I walked a couple of km outside of the village, down the road, for several hours. I listened to the birds, greeting people on their way to and fro. Close to the village in the direction away from the river is a small pond. I walked across the dry earth on the strip of ground between the raised red dirt road and the pond. There are many trails mostly for mopeds. This is the direction that I almost always walked in. Perhaps it was because Bôh’s house is near this edge of town and the mine is in this direction as well. The earth had low ridges and the ends of stalks cut close to the earth, the remnants of millet fields, like corrugation that took some effort to walk across. I liked to sit by the pond and watch and listen to the birds that coasted on the wind. I could see cows and cow herders on the other side of the pond towards the river. I could be alone here. I could read and write and think. It was here that I felt the deep peace and presence and fullness most profoundly.

After my first visit to the pond, I re-entered the village at about 6pm, mid-way through a pottery firing. I listened to the sounds of the bush vs the human sounds of talking, pounding grain and the high point of the week’s activity which was the pottery firing. As I approached I could see the smoke and then hear the chatter and activity and then see fires and the women with their pots. As slow as I had thought the village was (since there is no electricity, running water, cars or other mechanization), re-entry from the outside the village into the midst of a firing, the noise and energy of human activity, was quite startling. The increase in the activity between the countryside and the village and between the village and Segou. amazing.