...This Bus Is CLEAR

-I returned to my village to discover that a man had been murdered. I still haven't gotten the story totally straight, but this is what I have so far. 3 men went out to their fields to do some work because the rains are coming early this year. Two of the men were from my village of Cinzana and the third man was someone passing through working odd jobs. For some reason they were arguing about shoes. (when I say shoes I mean really cheap flip flops not Air Jordans or Bruno Magli's) Apparently one of the two men from Cinzana had hidden the third mans shoes. I guess they thought it was funny, the third man didn't. After an argument and brief scuffle in the field the stranger headed back to Cinzana to gather his belongings and continue his search for work somewhere else. The man with whom he had an altercation sought him out in the courtyard across from my house and brandished both a club and machete. Well, the third man managed to get both the club and machete away from him and...I am sure you can figure out the rest. The stranger fled the scene and was found the next day, in a village called Kondja, hiding in a tree. This is the first murder I have been aware of in my three years in Mali, and it is odd to find myself involved in a situation in which I didn't know how to act. That night a mob of lantern toting villagers passed my hut hunting a crazed murderer armed with a machete. Just another crazy night in Mali.

-So, after an interesting visit to Cinzana Mary and I climbed aboard a Bittar bus heading to Segou. We almost got on a Bani bus, but it was loaded with goats. (A little word to the wise, don't get on a bus with a roof packed full of goats, and if there is no other option, don't sit by the window) We found a seat near the back of the bus between two older gentlemen and a handful of chickens. We greeted everyone and we began moving. About 10 minutes later in the middle of nowhere the bus stops and picks up 2 women. The older woman was dragging a girl, of about 20, onto the bus. The younger woman's head was covered in a bright orange sheet and all you could hear were loud chants and screams coming from under the covering. I didn't even give this a second thought and continued to read my book. (I have spoken of a numbness before, and it is something you couldn't understand unless you've been in a foreign developing country for a long period of time. Things like animal slaughters on moving buses, children playing with knives while cooking over huge pots of boiling grease, mass circumcisions, people poohing on the street, etc...don't even bother you after a while, because you know if you think about one thing you have to process everything you have seen and that would take months of serious therapy.) A few moments later I noticed the young lady wasn't singing any longer and I noticed the old man sitting next to me had moved. I heard rumblings from behind me and turned to see what was going on. I turned to Mary, "Hey I think there's an exorcism going on in the back of the bus." The old man was now leaning over the girl picking her up by the chin and slapping her forehead, while he and the other passengers were screaming, "Djene Djigi! Djene Djigi! " (Leave Devil!) I had to chuckle to myself, there was no way this was happening. Only in Mali could they have mobile Exorcisms, and I get in trouble for not wearing a bike helmet. I mean what are the chances that not only was I on a bus with a possessed girl but also a licensed exorcist. The odds are staggering! After a few choruses of "Leave Devil" we made it to the police checkpoint. The exorcism is still going on in the back of the bus as vendors get on to sell phone credit and silly hats. I tried a hat on and it looked ridiculous so I decided against it, opting instead for an orange soda. Honestly, whats a good exorcism without refreshments right? Just then a soldier got on the bus and walks straight up to me asking for my Passport. He doesn't even glance in the direction of the religious ceremony in the back as he holds my passport upside down and examines it. He must of thought it was OK because he handed it back and we continued on to Segou. The last time I saw the bus it was on the Markala road heading north and the chants of "Leave Devil!" fell out the windows. I got on my bike, put my helmet on, and headed for the office. "Time is on my side" played through my headphones as a tail wind pushed me forward to the next crazy experience in Mali.