Having sold my white camel in Niger, and after spending a couple of days in Niamey and then after visiting one of the last giraffes in West Africa, I hitched back to Burkina Faso. Burkina, for many reasons, is one of my favourite countries ever, so I spent some time with friends in Ouagadougu again, and then headed back to Mali, to visit the Dogon Country.
The Dogon Country is fascinating with its fairy tale architecture and the mythology. But me, I couldn't concentrate much on the sights because of what happened the first evening when I arrived in the little village of Kani Kombole... It was late afternoon, I just came down from the rock escarpment where I visited ruins of the houses abandonned by the Tellem civilisation. I came down to the village and saw a crowd of people, mostly kids and teenagers, each boy carrying a large stick, waiting in excited anticipation in front of a millet storage building. The earth building stands on the rocks, so that there's a little space between the earth and the floor, and that'w where the eyes of the crowd were directed, and that's where some kids were poking their sticks.
"What's going on?" I asked the young guy who was following me.
"There's an animal."
"What animal? A snake?"
"No, not a snake."
"What is it?!"
"A dog. A little dog."
"Are they going to kill the dog?"
"Yes, we don't eat dogs."
"Don't kill the dog!"
"Dogs are no good."
"Don't kill the dog! I'll take it."
He talked to the old man in charge of the dog hunt, and he agreed. But apparently not all the boys understood, because when the little puppy dog finally appeared chased out from his hiding place and started running for his life, the crowd went wild and one of the boys delivered a hit before I managed to catch and hide the terrified and scowling puppy in my arms. I sat on the stone, holding the trembling puppy, tears flowing down my cheeks - tears of horror at what I just witnessed, and tears of happiness I arrived in time. Well, in the village where kids run around half naked and where there's hardly enough food to go around for the people, I understand how they might not be willing to feed a dog, but still, I just couldn't let a little puppy be smashed to death by sticks.
So here I am, not with a camel anymore, but with a puppy dog for a change. A little, traumataized dog, who lost the sight in one eye from the blow he received, and who for the first two days only wanted to hide at the sight of a human. Now, slowly he's becoming more trustfull, he's learning how to eat (until now he only drank his mother's milk), he had his first hitchhiking experience and today he even rode a motorbike with me and my friend in Segou. I named him Kani after the village he comes from - I'm not sure he wants to be reminded of that place, but still, this is the place where his life was saved. I still don't know what I'm going to do with Kani, but for now, we're enjoying each other's company.

I'm writing this munching on dehydrated, organic, live "Oh So Fudgie" Blessing's! From Alive and Radiant Foods - from the package that my friend Jason sent me from California to Bamako. He also sent some crayons and things for the local kids here, so I might try and organise a little art workshop soon.
There isn't a whole lot happening right now but I thought I would write to let you know what's up, anyway. So I'm back in Mali and waiting for Agnes - the French girl with the truk and the bouncy castle. She's taking a little break, travelling with the boat on the Niger river right now, but when she's back we might do something together. While waiting for her, I spent a couple of quiet days in Segou with friends I made over a month ago at the festival.
Yesterday I hitched with Kani to Bamako. Kani hasn't quite mastered the not-so-easy art of walking with the leash (I mean rope). So getting tagled between the rope and my legs, being genlty pulled and resisitng with the force of all four little paws, finally being carried in my arms, Kani made it with me to the road heading out of town. There, hiding from the sun he promptly crawled between by backpack and the metal barrel at the check point by the road.
In Bamako I went to see another mega concert last night. With Tiken Jah Falkoy as the main star. The stadium was packed with I don't know how many thousands of Malian youth - an amazingly enthusiastic crowd that went wild and the security guys were chasing the boys jumping the fence to get close to the stage, but they were fighting a loosing battle - soon the grass area was packed because there was no more room at the stadium benches. It was almost as much fun to watch the crowd as it was to see what's happening on stage. And when Tiken Jah appeared, the sound of a couple thousand people singing along was louder than his own voice amplified by giant loudspeakers.
I'm at the place of a guy who gave me a ride over a month ago when I was still travelling with Kati and Rebekah. He's not even here at the moment but he sent his cousin to meet me and make sure I'm comfortable. Again and again - African hospitality at its best. The cousin drives me around on his motorbike, was my body guard at the concert, finds milk for my dog and doesn't let me do my own laundry, giving it to his little sister - "this is how we do it in Africa". So life is good, even though it gets ubearably hot during the day, and I'm just hanging around waiting, but I'm enjoying every single day here.
And you can already see the latest photos in three new albums in the gallery.

I told you my American friend Jason sent me a package with some crayons, colouring books and stickers, and also some money to spread some joy among the local kids. I don't like handing out sweets or money to begging kids, so I had a better idea. I'm staying now with a friend in one of Bamako's neighbourhoods, with houses along the sandy streets, and it's here where I organised a little drawing workshop and competition. We only told the neighbours' kids in the morning to come with some friends and in the afternoon we had a courtyard bustling with a crowd of over fourty enthusiastic little artists. It was fun and you can see the results in the newest album in the gallery.

But talking about fun and observing life around me - I think the locals hardly need me or anybody to spread joy around here. It's only our western, posession preocupied perspective that leads us to believe that just because they're poor they're not happy. I believe Africans are actually the most cheerful, the most joyful and happy people I've ever met, and they're masters at being content and arriving far with the little what they have. A couple examples:
It's been over and over again that I see local kids gathered on the dusty street at night - they don't have a cassete player or a radio or not even drums, but they would sing and clap and drum with sticks on a rusty tin while the others would dance. These kids never took dancing classes but you should see them dance - with their entire bodies and souls, in a rythmical, sensual way with so much enthusiasm as if they were dancing at the concert of the most popular music band in the world.
When I was hiking with the local guide in Niger to look for the giraffe, he looked at my professinal hiking shoes with the 'Vibram' sole and remarked: "It must be hot and heavy walking with these." I assured him that it's OK, the shoes don't bother me much. He himself was walking, like most Africans, with cheap plastic flip flops - and me, I could hardly keep pace with him...
I had a local guy acompanny me to his family house. He offered to carry my backpack. The backpack with a waist belt, with an adjusted carry system and all - and... he swiftly placed it on his head and started marching faster than I did without carrying anything.

So while I don't think the locals need me for anything here - it's fun to participate in their joyful way of life, and if I can share anything myself, that's cool, too. Thanks Jason! We all had fun with your crayons and there's still some money left so I can buy more meals to the people begging on the streets or do other things if I come up with more ideas.

It turns out that Agnes, the French girl with the truck and the bouncy castle I was waiting for, has slightly different plans in the end. She's thinking of selling the truck that is too large and too expensive to run, maybe get something smaller, and then move, along a bit different way. So who knows, maybe we'll still meet again some other place later.
Anyway, it was nice to stay in Bamako during this mango season. It felt good to spend a while longer in one place, and walking down the street to be greeted by kids shouting "Kinga! Kani!" rather than usual annonymous "tubabu, tubabu!" (white person). In the two new albums you can see photos from Bamako and the area.
Now, it's time to get moving again. Kani and I are going to the road heading towards the Senegalese border again and then Gambia. It's a long, empty, dusty road, hope somebody will pick us up.