Annette was in the bathroom having a shower and I had just returned from breakfast when there was a knock on the door. I opened it and on another wonderful African morning there were two guys standing outside. It took me a few seconds to sort them out in my mind and when I finally connected them with everyone I had met the night before, it suddenly dawned on me that I was seeing one of the hotel guys and – the last night’s taxi driver. The driver was smiling broadly.
And holding my camera bag.
Well, the way he smiled, his smile was not the patch on the smile that suddenly spread across my face. I guess if I had had no ears right then, my smile would have wound all around my head at the sight of that bag. Luckily, I had forgotten it no further than in the taxi upon our arrival at the hotel. A huge load tumbled off of my chest. No matter what was going to happen next, this would be a good day. I didn’t have the slightest doubt about it.
I thanked the driver from the bottom of my heart. Then I produced my wallet, took out five thousand CFA francs and handed them to him as a reward and token of my gratitude for his being so honest and not lazy to come to me. His smile stretched a bit more and now his ears, too, exercised an additional function. I asked him about his name and he told me he was Gausu Sidibé. The least I could do was remember him and mention him in my diary.
The two guys knew enough English between them that we could make an arrangement for a ride to the bus station. It seemed the driver was not overbooked with clients on this Saturday morning. So it was perfectly fine with him to wait until Annette was ready. I asked him to please have a bit of patience and we would try to be out as soon as possible.
„Who was that?“ Annette asked when she emerged from the bathroom.
Triumphantly, I showed her my camera bag.
„Your bag?“ she seemed to be genuinely happy for me. „Where did you find it?“
„The taxi driver from last night brought it here. We left it in his taxi,“ I explained. And then I told her I had given him five thousand CFA francs. She agreed that it was an appropriate reward. I was glad to hear that I had got it right.
And then, as soon as she was ready, we looked for the driver to get us to the bus station.
Sikasso itself is allegedly the second biggest Malian town. As such, it has surpassed Ségou not a long time ago. Well, it may have been the case, but all the sources claimed that there was not really much to see here. That’s why I thought one afternoon would do just fine and we would then move on.
Well, we were now moving on anyway, only without seeing anything. But by all accounts, if anywhere our plans had to go astray, then clearly it was best that it had happened here. The locals had put one of the last stands against French colonial army in Sikasso before it fell to European colonisers, same as the rest of the country, at the end of the nineteenth century. The French erected a small fort in the wake of their victory, probably considering the place strategically important and vital to strengthening their control of the area. But hardly any of it has survived through to our days. And that was allegedly all of interest around these parts. In short, Sikasso was a kind of place you go into trouble of visiting just because, well, not everyone goes there. Other than that, pass it by, and you have not missed much.
The driver got us to the bus station. I paid him, thanked him once again and now the only thing left to do in Sikasso for us was to board the bus whenever it was due to leave.
