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Bamako living is back. It's been almost 2.5 years and four trips to Mali since my last post. A lot has changed: Timbuktu - a city, where we once conducted household surveys and was our launching pad to the incredible festival in the desert, is now being held by rebel groups, Mali's once lauded democratic institutions have fallen, and a close friend of mine of Northern descent has had to flee the country along with more than 300,000 other refugees and displaced persons. And yet, Bamako is eerily the same. Since the moment we landed on Saturday, I craned my neck - scanning the landscape hoping to find the differences that would help to understand the sum total of transition from democracy to not. The airport was uneventful - slightly more police, but the same old negotiations. One older policeman really wanted Drissa (my husband's) sunglasses. Crossing the old bridge at night, I noticed the vacancies in the larger, luxury hotels. However, it was not until we crossed to the center of the city, that reality set in. I saw the route to the central market barricaded off; traffick pushed over to one side of the road - usually reserved for those crossing over to "our side of the river." It felt dangerous, and almost unpatriotic, to be riding on the "wrong side of the road." After all, any sotrama that I had ever ridden in always ends in the very same route on the OTHER side of the road to reach its final destination in the center market. Then, we passed ORTM where there were more roadblocks and some military tents. However, after that - there was little residue of Bamako's recent political troubles. The current political situation is difficult to understand, even harder to explain. The majority of the country - living in rural locations - is getting ready for the planting season. Praying that this year will be better than last year's catastrophic harvest. That is the reality - that most people are far from Bamako or the North and consumed by a looming food crisis. Bamakoise appear to be hoping and praying that the current political change brings a better life. People are exercising enormous amounts of restraint despite the inevitable economic constraints. One wonders how long the stiff upper lip can hold. Malians are proud, they are elegant, and they are cautious. I can't begin to imagine what this type of political instability would bring in the US. In Bamako, the North seems worlds away. We don't really know how many people have fled. I can't imagine what people in Northern cities are experiencing. Tens of thousands of people are living in camps; many having travled thousands of kilometers, unsure where to turn, how to find food or work, or the condition of family and friends left behind. It's good to be back. Better to experience things here than over facebook or malijet.com or skype or telephone. It's great to be with friends and family. To buy mangos and peanuts at roadside stands, to be woken up by griots praising brides on a sunday morning, to hear the call to prayer, to hold my niece and nephews, to cross the brides and quartiers in an old mercedes, to work with my new team of young malian researchers, to smell the incense, burning trash, and smoked fish and feel oddly satisfied to be back. 5 weeks here - a lot to do and experience. Fingers crossed and prayers for peaceful resolutions in one of my favorite places in the world.