The main highway was a two-lane dirt road.

As Seydou drove them south to Djenné, Samantha watched the country of Mali roll by.

They passed an airport and a few modern office buildings. Occasionally, they passed neighborhoods that reminded Samantha of Spokane, Washington. Most of the time, however, it was like looking through a window to another century.

They drove by clusters of mud-brick buildings. Farmers rode donkey carts overflowing with piles of hay. At one point, they swerved to avoid a goat. Men and women walked along the road balancing baskets and boxes on their heads. A barefoot man urged a herd of cattle onward with a stick. Fishing villages hugged bends in rivers, and dusty red fields stretched far into the distance.

“Major mosque at twelve o’clock!” Nipper called.

From his seat in the motorcycle’s sidecar, he pointed at a huge tan structure rising ahead.

“Now, that is the Great Mosque of Djenné,” Seydou told Samantha.

The mosque resembled the one in Mopti but was much bigger. Three rectangular towers rose above a main entrance. High walls connected many other towers and entrances. A curved wall surrounded the building, separating it from a busy market outside. Wooden posts stuck out from all sides. Just like the building in Mopti, it reminded Samantha of a porcupine.

“The towers are over fifty feet high,” Seydou told them as they approached. “It’s the tallest building in the city, and the tallest mud-brick building in the world.”

As they drove closer, he pointed up.

“Look carefully,” he said. “Each tower has a real ostrich egg on top.”

Samantha squinted at the tiny white dots on the tips of the towers.

“Wonderful,” she said. And it was. The shapes of the towers and along the top of the mosque walls made her think of sandcastles.

“I never thought you could make something so beautiful out of mud,” she added.

“Well, it’s kind of in the middle of nowhere,” said Nipper.

“No place is in the middle of nowhere,” said Seydou.

Samantha nodded in agreement. Then she stopped and stared at Seydou.

“Wait,” she said. “Did you just make that up, or did you hear somebody else say—”

Honk! Honk! Honk!

Behind them, a very loud horn blared. It sounded like that of a huge truck. Samantha turned to see a tiny car speeding toward them. The horn kept honking as the car gained on them. There were balloons and angry clown faces pressed against the windows inside the car. A huge shoe, caught in the passenger-side door, flapped in the wind.

Samantha had no idea how many clowns were inside the little car. She guessed at least five. They screamed and pointed at her and Nipper, but she couldn’t hear their words over the roar of the motorcycle engine and the honking horn. Seydou looked at the car, then at her. She looked at him.

“Clown car,” they both said at the same time.

Seydou nodded, faced forward, and revved the engine. Samantha held on tight.

The motorcycle blasted ahead, leaving the tiny car behind. They sped along the highway, weaving past cars, buses, and goats, and pulled off, coasting into a crowded neighborhood. They continued on, coming to a market swarmed with merchants and shoppers. It was as big as the one in Mopti. Seydou steered the bike around food carts and pedestrians. They skidded into a space between two parked buses and came to a stop.

“Hop off here,” said Seydou. “I’ll lure those goons out of town.”

Samantha nodded and climbed off the bike. She put the helmet back on its hook and smiled at him.

“Thanks for all your help,” she said. “I really mean it.”

“That goes double for me,” said Nipper.

He hopped out of the sidecar, gave Seydou a thumbs-up, and joined his sister.

“I hope you find your uncle—I mean, oval,” Seydou said.

Then he revved the engine and took off around a corner.

Seconds later, Samantha heard the tiny car’s loud horn again. Then the sound of shouting clowns and a rumbling motorcycle faded into the distance.