In Mopti, I found a truck that was leaving at 3 for the two day trip north to Gao.
Well it was supposed to leave at 3, Just like it was supposed to take two days.
We finally left at about 7 & got about 20 km before we stopped for the night
because the radiator was leaking so badly it had to be taken back to Mopti to be fixed!

The passengers slept at night by the side of the truck in their respective sleeping rolls.
The nearly full moon was so bright
that I had to move into the shade of the truck in order to sleep.

The next day, we were just about to start when a storm blew the sand around
so fiercely that there was no visibility & the truck had to stop again.
Luckily, I had opted to travel in the luxury of the cab this time,
instead of riding in the open back.

The cast of characters is the usual rather odd combination.
Besides the driver, the other passenger in the cab is
the new young wife of a Mali customs official.
She is very friendly & we share a sense of the situation,
although we share no common language.
Since we are in the cab, we know that the driver is absolutely crazy.

He’s always stopping and deciding that the truck can’t go on for no apparent reason
& instead of driving in the worn places in the corrugated dirt road, he drives on the ridges
making the ride as bumpy as possible.
He speeds up when he should go slow.
The next time, the driver said, that the truck, was broken down,
There was wide spread feeling among the passengers,
That he’s sleepy or hungry & just doesn’t want to drive anymore.

The customs official is taking his new bride from Bamako the capital,
to a remote northern border post.
For the entire long and dusty trip, he wore the khaki military uniform of his post.
He is the only person on the truck who speaks any English,
and “Good Morning” is the extent of it.
I was always extremely glad to hear that “Good Morning”.
He took care of us both, his new wife and me.
We were the only women on the truck & since he was taking care of one,
I guess he figured he could watch out for another as well.

Mali was formerly a French colony but very few of the passengers spoke any French.
Only the Customs official, an Algerian man who kept looking at me with curiosity
& open wonder at my presence,
& a postal official who was later my host in Gao,
I have been adopted by these people.

The old manager of the vehicle & two friendly crazy young mates
Who serve as mechanics for the camion are also taking very good care of me.
I always carried some provisions, a tin or two of sardines, some bread, a canteen of water
in case I got stuck in a place without any food
Fortunately the food was almost always unnecessary
since I was almost always invited to eat with the managers of the trucks.
There is another large group of men that I know little about.
The nice thing about these people is that they treat me,
A stranger & a white person, almost like one of them, except of course
That I am a woman.

I am tired of living in public for so many days.
The only time there aren’t any people around
Is when I squat behind a scrawny bush & take a piss.
I wish I could smoke a joint, have a good cry, a conversation or even a friendly chat
In American.

Mysteriously, the truck was fixed & off we went
Only to break down in a slightly larger town for an afternoon.
I waited, sitting on the sandy ground, with everyone else from the truck
in the shade of some trees just outside the mud walls of the town.
It is certainly hopping today, besides us, truck passengers, there’s a wedding.
Several northern men wearing black turbans wait with us.
They are beautiful & entertain us playing 2 1/2-stringed instruments.

There have been no trucks thru this town all day.
There were 3 camels, but they were going in the wrong direction!
Stuck and helpless. My journey is not yet complete but that doesn’t fill up these spaces.

We finally left. Everyone was excited.
The engine had just been put in proper order.
We drove off into the sunset and broke an axle!