Sadness and Joy

Back in London now, where spring has finally arrived. But although I am here in body, much of my mind lingers on in Mali where events- both good and bad- tumble over each other with increasing speed and keep my attention focussed. Here, in no particular order, is a run down of some of these events:

The airport at Timbuktu, where I spent such a large amount of time on my recent Mali visit, was part of a complex Jihadist attack last Saturday 14^th April.  It looks as if it lies in smithereens, but at least Eva assured me that the landing strip is unharmed. The attack was simultaneously an attack on the UN camp adjacent to the airport, and the terrorists were disguised as UN and FAMA (Malian army)  personnel. A sophisticated attempt at great destruction , which nevertheless has to be regarded as a failure says Eva, since ten Jihadists were neutralized (other  sources say 15) with the loss of one UN soldier.

This is what the Airport looked like on August 14^th last year, when Walid, Father Columba and I flew in to land ourselves in the previous great Jihadist attack  which occurred a couple of hours later, that time at the UN headquarters in the centre of Timbuktu, next to our hotel...

So will work now become even more difficult to organize in Timbuktu itself? Will the boxes be able to be delivered on that promised MINUSMA flight for our project? I have tried, but failed so far to have any information.

Meanwhile, Saadou Traore, our manuscript expert at the Djenne Manuscript Library, has braved the dangerous road north home to Timbuktu to visit his family.  We took advantage of this at ELIT and he  gave all staff a three day workshop at the Imam Essayouti library on how to date manuscripts by the paper used; how to recognize and use watermarks in dating, and how to change from Hijra to Gregorian calendar. This is all interesting stuff and I wish I could have been with them...they all seemed enthusiastic about the workshop, which has its last day today.

                                                                         

And a lovely thing happened yesterday which touched me. My beloved Pudiogou, (here with his wife number one and baby) the gardener’s assistant and  the chamber’maid’ at Hotel Djenne Djenno; my bogolan apprentice but above all my groom and riding companion across the dusty Sahel plains for many years, contacted me on Facebook , then wrote to  me on Messenger. This is in itself quite a source of pride, because when he came to Hotel Djenne Djenno , in 2009 perhaps, from the Dogon country he did not read. He was a student at the adult literacy evening classes which we ran in Djenne- and still run through MaliMali Projects- and learned to read and write. He was the best of all my people in Djenne and a born horseman, brave and subtle. One day he left to look after his sister who was mentally ill. He took her to a traditional healer in the Dogon country and said he would be back soon, but  he never came back. At the time he did owe us money in advances, but that was not the problem – only that we all missed him and no one knew what had happened to him. But recently I heard through Maman and Baba in Djenne that they had news of him, after several years of total silence. He was in the Ivory Coast and had managed to find a job somehow where he was earning enough money to have bought land in Fana, a town between Segou and Bamako. He had built himself a house there, and was now in the process of building another one, for his second wife! Well, that is what is called a ‘turn up for the books’ if I ever heard of one...

 This is what he wrote (in my translation of course)

‘Good evening my ‘patronne’ Sophie. How are you? I am very sorry , my mother  Sophie and I ask your forgiveness. I know my error.’

At his I sent him lots of pictures of us with my horses- like these...alas my horses are now all dead. I  said there was no need for him to worry .I was just so pleased to hear that he was OK. I often thought of our lovely rides together. He wrote back:

 I thank you for your support and understanding. I think of you often too but I have been scared to speak, but now, really I am very pleased. I wish you long life, and that God will bless you and your family.’

And I replied:

‘Ne Allah sonna, we will meet again one day’.