on ATMs and friendly Malians

When I'm in America there are things I miss about Mali.  When I'm in Mali there are things I miss about America.

Last week (I'm staying at my friends' house in Bamako) I needed to go to an ATM and withdraw money.  In America it is usually pretty easy, even boring, to find an ATM and withdraw money.  It would be fairly rare I think, in America, to get to an ATM and find that it was not working.  Certainly if the first ATM wasn't working you could easily find a second one that would be working.  In Mali simple things like getting money from an ATM can become a time-consuming friend-making adventure.

First I decided to walk about 10 minutes out to the main road because it is lined with businesses and I thought maybe there is a bank with an ATM somewhere out there that I don't know about.  In my long, loose, flowy skirt I walked until I did find a bank, but this bank didn't have an ATM.  I started to walk the other direction on the main road, and suddenly the wind started blowing.  I wished I hadn't worn such a loose flowy skirt.  I tried to keep going while trying to keep my skirt from blowing up and showing too much leg, but the wind was picking up clouds of dust and it seemed like it was going to start raining.  A man at a tailor shop saw me through the window and opened the door to tell me to please come inside.  I went in and he found a chair and asked me to sit.  I chatted with him about the tailoring business and we watched dust and plastic bags flying around in the wind.  It did start raining.  I waited a while, but the rain continued.  Although the tailor would have been glad for me to sit in his shop all afternoon, I felt like we had run out of easy conversation, and I wanted to get home.
I walked a couple blocks to a gas service station.  There were a lot of people waiting under the hangar there, so I decided to wait with them a few minutes and see if the rain would stop.  The shop owner saw me (I don't blend into a crowd too well) and insisted that I come inside the shop and sit on the bench he had there.  He was very friendly and asked me a lot of questions, like what is my phone number and could he come visit me at the house.  I decided to continue on my way even though it was still raining.  I walked to the house as people under hangars and awnings stared at the white lady walking in the rain.  I smiled back and said hello.
My first attempt was unsuccessful.  There is not an ATM in the neighborhood I am staying in, at least not within walking distance.

The next day I decided to take a taxi across town.  There is a western style grocery store that I could buy a few items at and I remembered that there is a bank with an ATM next door.  The ATM did not work.  The guard sitting outside of the ATM booth said I could just cross the street (a busy road with 4 lanes of traffic) and find an ATM down the road.  I walked to the edge of the road and hesitated.  A man that works for the store as a parking guard saw me.  He came up and said he would cross the street with me.  It wasn't a question, he already decided.  So the nice man ran across the street with me and then he ran back to his work.  Across from the grocery store is the veterinary office with the vet that gave our dog his yearly rabies shot when we lived in Bamako.  He was standing at the door of the office, so I had to go up to greet him for several minutes before I could continue on my way.  I need to read a book on improving memory or something because the vet greeted me with "Eliza!" (the name I go by with Malians) and I have no idea what his name is.  Bad Eliza. :(

I got to the bank with another non-working ATM.  I think that the problem is mostly that they are out of money.  Another bank was down the road a bit further.  At that ATM (my 3rd of the day) I was again disappointed.  A guard at that place told me I should walk down the road a bit more (even further away from the grocery store where I started) because there is another bank that direction.  As I walked, a man pulled up beside me on his motorscooter and asked if I wanted a ride.  I said no thanks.  He asked for my number.  I smiled and said "no, sorry."  I kind of think its funny when I get asked for my number when I am a sweaty mess in 100+ degree weather.  Mostly the men are not creepy, they're just wanting to see how I'll respond.  I guess I must not look as gross as I feel with sweat dripping off my face.  

When I got to the bank there were 3 men sitting outside; one dressed as a guard and two of his buddies.  They were boiling up some Malian tea.  They greeted me and offered me some tea.  I answered with "maybe after."  I went in the ATM booth (4th of the day, 5th bank I tried since the day before) and was relieved to finally get some cash!  From now on I'm just going to go to this ATM first!  When I came out (with the money secured in a cash belt under my clothes) the men called me over to have tea and sit in a chair they had waiting for me.  I sat and chatted but I declined the tea, not because I didn't want to drink something strangers offered or because I didn't want to drink out of the same little unwashed shot glass that everyone else would drink out of, but because it was already the afternoon and the tea is very strong.  I told them I wanted to sleep that night so I would pass on the tea.  After learning everyone's names, places of origins, and ethnicity, and being shown the traditional musical instrument that one of the men had (like a harp-guitar) I thanked them, wished them a good evening, and left to walk back to the grocery store.

The two sides of that whole experience are so inescapably Malian.  Things don't work at all or as easily and quickly as I think they should; a simple task can gobble up a lot of time and effort.  And, people will go out of their way to help and be friendly and show hospitality - even to strangers.  People are more important that any task at hand.  I can get frustrated or I can keep smiling and marvel at these generous, good-natured people.  I never made 5 or 6 new friends when I went to get money from an ATM in America.  Now, if I could only remember their names...