A few days ago while doing field work, I had one of those moments that revived a past memory, a fond one which occured almost a year from the time the event happened. What conjured up the memory was while my host brother and I were planting sweet potato in the field. After a full days work involving cutting meters of sweet potato vine, a copeous amount of meters, into 3 inch pieces to plant, we were headed home by way of a donkey cart. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was making its way down when a case of De ja vou hit me.
Last year, 3 months into my service and new to Malian life, I embarked to collect sweet potatoes, "woso" in Bambara, with my host brother Titeh. We started mid-day and cultivated woso until dusk, filling the donkey cart full to the brim before starting our journey home at least an hours ride and well past sunset.
As we rode home, night fall came, the changing of the guards over the horizon. I watched as the sun hid and receded past the trees, until it was half way between sky and earth, giving off the last remnants of its warm glow before the cool shade of the moons light fell upon the terrain, bidding farewell to the sun for the day. We gradually moved along the road, cut between fields on either side and visibly prominent under the moons glow. The trees were black silhouettes on a cool blue backdrop and with each passing minute the stars would appear as if turned on by a switch, one by one.
Once the sun completely disappeared to night, the stars revealed their full prominence in the sky. No planetarium could compare to the sight and feel of a sky littered with thousands of stars in the middle of rural Africa, pulsating through the night. I remember laying on a bed of woso in the donkey cart, gazing up at the scene above me, captivated past the point where woso jabbing into my sides failed to bother me. The Milky Way here is unbelievable, stretching from end to end in the sky, a ribbon of soft and white streaks of stars and dust cast overhead. I lost track of time while being cast in the middle of an ocean of stars.
As we made our way past houses it was pitch black out. You only knew it was a segment of town by the sounds of children playing, a goat or donkey crying, pounding of millet with a mortar and pestle. And you could see a house here and there because of the light from their mud stove, illuminating the walls of their compound, trees, people, ground, well, and all that comprised their living environment. You could only make out what the fire from the stove showed you. I had this feeling that I was on some ride at Disneyland, Pirates of the Caribbean to be exact, moving along slowly at that part where you pass the Bayou Restaurant at the very beginning of ride. I just sat and observed my surroundings, rocking to and fro with the movement of the cart along the uneven road. The sounds of birds, crickets, the village and all its sounds in the background while visually I'm seeing life before my eyes and feeling how sight and sound come together in perfect harmony. It was beautiful and during that donkey cart ride back home, I was fully absorbed in the moment, completely free of all other thoughts and attachments that are with me most of the time, and time slowed down allowing me to enjoy by the second where I was and why I'm here.
