One of many reasons I love Mali

First thing after getting through the chaos that is the Bamako-Senou airport, I walked outside to supposedly catch the ride that Peace Corps said they would have waiting for me. Unfortunately, there was no one there to pick me up. So I turned on my Malian cell phone to find out if my ride was going to show up. But wait, my credit was expired, and even though there were plenty of men outside the airport ready and willing to sell me phone credit--I didn't have any money on me. When they understood the fact that I didn't have any local currency there were 3 more men asking me if I wanted to change Euros or Dollars. Oops, didn't have any of those either. This would be the time to say that I was up shit creek without a paddle.

No need to worry though, I wasn't in America. I walked around the parking lot checking all of the white Toyota SUVs trying to find one with the Peace Corps logo until a man came up to me offering his cell phone, "You can call from my phone." I tried...and got a busy signal. "No problem," the man said. "I'll take you home, and you can pay me later."

I had no other choice than to accept the taxi driver's kindness. He helped me with my bags and we got in the car and he pulled away from the smallest international airport I have ever experienced. As all other Malians in Bamako, he was surprised at the fact that I spoke Bambara. After chatting a little and exchanging the standard jokes about each others last name, I told him that I would go to the bank on Monday and he could come by and get the money that afternoon.

We arrived at my apartment and he helped me out with my bags. I was happy to be back, and reminded of the kindness of the majority of Malians. But when I was about ready to grab my bags and head in to the apartment, the cab driver stopped me, "Wait," he injected, "can I give you some money to get you through the weekend?" (Since I arrived on Saturday and couldn't get to the bank until Monday) I wanted to say no, but he insisted that I take some, and when I said 2000 CFA would be fine (the equivalent of 4 dollars) he offered me more. I took the 2000, thanked him, we exchanged phone numbers, and I went inside.

Tuesday he called me, we planned to meet in the afternoon, he came by the apartment and I paid him back with a little interest, and he acted as if I had done him a favor.

I won't generalize and say that all third world countries are like this, but I can say that Mali is a country where people will almost always help each other out. Taxi drivers don't make that much money, but he still had enough to help me out. This is just how it is here, no rewards or honors for helping, and they do so without hesitation.

It was, to say the least, a kind welcome back to Mali.