Ridding in an old battered up taxi trying to reach a guy that can fix me multiple entry Malian visa we came to a standstill. Just another of Bamako’s famous traffic congestions. All windows down under the baking African sun. Sweat purring. And hoping for a breeze that never came. Anywhere you look are cars. In front, behind, left and right. Endless stream of them. Then a bike pulls up right next to us. Two guys and plenty of random stuff make for a funny if not so uncommon view. The passenger spots me. A toubab in taxi. And with his lucid mind immediately spots a business opportunity. Out of nowhere he pulls a picture. Big one mind you. The curiosity gets the better of me so I have a look at it. It is a picture of a child. And a huge snake. The child sitting happily next to it. Now I have this phobia. And it is bad. Real bad. I am dead scared of snakes. If I come across a TV program showing snakes I have to switch the channels immediately. Or coming across a picture of a snake in a magazine. I might as well not touch that page ever again. It is that bad.
So figuring that at least I can do is to start talking about the baby on that photograph and try to ignore the fact I am actually looking at a huge snake. I give it a shot. But the guy is having none of it. He cuts my baby chitchat with some simple words. “See the snake? You want the snake? I have a snake for you! Wanna have it? I have it right here!” And he grabs this brown towel that was attached to the bikes gas tank. I’m trying to stop him by all verbal skill I posses. But it does not help. With just a few elegant and skilled moves he has the brown pile detached from the gas tank and holding in his lap and to my uttermost horror he is starting to untie it. Then finally I get my lucky break. The bikes driver spots a bit of place where he reckons he can squeeze trough and pulls the bike with all of its load away. And I can go breathing again.