Friday, April 21, 2017
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
The Kronqvist Phenomenon
And they were more or less all there, in the little former fishing village of Torekov in Skane on the West coast of Sweden: our childhood paradise where the fishermen’s cottages have now been taken over by well heeled summer guests: Stockholm bankers and the occasional film star such as Hugh Grant who is reported to have built a villa overlooking the sea with his Swedish wife. The Kronqvist residence is tucked away in a wooded grove, ten minute walk from the beach where time has stood still: this is where I played with my four cousins on long summer’s days when the sun always seemed to shine. Now the place is alive and literally crawling with children: there are babies emerging from under each bush, there are toddlers popping up at the back of every sofa, one has to check where one puts one’s feet because one doesn’t want to squash a baby: one has to move the cushions on the beds and the sofas just in case there lurks a sleeping child or one playing hide and seek. This youthful mass of humanity is surprisingly good humoured- I don’t think I heard one of them cry. (This peaceful family trait extends to the adults too and there never seems to be any of those unpleasant family feuds which often mar family reunions) Then there are the dogs: puppies and grown up dogs all rolling around excitedly and yapping. It is all very entertaining and one can just sit contentedly and look at it all.
Then at dinner when all the off spring have been tucked away the adult Kronqvist Clan will start singing traditional Kronqvist songs which always includes the unavoidable; rousing (and very long) ‘SamboremBom’ a stirring tale of unrequited love from the Argentinean Pampas in Tango rhythm...
Friday, April 07, 2017
Birgit and the Mexican Ambassador.
How much fun we have had here, I reflected as I looked at Petit Bandit in the distance for nearly the last time, frolicking on my land, kicking up little dust clouds, just like the footballers in the distance with the sun setting like a Seville Orange over the Mosque. But I digress: I was going to talk about Birgit and the Mexican Ambassador.
One night a long time ago when the hotel was full and ten tables glittered in the garden, awaiting the dinner guests, Birgit was here and helping along in the service- or at least keeping an eye on things. There was one single guest amongst the groups of friends and families: A Mexican ambassador we had been told by the person that had carried out the booking, although he was not an ambassador in this country, only on a pleasure trip alone.
He seemed keen to have some company and as I had already been invited by another table, Birgit kindly volunteered- or I think he invited her to dine with him. He was a middle aged man, not unpleasant looking. It appears it all began innocently enough with a fairly conventional conversation over the first course. And then, quite out of the blue according to Birgit, he dropped in the following show stopper: “Can I interest you in some casual sex tonight?” Birgit, not a shrinking violet, and a habitué of certain bars in Amsterdam where I would hesitate to tread, was pole-axed. But she recovered instantly and not wishing to seem like a spoil sport she replied, without really thinking properly: “ Sure, why not”. There was a problem, however. His Excellency suffered from severe halitosis. But I don’t believe that was the only problem: Birgit now felt trapped: what to do? When they finished the meal he let her know that he expected her in the Peul suite when she was ready. She dragged me into a corner, semi hysterical: “What am I going to do??? “ "Well, nothing," I suggested, boringly, but sensibly. And the ambassador waited in vain. In the morning I believe Birgit might have mumbled something about a head ache, but of course nothing else was said...
Thursday, April 06, 2017
All Down the Drain...
And it is all my fault. The deal with ‘Baba Hotel’, the owner of the land, is off. Today I typed up a sort of contract/agreement which was going to be at least something to start negotiations with. Baba and Maman were to keep running the hotel, and pay a monthly rent to ‘Baba Hotel’ who would keep out of it and not interfere. He has a habit of hanging around with an unsavoury bunch of out- of - work tourist ‘guides’ and sellers of trinkets. Exactly all the Djenné inhabitants we do NOT want at Hotel Djenné Djenno. I had decided to give Maman and Baba all the hotel furnishings – beds, mattresses, air conditioners etc. They could pay me off slowly when and if they were able to make ends meet. They know how to run Hotel Djenné Djenno- they have had a long apprenticeship.
However, as I was sitting and waiting for ‘Baba Hotel’s spokes person, his nephew who has been to school (‘Baba Hotel’ is illiterate), I felt a unpromising annoyance welling up within me and knew I was going to be skating on thin ice. I shouldn’t really even get involved – but the nephew had wanted to speak to me so I felt I was obliged to do so. When he finally turned up I was already very annoyed. Perhaps my deep rooted irritation with everything that has to do with ‘Baba Hotel’ is just a symptom of my annoyance with my own stupidity. I should of course NEVER have entered into a lease for Hotel Djenné Djenno and built a hotel on a piece of land that did not belong to me! I should have bought the land in the beginning and now I have to eat my hat. Everything I have built reverts back to ‘Baba Hotel’ at the end of June, and I am very cross.
So the nephew arrived. He did not want anything to do with the proposed letting agreement I had drawn up. He instead let me know that they may consider employing Baba and Maman when they take over Hotel Djenné Djenno at the end of June. ‘When you do WHAT???’ I barked unpleasantly. ’You are not taking over Hotel Djenné Djenno! I will take down every sign and every scrap of evidence that the hotel ever existed rather than being associated with anything that ‘Baba Hotel’ will be running! and as far as Maman or Baba’s working there there is no chance of that- neither of them has any intention of working for ‘Baba Hotel’, it is common knowledge that he never pays any of his employees!” Now, this was of course not a very diplomatic way of discourse. The nephew now made it clear that they would be interested of buying the inventoried items for the sum I had specified of 3 000 000 FCFA- about £4000, but that they would like to do so over a period of time, putting a third down in cash; ‘No XXXXing way’, I continued, on a roll by now. “I want it all in cash before the end of June or everything will be hauled out of there.” (To give me some credit, I do think that I am right here: if they want the stuff, they can go and borrow the money- I do not trust them at all).
So, the nephew left after icy handshakes on all sides and what could have been a ray of sunshine or hope: the continuation of Hotel Djenné Djenno under the management of Maman and Baba is now well and truly a discarded pipe dream... what a shame!
Saturday, April 01, 2017
The Last Days?
Three intense days in Timbuktu and the appropriate papers signed as well as the all important proposal sent off, I was once more back in Djenne last night. Although I will no longer live in Mali, the project in Timbuktu may bring me back a few times a year, inshallah...
I am acutely aware that these are some of my last days living my old life here: in fact there are only two weeks left. Yes, I will be back in June, as always, but only to pack up and close.
I am beset with problems: ‘what will happen to Petit Bandit?’ is just one of the urgent questions that is keeping me awake at night and have to be solved somehow. I can’t sell him.
There is quite a lively horse trade here in the neighbourhood of Djenné, but the horses are all used to pull carts. My poor ‘Petit’ has never had to work in that way for a living and wouldn’t understand, so they would beat him. I have contemplated having him put down, but that too is of course unheard of here. But today we arrived at an answer to this one problem at least: my old friend Haidara the horseman and marabout came to visit. I offered him to take on Petit Bandit, and he was happy to accept. No money will change hands: I will even give him my saddle and bridle. But I know that Haidara will look after him because he too loves horses. On the 13th of April, the day before I leave for Bamako and Europe, I will ride him over to Haidara’s...
Today three people have spoken to me of their fears for the future. I do not think I am exaggerating when I see real fear of hunger in their eyes. Dembele has already spoken to me about his situation: he doesn’t sleep at night for worry. How will he feed his family? And today came Al Hadj, who no longer works here. He literally has no food for his family and he was about to be thrown out of his lodgings with his wife and young child because he has not been able to pay his rent since his work came to an end here. I found him something of course- fortunately there is still some funds in MaliMali Projects. Some hours later came Karamogo, our English teacher, who wanted an advance already although it is only the first of the month and he has just had his salary. “But how are you going to manage later on?” I asked. “And when I leave?” Karamogo did not know that I was leaving. He became quite upset and angry even: “But you can’t leave! You must reconsider! There are too many people who rely on you. It is God who has put you here to help us! He won’t allow it!” This sort of emotional blackmail and wild exaggeration would normally either have made me laugh or made me angry, if it hadn’t been so clear that he meant what he was saying, and that he too saw the spectre of hunger looming.
Finally Maman came to see me. He too spoke of not being able to sleep at night for fear of the future. He said- and I know this to be the truth- that he has no one to help him, no older brothers or uncles or relatives who can chip in to help if he no longer earns a salary: he is the only one who is responsible for his own family which includes his mother back in the village of Tabato. He had been making a plan during his sleepless nights however, and this he wanted to share with me:
Could he and Baba try and take on the hotel if they came to an agreement with the owner of the lease? It is true that in the last few months we have had some people here and we have almost made ends meet. There are rumours about UN forces arriving to Djenné- if that were to be the case; then perhaps the NGO’s would come back, and that would mean hotel trade. It is true that Baba and Maman know how to look after the hotel quite well and Papa knows how to prepare food. Perhaps they could do it without me? I agreed that it might be worth talking to Baba Hotel (the owner) and asking him if they could pay him the lease cost by the month. Maybe it could work somehow...
Thursday, March 23, 2017
The Best of All Possible Worlds?
Alice made a courtesy visit to the Prefect of Djenné, and I accompanied her. He was quite open about the present precarious situation. “The insecurity is creeping ever closer to Djenné”, he admitted. There was an attack on the Carrefour about a week ago. The scenario seems to be the same at every attack in the neighbouring villages: a handful of youths arrive on mopeds and start shooting at a guard post of Gendarmes from a distance. This time there were four attackers. The six gendarmes all fled, leaving their weapons for the attackers to pick up. Having helped themselves to the weapons they then burned whatever they could set light to and disappeared.
The targets are always Malian soldiers or anyone employed by the Malian state such as teachers. The schools in Tenekou and Mourha have closed a long time ago now. But the closer villages, such as Maman’s home village Tabato, and the town of Mounia at about 40 k from Djenné have both just closed their schools a couple of weeks ago. The teachers have been threatened: “ If you don’t leave we will come and kill you”. These are teachers who are not from the area, they have been placed there as civil servants and a far from their homes. It is no wonder if they leave if the Malian state cannot protect them by sending well trained soldiers and Gendarmes.
The attacks in Central Mali and in and around Djenné are not directed against foreigners at the moment at least. But they are very demoralizing for the population and the Malian state seems to do nothing about the fact that a large proportion of school children no longer have schools to go to.
And in Djenné itself the continued lack of tourists is taking a very heavy toll on the very fabric of the town- the mud buildings are crumbling for lack of maintenance. On my walk around town with Alice I noticed that even very important buildings like the historic ones next to the village chief’s are in a very bad state of repair. And I know that one of the Trois Foyers: the three houses of the Moroccan ruler in the heart of Djenné has partially collapsed. Babou Touré, its owner explained to me why it is more difficult to keep the houses in good repair now. “In the old days the neighbours all helped each other with the yearly ‘crepissage’ (mud plastering). The rice husks from the rice harvest were saved and for free. But now no one will work for free anymore, and the rice husks are no longer for free. Everyone has to have a smart phone and a moped and satellite TV, and that is all expensive so everyone wants money for even the smallest favour.”
Of course there is also the sense that mud is the past and cement is the future; and there is no revenue coming in through tourism to justify the continuation of mud building.
But there are also other forces involved it seems. One would almost say a wilful destruction of the mud façades. How could one otherwise explain that the town's newly aquired solar pannelled street lights are being installed with out any consideration whatsoever to aesthetics or even practicality? Here is one that has literally destroyed the mud façade of one of the Djenné houses!
“Since I am the only person in Djenné to ever pay my subscription, I think you should deliver my post to me!” I suggested, rather forcefully. “Yes”, he agreed meekly. “I will do that!”.