You travel through the countryside in Mali, heading to Tominian district – about 400 kilometres away from the capital of Bamako, towards the border with Burkina Faso. You have six to seven hours to take in the world unfolding around you. The baobab trees with tortured branches; the mango trees – leaves heavy under the dust – guarding the roads; the empty, yellow or grayish fields, thirsty for water. ‘If we only had water, we could grow vegetables, crops here….But in places like this, you would have to dig 12-13 meters to get to some. And even then, you might not find any,’ comments Abraham, our driver, as if reading your thoughts.
You pass by markets stalls – shabby wooden benches and tables surrounded by shaky poles covered with hay roofs. Outside and not far from Bamako, you can see a palette of vegetables and fruits – melons, bananas, tomatoes, lettuce, oranges, apples, peanuts, baobab fruits – but as you drive further, deeper in the countryside, they become scarce – mainly baobab fruits or powder, and peanuts. Occasionally, you catch glimpses of a butcher, with one slab of goat meat hanging in the dusty, hot air. You can almost feel the dust in your eyes, in your throat, and you look away, ahead of you.
You ask Abraham what life is like where he lives and works, in Kolokani (60 kilometres North-West of Bamako). ‘Lot of the families there have nothing to eat,’ he says, adding that in many villages you can only see now women and children as the men have left, desperate to find work somewhere else to help their families. ‘How do people cope in the meanwhile?’ you probe. ‘Solidarity,’ he answers simply. ‘People help each other in these times. And as things get worse, we start selling our animals. The small ones go first – chickens, for example, then gradually the larger ones – the oxen, the donkeys.’
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