There is something symbolic and some even say Freudian about
losing diaries and computers : I seem to do so every 10 years or so
when there is a great change in my life.
Now, on the Turkish Airways flight back to Mali, between Istanbul and Bamako, I
lost my old laptop. The air steward was taking his job seriously. He told me I couldn’t keep my laptop with me as
we landed at Niamey and he snatched it
away before I had time to object. He put it into the overhead compartment. And
there it remained and it might even still be there, as far as I know. The next day I went to the Turkish Airways office here and reported the
loss : emails were sent in order to try and retrieve it but to no avail.
And of course nothing was backed up. I am
starting a new life, yes, but I do not want to wipe out all memories of my old
life in Djenné ! But that is what I had more or less done. All my pictures
of my ten happy years in Djenné with Keita were gone. Keita too is gone now, and so
is my hotel. I felt bereft once more, as if one layer after another was being
stripped from me and there was nothing left. It is my own fault. I am irresponsible in the
extreme about my own life and safety, so everyone tells me. I have no insurance
for anything at all ; I have lived for years in Djenné, a place other
toubabs feel is out of bounds for safety reasons and now I am going into
Timbuktu to run a project which makes everyone nervous apart from myself ;
I do not back anything up; I have never paid anyting into any pension schemes:
in short, I am hopeless.
When I calmed down from the shock of this most recent
calamity of the losing of my laptop with all its precious data, it dawned on me
with a great sense of relief, that of course all is not lost : I have my
blog (www.djennedjenno.blogspot.com)
written for eleven years, recording my life in Djenné in words and pictures.
And then I made a wonderful discovery : my friend Nicholas had arranged
something called Dropbox to be installed on my computer because we were working
on a project together. I normally take no notice of the possibilities such
installations give me, but just this once I had transferred a file called ‘My
Life with Keita’ onto the Dropbox. I
vaguely recalled this, and once I had gone through the painful process of buying
a new laptop, installing everything and ‘moving in’ to it, I made a half-
hearted attempt to see if I could find this Dropbox thingy. And YES !
Alhamdilullah ! Unbelievably, there is was, waiting for me out in the
ether : my loveliest memories of
happy times which will never return. Here, above is Keita on our holiday in Togo in 2008, still healthy.
And not only that, but my dear friend Eva, the Swedish
ambassador to Mali, with whom I always stay when I am in Bamako, tried to comfort
me for my loss and looked into her files where she found pictures of me and Keita that I had
never seen before, like the one below from the autumn of 2015 when both Keita
and I were very sick but nevertheless enjoying our time staying here in the
Swedish residence : good company, good food and always plenty of laughter.
And soon, soon I am off to Timbuktu, in the company of Fr
Columba the Benedictine Friar and Walid the Lebanese digitization teacher. As I
write this they are winging their way into Bamako airport. Our newly recruited
staff is waiting for us in Timbuktu where we are starting on the manuscripts of
the Imam Ben Essayouti’s library next to the Jingerey Ber Mosque. The air
conditioners for the studio have arrived
in Timbuktu after their long dusty
journey from Bamako ; the three boxes of precious cameras and computer
equipment have been flown up on the UN cargo flight. All is finally ready, so
let the show begin…
There is a way in which the serendipity of this makes up for the loss. Perhaps not altogether, but to a certain extent, at least. The photographs are treasures, even more so now.
ReplyDeleteIndeed, you are right Susan. And I will probably discover new pictures now which I have never seen before and would never have seen if it wasn't for this disaster...
ReplyDelete