When people see your butt, chasing buses, and people who think you're a hooker

Today, I had to chase down my bus. Like, run as fast as I could, with my arms flailing, me screaming, Malians laughing and me possibly spitting out a few cuss words.

I may have said, "The bus LEFT??? What the FUCK!!" And then started sprinting.

After about 150 yards, I caught my bus. And banged frantically on the moving doors.

This is good.

I actually felt great after catching my bus, climbing aboard and yelling, "Mobili BORA!!" - which means "The bus LEFT!"...and all my little Malian travel buddies laughed.

I was thinking, "What the heck, Malians??! I thought we were friends and you would look out for the only white person on the bus! It's not like I'm hard to miss here!"

I mean, they could tell I was totally cool with the chicken in a box behind me, the rotting smell of shea nuts, the bouncy, bustling bus swaying to avoid hitting a donkey in the road and, of course, I was cool with the fact that I was sitting next to my arch nemesis, a Keita.

I was more sad that my seat buddy, the Coulibaly's arch rival, a Keita muso (woman whose last name is Keita), didn't help me out. We sat and chatted for a while and didn't even diss each other as much as Keitas and Coulibalys usually do.

Keitas and Coulibalys are the biggest "enemies" of the Malian joking cousin relationship. I always poke at a Keita stomach and taunt them with, "Ohhhh, your stomach is so full and fat! Why? Because you are a Keita and you eat so many beans!" Ha. Malians always laugh so hard when I do this.

I bought a huge piece of American flag fabric yesterday for the equivalent of $3.50. I chatted with the random guy selling American flag fabric, hammers, onions, other tools, with a bunch of kids who were about 10 years younger than he is, for a good 15 minutes. He was cool.

He kept telling me my Bambara was good. We joked about him eating beans (womp womp), how Malians are nice, what America is like, the usual. I am going to make a ridiculous outfit with this fabric. Malians love ridiculous fabric, clothes and accessories, so I  love them too.

I also had the pleasure of doing a stool sample today. After discussing my poop with the doctor for a good 15 minutes, she's guessing I might have an intestinal parasite. But, malaria is ruled out. So, I won't be bed-ridden with a disease that actually kills thousands of people. So, that, too, is good.

The Malian blues are going away...extremely slowly...but they're going away. Dooni dooni.

I chilled with my shea co-op yesterday for a few short hours before concluding that I needed to leave to chill at home and get better. It's hard to get out and about, talk non-stop in a foreign language, avoid the nyegen run-off in the street and withstand the oppressive heat when you're feeling like the nyegen run-off on the street.

But at this point, my health is my most important asset. So, here I am in Bamako, hanging out in the A/C, beautiful tile floors and clean sheets for the next day.

A guy asked me if I was a hooker today.

He drove right up to me, in his shiny, used Mercedes (the most common car here) and asked me something about being his companion. I mean...I didn't look like a prostitute! I wasn't wearing a pagne on the wrong side of my hip, I wasn't drinking, I wasn't smoking, I wasn't whistling...why was I suddenly a hooker to this dude? Either way, I just kept saying "AYI!! AYI!! AYI!!" - which means "NO!" and he finally got the point I wasn't going to be anyone's companion.

Got the new Lady Gaga Rolling Stone today, from my wonderful and spunky friend, Annie. I just want to give her a shout out and say how big I smiled when I received it today. Being so far away, it's nice to feel like people back home still love me. Thank you Annie, I love you too! I wish I could have made it for your bachelorette party in Vegas this weekend...

And thank you VERY much to Sandra, Ryan and Dascia, Krystal, mom, Mark and Danielle for your letters and boxes. It means a lot more than I could ever write...so thank you again and again. I <3 you all too.

I fought the ants again last night. I have come to the decision that they're living in, under and around my sink, for some reason. Again...there were hundreds, maybe thousands of them...swarming my sink. I'm kinda like "Ehh" at this point. I just squirted them with a few sprays of lavender spray and left them to die a slow, painful death. I guess I need to buy some RAMBO. The ultimate bug-killing, non-federally-regulated poison for little monsters like my ants, the mutant cockroaches and I think, even rats.

I thought I saw a ghost the other day.

Turns out, it was most likely my host sister breaking into my house. Fortunately for her, I was lying on my mattress without pants on when she walked in. Oh, I was also lying on my stomach. Good for her - she came sneaking in, expecting to find some far-off American treasures...and she found my ass!

Well, at first I screamed. I wasn't expecting a Malian muso to tip-toe into my house when I was half-naked, though, when I had my cockroach attack, it has happened previously. All I saw was a Malian muso with a red pagne (Malian skirt, tied to the left side, so you're not considered a hooker, like me).

And...I had more evidence. Her footprint was forever saved in my massive pile of chair particle dust from my termite infestation in my stick chair.

Now that she had seen my bare ass, I wanted to ask her why she was snooping around in my house.

She denied everything! And she was wearing a red pagne...who else could it be??
Was I seeing things?? Was it a ghost??

I've decided it was her. Why she wanted in my house...I don't know. But she got a good view.

Either way, in the past few days, I have regained my sense of humor. This is KEY. I can't imagine surviving two years in a place like Mali without a sense of humor. That is what I would describe as "hell" - so, I am happy to say, the sense of humor is back!

Screaming and sprinting after a fat Malian bus, pooping in a tiny plastic bottle, drowning ants in perfume poison, my Malian sister stealing glances of my butt and learning about how to get picked up like a hooker here in Mali...all experiences I am very happy to have here in the world's armpit. And I'm even laughing about them again. Life is getting better!!