Ear-seducing licks from Malian guitar gush from the radio as the taxi driver weaves past battered sotrama buses and les taxis jeunes, and I do my damnedest to keep hold of my GoPro camera mounted on the window sill.

It’s morning rush hour in the Malian capital of Bamako and – as in Vancouver, Toronto and Halifax – we’re all negotiating our way to work.

But here unlike any Canadian city, we’re contending with kamikaze motorcyclists, potholes the size of small children, and sheep who seem intent on ending it all before next week’s fete du mouton.

Still, it makes a welcome change from the monotony of a TTC metro.

And so I wanted to document the chaos for you, gentle reader, as I travelled to Radio Rurales International for my first day of work.