Today was an *instant classic,* a day I will remember for my whole life. Today is the day I began doing what was the initial and core interest in this whole trip-- visiting the old, isolated Jakhanké villages in the Futa Jallon mountains.

I took my time in the morning looking around Badougoula. It is an impressive town. The mosque is about as grand as the big mosque in Kedougou, a city of ~40k. I’d estimate Badougoula has about 1500 residents.

People were all so friendly and welcoming and kept asking if I would be coming back. “Ni Allah sonta,” I’ll say, Jaxanké for “if god wills it.” There is not, interestingly, really any other way to express the notion of 'hope.'

The road after Badougoula immediately became a rough bush trail. I know I mention every day how bad the road is, but this was both rough, and extremely steep/mountainous. The toll collection/road maintenance scheme only applies to the stretch between Badougoula and the paved highway to the south, as far as I can tell.

Nonetheless the riding was epic. Today is a day I knew was coming; the day I’d have to negotiate the near vertical trails back into the higher part of the mountains. I had to push my bike up a few steep sections.

Pulaars often build their villages in absolutely gorgeous, almost unbelievable locations— on the edge of valleys, perched below beautiful cliffs/escarpments, on ridge lines. And all day I rode through such communities.

I got to Salamata around 5 pm. To say I received a warm welcome would be a serious understatement. It was kind of surreal. Everyone here knows who I am. The links between this village and my host village and host family in Senegal are numerous and very tight. There is a constant interchange of people. Women from one community are married to men from the other. Kids are sent from one to the other to live as talibé (Koranic students) for years at a time. The families are one, and all interlinked with one another.

I quickly find a young man I know from Dar Salaam, a kid of about 15 or 16 named Boubacar Minté. He’s a talibé, and is from Salamata, but has been living in Dar Salaam for years. He’s currently back home for a couple months but will return to DS before the rainy season.

Boubacar became my guide. He first takes me to greet a couple Kébaas, the important old men, including the father of my host dad’s 3rd wife, El Hadji Bassirou Minté, who will be my host here in Salamata.

The reception with El Hadji Bassirou and his family is joyous. I’ve said it for years— the “development” work I’ve done with Peace Corps may or may not accomplish anything in the long term. One can debate this. But what I can say with 100% confidence— what is beyond debate— is that people are simply happy I am here. This may sound self-aggrandizing, but it's simply true.

It’s amazing how many things Boubacar and I packed into that first night in Salamata. We watched a soccer game up near the school, went and checked out the market, joined in a wedding celebration, saw where the talibés study the Koran at night next to a big fire, and went to the generator powered TV room to watch everyone’s favorite European football club, Barcelona, dominate a 3rd tier Spanish team in La Liga. After all this I enjoyed a hearty meal with my host and got some good sleep.

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