Because it is dry season, the river is low, so we drove downstream an hour to Korro to meet the pinasse, a roofed pirogue. But it also means we saw lots of birds, and even the hippos had nowhere to hide, and we saw two groups in the water. Our group is very international - Malian, American, Portuguese, Spanish, German, French. We are the only tourists, the others having some connection with the AFT foundation, media or music industry. We are about a dozen and form more than half of the international contingent for the events in Niafounké.
We sat on the roof of the pinasse when the sun's heat had faded, and with darkness spotted the lights of Niafounké in the distance, the only town with electricity in the region. Nothing could prepare us for the welcome we received. A few 4x4s were lined up with their lights on the "beach", where a crowd had been waiting for us since midaftertoon. We were swamped with helpers and handshakes and packed into the cars. The best part was our 2-wheeler escort, dozens of motos with a boy in orange T and girl in black T, who drove in two lines each side. With hazard lights flashing and horns blaring, we set off through town, throwing up a cloud of dust. We felt terribly important.
We went straight to Ali Farka Toure's compound to pay respects to the family; then to the house of his best friend (and owner of the pinasse) where we were quartered and fed. Bed is a mattress on the floor under our mossie net, and the concert is to come.
