The willies

The story stealer is still here till tuesday and we are introducing them to the vrai Bamako. Interesting stories yesterday at the Campagnard, where there is a huge projection screen (for rugby, and wrestling, and everything), and Paul recognized me, and the PCVs were playing cards. My old house belongs to the Pirate Club and I couldn't tell if the Obama for Senate sticker was still on the door, as it was late and the shutters were closed. There was a truck and lots of trash in the yard along with a huge pirogue with tables and chairs inside, and a new concrete storage shed in the corner we kept Uncle Sam the goat before the July 4 bbq. La nostalgie...jarring.

The colonel wanted to dance so we all went to the MonteCristo, where last time Areana and I shook it to salsa and ndombolo until 3am. We stayed until about then chatting about things the USG does to remove human obstacles to progress, and (non-US) Ranger school. I got that feeling where I needed to run away and burst into tears. I don't know if I feel sorry for all the things they've done or for the people themselves that do them. It just seems like a terrible mess of good intentions and bad means and courage of conviction and inability to foresee consequences. The fact that the guy is extremely interested in my story, in my 'depth' and 'stoicism' is unnerving. But this always happens when people take a shine to me immediately, and this happens more often over here. It's my Bamako self again, my mysterious, hinting, play-spy self, but being close to people who were doing the real thing (long discussion on how Mali is the first place he doesn't need to be constantly on guard, and he can sit with his back to the door), well, it makes me ashamed that I try to pretend I can watch people in mirrors and overhear conversations. The real thing is hanging out with us and he's flesh and blood and sacrificed a lot, and quite frankly, this scares me. Like I said,unnerving. The platonic pursuit is also unnerving and the combination just makes me hide more behind my wary gaze. I'm repelled and fascinated.