I have a love/hate relationship with airports. Over the past several years I've spent an awful lot of time in them. Long layovers, delays, dealing with airline staff and finding terminals and gates. When I am in an airport I feel like I am in a holding pattern, not here, not there in the inbetween spaces. Most of the time I find this frustrating as I would rather be here or there and the inbetween is an inconvenience, something to be endured but not enjoyed. Sometimes though, that holding pattern, the inbetween is exactly what I need.
After two weeks in the feild in Mali- two weeks of interesting people, of eating chicken everyday at least once a day, and working long days - I took the bumpy 6 hour drive from San back to Bamako on Wednesday. Bamako is a sprawling city on the banks of the Niger river with streets packed with motorcycles, land cruisers and taxis fighting for position with pedestrians darting in and out trying to get from one side of the busy streets to the other. The air in Bamako is heavier than in San, more humidity and it has been raining there more than in the Segou Region where I spent the last two weeks. I didn't get to spend much time in the capital but it was an intriguing city that both attracted and repelled. I spent some time in meetings and had dinner with a collegue from Switzerland on Wednesday before heading to the airport on Thursday morning.
After going through security I found myself back in the inbetween space of the departures terminal. The international airport in Bamako has only one gate with a duty free shop and a small cafe where you can buy french pasteries and coffee. I only had enough CFA left to buy a small bottle of water but since there is no AC in the terminal it was an important purchase. My flight was slightly delayed so I found myself sitting in the same plastic seats you find in airports all over the world staring out the window at the UN planes (the blue helments arrived in country on Sunday. We passed several UN transport vehicles on the road to Bamako heading north) and at the Sahel stretching out behind the runway. This time the holding pattern was a welcome moment to collect my thoughts and to think and to clear my mind. Maybe it seems weird, but as much as I am looking forward to what is coming over the next couple of days in Mauritania I needed that hour to adjust and to prepare and to relax. The inbetween space, not in Mali, not in Mauritania, neither here nor there.
Flying into Nouakchott was almost like landing on the moon. The landscape below, becoming clearer the closer the plane came to the tarmac, seemed alien and strange and like nothing I've ever seen before. The flowing white sand interspersed with rockier red soil, the Sahel giving way the to Sahara. The buildings rising up, the same colour as the ground, everything bleached white by the sun. The heat when you get off the plane hits you in the face, almost physically knocking you back but their is releif in the breeze that blows off the Atlantic Ocean only a few kilometers away. Nouakchott is a quieter city, smaller and more reserved than Bamako. Women walking in their colourful hijabs, men in their long white robes. Both Mali and Mauritania are Muslim Republics but Mali is more permissive, if that is the right word. Christians are not allowed to prostelatize in Mali but churches are plentiful and well attended. In Mauritania I am told there are only two churches in the capital but they are forbidden to mark themselves with signs and it is illegal for a Mauritanian citizen to frequent them. The city is dotted with the spires of Mosques and you can hear the call to prayer echoing in the streets at dawn.
I am in the hotel in Nouakchott having a rare day off since the office is closed here on Friday. Tomorrow morning I'll be leaving early for the 8 hour drive through the desert to Kiffa. Even now in the hotel with the AC running and a tv playing american movies with arabic subtitles I feel like I am in a continuation of that inbetween space of the airport. Tomorrow things pick up again and the adventures and work continue. For now I am taking the time to rest up and finish some reports and to prepare for the upcoming meetings. I'm not here, not there. A holding pattern in the inbetween space.
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