A room to call my own.
Many quartier names of Bamako have the "bougou" suffix, meaning 'hut', or 'shelter' in Bambara, the main mother tongue in the capital. By extension, it's come to mean town or village. My new quartier is called Daoudabougou and it is where I rest my weary head, feed on sustenance, and the pivot point from whence to discover my new surroundings.
This is the Niger River, the lifeblood of many lands and tongues, as it snakes its way from atop the Guinea Highlands, making its way to Mali, bending through Timbuktu, then down to Niger and Nigeria from whence the countries take their name, skipping along Benin's border. It is beautiful, as it is dirty, here along the city environs.
The river divides Bamako in two, and much of your activity may depend on which side you are on at any given moment.
Food options are good in Mali. The cuisine of Mali takes the best of surrounding countries' palates and makes it her own. The most important part is that whatever you may be eating, it is shared with any and all, visitors, passers-by, no one is a stranger when it comes to having something in our bellies.
But at the heart of it all is the ubiquitous "rice and sauce". Any Malian that doesn't have it, especially at lunch, won't feel like they've had a good meal during the day.
Alabadja is a northern dish, and as I had not had the chance to taste it, we decided to make it in my more or less functional kitchen, as well as growing my repertoire of other cookery.
Critters are everywhere. On the walls, in the walls, just outside your window sill, under your mosquito net, some rampant depending on the season. Not to forget the wandering bovines, donkeys, sheep, goats, occasional horses, chickens, and quite a few dogs and cats.
Outings include rooftop parties, concerts, trivia nights, even a decent movie theater (mostly empty, which is bonus to some). But you don't need much more than a friend or two, the night sky, and tea to make it an occasion.
© 2026 Saharan Susurrus