National running day

walking the streets of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

light of day too long
I stayed in masked from the sun
more generous then Accra’s can be
hot hot air kisses even at night

walking the streets of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

I took two shawls with me
to show just what I want
“where do I get this to buy,
where can I get a shawl? ”
they smile and hold my shawl
“no speak english” they say

walking the streets of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

is it national running day?
“bonsoir, bonsoir”
some turn to say
as feet run by and more
women and men and kids
jogging way past eight

walking the streets of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

bamako runs at night
maybe I too should run

running the streets of bamako
looking to identify

I run more than I should
now tired without any french
and when I stop to pant
I am found by an open store
“do you have shawls here?”
I grabbed a can of malt
“no speak English”
but how come you have lingerie?

running the street of Bamako
missing my red old car

he says something in french
and packs his bike by me
“do you speak english sir?”
he wears the Mali smile
he says something in French
and mumbles the usual thing
“no speak english”
I rub my forehead and stare

walking the streets of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

we both are stroke with laughter
me out of mere frustration
If only I couldn’t ask
why he too laughed so hard

walking the streets of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

maybe he speaks Twi or Ga or Ewe or Hausa
should I just say, “Charley!…
I need a ride to my hotel”

walking the street of Bamako
looking for shawls to buy

I get on his bike
“slow sir, not fast, not fast !”
he doesn’t know where to head
“Azalai Nord-Sud” I try.
but my finger speak clearer
somewhere in the air it points
“Azalai Nord-Sud”

Riding on the street of Bamako
saying “yesu kristo!”

“take this turn sir”
I hit and hold his shoulder
he nods and turns to me
“Azalai Nord-Sud”
the lights encircling the sign
looks prettier than usual
“Azalai Nord-Sud”
he take his time to say
like a tired hopeful teacher
who wants me to made the grade
“Azalai Nord-Sud”

“Oui Oui”,
I jumped off his bike
just like I would at home
“thanks for bringing me sir”
“merci, merci merci”

I wave my purse at him
“how much please sir?”
“d’accord d’accord”
he takes my hand for his
“why sir, how much please?”
he rubs my hand and smiles
“d’accord d’accord”
he leaves