Ode to the Bashe.

     Three dollars, keme saba, gets me from my town road to the larger city of San.  A 65 kilometer trek that can take from 1.5 hours on a perfect day to upwards of 5 hours, if you’re me and have terrible luck with Malian transport.  You may be saying to yourself, “FIVE HOURS, that’s just over 30 miles Alyssa!  You could bike and get there faster!”  Well in response I say, “Oh, well you must never have met my friend Bashe…let me introduce you:”

WHO:    Name – Bashe; Age – anywhere from 10-30ish years; Color – white, blue or an off shade of rust with a side of rust.

WHAT:   A small van – almost the size of the old green Aerostar van like the Marks’ used to own – except in Mali, it fits upwards of 25 people.  You must mind your arms or you’re bound to get scratched by the rust, bump into a woman breastfeeding her 2 year old child, or perhaps disturb a chicken’s slumber.

WHERE:  This vehicle is found everywhere in Mali and will take you just about anywhere you’d like to go – but no guarantees when you’ll arrive or whether you’ll be sold to another vehicle along the way if yours breaks down or if you’ll take a quick nap on the side of the road until one of their friends with a ‘more reliable’ bashe arrives to pick you up…assuming there’s space.

WHEN:   Most transport here leaves between 7H00 – 10H00 and then again from 15H00-17H00 from the bigger towns.  If you’re me, you bike from your home the 2km to the main road and sit with the ever-so-friendly Malian folk at the side of the road until a vehicle passes your way.  I’ve been lucky enough to only wait 2 minutes and then other times wait for quite. some. time.

HOW:    Once you see the van chugging down the road your way you raise up your arm, as if to hail a taxi, and the van will slow to a hum, ask you where you’re headed as they are already piling your goods (backpack, bucket, bike, goat if you so choose) onto the roof, and you’re on your way.  You climb in – and sometimes over numbers of people – and find a space while simultaneously asking all around ‘How are you, how’s your family, and your children?’  Some days you’re lucky and get a few seats to yourself, other days you’re stuffed in the row with 4 other people – inevitably with a small child or chicken on their lap.  Malians en route also tend to the larger side because those who have money in Mali – which you must to travel – are expected to be heavy-set. 

and finally…

WHY, Alyssa, WHY?:  Well, what choice do I have?  It’s my escape to Internet, electricity, cold drinks and English speaking friends!  I’m forbidden to ride on a moto and trying to bike would likely be a poor choice seeing that I’m on the cusp of the desert.  And how ‘bout a donkey cart?  Well, I could get there that way, but considering each time I run in the trails behind my abode I pass up at least 2, I think I’ll take my chances at 5 hours – even though the smell might be just as rough. 

And I will end with some advice: if you plan to take a visit to Mali, or any other West African country I presume, prepare yourself for a harrowing ride, or 12.  It’s a good thing Malians are so genuinely friendly and often share a snack and at the very least a huge smile on your journey :)