Having no deadlines or necessary routines is nice, for the most part. It seems every time I try to implement anything along the lines of a schedule my efforts go down in flames. For example, I had planned on leaving Bamako to head back to village this morning; yet here I am typing out this update. It can take some motivation to pull myself out of an English speaking community replete with airconn, satillite TV, swimming pools, free food and drinks, even my own bedroom. My little mud hut in a village where I don't have much in common with the people and little work to do tends to pale in comparison - although it is quite peaceful.
It is an all day affair to get there. First I wait (45 minutes on average) for a bus to leave, then I sit on said bus for 2-4 hours sweating pretty much the whole way. Once I get to Bougouni I have to track down my bike, pick up some groceries at market, then ride 20k to my village. Once I get to my house I need to unpack, get water, clean up, and cook some food. If I am not in good health this oversize task turns into something nearly insurmountable. I like to set a date for this journey and it often times falls through. It would be nice to have some semblance of control, but alas, this is Mali. Things don't go as planned. In fact, the word "plan" has adopted a different meaning for me here. Plans are merely momentary intentions that might be carried out sometime in the future. This time I am still in Bamako because I am too sick to do much of anything - same as the last time I tried to go back.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I hope planning has a better outlook here in the States than daily life in Mali; that wouldn't fare too well for the thousands of people in the planning profession.. but then again, I guess there you just.. roll w/ the punches?!
ReplyDelete