Chillin' at the Cyber Café (it's the only place with AC)

For some reason, I always feel the need to drink something while I write. What started out as simple hydration or caffeine boast has turned into habit and now it’s hard to get my mind going without a cup of something within reach. Tonight’s left hand is grasping a glass bottle of Le Coca, 200 CFA from the tiny store across from our house. Even though it was refrigerated, it’s not doing much to cool me off tonight. And so right now, I’m craving ice.

Today marks our one-month anniversary for being in Mali! This is a bizarre statement because one, I still don’t fully believe that I’m here in Africa, and two, it doesn’t feel like four weeks have passed (Malian time ebbs and flows and I’m happy to report that I’ve replaced my watch band tan line for a flip-flop tan line). I’m somewhat afraid because I can easily imagine myself on the airplane on December 4th, looking out the window and thinking, wait, we’re going already? I just got here! This month has been experienced with eyes wide open, but also half closed from fatigue. It’s like we’ve been window shopping through this culture but never really committing to any particular store. Is this making any sense? I think I still feel like a tourist, just temporarily visiting, and not admitting to the fact that I’m a citizen of this country and am expected to contribute to this culture, not wander around aimlessly.

Fortunately, things are falling into place with my upcoming apprenticeship. As soon as I met the artist, I felt a sense of focus, that I could continue with the rest of the semester with a more narrow view and pick out exactly what I need to learn and experience (we’re realizing that it’s impossible to do everything). Things have changed since I last posted and will now be working with Abdoulaye Konate, often referred to as THE contemporary artist in Mali right now. He is currently the director of the new art conservatory in Bamako, a graduate school with a beautiful campus overlooking downtown and the Niger river. He started out painting but has since moved on to massive wall hangings made out of local fabrics but comment on any number of international issues (the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict, for example).

With my director and Malian professor, we met Abdoulaye in his studio last night and basically out of the blue asked if I would apprentice with him and possibly stay at his house. With only a slight awkward pause (miniscule compared to what would have happened back in the States), he agreed, though his house was too full. “But there’s a room next door that he could use,” suggested Abdoulaye. I offered myself up to assist him on any of his projects (any graphic design, web design, cutting of fabric you need me to do?) but he instead asked me, what projects do I want to work on and how can he help?
That humbleness and welcoming attitude so characteristic of everyone we’ve met and it blows my self-centered American mind.

Throughout our conversation, I couldn’t help but feel that this is the perfect artist for me right now in my life. Not only does he have similar working tendencies (repetition, attention to detail, fabric constructions), but he has that purposeful drive that I’m currently seeking. He asked me what theme or idea do I want to focus on and I said, “Je ne sais pas encore,” “I don’t know yet” and I realized that’s an answer I’ve been giving for awhile. This was also the consensus of my sophomore review this past year; it’s obvious that I’m committed to creating beautiful forms, but what exactly do I want to say with my work? I came to Mali with the hopes of answering that question and now I have an ultimatum; it’s to be figured out before I start working with him November 1st. And so I’ve been spending a lot of time on our roof thinking, laying in bed with my mind racing, and really looking forward to three weeks on the road to do some self-exploration.

Speaking of which, we leave for Timbuktu on Saturday! The details are still being worked out and will continue to be worked out until they actually happen. At the very least, I know we’re visiting Segu, Djenne, Dogon, and then taking a boat up the Niger River to the fabled city of Timbuktu, the gateway to the Saharan desert and officially the furthest place from home (in my mind at least). Since internet is unreliable at best here in the capital city, I’m not sure how often I’ll be able to post these next few weeks. But I can promise the stories will be worth the wait.

Thanks for all your e-mails!

PS. Here are some photographs from an amazing stormy sunset, as viewed from our roof.