant in town. Two locals walked me home, talking the whole way about marrying white.

Today, I left the hotel only once, to buy laundry soap and spent the rest of the day reading and napping and generally recuperating. It was heavenly, the biggest surprise being a delicious lunch prepared on the spur of the moment by an incredibly generous staff. One more day and I think I should be back on my feet.