In Bamako

Well, Scandinavian diplomats have certainly been extremely kind to me  every time I have visited Bamako. It started with dear Anne Maria, second in command at the Danish Embassy  around 2010- 2014 or so- I often stayed with her in her lovely  house in Cite du Niger. Then came the whole five years with Eva at the Swedish Residence, which became the anchor and the scene of so many important events in my life here in Mali. Eva has now left Mali but we are in touch of course and will see each other at her flat in Palma, Mallorca in November inchallah.

And now the ultra glamourous Norwegian couple Ambassador Ole and his wife Berit, above wearing the costume of the Hardanger region of Norway for the 17^th of May Norwegian  National Day celebrations in Bamako.  Berit has appeared already in this journal: See post 'The Meaning of Things' from November 21st last year.
 I was kindly invited to stay here at the stunning Norwegian Residence for my Bamako visit this time. My Norwegian is improving daily. Or, I should say, my comprehension of the Norwegian language. Normally Swedes and Norwegians understand each other quite well, but since I left Sweden so early - I was only seventeen- I have not been used to even speaking my own language, let alone hearing much Norwegian...but   while Berit has nothing against speaking English with me, Ole refuses on principle to speak English to a Swede, and of course he is quite right. So I am learning.
There are many ‘faux amis’ as the French call them- that is to say words which ought to mean a certain thing, but mean something totally different. The word ‘roligt’ for instance means ‘fun’ in Swedish but ‘calm’ in Norwegian.

My brother Anders, who used to work in Norway,  had told me lies about the Norwegian language and I had tried several times to find out from Norwegians I met  if it was really true that the word banana was guleboj  (Yellow Bend) in Norwegian, or the word for ‘shark’ was really   kampetorsk,  or ‘Great Warrior Cod’. These questions always ended up in a cold shoulder response: obviously the Norwegian in question thought I was making fun of them- but I really did want to know! And now, finally, I know that it was all nonsense, and Berit told me, without getting angry,  that banana is quite sensibly called banan in Norwegian!

But apart from such linguistic discoveries I am very much enjoying their company- tonight there was a glittering dinner party for some very interesting Malians and people from the neighboring countries. Below my hosts are inspecting the table before the arrival:
 

                                                             
and here the first guest, the Ghanaian ambassador, writes in the guest book...

                                                                                   
 I am also preparing for my trip north- about which it is best not to be too specific until later when I am safely back...

I am travelling around town in taxis  and the sights of Bamako are overwhelming as always: the exotic in a wild mixture with abject and depressing povery, and everyday struggles to survive on every street corner in  kaleidoscope visions with vibrant colours infused with laughter and  joie de vivre inspite of it all...