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"I am Mohammed Digna. Perhaps I can assist you gentlemen in changing your money."
"We have local currency," Pitt shrugged.
"Do you need a guide, someone to lead you through any problems with customs, police, or government officials?"
"No, I don't think so." Pitt held out his hand at an empty chair. "Will you join us for a drink?"
"Yes, thank you." Digna said a few words in French to the proprietor-bartender and sat down.
"You speak English real well," said Giordino.
"I went to primary school in Gao and college in the capital of Bamako where I finished first in my class," he said proudly. "I can speak four languages including my native Bambara tongue, French, English, and German."
"You're smarter than me," said Giordino. "I only know enough English to scrape by on."
"What is your occupation?" asked Pitt.
"My father is chief of a nearby village. I manage his business properties and export business."
"And yet you frequent bars and offer your services to tourists," Giordino murmured suspiciously.
"I enjoy meeting foreigners so I can practice my languages," Digna said without hesitation.
The proprietor came and set a small cup of tea in front of Digna.
"How does your father transport his goods?" asked Pitt.
"He has a small fleet of Renault trucks."
"Any chance of renting one?" Pitt put to him.
"You wish to haul merchandise?"
"No, my friend and I would like to take a short drive north and see the great desert before we return home to New Zealand."
Digna gave a brief shake of his head. "Not possible. My father's trucks have left for Mopti this afternoon loaded with textiles and produce. Besides, no foreigner from outside the country can travel in the desert without special passes."
Pitt turned to Giordino, an expression of sadness and disappointment on his face. "What a shame. And to think we flew halfway around the world to see desert nomads astride their camels."
"I'll never be able to face my little old white-haired mother," Giordino moaned. "She gave up her life's savings so I could experience life in the Sahara "
Pitt slapped the table with his hand and stood up. "Well it's back to our hotel at Timbuktu."
"Do you gentlemen have a car?" asked Digna.
"No."
"How did you get here from Timbuktu?"
"By bus," replied Giordino hesitantly, almost as if asking a question.
"You mean a truck carrying passengers."
"That's it," Giordino said happily.
"You won't find any transportation traveling to Timbuktu before noon tomorrow," said Digna.
"There must be a good vehicle of some kind in Bourem that we can rent," said Pitt.
