creme bowdi

The rainy season is on its way. The river is flowing faster because of heavy rains in Mali. Wind storms drive everyone indoors at night and leave us hoping for water to fall from the sky to break the unbearable heat.

My friend Neda and I do not just greet the returned season, but also one last round of "creme bowdi." ("Creme" being French for lotion and "bowdi" meaning mosquitos in Pulaar.) Neda and I are local experts on the production of a mosquito repellent created out of local materials.

Living only 15km apart, Neda and I have served as a priceless support system for each other for the past 20+ months and now we are collaborating on a project. Pictured above, she and I are doing a theater sketch on the radio about malaria and the concoction of "creme bowdi." In a few weeks time we will be traveling along the river, stopping in small, often overlooked villages, presenting our special lotion. We have matching aprons and are bringing village friends with us. We will conduct 100% of the "River Road Tour" in Pulaar and will rely on the various villages to feed us and house us for the week.

We say that this we are going out with a bang. That we have earned the opportunity to travel around like a mini theater troupe, sharing important information that we could recite in our sleep. After spending two years trying to avoid the spotlight and stares and draw crowds, Neda and I are now pursuing such attention. We are a circus act, comedians in strange skin, who actually understand the lives and language we embrace in order to teach.

We have arrived, we say. Just in time to go home, I think.