My 'Must-Fly' has arrived!

Well, I did take that 4 am bus from Sevare,  and the day produced all the customary hardships which 

 I know so well. Even so there is still something I like about travelling on Mali buses: it provides one with a close-up  of ordinary  Malian life, far removed from the comforts of the normal expat life style. There is an onslaught of  vendors jumping on to the bus at every stop;  there is a multitude of village produce displayed by the road side: peanuts, tomatoes, baobab 'flour', and of course fruit in season: now is the time of the mangoes.  There seems to me there is some  small consolation and justice in the fact that during the mango season even the poorest Malians can eat their fill of this most luxurious of fruits.  I love seeing   the baobabs  along the road- they are such  mysterious, alien and humourous  trees. There is surely a soul in each of them..

.

 The bus was quite new and there were two good films showing- one the famous ‘Finje’  (the Wind), 1982, by Suleyman Cisse– my Keita loved this film about the student up rising under Moussa Traore which includes a sensitive portrayal of first love with  a very erotic bathing scene.  Then followed  Cheick Oumar Sissoko’s Guimba (1995)a  costume drama mostly filmed in Djenne I believe, with gorgeous horsemen and wonderful and credible styling for a Mali of ancient but uncertain date.

Once back in Bamako the troubles that has beset this trip began once more- How to get the boxes up to Timbuktu? How to even get myself up there again? It all seemed quite impossible. I had a meeting with Ricarda from the MINUSMA who is in charge of organizing travel and transport. She did assure me that the boxes would be sent , but she could not give me a precise date. This was at least something. I  decided that with her assurance that they would take the boxes, I would be able to go up myself without the boxes and do all the other work I have to to, then leave for London as planned next week. When the boxes finally arrive, the digitizing material  will be assembled by the team without me.  So, that decision removed one of my urgent problems, but  left me with the other: how to get to Timbuktu and back in time? I was issued with a rather uncertain ticket (called an MOP- can’t think what it might stand for? ) which, as always, states that I am number five in order of importance. And lo an behold as expected this morning when I went to the airport at 4 am I found myself on Stand-By. Two planes left for Timbuktu without me. There were plenty of other Stand-Bys, mostly Tuaregs, some of them were from the CMA I noticed on the list that is posted for the passengers to find their position.  I was stand-by number 28 of 30. We all lolled about, some sleeping on the marble floor, some praying or making tea. I reflected that it was rather amusing that I found myself hanging out with ex MNLA fighters. I wonder what Keita would have thought of that...
‘Come back tomorrow at 4 am’ the MINUSMA staff finally  said to us all after we had waited for seven hours. 

I phoned Ricarda in despair. Could she do anything for me? If I don’t get on the plane tomorrow I have to postpone my return to London...I will have to take the BUS to Timbuktu unless she can help me!  She said she would do her best. And just a little while ago there was an email from her with a precious content. It is a MOP with a Must Fly status. This is a much coveted commodity that I have never had before. Each UN plane has only a few Must- Flys and here I am, one of the special ones! Thank you Ricarda!