Ca. 40 degrees on the verandah of Hotel Flandre where I am sitting with my cold Castel beer, after a  swim in the hotel pool. This feels like super luxury... it is probably the most frequented and indeed the only hotel that is operating  properly north of Segou. Sevare and Mopti are still working towns with plenty of Malians who work in NGO’s  and diverse toubabs –mostly from various UN branches - frequenting this hotel verandah where previously tourists used to be sipping beer, discussing their up-coming trips to the Dogon country, now a distant memory of of Temps Perdu...

 I arrived from Djenne at lunchtime, where I had spent two busy days organizing business regarding the new initiative I am setting up with Mark Saade, the Malian Consul  to the UK: Les Amis de Manuscrits de Djenne.  I was also privileged to attend the opening ceremony of the 6^th consequtive cataract operation campaign which is always sponsored by my dear cousin Pelle and his wife Nanni.  This event turns out to be most embarrassing every time since I am treated as some sort of superstar and White Savior, (echoing the words of the recent UK controversy)   and am lauded to the skies although I am only passing on the kind sponsorship of my cousin. I do take advantage on the occasion though  in so far as I insist that the yearly event at the hospital when 100 people get their cataracts removed for free is done in memory of my Keita who worked in the hospital and ran its laboratory. We observed  a minute’s silence for him, and that always moves me.

 As always, Djenne feels like home and so familiar that it is impossible to think that anything might happen to me, although everyone in Bamako thinks I am insane to travel there...

I visited my dear old friend Yelpha, the Imam, (above). He had a tragedy in his family yesterday, when his ten year old son drowned. He had been playing by the river with his friends (because of incessant teachers strikes there are no schools) and at midday  Yelpha suddenly heard terrible wailing from the street as they announced the death of his son. They gave him the ritual mortuary bathing then buried him there and then. Yelpha then carried on to officiate as usual at the customary Friday prayers at the Great Mosque. When I saw him he simply said ‘C’etait la volonte de Dieu’. I am not sure I would have been so lenient with God in my attitude... It is not the first time Yelpha has lost a child. I remember when he lost his five year old daughter to malaria one year. He took it just as calmly, but he did say that he was ‘unusually sad’. The little girl had followed him and sat on his lap when he ate and obviously loved him. Life and death are dealt with in such a different manner here.

And now, tomorrow morning on to Timbuktu and whatever trials that might entail. I should perhaps not announce my departure  to all and sundry on the internet for security reasons, but since we will be travelling around  escorted by our own private tank and five blue helmeted, machinegun carrying UN soldiers I think the chances of our being in any danger are minimal..