It’s going to be a couple months before I drink a Drogba – the local name of the near-liter-sized Bock Ivorian beer. I can salivate over the photo in the mean time.

I leave tonight for Lisbon. A lot of people — Malian friends in particular — have asked me if I am fleeing. No. If an evacuation was on the agenda, it would have occurred earlier. Perhaps during the days of surround sound gunfire. Perhaps when ECOWAS leveled their sanctions (that were apparently never enforced?). Bamako feels safe, even if the ground beneath it may not be as solid as it appears.

I can’t say that I am optimistic for the immediate future. It’s being reported today that Mali’s Interim President has rejected the idea put forth by the junta of a national convention to decide how the transition will proceed. Mali can’t afford another impasse.

The north remains a mess, but we’re going to start seeing problems in Bamako if the political situation is not resolved. Aid money, which in part pays for salaries of civil service workers, has been cut, the hospitality and tourism industry has been completely devastated, and many NGOs, who provide employment in addition to running programs, have closed up shop. This has all happened as a result of the coup.

I won’t be away from Mali or West Africa for very long, but it’s hard to imagine what the country will look like when I return. The sequence of events since January 17th is already unbelievable in itself.

For the immediate future, I will be in Lisbon for a week and a half before returning to the states to see family and friends. I have never been to Lisbon before, but I’ve heard good things and it worked out well as a stop-over thanks to a cheap flight from TAP Portugal. From what I understand, it is on its way to becoming a third world country, so hopefully the adjustment won’t be too difficult.

Help me

Been to Lisbon before? Recommend something to me. People to meet, restaurants to eat in, drinks to drink. I don’t speak Portuguese and it’s been a couple of years since I’ve been this clueless about a destination. I am looking forward to being bewildered, but I also wouldn’t mind some pointers. Please leave your thoughts, if you have them, in the comments. Or email me at phil dot paoletta at gmail dot com. Or tweet at me at @philinthe_. Thanks in advance. Many more W. Africa posts to come. Love you all.

I am going to Lisbon and I need your help is a post from: Phil in the Blank

In Bambara, Sama = Elephant

I have spent approximately 110 hours of my life on the road between Bamako and Abidjan. I first took the trip in October of 2010. At that time, the northern half of Cote d’Ivoire was controlled by the Forces Nouvelles and it was the middle of the mini late-year rainy season.

Somewhere outside of Korhogo, my window, which wasn’t sealed at the top, turned into a waterfall conveyor. Soaked through, I never fully dried; humidity and a thick sweat sealed everything in. This kind of layered moisture is a big problem. First for your body odor and later for your mental health. By the time I arrived in Bamako, my clothes were mildewing along with my brain. It would be a year and a half before I took the trip again.

Recently, I twice took the trip in reverse, from Bamako to Abidjan, in early March and again in mid-April. I’ve opted to make the return trip by air because it’s actually possible to get a reasonable abidjan-bamako plane ticket and, as much fun as 36 hour bus rides are (they are indeed, in some ways), an hour-long flight is attractive. The bus will remain part of my routine, though, unless there is a significant price drop in airfares to Abidjan.

Taxi at Sama’s Sikasso hub

Each overland trip is different, but I’ve also found many common threads between them. Here are a few things that my past two bus rides — both in the hot season, both going from Bamako to Abidjan — have had in common:

1. Swollen ankles marinated in a dirt and sweat reduction, seared and then steamed, served absolutely smothered in sweat. A drizzle of tampico on top.

The first several hours of this bus ride are pleasant. Your body is clean, the air is cool, the sun is low. You fall asleep. Around 1030 AM, you wake up abruptly. You are covered in sweat. In fact, sweat has pooled around your ass. Most of the passengers have inexplicably (were they cold?) shut their windows and the bus has become a rolling sauna. But don’t worry, in 30 minutes even the most cold-blooded passengers will start to overheat. Windows open.

The problem is that the air has now been violated by the sun. A hot wind sears the interior of the bus. You sip dust from this wind. This wind burns your nostrils. At some point, you get wise and pull out a tshirt from your bag. You soak the tshirt in water and then drape it over your head. The girl sitting next to you is laughing and so are you; you’ve just engineered your own relief.

On the second travel day, your ankles are indeed swollen. The extent of their swelling depends on how much time, if any, you were able to spend horizontal, either outdoors on a 250CFA/night mat or indoors on a bed at one of Korhogo’s cheap hotels. But forget about your ankles, it is during the afternoon of day two that the bus picks up a new passenger. His name is Humidity and he sits on top of you. Yesterday was a sauna, today is a steam bath. For every kilometer south, the moisture somehow compounds exponentially.

Your reach the point of ultimate saturation when the bus comes to a stop at a check-point. If you are on the side of the bus that is being violated by the sun, you are fucked. You got that? Unless. Unless there is someone selling frozen tampicos at that check-point. Tampico is one of those artificially flavored orange drinks (you can buy it worldwide, no?). Make sure they are frozen and then buy three of them. Put one down your shirt, press one against your wrist, and eat/drink the third. That first bite of sweetened ice makes the entire trip worth it.

By the time you arrive in Abidjan, a living organism of dirt and particulate matter sits on top of your skin. But it doesn’t matter. You made it.

Notes: The above paragraphs apply primarily to the hot season. If you make this journey multiple times, your body will start to tune into the heat and humidity conditions. If you are traveling this route during the months of March-May, BUY A FAN. They are sold everywhere and they cost next to nothing. Use the fan when the humidity picks up, use the wet tshirt when the wind is hot. If you want true luxury, carry some alcohol based wipes with you. At the end of the day, the trip is easier than it sounds. Really. Finally, frozen bissap works just as well Tampico.

2. Everything you need is on the road

At the first immigration post for Cote d’Ivoire, there is a lady selling chicken slow-cooked in a piquant tomato based sauce. She will put this chicken in a baguette for you along with some french fries, a chopped hard boiled egg, diced tomato and onion, a bit of salt and a dollop of chili. While eating this delicious sandwich, entertainment is provided by the Ivorian immigration officers and the on-site medical team that is trying to administer yellow fever vaccines to people that can’t afford them.

The road is more than a means to get from point A to point B. The road is an economy. If your village is close to a road — better yet, if it is close to a checkpoint — you have a marketplace and you can sell just about anything. The sweetest mangoes (if it is the hot season), melon sized avocados, sim cards and phone credit, mirrors and jewelry, toothpicks and toothbrushes, nescafe, tea, bissap, gingembre and gin packets, antibiotics and fish-oil caplets, fans and sleeping mats, creme star (vanilla ice cream, like fan milk in Ghana), fan yogo (frozen strawberry yogurt), and TAMPICO!!!!! It’s all there.

3. Migrants, traders, travelers, and even some people who are more clueless than you

On my most recent trip, I sat near a Nigerian who spoke no French or Bambara. He had been living in a Nigerian expat community in Bamako for 5 years. Now he was headed to Abidjan to meet up with a Nigerian friend who promised some work. His friend told him that the trip took “about 8 hours.” No, buddy, it’s almost 5 times that.

Several other passengers were also going to Abidjan for the first time. One Mauritanian family was planning on helping out at a relative’s boutique. Two young Bamakois were heading south to look for work. My seatmate was returning to Abidjan for the first time in years. She bartended at a club in Bamako; post-coup, there haven’t been enough clients for the patron to keep all the workers on (this is happening all over Bamako by the way).

Of course, most of the passengers are seasoned travelers. Some have family in both countries. Some are traders who make the trip several times a month. They know where and what to eat, they know where to find the cheapest avocados, and they knew where to lay out their mat in Korhogo or wherever the bus stops for the night (if it does).

4. Fierce arguments and playful joking

Cote d’Ivoire’s civil war and 2010-11 post election crisis come up on every bus ride I’ve been on. Most of the passengers have a Mande background. If they are not Malian, then they are most likely from northern Cote d’Ivoire. In general, these people voted for or supported Alassane in the 2010 elections. There always seems to be 1 or 2 Gbagbo supporters on the bus, though. Don’t expect them to sit there quietly. On my last bus ride, political arguments mostly involved the coup in Mali, ECOWAS intervention and the “Tuareg rebellion.”

Jokes outnumber arguments, however, and now that my Bambara is sharp enough, I can offer more targeted insults when it comes to cousinage (I used to call everyone a bean eater — an actual insult — because it was my only line of attack). The great thing about speaking Bambara (Bamanankan) is that it is a close cousin of Dioula (Jula) and you can communicate with just about everyone on this bus. A highlight was telling a 5-year-old that I was a crocodile and my house was in the Niger River: Ne ye bama ye o de la N ka so bε djoliba kɔnɔ.

5. Community

If the driver stops at a check point, everyone waits to see if he turns the engine off. If he does, everyone sucks their teeth in unison. Cutting the engine typically means that everyone needs to get off the bus. If it’s a customs checkpoint, they may want to remove and search every single piece of baggage. The nature of the trip — 36 hours of heat and dust — provides for some built in solidarity. The family atmosphere only intensifies when outside forces, like police and customs, further delay the journey. You complain together, but you also share food, stories, and jokes, and you stick up for another passenger when the time comes.

The best bus

The bus costs 20,000 CFA ($40). I travel with Sama Transport. They have earned my loyalty. Their buses are more or less in good shape and their drivers are efficient without being reckless. Sama is also the transport company that is best installed on this particular route. Their hub is in Sikasso, in southern Mali, and as far as I know, they have been running buses between Abidjan and Bamako longer than any other company. The trip takes 36 hours and usually includes an overnight stop in Korhogo or just north of there.

Neon green Cote d’Ivoire through the bus window

Only a few more days in Bamako before I return to the states for a bit. This is not an evacuation, but rather a planned trip home to see family and friends. I will be passing through Lisbon on the way and will be soliciting advice in my next post. Many posts on Bamako, new music, and the restaurant/catering biz in Cote d’Ivoire to come.

Bamako to Abidjan by bus: a chance to get intimate with the hot season is a post from: Phil in the Blank

An “illegal distribution of power” in Yopougon, Abidjan.

Quick update: I was supposed to fly to Mali on Monday. The flight was canceled due to a cloud of martian-like dust in Bamako. It would have been the second time I flew into Bamako during a coup, or in this case, a counter-coup attempt. My flight is now canceled indefinitely. Air Mali said to call back on Friday for an update.

For info on recent events in Bamako, I would suggest following Bruce Whitehouse’s blog, which is as close as you will get to a reliable and nuanced singular news source.

I don’t have much to say about the apparently unsuccessful counter-coup attempt. Several dozen people died during the fighting. Two students also died within the past two days after police intervened at a protest. Fighting in the north of Mali has been called a low-intensity conflict. There have not been many deaths by “war standards.” There also have not been many coup-related deaths in Bamako. Perhaps that’s why each one is so hard to take. It’s not hard to imagine the families, now without a son or daughter, husband or wife. That’s to say nothing of the hundreds of thousands of people that have fled their homes in the north. And for what? Has anyone (so far) benefited from the coup or the rebellion besides the people leading them?

As for what the counter-coup attempt means for Mali’s transition to civilian government, it’s hard to say just yet. For one, it’s not clear how exactly it started or whether it is actually over. Sanogo alleges foreign mercenary involvement, a dangerous claim which, true or not, could give rise to xenophobic sentiment. I wouldn’t be surprised to see more arrests and more public contempt for ECOWAS.

On January 16th, I left Timbuktu for Bamako. I was at the Festival au Désert. A day later, MNLA took Menaka and things have gone downhill since. What will Mali look like in January 2013? What will it look like next month? Difficult questions.

For now, I am in Abidjan. We have been working on taking our business to the next level, despite suffering a serious setback last week. CIE (La Compagnie Ivoirienne d’Electricité), Cote d’Ivoire’s electricity company, cut off power to our maisonette/store house two days after we finally got our freezer up and running. A week later, we still don’t have power.

We were pulling power from Faty’s (one of my partners) dad’s house. Technically, this is illegal, but we figured 1) since Faty owned both properties, there wouldn’t be a problem and 2) almost every business in this part of toits rouges pulls power from someone’s house. Number 2 is due to the fact that you need to install a meter to receive power and you can’t install a meter unless you have a fixed address. Many of the small businesses here are housed in wooden shacks. They are not officially registered with the government and they don’t have an actual address, but they are taxed locally by the neighborhood mayor of Yopougon (each day, a guy comes around and collects a 100 CFA tax (about 20 cents, so $6 for the month) and they have a certain legitimacy.

Many of these businesses have made arrangements with specific households to install an additional meter at their address. They will then run a line of power through the trees to their store/salon/whatever. This is what we need to do. We held off because Faty (or her family) owns both properties. The problem is that Faty’s dad was also sending power to a hair salon. This in itself is not normally an issue. There are many businesses on the street that pull power without a meter. In this case, however, someone told CIE that Faty’s dad was turning a profit by sharing power with the salon. This is not true. If anything, the small amount the salon was paying for power did not even cover their usage.

Not interested in any of our explanations, CIE cut off power to Faty’s dad’s house, which cut off power to the salon and our maisonette with its newly functioning freezer filled with things like fish and cow tongue. It also apparently cut off power to the garbadrome (garba is an Ivorian dish of attieke, fried fish, a bit of oil, salt and chili. It costs 40-50 cents and fills you up.) which was taking power from the salon without us knowing. The garbadrome is now pulling power from a barbershop, the salon is trying their luck without power and we are doing the same.

Power restoration has been delayed by the unreachable CIE employee that has been assigned to our case, yesterday’s work holiday and monday’s “day of meetings” at CIE. In the meantime, we have been improvising with food production while at the same time fielding more orders than we’ve ever had. We now have several businesses that are calling us to place orders each morning and we are on the verge of hiring two new employees. Two companies called us in the last week because a neighboring office recommended us. And, for the first time, we actually had to turn down a food order because it was placed too late and we had sold out of all our plates.

Each day has been stress and sweat-filled as we try to manage the growth. Despite this, and the persistent power outage, there is the exciting feeling that this thing might work after all.

That said, we have a lot of work to do. We need to consolidate our clients further and we need all of our clients calling to place orders in the morning. It’s not attractive if we have to do the calling, because we are using phone credit in the process. It’s easier to find cheap phone plans here than it is to find a company that does affordable international calls, but still, it is an expense that we have to deal with and an unexpected one at that. I’m optimistic that this is just a growing pain, however, and we will soon have everyone placing orders by phone or via the net (soon to come!).

More updates to come. In a future post, I will be sharing the recipe for one of our plates with photos. And while I will soon be returning to the states for a month or two, I have a lot more things to write on the restaurant/catering biz, Mali, and beyond.

Speaking of Mali, let’s keep her in our thoughts.

Thanks to Rebtel for supporting this site and making this post possible.

Our Fight for Power and a Look at the Informal Electricity Economy in Abidjan is a post from: Phil in the Blank

This picture was taken one month ago. See the end of the post for what the maisonette/store house/office looks like now

We officially launched our business a couple of months ago, but it was last week that we started operating at capacity (see this post for the early early stages). Up until that point, we were catering small workshops (10-15 people) at Cote d’Ivoire’s social services bureau. We are still doing that, but we’ve now started lunch deliveries for a handful of clients. So far, so good. We haven’t poisoned anyone, knowingly or otherwise (although, we may need to poison an employee at an optometry office) and we are benefiting from lots of positive testimony.

Our strategy for finding clients has been simple. Approach #1: find someone we know at a particular company and use them as a gateway. Approach #2: go door to door in the business district making our pitch. Our pitch involves some shiny folders and the promise of a few free meals before they commit to anything. We drop off the folders and if they are interested, we come back a few days later with a few different samples of our plates on offer. No one has turned down the free food, and so far, only one company did not place an order afterwards (out of 7).

This week, we will prepare food for our 6 current clients at the same time that we try to secure 4 more. Already, we are hiring another cook and it looks like we will be hiring another delivery person as well. That said, it hasn’t been all roses. We’ve had delays, frustrations, and several days where seemingly everything went wrong.

Failures

First, none of these failures have been fatal in anyway, so perhaps failure is the wrong word. It’s also worth nothing that in almost every case, we’ve learned a valuable lesson.

1. The freezer repair guy. We’ve hired some exceptional people. The freezer repair guy has been exceptional in his incompetance and general aversion to work. The freezer is critical for lower priced bulk purchases and we have been without it for weeks. Originally we paid the freezer repair guy for an actual freezer, but then changed course when we inherited a non-functioning freezer that he said he could repair. So we took some of the money back and left the rest for him to complete repairs. In other words, we paid up front, before any work had been done. This was a mistake. After much harassment, he completed work this weekend.

2. Our ordering system. Last week we released a menu at the start of the week with the expectation that our clients would call and place orders in the morning. Some clients have indeed called to place orders. Others expect us to come to their office every day with enough plates but no guarantee that they will actually buy anything. We have obliged them so far. We are also dealing with a woman at an optometry office who is apparently enamored with our delivery man. This has become a problem. What’s clear is that our clients will see how far they can push things in their favor and it’s up to us to bring this shit back down to earth.

3. The restaurant (or lack of it). We’ve been steady catering, but the restaurant hasn’t launched yet. The catering is more attractive because of the higher profit margin, but we’re making enough food that it is silly to not be selling all of it when we have an actual restaurant space that’s just sitting there. This delay has mostly resulted from our inability to secure equipment at the allocodrome. By tomorrow, we should have lockable cabinets for everything that’s not nailed down. The allocodrome itself is also now employing a night watchman.

4. Finding balance on our menu. This has been difficult. We are trying to maintain our profit margin while responding to varying customer requests and fluctuating prices at the market. As an example, the potato season is coming to a close in Mali, which is sending prices upward in Abidjan. It was 350 CFA (about 70 cents) for a kilo a few weeks ago. It is now 400 and will likely be at 500 before too long. As we scale up and our bulk purchases become larger, this should be less of an issue. The good news is that it’s avocado season:

7 enormous avocados for 80 cents. It’s also mango season. I bring up mangoes at every meeting. I am working hard to get some mango-centric plates on the menu, but I am facing insane resistance.

Successes

1. Our team. We have 3 employees outside of me, Faty and David. So far, everyone has been showing up on time, working hard, contributing ideas and playing practical jokes on each other – all signs of a healthy work environment in my view. There have been several near-disaster moments that were resolved mostly because everyone kept a cool head. We’ve also been successful in establishing “open lines of communication.” Mistakes are addressed directly, criticism can go in any direction, and nothing is personal.

2. Two rocks. The two things written on the locker room chalkboard are 1. quality and 2. on time delivery. We have been consistent with both. The reviews for the food have been incredibly positive and we are starting to collect new clients based on word of mouth. Also, we’ve yet to have a late delivery *touch wood*. Watch, today the bateau-bus (public water taxi) will capsize and we will lose all of our orders to the lagoon.

3. Delivery system. Speaking of the bateau-bus, it’s what we’ve been using to deliver our food to the business district. We have a wheeled chariot type thing that we had custom built by a metal worker in yopougon. The food is loaded into plastic bins and then placed on the chariot. After that, our delivery man takes a shared taxi to the lagoon (150-200CFA – 30-40 cents), bateau-bus to the business district (150CFA), delivers food to our clients, which are all within a ten minute walk of the water taxi terminal, returns back on bateau (150 CFA again) and then shared taxi (150-200 CFA). This puts our transport costs at 700 CFA ($1.40) for the day. This is affordable and it has the added benefit of bypassing any traffic jams on the auto-route. We will soon be adding at least one other delivery person.

4. Partnerships. Excepting the freezer repair guy, we have worked, and continue to work, with some excellent people. We have arrangements with a fish vendor, a mason, a spring roll maker, a small patiserrie, and we’ve been building relationships with certain market vendors. All of these people benefit from steady business and we benefit from reduced prices. In some ways, they have become invested in our business and as far as I’m concerned, that’s apparent in the products/services that they have been delivering.

5. Growth. The other day, I paid for an air ticket back to Bamako. While I was in the Air Mali office, the employees were ordering lunch from us. How did Air Mali and Air Burkina become clients? Several weeks ago, I was buying a different ticket back to Bamako and I started chatting up the office, asking them what they did for lunch etc. I then made a soft pitch and pledged to bring a few free samples later in the week. And like that, we had a new client. This has everything to do with the quality of David and Michelle’s (the sous chef) food. So far, we’ve only had one prospective client not take the bait and it seems to be a matter of price rather than quality of food. This week, we will be working to attract at least 4 more clients.

The maisonette/store house/office as it looks today. See photo at top of post to see the before.

I will continue to write updates on the restaurant/catering biz as things move along. In a future post, I will break down the numbers for an average day (transport, preparation costs, salaries, revenue, profit etc.) and in another, I will offer a look at some of our plates, including recipes. Next post will be about the Bamako to Abidjan bus ride. I head back to Mali’s capital in a week.

Early Successes and Failures of Running a Business in Abidjan is a post from: Phil in the Blank

Karate class at Palais de la Culture in Bamako

For a bit of background on the political crisis in Mali, please see my last post.

UPDATE: Yesterday, the details of the ECOWAS accord were released and they are not promising. Most notably, Sanogo is not going anywhere. What’s more, he held a press conference in Bambara last night that seemed to be a “whisper in Mali’s ear so ECOWAS and the international community can’t hear” type of moment. Please read the latest from Bruce Whitehouse here and take much of what I have written below on the return to civilian rule with a very large grain of salt.

I spent the past week watching most of the expat community in Bamako leave for other countries. Embassys called their citizens home, many NGOs closed up shop, and even some foreign run businesses stopped operating.

My Malian friends found this exodus peculiar. After all, they said, the fighting is in the north, not in Bamako. When I brought up the possibility of fuel and cash shortages, and the general uncertainty that occurs when a relatively young, low-ranking soldier seizes power with arms, my friends would often shrug and say “ca va aller” (it will get better).

Most of my friends were not pro-coup or pro-Sanogo, but they were anti-ATT. According to them – and almost everyone you ask in Bamako – the army budget was squandered due to pervasive corruption. ATT was never one to step on toes. He tried to be friends with everyone. The problem is not everyone can be a good friend. They often want something. ATT obliged, money ended up in places it shouldn’t have, and Mali’s institutions, including the military, suffered for it.

Most westerners dismissed the coup as an idiotic power grab. While I also found the coup unjustifiable, it’s important to note that it was an expression of popular discontent. Even if most Malians opposed the method, they welcomed the change. There are many who would have likely welcomed the coup several months ago, when news broke that dozens of Malian soldiers in Aguelhok had the their throats slit, and ATT had no response, militarily or otherwise.

Now the Sanogo Show is over. During his short lived run as President of the CNDRE, Sanogo watched the country unravel: dissolution of the Malian army in most of the country, the complete fall of the north to at least two rebel groups, international condemnation and sanctions – all of this at the cost of throwing Mali’s democracy under the bus.

Many Malians will say that the north, with ATT’s poorly equipped military, was going to fall anyway, and that Sanogo at least asked for international help, something that ATT did not do.

I will say this about Sanogo, he controlled his soldiers. Under Sanogo, they were no more willing to fight the rebels in north Mali, but they were also mostly well behaved in Bamako. Ok, so there were several days of shooting in the air, looting, and at least one journalist was threatened with death. All of that said, and not to excuse any of those things, the looting was brought under control and the military did not perpetrate any violence. I’m not applauding him for this, but things could have been much worse.

During this political crisis, there is also something to be said for Malians themselves. It seems silly to say “Malians are nice people,” but there are some cultural tendencies here that make that statement true. The state more or less dissolved and Malians continued to go about their lives as normal, peacefully and with consideration for their neighbors. There wasn’t any panic, chaos, looting, or violence.

So ECOWAS put the squeeze on and Sanogo, realizing that he was now in charge of a poor landlocked country, agreed to step down. ECOWAS deserves some credit here. They acted decisively and it seems like it wasn’t just heavy handed sanctions – it appears that the Burkina envoy engaged in some good diplomacy. Credit Sanogo for being a rational human being who must have realized that he was holding no cards.

Yesterday, ATT resigned without protest. Today, Sanogo is meeting with Dioncounda Traoré, who as President of the National Assembly, will become interim President until elections are organized. The accord signed by ECOWAS and Sanogo states that elections will be organized in 40 days, but both parties have acknowledged that this may not be possible given the situation in the north. Few Malians are happy with Traoré (he has been in the game a long time and he is closely associated with ATT), but they are relieved that he can not run for President after serving this role. For more on the transition, this is some essential reading from Bruce Whitehouse.

Other than daily 10 hour power cuts, life in Bamako did not change much after the coup. We never had cash or fuel shortages, markets operated normally, and price hikes never materialized. But uncertainty lingered and no one really knew what Sanogo was going to do. The transition back to civilian rule is welcome and it at least suggests that Mali will soon be back on solid ground – the southern part of the country, that is.

The North

First, I recommend reading this piece by Baz Lecocq and this by Andrew Lebovich to get a sense for what’s currently happening in the north, as muddled as it may be.

The family I stayed with in Timbuktu in early January is still in Mauritania, still living in a refugee camp. They have limited cell service and every now and then they receive an SMS from friends in Timbuktu. They are hearing everything under the sun. The fact is, no one, not even northern residents, knows what the power dynamics are right now. In any case, it seems that a showdown between Ansar Dine/AQIM and MNLA is inevitable.

Throughout the conflict in the north, fighting has largely been avoided. There have been negotiations, retreats, and defections. The body count is low on all sides. We can hope it stays that way, that somehow a peaceful resolution will emerge, but right now, there are too many parties that don’t see eye to eye.

MNLA declared independence of Azawad over the weekend. Mali, ECOWAS, the AU, France – just about everybody – has said that they do not recognize this declaration. There is a possible political solution that involves increased autonomy and decentralization for the north, but it’s unclear whether that deal would even be on the table, or whether MNLA would accept it. What’s more, it’s unclear who has the upper hand in north Mali as Ansar Dine continues to assert itself. Meanwhile, there are reports that another armed group has formed to counter both MNLA and Ansar Dine.

Caught in the middle of all of this are the people that actually live in these places. MNLA has a well-oiled media machine and lots of support from the Tuareg diaspora, but they never had the support of all Tuareg in Mali, let alone that of the other ethnic groups, which are far more numbered. Yet they speak for the entire population of north Mali. At the same time, Ansar Dine is trying to impose a brand of Islam that is not compatible with local culture.

MNLA may be capable of organizing a state in north Mali, perhaps one that is better managed than the neglected region that is currently there. At the same time, they may be just as vulnerable to the many vested interests that lurk in the Sahara and beyond. The point is this, they are acting on behalf of a population that did not ask for this.

Some like to say that this most recent incarnation of Tuareg rebellion is reflective of the Arab Spring. This is silly. The Arab Spring was and still is characterized by mass mobilizations. MNLA skipped a step. Instead of making their case to the northern populations, they picked up weapons. Now the north is a mess and over 200,000 people have fled their homes. It is after taking towns by force, that the MNLA is now trying to win hearts and minds. They are having to do so while Ansar Dine is also trying to impose a program of their own.

I don’t have anything else to say about northern Mali. I hope that a major conflict is avoided and I hope that those that fled can soon return to their homes and live in peace. How those things will be accomplished, I don’t know.

Personal

I will be going back to Cote d’Ivoire sometime this week or next. I will be there for a couple of weeks mostly working with Faty and David on restaurant/catering things (we now have 4 clients, Air Mali, Air Burkina, an insurance company and CNPS). Expect an update on that in the coming weeks. After that, back in Bamako before a possible trip to Guinea or Senegal. In late May, I will be in Lisbon before going back to the states for a bit. Let me know if you are in any of those places and want to meet up.

You can come back now (unless you are a refugee from north #Mali) is a post from: Phil in the Blank

Niger River sunset

By now you know that a group of relatively young, low-ranking soldiers has taken control of Mali’s Presidential Palace and the state TV station ORTM. They also have control of the airport, which they have closed along with the land borders. They say that they are also in control of the military, the city of Bamako and the country for that matter, but the extent of their control and support is decidedly unclear.

The whereabouts of Mali’s President, Amadou Toumani Toure (ATT), are unknown. Amadou Sanogo, a 39-year-old captain in the Malian army, and now president of the newly created National Committee for the Redressment of Democracy and the State (CNRDR), has become the face of Mali’s government, whatever that may mean. The stated reason for the coup? To rid Mali of ATT’s incompetent leadership and to re-establish peace and Mali’s territorial integrity. Sanogo has since said that he also plans to reform the military and the education system. Elections? Yes, they will happen, he says, but there is no timetable. Elections were originally scheduled for the end of April and ATT was due to step down in June.

I arrived back in Bamako on Wednesday. Originally planning on taking the bus, I took the plane when I found a reasonable ticket through Air Mali. Had I taken the bus, I likely would have been stranded at the dougoudonka border crossing. Soldiers shut down the airport several hours after my plane landed.

Some would call this bad timing, but the city has been mostly calm since I arrived. There were a few days of surround sound gunfire (these were shots fired in the air) and looting took place in certain neighborhoods. Several people were killed and a few dozen injured by stray (falling?) bullets and as awful as that is, many people, including me, are thankful that there hasn’t been actual violent confrontation between soldier and civilian or between soldier and soldier. Yesterday, the grand marché was operating more or less normally and the mood among traders and vendors was mostly positive.

But let me tell you why I am upset and concerned.

First, I am not Malian. I am also not a scholar of Malian or Sahelian politics. That said, I have spent a significant amount of time in this country over the past two years. I have friends here, including my girlfriend of the past year and a half, and I have been fortunate to have learned many lessons from Mali and Malidenw.

Mali’s democracy and institutions may have been imperfect — corrupt and heavily flawed, even — but this coup is very unfortunate. This coup is like blowing up a sports team that, while not close to making the playoffs, had some promising foundational pieces in place. As a Cleveland Indians fan, I’ve experienced the misery of this phenomenon several times throughout my life (every couple of years since the 90′s it seems). The team’s payroll becomes too bloated for the cheap Dolan ownership and there is not enough talent to get over the hump, so the team is dismantled with the hope of rebuilding in a better direction.

In the case of Mali, the team has been dismantled and everything has been pinned on an unknown and untested draft pick: Captain Amadou Sanogo.

In 1991, a younger Amadou Toumani Toure led a coup against the military dictatorship of Moussa Traore, who had effectively run a police state in Mali for several decades. Soon after, ATT ceded power to the democratic process and he stepped away from Malian politics until 2002 when he was elected president.

By all accounts, there was good reason for the ATT-led coup in ’91. Under the Moussa Traore government, a dissenting journalist could be (and often was) jailed and tortured.

Under ATT’s government, Mali was number one in Africa for press freedom and in the Reporters Without Borders 2011 report, they were actually ranked higher than many western countries, including former colonial power France (see RWB 2011 report here).

But that government has now been replaced by the CNRDR. The constitution has been suspended along with all of Mali’s government institutions. Many ministers and even some presidential candidates have been arrested and indefinitely detained. Despite rumors and conspiracy theories that bigger players (and perhaps other countries) are involved, right now, it appears that one man, Captain Amadou Sanogo, is pulling the strings. Captain Amadou Sanogo, who is using increasingly egotistical language (see this interview with AP reporter Martin Vogl) in his interviews and broadcasts.

Let’s forget for a moment that elections were due to happen in a month and let’s even allow for the possibility that Sanogo is a good dude who is well-intentioned and competent. Political power can do some strange things to people (see: world history). While Sanogo and co. have presided over several consecutive days of calm — having stopped their soldiers from looting and firing rounds into the air — what will they do in the week to come? How will Sanogo handle the intense diplomatic and possibly physical pressure from ECOWAS, the UN, the AU, the US etc.? How will he handle criticism from journals and newspapers? How will he handle the various interest groups that have a stake in Mali? How will he handle a proposed peace march tomorrow?

ATT was struggling with, and arguably mishandling, the MNLA rebellion. His government was undoubtedly corrupt in certain parts. And there is a chance that elections would have been delayed because of the northern conflict. But ATT was no authoritarian. He was committed to Malian democracy and civil society. In fact, one of the biggest criticisms levelled against ATT is that he too often tried governing by consensus.

Institutions exist as a safeguard against our weaker tendencies. When those institutions are broken, they need to be replaced. I don’t think Mali was at that point, but even if it was, the change, if change is what it actually is, should not have come by the barrel of someone’s gun. Now those institutions are gone and one man is in charge.

My hope right now is that a conflict does not evolve out of this. The north is already a mess, with MNLA and Ansar Dine, an Islamist group, both vying for towns, and Mali’s military breaking down as a result of the coup. At the same time, many Malians are in the thick of a food crisis, a result of last year’s horrendously unproductive rainy season. Malians deserve better than this.

For now, everyone is waiting for what’s next. No one really knows.

Before I go, I want to say one more thing. You may look at this whole situation – the coup, the food crisis, the rebellion(s) in the north – and think “oh, there goes Africa again.” But as always, there is more to this story. If you are paying attention to Mali for the first time, take a moment to get to know this country’s beautiful culture – it transcends all of the headlines you will read.

recommended reading on the coup

Mali’s Coup – First Thoughts

Mali ministers held by junta go on hunger strike

Bamako returning to normal, Mali’s north threatened

Amadou Sanogo: Power is his middle name

Audio of interview with Amadou Sanogo from AP reporter Martin Vogl

I am tweeting updates from bamako at @philinthe_. @tommymiles has put together a great list of folks to follow on the situation here and he is very much worth a follow himself.

One Tubabu’s Thoughts on the Coup in Mali is a post from: Phil in the Blank

I have been self-employed for a year and a half or so. I quit my teaching job in June 2010 and bought a one way ticket to West Africa. I rode out my savings for six months, coming back to the states during the winter months and taking advantage of several free housing opportunities (I plan to continue freeloading in the first world–do you have a nice couch? Also, is Portugal a first world country?). I then started making money online via freelance writing, advertising, and affiliate marketing, and that, along with a few web design projects, has been my source of income since.

It has not always been easy or straightforward. I took on debt initially and at one point I was spending hours writing articles like “things to do with your kids in Cleveland, OH in the winter time” for the soul-destroying content factory of demandmedia.com.

Now things are better. Last month was the most productive I’ve had in the past two years (coming in at $3370). I am making less than I did when I was teaching, but my cost of living in West Africa is low. My Bamako apartment costs me $240 a month. Many of my meals are between $.70 – $2. In Abidjan, I don’t pay for accommodation and my food falls mostly in the same range.

The low cost of living has given me room to partner with two friends, former couchsurfing hosts actually, on a restaurant and catering business in Abidjan. In this post I will explain what it’s been like to get this thing off the ground.

Our petit restaurant space. Soon to be filled with customers?

While I have contributed since its conception, this business is entirely David and Faty’s idea. They saw a need for affordable lunch delivery in Abidjan’s central business district and realized that food could be prepared cheaply in the working-class neighborhood of Yopougon and easily transported.

The kitchen space we have rented is part of a larger complex of small restaurants and vendors, so why not also operate a restaurant at the same time? The idea: rotating menu with 3 different plates each day, tiered pricing, most of the food sent to Plateau for catering and the rest available for customers coming to eat at the Allocodrome (literally house of fried plantains), which is the larger eating area where we pay our rent.

David and I have put up the money for this project, splitting it 50/50. We have each contributed 800,000 CFA (about $1,600) over the course of 6 months. This money has mostly gone towards the following one-time payments.

One-time payments (somewhat comprehensive):

- Materials and labor to build a small house to serve as an office as well as a store house for bulk ingredients
- Two freezers
- Cost to repair one of them
- 1 refridgerator
- 2 large bottles of gas
- two multi-burner gas stoves
- Registre de commerce (gives us authorization from Gov. to do business)
- Comptes contribuables (fee for gov. to figure out how much tax we owe. nice.)
- A large amount of cooking equipment, including enormous cauldrons
- tables and chairs
- registering with CNPS for social security payments
- miscellaneous payments like having a stamp made
- Deposit and 3 months rent up front for kitchen/restaurant space
- an initial purchase of bulk stock, notably non-perishable ingredients like rice etc.

Operating expenses

To give an idea of our operating expenses, we have two salaried employees right now: David who is the head chef (also business partner) and Michelle who works under him. David’s salary is 50,000 CFA a month. This salary will go up in time, but for now the focus is to re-invest as much money as possible back into the business. David is also a partner so he has an interest in this as well.

Michelle’s salary is 40,000 CFA a month ($80), which to start will be for 4 hours of work a day (m-f). Her salary will also go up as she takes on a larger role in the kitchen. As outrageous as that salary may seem to you, it is more than she would make with longer hours at any other kitchen in Yopougon.

Our rent is 20,000 CFA a month ($40). We are mainly renting the kitchen space for the catering. The restaurant is a bonus. We are paying an accountant $10 a month and our taxes are paid each trimester and they are looking to be about $80 for 3 months, which includes contributions to social security.

Our other expenses are stock and transport, both of which are slowly coming in to focus. We have spent a lot of time sourcing bulk ingredients. We have made arrangements with a few other businesses (a spring roll maker, a patisserie, a fish vendor) and it’s looking like there will be more of that to come.

As far as transportation, we have been delivering via taxi ($4) and returning via pinasse (a 30 cent water taxi). If we successfully scale up, this will have to change.

While our profit margin is still shifting, we are looking at a 40-50% margin, higher in some cases, for almost everything we will be serving. A big reason for this is that we are selling food in the business district but we are not paying rent or dealing with the other expenses of operating there.

David, most likely arguing with one of the carpenters

Right now

The restaurant should be open in two weeks. Catering has already begun. We have one client (CNPS, which is like Cote d’Ivoire’s Social Services Bureau) that we have been serving for the past couple of weeks, catering for small workshops/trainings of 15 people. We approached several businesses last week and it’s looking like our next clients are going to be the offices of Air Mali and Air Burkina, with a few other likely candidates on the horizon.

We get dressed up, I put on my best French, we carry fancy folders and business cards and we make our pitch. If the company is interested, we come back in a week with a free tasting of some of our plates, which in all likelihood will blow them away because David and Michelle are seriously skilled in the kitchen.

We have planned a trajectory for this business and if things work out, I will be spending a lot more time in Cote d’Ivoire. There will be obstacles and setbacks, but there is reason to be confident. Right now, it feels like we can largely control the ceiling of this project. We’ll see how long that lasts.

There have been many gratifying aspects of this work so far, but notably among them is the collaboration with and hiring of other businesses and individuals. The other day I was sitting in Madame Fanta Ouattara’s house. She has a small sign on her door (“vente de nem”) and a modest business selling spring rolls and bissap juice. Her dad worked at a vietnamese restaurant when she was a kid and later taught her some chops in the kitchen.

We came to her house and requested to try the spring rolls, mentioning the fact that we were looking for someone with whom we could place large orders. In her living room, we sat down in oversized chairs, staring up at the family photos, smelling onion leaves. Fanta brought out a tray of spring rolls and we ate together. After the first bite, we knew we would be buying spring rolls from Fanta. It was now a matter of negotiating the price. We made an offer and she accepted, an enormous smile on her face (75 CFA per spring roll, about 15 cents, with minimum orders of 5,000 CFA). We then spent the next half hour chatting, munching on spring rolls and drinking bissap.

Now we have delicious spring rolls and Fanta has a new client.

More to come on the food biz. I also have some narrative-ish stuff I want to get up here along with some music things. In the meantime, I will be traveling back to Bamako.

What it’s like to Start a Restaurant and Catering Business in Abidjan is a post from: Phil in the Blank

Rain animates the metal roofs and invites us to sleep. It is Abidjan’s only tranquilizer. The shops close, the coupe-decale stops playing, the potholes grow deeper.

The morning after a night of rain, we carry our bodies to a shared taxi. Me, my former couchsurfing hosts turned business partners, Faty and David, and Faty’s neighbor, D-lo. Drifting to sleep, we wake up when a gbaka edges us off the driveable part of the road. The prentike wags his finger at us and our driver tells him that he will decapitate his penis. Abidjan shakes off its stupor.

We are on our way to our second catering gig, a training workshop at the social services bureau. A traffic jam on the auto-route changes our plans and we head to the lagoon. From Yopougon, we bypass the congestion by taking a pinasse (a crowded water taxi, 20 cents a ride) to Plateau, Abidjan’s business district.

In the afternoon, the sun comes out. We play cards and drink palm wine under a mango tree. Our business will surely have setbacks. In fact, it may flop completely. But today, we celebrate. After the workshop, we earned our first contract, weekly catering through October for CNPS workshops.

Palm wine and cards

David building a device for catching cocoa pods

Inside of a cocoa pod. After the sweet fleshy part is the seed that is ground up into cocoa powder.

My local coffee shop. It is exactly 5 steps from Faty’s front door. Tomato and onion omelette on a baguette for 40 cents.

Fabrice … living his life

Crocodile, onions and chiles on their way to becoming a stew

Me and my business partners

D-lo’s sauce of onions, chili peppers and tomatoes.

D-lo cooking her sauce. This became one the toppings at her shwarma stand that she would open later that night.

We are probably going to rent this apartment.

Setting up our restaurant space. Our rent is 20,000 CFA a month (about $40).

In my last post, I shared a picture of the maisonette we are building to use as an office and a store house for bulk ingredients. This is the door to the maisonette, and the door-maker, who likely looks distressed because we’ve overwhelmed his shop with requests.

Inside the still door-less maisonette. The cement is dry now and we can do work here during the day. Once we have a door, we will start piling in the supplies. In this photo, making some food for ourselves instead of someone else.

Gingembre and bissap to be sold

D-lo’s shwarma stand. We’re not the only ones going into the food business. D-lo, or didy, decided to start her own enterprise in front of her house.

Rerouting some electricity for the shwarma press

The first shwarma. They were delicious. I ordered three. She sold out the first night.

In my next post, I will describe what it’s been like to start a restaurant and catering biz in Abidjan, including a look at expenses, profits, planning etc.

Mostly Photos of Food and Friends in Abidjan, Cote d’Ivoire is a post from: Phil in the Blank

On the left, a toilet on the southern edge of Yamoussoukro in October 2010. On the right, the same toilet in March 2012. The wall has been sealed! (I realize the photo on the right looks far older.. right = iphone camera, left = canon s90).

For real though, Cote d’Ivoire, despite the political divisions that still exist, has an air of forward movement. For the second time in the past couple of months, I saw road-workers between Yamoussoukro and Abidjan working into the evening. The northern corridor has fewer checkpoints and the trip was far less exhausting than it was in 2010. The same can be said for the road between the border of Ghana and Abidjan. Abidjan is as energetic as ever, business has long since returned and construction is going on throughout the city.

Our restaurant is close to launching. It’s looking like next week. All the paperwork is done, bulk ingredients and all manner of pots and cooking utensils have been purchased, we’re feeling good, excited. This is a photo I shared on facebook of our office/store house for bulk ingredients.

Now just waiting for the cement to dry. More photos to come. Actually, you can expect a running series on what it’s like to start a restaurant business in Abidjan. Even if this thing flops completely, the investment is relatively small and it will certainly be a learning experience. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a success as long as we don’t poison anyone.

Proof of Cote d’Ivoire’s Progress is a post from: Phil in the Blank

The wall decorations in my gf’s childhood room in the village of Fana, Mali

A directionless post has been a long time coming. And now, with my brain T’ed off on 3 Malian teas (think diabetes), I will write one.

1. It will be numbered, though. I developed a strain of OCD when I taught middle school. During a workshop, a mentor teacher explained how he feigned OCD as a management technique. He had 3 rules in his classroom, 2 conventional ones and the third: his books had to be at complete right angles at all times. Teaching (especially middle school kids) is psychological warfare. If you convince your kids that a disorganized bookshelf is grounds for punishment, somewhere in their head they will start thinking “holy shit, this guy is crazy. He’s giving us a detention because one book is crooked? What kind of meltdown will he have if I don’t do my homework?” I saw the merit in this and tried it myself.

I created a filing system for turning in/collecting papers (my 2nd year; my 1st year was lost sometime during the 3rd week of school when the principal brought Mary O. to my class for her first day, because she had just been kicked out of her previous school for fighting, and she threw Elton into a wall 30 seconds after I shook her hand because he was looking at her). All the papers had to be perfectly aligned and the collection table had a very specific organization. The mentor teacher was right. It works. If you are consistent about it. Anyway, I soon found myself methodically organizing my desk, straightening chairs and tables, and generally behaving in a way I never had before. Several years on and my OCD still lurks. I don’t wash my hands 300 times a day, though. In fact, my OCD has been regretfully absent from matters of personal hygiene. It’s all about organization of physical space. So yeah, this post will be numbered.

2. I’m thinking about starting a tumblr with photos of taxi interiors from Bamako. Good idea?

Piglets in Fana

3. I’m going to Abidjan tomorrow and we are officially launching our business. The restaurant is still unnamed. Some possibilities: (1) Chez Faty (2) Deux Ivoriens et un Toubab (3) Faty’s Chicken Shack (4) Maison de Caiman — this last one is out of the running; it was eliminated when everyone voted down my idea for a crocodile concept restaurant. David cooks delicious crocodile steaks. I was a vegan once. My 6 months of veganism were broken by my first trip to West Africa in 2005.

4. I love twitter. It’s how I find out what’s going on with Senegal’s elections (follow #Sunu2012). It’s how I learn new and interesting things. It’s also how I meet exceptionally cool people. Like Howard French who I met in Bamako last June. Like Captain Yaw who I met last fall (see my post on that here and look out for more on howtodrawcamels.com once Mali’s internet can upload all the videos). Like Jodi Ettenberg who was the very first person I met through twitter and who was just profiled in the NYT! Like Boukary Konate who recently went up the Niger river on a pinasse teaching internet literacy in village schools.

5. Speaking of Boukary, I recently caught up with him at Mother Language Day this past week. Eddie, the director of Rising Voices was also in town and we had a nice chat about the future of Boukary’s work. Last year, I interviewed him (and drew camels with him) here, but for a brief lowdown, Boukary is the webmaster at the Malian education ministry, but in his spare time he promotes Bambara literacy (Mali’s unofficial official language), teaches internet literacy and installs mobile internet labs with a battery, laptop, solar panel, and 3G usb key, in villages around Segou.

Yaya Coulibaly lives in one of these villages. After Boukary’s installation, Yaya can tweet the latest news from his village and then Boukary will report it on his blog in Bambara and French. What’s more Yaya can start a public conversation on twitter in which other people in other villages around Segou can also join. The next step has been to bring the internet into the classroom. The most immediate benefit of this, I think, is that it will let kids step outside an education system that is still very much in the French colonial model. Boukary is shaking things up a bit and I have no doubt that it will lead to at least some of these students dreaming big.

Cattle waiting patiently to cross the Niger River near Segou

6. If you’ve never known the peace that is the Niger River, you need to find yourself a pinasse.

7. Did I ever post this video of Marta dancing to coupe-decale? She was one of many wild children at the Yas family guesthouse in Accra, Ghana.

The crowd at Festival sur le Niger getting ready for Rokia Traore.

The stage is in the river. You can get your feet wet if you’d like.

8. My quest for Bambara fluency is a long way off, but I am now conversational. I am happy about this. The best feeling when you are learning a language comes when you lose sight of your progress and all of a sudden find yourself putting the pieces together without thinking about it.

9. Armed conflict is awful. On blogs and social media, there are many westerners glorifying MNLA, the Tuareg rebel group that began actively fighting the Malian military in January. They have a polished spokesman in Paris and they certainly say all the right things. But the conflict is complicated (and awful) and it’s hard to brand one side as righteous. They started a war that few people in northern Mali wanted. However inept, malicious, or AQIM-complicit the Malian government is and/or was, the MNLA cannot claim popular support for the fighting that they started. It’s possible that they don’t even have a majority support among Tamashek, and that’s to say nothing of the Peul and Sonrai populations that are much larger. Meanwhile, the Malian army recently fired on a Tuareg camp that was mostly women and children (11 injured, one girl dead). Close to 130,000 are now refugees or internally displaced. This is what happens. It is incredibly sad and frustrating and you just have the feeling that nothing good is going to come from this conflict.

Et la Famille? Et les Affaires? Kow ka ŋi? Let’s Take this Thing Off the Tracks is a post from: Phil in the Blank