Sunday, 6/22

Today was the absolute breath of fresh air that I needed to stay sane. For the last few days or so, I’d been getting a little antsy in Sikoroni. All of a sudden, it would get ridiculously hot, to the point where I was drinking literally gallons of water and still not being able to pee because I sweat it all out before it even got there. And in times like this, I would say to myself, “Ben, this is ludicrous, find yourself an air conditioned room and lay down for a while.” And then I would realize that there are none in Sikoroni. And then I would say, “OK, fine, then take a cold shower, idiot!” And then I would realize that the only running water here is even hotter than the air because the pipes are in direct sunlight all day. And then I would realize that my only option is to fall asleep and hope I wake up in a rainstorm.


Similarly, I had this realization when Cari got sick with the ‘mebes that if I were to get sick or just pissed off, I am pretty much stuck here no matter what until mid-August. These are rare thoughts, since usually I am having a good time. But when I get a little frustrated, they rear their ugly heads.


Therefore, our group trip to Siby was much needed and immensely helpful, not to mention spectacularly beautiful. Siby is a relatively tiny town on the road that goes between Mali and Guinea that is famous for waterfalls and a natural arch called Kamadjan that is famous in Malian folklore.


We took a mobili there, which is basically a hollowed out plumbing truck with benches on the sides. The trip took around two hours with the ride to the mobili stand and much of the road was unpaved, so it was a fun and bumpy ride. When we finally got there, we had a delicious bean and onion sauce meal that was truly amazing. By the time we were done, it was high noon and WAY too hot to go hiking safely, so we decided to hang out around the tourist bureau until it cooled off a bit. While we were waiting, we also happened to learn that the sumptuous waterfall we were all so eager to go swimming in had in fact dried up in the last three months of the hot season. Needless to say, after a morning of travel and this news, I was only feeling the same frustration I was trying to cure with much, much greater intensity.


Surprisingly, as it turned out, this day would provide an extremely meaningful experience for me. Despite the heat, we decided to seek shelter in the shade of the arch and the trees surrounding it and with the help of two local farmer boys, we all hiked up to its base. The view from this point was, in no small way, gorgeous. As far as the eye can see is a mélange of flat, golden desert and bushy lollipop tree clusters. There is one road, the road we came in on, and if you follow it all the way into a distant hillside, you can see Guinea. In the presence of this type of view, it’s hard to keep any type of grudge, even against the sun.


However, the best part of the hike was still to come. The arch is big enough that you can actually climb on top of it and walk around a relatively big open rocky space. THIS is the view that changed my life. Kamadjan is known relatively widely as a place of respected spiritual energy and after visiting the top of the arch, I absolutely understand why. I don’t know what about that place I connected with, but I truly felt something greater than myself in that space. All of us were in agreement on that note and it was great to be able to hold a scared space with friends. We set aside some time to meditate and each of us had our own personal ways of loving the moment.


As for me, I had an absolutely exquisite experience derobing, standing on the edge of the cliff face, looking out onto this unbelievable expanse of green and gold and just breathing it all in. Fresh, crisp air, no noise, and the gentlest of breezes on my skin. I suppose part of the allure of the experience was being naked in such an utterly exposed place, but this experience wasn’t about getting away with something – it was about allowing myself to connect as honestly as possible with a new and profound feeling of gratitude. In a place like Kamadjan, it’s hard to feel upset about how hot it is or that your skin can never stay clean or that everything seems to taste like fish. All you can do is shut up and gently try not to forget what life feels like right then. It’s moments like these that I call upon when I get frustrated and need a reminder as to why everything is actually just fine. I think part of it is also that it’s hard to feel grateful for such delicacy when you’re wearing sweat drenched, dirt smeared clothes that reek of a hot midday hike. Regardless of why I did it, the experience was invaluable, not only as someone who was experiencing frustration, but also just as a human being.


As if that experience wasn’t amazing enough in and of itself, Julie and I also had a Garden State moment on the cliff. For those of you who don’t know the movie, there’s a scene towards the end where the two main characters are in this rock quarry in a rainstorm and they stand on a bulldozer, hold hands, and scream at the top of their lungs. And they don’t need to explain why – they just do it because it feels right in the moment. I’ve never yelled like that in my life and it was the most primal scream I think I will be able to manage for a while, but it just calmed my soul to let all the turmoil inside out and leave it there. That, if nothing else, was the greatest gift of Kamadjan.


We ended up leaving pretty late and had a ridiculous ride back. We passed about four stopped/overturned mobili on the road ahead of us, including the very same one we had taken into Siby that morning (our driver recognized Caitlin when we stopped to help – small world, right?). It was essentially a mobili graveyard strip, but Caitlin and co. didn’t seem to mind. In fact, we kept our entire mobili entertained on the ride back with our sometimes good, sometimes not so good renditions of every song we could think of, from South African ritual harmonies to camp songs. With the addition of my attempts to beatbox, we discovered that almost any song can earn Malian applause. It was a long, long ride back, much like our initial journey from New York to Mali, but in the end, we just didn’t care. The day had just been too goddamned great.


We’ve made plans to return before we leave in August so we can camp out under the stars on the top of the arch and visit the waterfall when it’s actually… wet. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to stay through a thunderstorm. I can only imagine the beauty of watching a storm roll in from atop that arch and then letting it drench you. What an amazing experience. Right now, in this moment, I feel so unbelievably lucky to be right where I am, doing right what I am doing. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.


X Adama X