MALI! Ohhhh what heaven! Sounds like Kelly is taking her family there when they come to visit in December, that's how great it was!

All we could think was, why don't we do this more often?! We need to stop freaking out about work and just SEE West Africa! I, of course, was incredibly happy doing my most favorite things - travel and be out of doors!

After 3 straight days of travel overland from Sokodé to the bordertown of koro (with a nice stop in ouaga on the way) we made it to mali, arranged for a guide (who himself ended up being one of our favorite parts of Mali), and took off for Pays Dogon, Dogon Country, where the history is riveting, the people proud, and the scenery breathtaking.

The Dogon people settled on the escarpment around the 1500s while trying to escape Muslim invaders from the north. They built their dwellings high in the cliff face itself to hide themselves and their families and thus keep their sacred culture and beliefs intact. Today, many of the people have in fact converted and long since moved down off of the cliff, but the ancient villages remain, lying in wait for the fortunate tourist to discover.

And discover them we did! Four days of trekking (I knew it was bound to be fabulous when we had to start the whole adventure jouncing down a tiny road on a rickety old horse cart since cars could not pass the way we were headed) through various incredible villages with various beautiful people putting us up [literally - on their roofs] and feeding us 3 squares a day.

The FOOD was even wonderful! Your normal couscous and rice fare, but the sauces in Mali are not, in fact, 97% oil so it was fantastic! For those 4 days, everything was taken care of by Pyg, our guide (short for Pygmie since he was apparently a really small kid), so we just followed him over hill and dale, listening raptly to his accounts of the Dogon history and culture and somehow finding a magical secret waterfall/swimming hole every day to revel in. Basically, we had 4 days of outdoor bliss - 4 of my finest since I hit the African continent, I might add.

Then, all too soon, it was time to continue on, back to the "real world" where we were jolted by the cars and motos and crowds of Mopti, a small Malian port town. We made our way north-west to the tiny mud village of Djenne, a world-reknowned Islamic learning center featuring the largest mud structure in the world, a huge mosque towering over its teeming marché.

The baché (sort of like a small pick-up truck in the bed of which they cram 15-20 people for a fun-filled ride over sand dunes and mudpits) trip out to Djenne was a lesson in not judging Mali solely on Dogon country standards. Kelly and I had decided that Mali was the promised land and were secretly planning our escape from Togo when we were drawn into an elaborate plot to wrest all of the money from the yovos spread out over 5 hours. Essentially, the baché drivers set us up and wasted an entire afternoon of our lives trying to swindle a few extra CFA which SUCKED but was a necessary wake-up call. Mali is different from Togo, but not that different after all.

Djenne was mystical indeed, rife with Moroccan influence from the northern invaders and sandy-floored koranic schools. Students come from all corners of Africa (or so they say) to study in this little island village, and all of the children at école Koranique are taken in by the head of their school and fed by the charity of the village. Each Thursday, any village member can make his way to their nearest imam to donate and the students carry little buckets around town while intoning koranic verses for food donations.