I tried to sleep late this morning, knowing that I will have to stay up all night tonight to catch my 3:30 AM flight to Casablanca but after 9, I finally gave up and got up. I did some journaling this morning while eating my usual breakfast of Uncle Tom's instant rice and milk and then the realization of my departure started really sinking in, bringing with it a heavy heart and some eyeball precipitation.
I'm thinking mostly of the amazing human connections I've made here- particularily, my friendship with Alou which has been a highlight of this entire trip. Even despite our limited ability to speak, there's some kind of kindred spirit connection that has been life-affirming for me. Sitting around and hitting calabashes with him almost every morning for 2-3 hours while we laugh and joke (and while I still get playfully reprimanded for mistakes- he doesn't stop being my teacher) is something I will miss and think fondly upon for ages.
One of my favorite memories of him will be from this most recent Friday night. We went out to see some live music and of course, I got pulled to my feet by one of the group's dancers. I gave it my all, cheered on by the small crowd and when the woman was finally done with me and let me off the hook, Alou rushed up and almost knocked me over with a huge hug, rocking me back and forth, so thrilled to see me dancing again and so "unlike a toubab." Two of my other toubab friends had showed up in time to see the spectacle and patted me on the back, laughing. My auntie Andrea said, "you've done our kind good, my dear. Your fellow toubabs thank you." ha
There are too many new friendships to mention- new toubab friends, new Malian friends, young and old; musicians and artists and students and professionals. There are a lot of people to say goodbye to today. And I dread that process. Yesterday, I said goodbye to Yacouba, the extremely talented artist from Burkina living here. In the end, I bought two of his paintings and I'm hoping to try and connect him with some galleries back home, whenever I get there.
It's been an amazing ride from the very beginning: traveling around the north of Mali, seeing Timbuktu, the Festival in the Desert, remote villages in Dogon country, taking a boat down the River Niger for three days to living in Bamako, studying, getting to know the city, making friends then traveling to Segou for the music festival there and making even more friends.
Although it is heavy, my heart is full. My musical spirit has dined well here in Mali, having arrived hungry for new musical adventures.
So with my specialized calabash backpack, my comatose laptop and giant rucksack full of paintings, random musical things, CDs and cloth from Mali, I will head back to my beloved Morocco and after no sleep, I will arrive at 7 AM tomorrow morning looking over the crowd for Hassan with his 1000-watt smile, beautiful dimples and his dependable greeting, "Saalam alekum, habibi diali."
