Mali: First Impressions

'I am a prehistoric fish with transparent ribcage. I am a Zulu shield with assegai. The eyes of a fierce lion is locked on me. I am in the bosom of an African mother.' The cresent moon plays tricks with my mind as she paints through the openings in the dark cloud roof of this West African afternoon. The lion's eyes still follow me, asking about the intent of my visit. I shy away from confrontation. Boabab sillouttes stud the horizon. The cool humid draft through the bus window cleanses my memory of this torturous bus journey. Far away, lightning strikes and illuminates the great outstreched plains. Darkness falls quickly now and the land is quite. All waits in anticipation for the next strike. This time its closer, and the bolt pierces the angry night. The space the bus occupies fall dead quiet. We are one with the road. And then God reaches down from uppebove in a mighty display of power and majesty. The land trembles and groans under the weight of His hand. She submits to her Maker. Then all is dark. The lion sleeps. I am in Mali.

Mali Impressions

Mali: First Impressions

Diboli, Mali