Today was Swedish Midsummers Eve, and my mother and I dressed in our regional costumes to go and see the maypole being raised ; to sing the Swedish national anthem and now we will eat herring and drink Schnapps ; in other words I am revelling in Swedishness. But soon soon I will once more ride Maobi across the dusty Sahel plains and soon I will watch the violent rain storms of July ravage the fragile mud walls of my hotel. On Sunday night my feet will once more touch African soil in Casablanca and before sunrise on Monday Keita will meet me at the airport in Bamako.