Jofuette had been frightened for days. Finally the goons came for her, two women. They came smiling and talking her language, seeming to tell her that it was over, they were going to let her go. The bigger goon grinned suggestively and put her hands on her hips and did a bump-and-grind. A boyfriend, she was saying—or Jofuette’s husband maybe. Or maybe she was suggesting a night on the town in glamorous downtown Bamako.