A Grim Detail

By Henry Rollins

A Grim Detail shoulders the anchor, drags it onward from the end of 2008 and then hurls to the ground in
2010. A world tour, two documentaries and journeys that include North Korea, South Sudan, Saudi Arabia, Mongolia and many others are contained herein.

Oh no, not another one!” was said or implied by almost everyone involved in the making of this book.
Actually, noit was all of us. After three on and off years of proofreading and editing, A Grim Detail became the kid who no one wanted to play with.

Don’t laugh. I was that kid, and I am this book, well, you know what I mean.

But then, in the early days of 2014, work on A Grim Detail concluded. The relief was total,
the contempt, incalculable, the ridicule to come, too painful to imagine.

Now, the damn thing is all yours. Have a good cringe and thank you for everything.

--Henry Rollins

• Language: English
• Publisher: 2.13.61
• Release date: Jul 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781880985960

Henry Rollins

Originally from Washington DC, Henry Rollins fronted the Los Angeles-based punk band Black Flag and is well-known for his hard-hitting writing, music, and acting.

Book preview

00. How It Starts

It was the end of 2008. I had returned from a tour of one hundred and thirty-eight shows a few weeks before. As the exhaustion faded, restlessness quickly took over.

One of the most difficult things for me is adjusting to real life after being on the road. I have come to the conclusion that it’s not always the best idea to try to acclimate but heed the call of the world instead. Following that idea, I started planning a trip. Soon enough, things were falling into place and I was getting very excited. All of a sudden, it was time to go. To help explain what was to be, here is a journal entry from the end of that year:

12-29-08 LA CA: 2058 hrs. I have been running around, getting things done, so when I leave here in a few days I will be good to go. I am out of here on 01-01-09. I thought it would be the best thing for me, to be out the door and moving on the first day of the year. I have been prepping the trip for a few weeks now. I had to re-up on some vaccines, yellow fever, I forget the other ones. I dropped off my prescription for Malarone a few hours ago and will pick it up tomorrow. I got Ziploc bags to seal up my lenses and camera gear. Where I am going will be very sandy and I have to be careful.

So, where to? Mali. Mali is on the African continent, landlocked and surrounded by Mauritania, Algeria, Niger, Burkina Faso, Ivory Coast (Cote-d’Ivoire), Guinea and Senegal. Since 2001, there has been a three day music festival called the Festival au Desert. It’s held in Essakane, which is about two hours out of Timbuktu. I have known about the festival for a few years, as I listen to some of the bands from the area. One of my favorites, Tinariwen, will be playing on the last day.

I was looking at the festival’s website several days ago and I decided that I should go. I sat on that thought for a few hours and still liked the idea, so I called it in to management and got the ball rolling. That’s how a lot of these things start. I just see something and get interested and then it’s on. There’s not much else to do but things like this. I reckon I should go as far and wide as I can before it’s all over.

Travel plans made themselves more evident today. Until a few hours ago, I didn’t have a complete itinerary. I am still waiting on more details. There’s some difficulty getting from Bamako, Mali’s capital, to Mopti, where the trip starts. Looks like I will get to Bamako on the 2nd and will be unable to get to Mopti until the 3rd, with the journey to the festival starting on the 5th. I was hoping to get to Mopti with enough time to explore the city. Also, on the other end of the trip, it looks like I will be taking the bus from Mopti back to Bamako, which apparently is a seven to ten hour, bone jarring bus ride. There I will wait for a couple of days for the next plane to get me back to France and then back to America. I’ll know more in a few days, one way or another.

I have a couple more days here before I head out. I have learned from previous trips to Africa that I will need to bring a lot of food. It’s not smart to count on always having access to what you need. I try to bring one to two meals per day of journey. I usually end up getting through all of it. I want to have all that packed by tomorrow night.

Today was the 2nd time this year I have gotten a prescription for Malarone, I think that’s pretty cool. I know that’s a little nuts but I am glad I am getting out to some places that have teeth. I need it. Keeps me from exploding. 2156 hrs.

01. Just Deserts

01-01-09 LAX: 1653 hrs. Where it all starts. Two long flights await me. Several minutes ago, at security, the line forked in two directions. I stupidly took the one with less kids. The men checking the items in my line immediately stopped letting things through and didn’t seem interested in even looking at the x-ray screen or doing much of anything. I watched all the people I was behind in the other line pass through and leave the area. It was a good fifteen minutes just to get less than a dozen people through. I guess today is a big travel day as it’s packed here at Terminal 2.

I am flying to Paris and then on to Bamako, Mali. This is going to be a long haul. The first flight is about eleven hours and the next one is another seven or more. I get a few hours off and then back onto another plane to go to Mopti. After I get there, I have a couple of days where I don’t have to be responsible for anything more than myself.

I thought this was the right thing to do, to head out on the first day of the year. This is the way to start things properly. The holiday season is now over and it’s time to get back to it. I don’t mind some down time for a few days but then it gets depressing and I need to get it going again.

It’s a relief to be out of the house and on my way back into the world. The hardest part is the wait. Last night was a drag. I checked the pack, came up with different strategies on the pack, reconsidered the pack—spent way too much time on the pack.

I talked to Ian earlier today. He’s good and all is well. I don’t know when I will see him next. I don’t know what this year holds. All I know is that it’s on and the break, short as it was, is over. There’s something satisfying about the later part of the year, the work is done and it’s a time to catch my breath—but that’s just death. I can’t imagine what I would do with myself if I was at the house tonight. Well, actually, I can. I would be sitting there, waiting to get out. So, I’m out. I’m out on this thing for the next two weeks.

I am trying to take what time I have left and have an extraordinary life or at least try to do extraordinary things. Life for me is barely endurable. Going all over the world puts enough of a roar in my ears so I can momentarily forget or be distracted from the grim detail that life is to me. It’s all in my head, I understand that. I know that life is different for everyone and for some it’s great and for others, not so much. I am doing the best I can to keep things off-balance and interesting. I reckon I have a few more years left and then it’s over so I might as well get some things done. 1732 hrs.

01-02-09 Charles De Gaulle Airport: 1533 hrs. Second leg of the flight. The first one let me out several minutes ago. I am a little stiff but ok. About ten hours and sixteen minutes to get here. I read Kafka and dozed off. I wish I could do talking shows here in France. I did some many years ago and I thought they did really well. I think I only did Paris but the shows were really cool. Without the band, it’s hard for me to get work in France. I was here a few years ago at a convention in Cannes, trying to get people interested in the IFC show. I’ve got a little while here and then onto Bamako.

I am at the gate. It’s an interesting batch of people waiting for this flight. Many of us have the same look happening. The thin pants that convert to shorts, hiking boots, etc. I bet many of these people are headed for the festival. This is really cool.

I didn’t bother with the plane food and have been eating protein bars. I am now out and have several hours to go before I am anywhere. It’s no problem. It is overcast and cold here. I got a few breaths of fresh air when I got off the plane. It would have been cool to spend a day in Paris and at least get some good food and a few cups of coffee. I was a teenager the first time I went to France and I have been back many times since. Black Flag never played here but the Rollins Band did a lot and it was always a great time. The audiences were really good to us right from the start. Boarding soon. 1543 hrs.

01-03-09 Bamako Airport: 0623 hrs. A Kafka morning. I left the hotel at 0515 hrs. It was supposed to be 0500 hrs. but the two men behind the counter of the hotel were somewhat mystified at how to process my receipt. Eventually, I was on the road to the airport. Checking in was a great experience. I have found that, while in Africa, it is wise to be very patient, as things tend to take longer than you might be used to and often have an interesting way of figuring themselves out. I have learned to be careful at airports, as often there are many cooks in the kitchen but no head chef. The last several minutes have been an exercise in patience and not worrying about things too much. When I first arrived, the airport was closed. There was a man in a chair, feet up on another chair, in mid-doze in front of the doors. I walked by him and he waved me away and muttered something in French that I couldn’t understand. I asked him if the airport was closed and he said something else I couldn’t understand, so I just fell back and listened to the morning prayer that was coming from a distant mosque. Soon, enough vehicles, people and luggage arrived that the man was awakened and saw fit to let us in.

I saw some people behind the counter so I went over and tried to figure out which line to get in. Two men were moving rope barriers around in an interesting manner and what turned into a line was no longer a line and then it was again but by then I walked to another place that I thought was going to be a line but that was abolished by the dragging of some more rope holders. I went back into the line I was in and, of course, lost my place in it. Finally, it’s my turn to give the lady my ID and ticket. Her machinery breaks down. She pulls the thing apart and feeds it a new roll of paper but that doesn’t seem to work. Everything stops as two security men, the lady and someone else stand around the machine, look at it and kind of mull the whole thing over. After several minutes, they get another machine to work and I get my boarding pass but the machine that makes the bag check ticket is not working and that has to be fixed. Finally that gets fixed and by politely pointing at my lonely duffel bag sitting in front of them, I convince them to put a destination tag on it and give me the receipt. I put my stuff on the belt to go through the x-ray machine and the two men checking items didn’t look up or stop their conversation as I passed through. So, here I am. Hopefully I will arrive in Mopti and my bag will magically appear at the baggage carousel.

Last night was great. I got here around 2230 hrs. and the place was hopping. Some men earn a living by taking your baggage to whatever transportation awaits you. They let you know that you have hired them by grabbing your bag and walking ahead. So, waiting vulture-like everywhere are these men, as well as the sanctioned luggage handlers, countless tired travelers and tour guides. It makes for a colorful and bustling scene, which I really like.

I found the man who was to take me to the hotel. His name is Mahmoud. He is Tuareg, like the members of Tinariwen. There were two other travelers, both headed to the festival, also standing with him. The four of us went to a van and got in. The other two travelers, a woman from Italy and a woman from Sweden, were dropped off at one hotel and I was taken to another . . . And all of a sudden, we’re boarding! Off to, hopefully, Mopti I go. 0645 hrs.

0720 hrs. I can’t help it. When the sun comes up in Africa, I just have to stop what I doing and look. I don’t know what it is, but whenever I am watching the sun rise here, I get the feeling that it rose first in Africa, or that this is what the first sunrise looked like. Does that make any sense? The flight is very tranquil. There are about fifteen people on the plane. The cabin door is open and we are surrounded by blue sky.

Last night’s post-flight drive was great. The air was warm but dry and had that smell I always encounter here—that of something burning. It is the same smell I have encountered in Afghanistan, Thailand and India. I guess it’s because a lot of things are disposed of by incineration. I have grown accustomed to the smell and while I know it’s not good for the environment or for me to breathe, it’s a constant in these places that I find strangely welcoming. Another thing that I have noticed about these places is that no matter what time it is, nothing seems to close and the streets are always busy.

The idea of sleep is a strange thing in Africa. No matter when you’re out, there are people moving around, working or just sitting, doing absolutely nothing. I think that sleep here is something you get now and then, a few hours at a time, at some point whenever you’re not doing something else. It is, in a way, a luxury item. I’ve noticed the same thing in Vietnam and Cambodia, where no matter what hour you are walking around, there are people all over the place. It is different than the busy nighttime streets in a city like New York, where people are going somewhere, that is to say, there is a destination in mind. In other places, there are simply not the living quarters to house as many people, so the streets are full all the time.

In a lot of countries, there’s a lot more manual labor and it simply takes longer to get things done. You’ll see a lot of people carrying large amounts of things on their heads. Also, to a certain degree, the 9 to 5 ethic is a western construct. In other parts of the world, you’re always at it, from the moment you open your eyes to when you are afforded a few hours rest.

The concept of time is a whole different thing out here. Many people don’t have watches, they don’t have to necessarily be anywhere at a strictly fixed time and that’s why you need to be patient or at least realign yourself to a different consideration of time. Here, no one’s telling you to hurry up. Announcements are made when they are made and things just happen. It takes some getting used to, especially if you’re very much schedule-oriented, as I am. I have gotten better about the way things are here but like I said, it takes a little getting used to.

I got to my room last night with about four hours before I had to turn right around and head back to the airport. My internet access was remarkably good which allowed me to get a lot done. I ate a protein bar, some cashews, made some tea, wrote management and Heidi that I got in and was only hours away from heading out to Mopti. Landing. 0804 hrs.

01-04-09 Mopti Mali: 0127 hrs. In the room. I spent a good part of the day walking around in the market area, by the Niger River. The airport here is very small. I grabbed my bag, walked out into the parking lot and was immediately surrounded by men and women selling things. I politely declined and looked at my itinerary to see what was happening to me next. A woman came up and held her hands out. A few of her fingers were missing. I had no local currency and nothing else I could think of to give her, so I told her I was sorry. It was as if she didn’t hear me. She stayed with me. Slow and persistent, she whispered to me and held her hands out.

The itinerary said someone was going to pick me up and take me to the hotel. A man walked up and asked if I was Harry, I said yes, and off we went to the vehicle. The woman followed. Behind her, a man tried to sell me a blanket. I got into the back of the truck and the woman came up to the window and just stared at me, still holding her hands out. At that moment, some other people emerged from the airport and she turned to walk towards them, floating away like a hungry ghost.

The hotel is only several paces from the Niger. I got into my room, made a cup of coffee and heard my small kettle make a strange noise. It fried itself. One last pot of boiling water and it gave up. This one didn’t last very long at all. The other one I have, slightly larger, has been working for about a decade. It has a crack in the side but it still works. So, that will be the last good cup of coffee for a long time. There always seems to be something at work, separating me from making a cup of coffee on my days off. Usually, it’s missing baggage, this time the kettle. I asked people in the hotel if they had one I could borrow and they just kind of shrugged. Not a great deal of English is spoken in this hotel.

Around 1345 hrs., I went out to see what was happening on the streets. Outside the hotel there is a large group of vendors and they all come up to make their pitch. CDs, clothes and transportation. I always answer the same list of questions: where am I from, first time in Mali, really nice so far, I only speak English, etc. Then there’s the pitch. The price, always negotiable. I am polite and friendly but firm about not wanting to buy anything. I hate to see them waste their time and energy on me. I always thank them and shake their hand before moving on. It’s hard when you’re trying to get a moment to yourself to check things out and all of a sudden there’s another man starting a conversation. I understand working for a living though. For me, Mali is a temporary situation. I will be out of here in a few days and eventually back to America, back to Los Angeles, which is nothing like this place. For the vendors, this is where they live. This is it. I reckon, the fact that I have an option is a privilege and for that, I need to hang in there with the constant pitching every several steps. The further away from the hotel I got, the less vendor frequency. There was a lot of activity by the side of the river. Women were doing laundry, naked children were running around. Clothes were drying on the bank. Boats passed by, often with huge amounts of cargo. Many of the small children waved at me.

The further I walked up the road next to the river, the closer I was getting to a market area. After a quarter mile or so, the road bends to the right and the scene explodes with activity. Fish, juice sold in bags, grain, pots, pans, bowls, shirts, blankets, women and men carrying amazing amounts of things on their heads. Small children doing very adult chores, lots of noise, goats and motorbikes everywhere. I passed a few travelers, British from the sound of them. One of them looked at me and mouthed Henry Rollins? and I yelled, Where is he?! The man laughed. The smells of everything from fish to exhaust to the cooking, all meld into one. It’s in a moment like this, that I see that much of the world is far more alive than other parts. I think of sections of America, so calm and placid, slow moving and over stimulated to the point of being catatonic. By comparison, in other parts of the world, like here, there’s not a lot of down time. What passes as normal life in the West, would be considered luxury here. What would seem overwhelmingly intense there is just another day here. When someone catches me staring at something, my expression must give me away because they often laugh. People here are unstoppable. I always feel like a rookie human when I am in Africa. I am nearly fifty but when I am walking around in these places, I feel like I have been on the bench a good part of my life. 0221 hrs.

2332 hrs. A good day. Again, I hit the streets and walked around. I did it in two shifts, first in the early morning and again in the evening, seeking shade in between. I went back to the market and walked around for a long time. I have found that morning is a great time to go to markets. The heat is nothing compared to what it will be a short time later and it’s great to see everything getting prepared for sale. It’s all very bustling, fish being laid out, fruit and vegetables are brought out in barrels and baskets, the roar is just getting out of the gate. Within an hour the place is packed with people and it’s a blur. It was hard to get a moment to take it in because if I stood still or even slowed down, men would start pitching me on whatever they were selling. It’s a marketplace, what else are you supposed to do?

Something I noticed this morning was the resonance of the voices booming around me. Many of these people have an incredible midrange. Some of the conversations, none of which I could understand a word of, all sounded so powerful. It’s in much of the African music I have heard over the years. The vocal power of some of the singers is so strong, like Nina Simone, Odetta, Miriam Makeba strong. Again, it’s that vigor that I keep finding in Africa. If you’re breathing, then you’re alive but some people are more alive than others, I think. Here, people are very, very alive. 2357 hrs.

01-05-09 Mopti Mali: 1217 hrs. In the hotel lobby, waiting for the 1400 hrs. pick up. The guide, Ahmed, called me a few hours ago and the conversation went like this:

Henry: This is Henry.

Ahmed: Hello Mr. Henry, this is Ahmed. Desert Festival. Where are you?

Henry: In my hotel room.

Ahmed: Oh. What is the best way to reach you?

Henry: The hotel.

Ahmed: Yes. I will come to get you at 2 o’clock. Where will you be?

Henry: At the hotel.

Ahmed: How will I reach you?

Henry: I will be here, at the hotel.

Ahmed: Do you have a different number?

Henry: No.

Ahmed: I will come to get you at the Hotel Kanaga at 2 pm.

Henry: I will be in the lobby.

Ahmed: Yes.

Henry: See you then.

Ahmed: Yes.

Well, I’ll just have to hang out and see what happens. I am sure everything will work out. I tried to get online again. The nice man in the lobby even showed me where the connection box was out by the bar. I went with my computer and stood next to it but somehow the connection always seemed to fail. It would be great to get a couple of letters out to the world but I think the people I work with know I will be off the grid for awhile.

I am glad to be out of the room and looking forward to getting to the next place. Between jet lag, mosquitoes and my own awful mind, I have been feeling pretty down and am looking forward to a change of location. 1325 hrs.

1409 hrs. Still waiting for Ahmed. Glad to have checked out of this place. The people at the counter are a drag. Angry Man and Sullen Woman on shift. No amount of patience or politeness will turn the tide to make them smile. These two are in a bad mood. Perhaps something about me angers them. I called everyone sir and ma’am and was friendly to every single person I met at the hotel. I don’t know what the problem is. These two always seemed to be grouchy, from check-in the other day, to check-out several minutes ago. So, for now I am hanging loose, waiting for Ahmed.

Whoa, I hope the man coming into the hotel is Ahmed, he has a great look. He’s wearing a turban from his chin to the top of his head and a pair of sunglasses. He looks like the Invisible Man from the shoulders up. He’s waving. It is Ahmed. Time to go. 1415 hrs.

01-06-09 Somewhere in the Dogon Plateau region: 0634 hrs. About an hour ago, it was pretty cold. As soon as the sun even hints at rising, the chill is off the air. After the morning prayer, booming from some not-so-distant mosque, everyone is up. The roosters and the dogs start in and sleep time is over.

I am surrounded by brown and orange walls of stone. Mountains everywhere. We got here last night. We were given thin pads to sleep on. I fell out pretty quickly. It was great to sleep under the stars.

After we eat, we are going to hike for a few hours and return here to this camp. I am in a small SUV with three other people who are going to the festival. Two European women and a man from Canada. They are all very cool and friendly. I am keeping to myself for the most part and taking things in. I am older than they are and their conversations seem alien to me. I am glad they are easy to get along with as we are so tightly packed into the vehicle. 0638 hrs.

01-09-09 Essakane Mali: 1046 hrs. My feet are still cold. Last night, the temperature kept dropping and I kept putting on clothes until I was wearing three pair of socks, two pair of pants, a coat, a sweatshirt, and a towel wrapped around my head. I was so cold, I barely slept. Hours later, it’s t-shirt weather and the temperature is increasing steadily. I’m going to have to come up with something for tonight. I didn’t get the memo about needing a sleeping bag. Everyone else did. I am the only one in this tent without one.

It got so cold last night that I had to get up and walk around. I looked like the Michelin Man with all those layers. The sun has been up for hours and I am still cold, even though it’s hot outside. That might be the coldest I have ever been for that length of time. I definitely have to figure out a different set-up for tonight.

The scene here is amazing. Lots of people, sand and camels. Of course, lots of Tuareg people, who are beautiful and intense. I have been studying the Tuareg here as closely as I can. How they dress for heat and cold, how they deal with each other, their camels, etc. Desert dwellers are fascinating to me, especially now, being amongst them. The environment here is so anti-life. It’s perfectly anti-life, actually. The sun, is somehow different here than in other places. It seems to have no filter. It actually feels like we are somehow closer to it. It is so strong, it feels lethal. It is like it has a mind of its own and wants us to leave so it can have the desert to itself. It’s amazing that people make a life out here.

It’s a cool scene but, in general, the festival environment is challenging for me. Too many people and not enough options to get away from them.

01-10-09 Essakane Mali: 1251 hrs. I am in the beer tent. A revelation of sorts. Shade, relative cool. The sun is picking up speed and it will be painful to be outside for the next few hours. Dealing with the sun has become a real factor. This is what it’s all about for me. To have to learn a lesson like that. To have to consider the sun in such a different way is good for me. I am always interested in lessons of this kind. Lessons you can’t get out of a book, that’s what it’s all about.

I walked around quite a bit today. Vendors, festival-goers, the sun. The sun won and now I am in this tent. Minute to minute, I am reminded of so many things I have read in the books of Ryszard Kapuscinski. His writings from Africa are mandatory for understanding this continent. Another Day Of Life and The Shadow Of The Sun are as good as writing gets. I read all the books he published while he was alive and they are all excellent. He’s one of the writers that I have promised myself to re-read. His take on Africa is the one I see when I am here. His depictions of the sun and how people react to it is spot on.

The white people I am encountering here are instructive to me. I am learning about Malians, of course, but also learning about the West and myself. To see how Western people deal with an environment like this is interesting, to say the least. Some are polite, some, not so much. Some can handle where they are to a certain degree, some are not handling it well at all.

I need to go on trips like this all the time. I must be humbled and broken as often as possible. Being in a place like this, I realize I don’t know much. A good part of my life was spent in the world, yet in a world of my own. Being in a band can be an isolating experience if you let it. Quite often, I did. Walling off was the only way to get through a lot of the tougher parts. There were times that were so miserable that the only way I could remain effective was to be on my own.

I always consider myself to be learning the ropes. I have to stay tough. Even the things I think I know a lot about, I really don’t. I should take one of the rooms at the house, make a study out of it and go study in it. I am going to make a list of things I need to know more about. I need to be less judgmental and not always think the worst of people. It’s an easy thing to fall into and not easy to get out of. I am getting better but I still have a ways to go. In my defense, I must say that I wasn’t always given the best examples of people to get notes from.

People are recognizing me here. I am talking to people. They are friendly. I guess it’s impolite to write while others are talking, especially if they are talking to me. They are mostly press people and they’re ok. We are all in this small and controlled environment together, there’s going to be some conversation. 1412 hrs.

1800 hrs. Back in the beer tent. I have been out, walking around, checking out music, staying on my own. I came in here, hoping to procure a cup of tea but the place is out of water. At this point, it’s not even a thing, it’s just Africa. As great as a cup of tea would have been, I am just glad to have this chair to sit in.

I was told by two people that Tinariwen aren’t going to play. There is still a slight chance that they will show up but it’s not looking good. They also reminded me that everyone will be hauling ass out of here around 0330 hrs. and the line to get across the river might be very long. That’s going to be great while sitting in a truck. I have a feeling it’s going to take a long time to get down to Bamako. Hell, it’s going to be a long time just to get to Timbuktu. I am on the second of two flights going to Bamako. There’s one at 0800 hrs. and one at 1200 hrs.

The important thing is that I have the opportunity to think that it’s going to be a long time to get to Timbuktu. That in itself is a really great thought to have on the intellectual menu. It’s so much better than wondering if your client at the drive through window might want his order super-sized.

It’s an interesting routine here. Get up, figure out how to eat your protein bar and nuts without sand getting in your mouth, check your water level and your access to more water and then start thinking about the sun and how to avoid it for the next eight hours.

There is not much music during the day besides local acts in tents. I have been checking them out and making recordings. The big stage opens up when the sun starts setting and the generators kick on. The music has been amazing and this has been totally worth it.

I have been having interesting conversations with people from all over the world here. I met a young guy from Athens, GA who has been out here for a few years working with the Peace Corps. While we were speaking, a man selling blankets came up to us. The Peace Corps guy starts conversing fluently in the local tongue. It was mind blowing. He said after awhile, you just pick it up. There is no way I would be able to do that. At some point, a man came up to me and said he was from France and managed one of the musicians who was playing at the festival and asked if he could introduce him to me. Sure. He brings the guy over, all smiles. It is explained to him that I am a musician from America. He gets very excited. He shakes my hand a few times and says, I am Koudede! Koudede! he shows me his performer’s laminate. He points to himself, Me! Koudede! Such a nice guy. We talk through the manager for a few minutes and then do some photos together. The manager tells me he will be on stage right at sundown and not to miss him.

Hours later, I am up front and out comes Koudede and his band. He was amazing. I waved. His manager said he will send me some of his records when he gets back to France. I hope he does. I am very glad to have met him.

There is a lull in the afternoon when the wind dies down. This is when I change lenses if I am going to. I try to stick with one lens out here. Opening up your camera with all this sand around is a sure way to the camera repair shop.

I am amazed at how powerful the desert is. It’s like being on the ocean. If you think it’s calm, you’re wrong. The desert will kill you if you take your eyes off it. I cannot figure out how people live out here all year long. I would like to find out. I think it would be great to do a year out here. That would be a good book to write. I wonder if there is any possibility of staying out in this part of the world for a long period of time to try and see what it’s really like. Three days amongst a bunch of festival celebrants can’t be anywhere near the real thing. 1921 hrs.

01-11-09 Timbuktu Mali: 1037 hrs. Today will be interesting no matter what happens. So far, I am somewhat booked on the next flight to Bamako. I say somewhat because I have a receipt that says I paid for a ticket and on the back of a business card, the name of a man who is supposed to come here and straighten things out so I get a boarding pass. There are no computers at the check-in desk. I can’t think there is really a reservation for me that can be found by anyone here. No one seems to speak English and the man who told me someone would be coming here to get things sorted is long gone. The first flight, scheduled for 0800 hrs., eventually departed at 0953 hrs. I wonder how long into the night I will be waiting for the 1200 hrs. flight to show up. I bet there’s only the one plane, so that’s at least four hours before it gets back here. If this man with the connections doesn’t materialize, I will have to improvise with some of the people who will be coming from the festival for this next flight. I bet they will be showing up very soon. It’s going to be a long day. The good news is that I’m at the airport in Timbuktu, Mali and have no idea what happens next. The bad news is that I can’t think of any bad news. This is going to be a good experience no matter what happens.

I am glad to be out of the festival and onto the next thing. Three days was fine. I got it and it was good and it’s time to do something else. Getting out of Mali to France will be the next hurdle. Hopefully, I can get to Paris out of Bamako. I am never all that sure of anything when I am in Africa. Planes leave when they leave, things happen when they happen. You have to really hang loose and not sweat it. There’s a good chance that the people in charge have done all this before so there’s really no reason to stress out. I don’t have a great deal of faith in that kind of thinking but it seems to be the way things have worked out in my travels here. Mali seems a bit more complicated than other places I have been in Africa. There is an ever present dysfunction that you can count on to the point where that becomes normal. The near total lack of English spoken in international venues, such as airports and hotels, doesn’t help any. It’s almost 1100 hrs. now and there’s not many people here.

1324 hrs. Still here but things are better. Around noon, I reckoned it wouldn’t be smart to wait around for this man to come to the airport and vouch for my ticket, so I decided to go up to the desk and see what I could get happening. The man there spoke a few words in English to the person ahead of me and that made me hopeful. He looked at me and jerked his head so I went forward, showed him my two small slips of paper and he seemed to understand. At that moment, a man who had been arranging boarding passes for a festival group just looked at the man behind the counter and nodded his head that this was ok. The man behind the counter took my passport and wrote down my name. As I was about to ask something, a man to my right yelled at me, Baggage!, so I gave him my bag. He gave me my claim ticket as well as my boarding pass. The whole thing took about a minute.

Now the airport is full of people for the next flight. It’s well past departure time and the plane has not arrived yet. The two clocks on the wall don’t work. That tells you all you need to know. It’s Africa and hopefully the plane will come. Every person in this airport knows the fight was supposed to leave hours ago but no one is complaining. If this was any other place, there would be cell phones going off, people huffing and puffing, a real drama display. Here, you just go with it. There are no other flights happening, this is what you have, it’s hot out, so just be cool.

1351 hrs. I just talked to a journalist from Brazil. She asked what I thought the best part of the festival was for Mali. I told her that perhaps we visitors gave the local economy a bump but the bigger picture is that the more people who visit here, the better. They will think differently, they will deal with things differently when they get back home and hopefully, they will be part of a large and long range solution. I know that’s stretching things a little but I think it’s true. The more non-residents who visit Africa, the more awareness is created and from that, more solutions are perhaps possible. I am hoping that in the next several years, young people will think more globally. That they will think of the world as a much smaller place than what has been sold to them. Nowhere is really all that far away at this point. Some locations may take longer to get to but we’re talking days, not months. The world is small and everything we do to it is felt all over and it’s time to live and act accordingly. I think seeing is believing and this is how I do it. I get out and go into the world. 1357 hrs.

1450 hrs. So, two hours and forty-one minutes late, we took to the sky. I am glad to be on the plane. The taxi on the other end will be a potential hassle but I think I will be able to work things out. It would be great to get to a room tonight. I have been living in an ever thickening coat of sand, sweat and sun block for the last few days and I wouldn’t mind a shave either. If there’s a kettle in my room, there will be coffee. Perhaps I can get online and get my flight status from Air France as well. 1457 hrs.

01-12-09 Bamako Mali: 2214 hrs. In the room. Hours ago. I went out walking until I started seeing mosquitoes and then went back to the hotel. They come out of nowhere. There are none and then they are everywhere.

I have been wrestling with a lot of strange thoughts. On and off today, I kept thinking about the desert and realized I missed it. I missed it as soon as we started leaving, actually. When we drove out of it, I felt like we were leaving a different planet. You stop seeing camels and start seeing donkeys and you know you’re out. As I walked around earlier, I thought to myself that I have to come back to the festival next year if possible.

My face isn’t too burnt. I went through all my camera gear and it seems to be ok. I am still able to shake sand out of my shoes and my duffel bag. I got some pretty good sleep last night, I don’t think I had any dreams.

I ordered some books about Mali and the Tuareg and one about Timbuktu. I want to learn more. All I have left to read on this trip is some Kafka. That will be good for the flight back.

I spent a good part of the day answering all the mail that had piled up since I have been gone.

I have to go into a studio here tomorrow night to do some voice over work for a three part thing for UFC Prime Time. They couldn’t wait, so in I go. I am glad for the work.

Now I’m sitting in the dark on the small balcony outside of my room. The street below is quiet and there are no cars passing by. You have to keep your wits about you in Africa. I know there are parts that are way too heavy for me to be in but at the same time, there’s an element of freedom here that is a relief. Things are not always great everywhere you go, obviously, but there are so many good parts, great people, amazing strength and energy, it keeps drawing me back. There were so many moments of greatness on this trip, it’s hard to catalog them.

One of the best moments for me was on the first night of the festival. I wandered far away from the concert site and sat alone on a dune. The moon was two nights away from being full and it was bright enough to read out there. The sand looked like snow. I was in a sea of sand. I put my head on my backpack and fell asleep for awhile. When I looked up, there was the moon. The desert is immense, it is a world of its own and there I was in it. This is why I go to these places, to have experiences like this. It was as full on as any of the music I saw. I also went walking hours later, before dawn when I was too cold to sleep. I could see small fires here and there way out in the distance and I remembered that people spend their entire lives out there and I couldn’t get my head around it.

The part that wasn’t so great was the fact that it is a festival and there are people all over the place. The ones I met, and I did meet many, were really cool. If you come all the way out here, you’re into it, there’s no way you can be lightweight. I found some places to hang out on my own but like I said, it’s a festival and the people factor was nonstop.

When I am in Africa, it’s almost hard to believe that America exists. When I leave here to fly back there, it’s like leaving a planet. I have to keep confronting myself and smashing my ego. The more the better. Africa makes me see how soft I am. Every time I am here, I get a little smarter, a little stronger. It’s always the most difficult and confrontational journey I go on. 2320 hrs.

01-14-09 Bamako Mali: 2103 hrs. In the lobby of the hotel, waiting for a shuttle. This is going to be a long journey back to the USA. From door to door, at least twenty-four hours or more. The hardest thing will be to get the boarding passes here in Mali. I hope I can get the bag checked through to LAX.

2252 hrs. On the plane, sitting in 35D, my new home. I don’t think the flight will be completely full, it’s a big plane. Perhaps there will be some room to spread out. I don’t see how they could fill all these seats. At least I’ve got an aisle.

Check-in was smooth. Security is strange here. Either they seemingly pay no attention to anything, your passport, exit card, x-ray, or they are very gruff and heavy. I went through two security checks to get on this flight and both times they opened my camera bag but only looked briefly. It seemed so only if asked, they could say they did. Onto a bus, which took us about thirty feet and then onto the plane. I see some people from the festival. We’ll always have Essakane.

Next few days should be pretty good. I’ll provision on Thursday, do the 1830 hrs. advance interview for a VH1 show on Friday, and that will be it for my obligations to the world. The weekend will be book work and radio stuff. I’m glad the weekend will be here so soon. It’s always great to have a couple of days to reset so I can acclimate and prep for the upcoming week.

So, what’s on for next week? Management said there’s a large stack of things to go through and there will be a book to finish off. It would be great if we could get that one out the door by the end of the month. There are a lot of releases this year and they are going to take a lot of time to get prepped and to the press. This will be busy year at the company, Heidi and I have our work cut out for us. Well, what do you know, the douche bag who cut in front of so many of us at the check-in line just sat down next to me. Aren’t I the lucky one.

01-15-09 Charles De Gaulle Airport France: 0715 hrs. Next flight’s not for three hours or so. The bastard at security took my water even though I got it at the other airport and transferred directly here. I knew they would take it but I left it in the backpack to see what would happen. The man said, It is forbidden!" I asked him if he meant it was forbidden to drink water and he just scowled at me and threw the bottle into the trashcan.

So, the continent of Africa is behind me and I am back in the sterile environment of Europe. The plane ended up being packed. I am sure this one will be as well. There’s something comforting about flying economy. There we all are, crammed together, a tightly packed community. At least Air France gives you a lot of films to check out, which makes the time pass a little quicker. 0725 hrs.

01-17-09 LA CA: 2255 hrs. It’s Saturday night. I got back here on Thursday around noon. As soon as I got to the office, Heidi told me that Indie 103 had gone off the air a couple of hours before I got in. Wow, no one told me anything. The station is now online only. I have been working on some future broadcasts and now that there’s no Federal Communication Commission stuff to worry about and there’s no more commercials to deal with, I can play any music I want to, as well as have more time to play it. I have no idea how long the station will last. It was a jolt, I must say. I wrote to Engineer X and he said we can still work together.

Since I have been back, I have been working on the final corrections for my next book, A Preferred Blur. As soon as that one is wrapped up, I can do the final edit and corrections on yet another, called A Mad Dash. If all goes according to plan, both will come out next year.

Besides that, I have been trying to get to sleep early and get up early and get to the office. I worked on a TV show for VH1 on Friday, it was a good time. It’s called Free Radio and it’s very funny.

The thing that I can’t get out of my head is the Sahara Desert. The three days and nights I was there will stay with me until I get back out there again. I am not a spiritual person but there’s something about that place that really got to me. I think it’s the fact that it’s such an extreme environment. When it’s not too hot, it’s too cold. The only relief you get is when it’s warming up or cooling down. Other than that, it’s a pretty tough hang. I really liked