Campagnard, expats and the peace corps

With the Bassirou on the case and the knowledge that we will be in Bamako for at least a while we take up the offer of a peace corps volunteer called Trey (John the third) and crash at his place. Trey is a fantastic host and through some luck has a huge apartment overlooking the River Niger and Bamako. He even cooks us a Southern American traditional meal, which incredibly is not of the fast food variety and is very tasty. We met him in part through the Mauritanian volunteers who by a twist of fate turn up on our first night at the Campagnard and end up spending their last night on the floor of our hotel room, after a salsa and entertaining club experience. We enter the club via the back door with the secret hand shake and spend hours dancing amidst the prostitutes and pimps who are checking themselves out in the dance floor mirror (no really they do!). It is weird knowing that the majority of clients at the club are on sale and allegedly for 4 pounds you can take anyone home with you!!

Despite our worries about the car we maintain high spirits, partly due to the peace corp volunteers and our translator, Isabelle,and due to our days being pretty much organised around and filled up by the Rugby world cup which we watch at our by then "local" the campagnard. Its definitely great to finally be able to watch the games with a cold tap beer in hand and some roasted peanuts on the table (special thank you to these peanuts!). It is great to finally A see the games, B understand the language the commentary is in (English!!!) and C be with people who know what Rugby is in the first place!

Its through these guys that we get an invitation to the South African expats barbecue for the South Africa-USA game. Generously the South Africans pay for everything and the food and atmosphere is spectacular (Red Wine, Meat and Pringles!!!). As expected South Africa comes out on top but to give credit where its due, the Americans managed a better score line than the English attempt. After the game its back to the local and another late night follows with a little friendly competition on the pool table and a bit of arm wrestling.

After imposing ourselves on Trey's for 6 days and having decided upon leaving the car in the great hands of Bassirou, its time to continue our journey so that we can be there when Sonja (Lot's mum) arrives in Accra whilst also having some time to see a little of Burkina Faso. It's with a heavy heart that we say goodbye to our broken beast and leave Bamako as the sun rises. A big thank you you to all the people that made our stay in Bamako fantastic!!!

Moreover, having brought two big boxes with medical supplies with us, kindly given to us by Dactylo in Holland, we gave the boxes to Evan who, being a Peacecorps volunteer, works in the Sikasso region in a small hospital and told us there they can use the things very well. Hopefully we can go there and meet the doctors if we still need to go back to Bamako anyways for the car!

Our Saviour

With our hands in our hair one of the Hotel Tamana staff comes up and Nikola tells us he has a friend with a "modern garage" who takes care of the cars of the French Embassy. Desperate by now we ask Bassirou to come and have a look and he tells us within seconds he needs to take it to the garage as there is nothing here he can do. As it is Sunday we agree to see him on Monday morning.

At 10am, we tow the car to his garage and they start checking everything that could be wrong with a petrol engine. Unlike previous mechanics we don't have to tell him once where the problem could possibly be, and from the specific questions he asks our confidence grows. Luckily we have met up again with Isabelle, who is fluent in French and is kind enough to translate, which makes things so much easier! Bassirou is very kind and ever so generous and provides us with cold drinks while we wait. Via Isabelle Jamie talks to Bassirou about sports, and how important it is to participate in sports regularly. As it is Ramadan Bassirou cant eat from sunrise to sunset yet he still takes us out for lunch in a lovely restaurant. Luckily at sunset we can share some delicious tea and cakes with him! On Tuesday evening we meet him in Le Campagnard and he tells us that our piston has broken (a diagnose Jamie has been suspecting for a while!), which basically means the car loses all power and can be temporarily fixed but any bump in the road could destroy the fix and bring us back to square one! Bassirou is very honest and clear, he can fix it telmporarily but he cant guarantee we will make it down to Accra. He says the best thing is to look for spare parts and as that will be very hard with there hardly being any Land Rover petrol engines about, we should also look into buying a whole new engine, which might come out even cheaper in the end. Jamie and I are slightly shocked, but grateful for Bassirous honesty and we decide to look for a new engine and at the same time for a buyer for our car. It is sad, but we might be able to sell it for a good price and we simply don't have the time to wait for a new engine (which we find out has to be shipped from France for 1000euros!!). We start making phone calls but soon find out that once people know we are slightly pressed for time (having to be in Accra in 14 days), offers drop drastically, and so much that Bassirou advises against selling it! He tells us that our potential buyer will sell the car for 3X its worth and for 5X more than he bought it from us, to his embassy! After long thinking, and having full trust in Bassirou, we decide to leave the car in the garage, make our way to Ghana and in the next weeks start finding a buyer. Bassirou says he will do his best to find someone too. This thus mean we might have to come back to Bamako!! If so, we can go and have lunch with Bassirou as he has become a good friend and as Ramadan will be finished by then!

The car!!!

Leaving Dogon behind we take the bus back to Bamako. Amazingly the trip is uneventful even though we are on the cheapest bus, Somatra, which is reknowned for "events" on route. In fact we had plenty of space and no complaints. The journey though is a long one and after leaving at 10am its dark before we pull into Bamako Bus station and have the usual haggling for a taxi back to Hotel Tamana and our car. After the hours on the bus we decide to wait till the morning before tackling any issues with our car. So with only a quick peak to make sure its still there and a photo we head up to bed.

After a brilliant night sleep knowing that our car is still there and in one piece we head down for breakfast and the inevitable enquires into the status of our car. The staff are all involved in the story so far and ask us how things are progressing, before we find Ben the proprietor who has some information on whats happened.

It turns out that the mechanic couldn't find the parts and thus for the past 18 days has done nothing!!! The stomach drops and its with a queasy feeling that we head to see what sort of state it is in.

A Taste of Dogon Country

Dogon rules and rituals!

After fab Macs breaky Mammadou showed up with taxi and we set off to the market to buy a little bagpck and some kolanuts, afwul tatsting nuts which apperently have slightly hallucinazting effects and are given to the elderly of the Dogon villages as tokens of respect. In The taxi dropped us off at the busstop where we 20 min later got into a bache, in the normal manner, with 15 of us. As the bridge on the way to Bandiagara has been broken due to heavy rains we took a little pirogue to cross the river and then got into another taxi that took us (with the usual 2 times of braking down and the usual heat of too many people in too small a car) to Bandiagara from wehere we took another taxi into Dogon. Roads are pretty bad and worse so after the rains so the 18KM took us over an hour.

We arrived in Djigiboumbou where we had lunch and set around untill 3 waiting for the hottest hours to pass before setting off. We had arranged to go horseriding the first 2 days and then hike the last 2 days so we found our horses. However, as they were skinny little things (which made me doubt this whole idea) and as we were only using thin pillows on their bony backs, it didnt take long for us to decide to hike our resting 3 days and we spend most of that afternoon walking next to the horses! Our first stop was the vollage of Telli, where the Tellem people have built theor houses in a mirzacoulous way in the protection of the massive cliffs pof the Bandaiagara Valley. As the Tellem people are very small (If I understood correct they are also known as the Pygmees from Congo) the houses are petit! 300 years ago the Dogon people came in, cut all the trees so the Tellem could no longer defend themselves and took over the village. Now, most people have moved to the valley, where living and working is much easier. Some elderly however still live up in the cliffs and in the night you can hear their singing and music echo down.

We arrived at 5-ish in Ende where we would stay the night and where we met up with Blane, Frank and Isabelle, the first 2 who we had met earlier in Macs. The well-needed showes consisted of a bucket of water and a cup in a stone little house without roof. As there is no electricity in Dogon petrol lights bring atmosphere and around 10 we all went up to the roof where we would sleep the night. Under the stars with only a musquito netting, the wind bringing some relief of the heat of the day.

Life starts early in Dogon and at 5am a cockeral started screaming, not stopping untill everyone was awake. The early morning was beautiful and still fairly cool and after a typical Dogon breakfast of instant Nescafe with powered milk and fried flower balls with mango jam which were surprisingly tasty, we set off at 8am to go and visit a waterfall and climb all the way to the top of the mountain for some great views. We retunred to Ende where we had lunch in, another couscous with tomato sauce dish, which tasted very good, and read and dozed untill setting off at 4pm again.

The next 2 days were similar; we would get up at 7-ish, have breakfast, hike for 3 hrs, have lunch, sleep or read, hike another 2 hrs, have a shower, eat, sleep. We were expecting the food to be all the same (as had other travellers told us), but we were pleasantly surprised by the different tastes and thought it was great!! Dogon country is absolutely beautiful and our highlight in Mali so far. Hiking was hot and hard, but great and some good excercise after all our sitting in car and buses! A funny thing happened, on our third day we walked into one of the peacecorps people who had helped us out by changing our euros in Mauritania 2 months ago!!! Him and another peacecorper where on hollidays in Mali and we spend a enjoyable afternoon chatting and solving the riddles that their guide brought forward. As they are going back to Bamako before heading to Noukchott we light meet them again, as the peacecorps bar is where Jamie supposedly will be able to watch a game of rugby!

We went back to Sevare totally knackered but very happy with the last few days. We said our goodbyes to Mammadou and enjoyed a dinner at Macs!

Mammadou was a brillizant guide who knew all about the Dogon culture and who didnt mind answering all our questions. Hence we found out that women still have to stay in the Womens Hut during their menstruation; that the Muslim Dogons are not allowed to marry the Catholique Dogons, but canb marry the Animus Dogons; that people who are "crazy" have become crazy because they spend all night outside and saw the devil; that the "crazies" are kept in the familuies and when necessary are restrained; and that children cant be crazy. We also discussed with him the matter of the Western Aid and its consequences and he had very similar views to us, telling us not to give children sweets but spend time with them instead and give donations to the chiefs of the village or the schools (of which there are many around, all build by volunteers in the last 5 years). He also has the interesting view that things will change again; 10 years ago Westerners came and gave, now ever child expects gifts and tourists are becoming reluctant and sometimes even angry with all the asking. We learned a great deal: thank you Mammadou!!!

Heavenly food and a trip to river island mosque

Having picked up a tag along guide at the bus stop we wander the back streets of Douentza trying to find the campement Douentza, "the first choice for arranging expeditions to the Dogon country". Our "guide" says it doesn't exist but placing our beliefs in Lonely Planet we make a story up about meeting our brother there. Of course this doesn't throw off our follower and he joins us in our search. After enquiring at a few other hotels and some locals we finally accept that it no longer exists and we will have to make other plans.

So over breakfast in a salsa club we make the decision that it is too hot to carry our rucksacks and thus if we cant organise horses we will rejoin Carsten and take the bus to Sevare and Macs refuge (a place we were planning on going to prior to our car failing us). Changing our brotherly story we crawl out of the hole we've dug and end with our guide laughingly explaining that horse riding for pleasure has never been heard of in West Africa let alone Dogon. Oh well its going to have to be the bus, at least we'll be able to lighten our load and leave most of our baggage at Macs.

The "bus" turns out to be a green transit van thats be gutted with wooden benches hugging the sides and a couple of spare wheels in the middle. After haggling the price we wait for the the bus to fill up before they push the van off the road where there is a slight hill in order to get the engine ticking over!! Back on the road and off we go, OK the benches are full but we have suprisingly a lot of leg room. This luxury doesn't last long as we pick up random people from the side of the road and I am soon sitting on the tyres crammed in having given my seat to a woman barely over 16 whose got a newly born kid sucking away. With about 20 people tightly packed in its reassuring to know that if the breaks fail at least we wont go flying, cause we simply cant.

Sitting in my prone position with the new born just in front of my nose I am able to watch in fascination the childs fitful recognition of its surrounding world. It seems unaware of the two flies gorging on the gunck around its tear ducts. With my body overcoming the uncomfortable stage and accepting its position the van slows and 5 or so people disembark giving some needed room. But this new found space is soon full again and to the annoyance of the other passengers we now have a motorcross bike filling the centre space. Another stop and the bike and owner are swapped for 15 goats that are trussed together on the roof, much to their discomfort which they verbulise in an awlfully human screech. Finally we arrive covered in goats hair at Sevare and getting into a cab that doesnt have steering let along power steering we make it to our refuge, Macs Refuge. Luckily we were in time to order dinner before crashing on our bed after our 12 hour ordeal and getting some needed sleep.

Dinner at Macs is a different set menu from a different country each day and its a relief to eat something other than an unknown meat thing in some undescript sauce accompanied with hopefully rice. The dinner is taken with the other guests staying at Macs and its a relief to be able to talk fluent English and catch up on the Rugby. There is an Argentinian guy called Federico who used to play rugby and is working for weather modification inc and I spend most of the subsequent dinners talking about the intricasies of the game with him.

Unfortunately Lot by then was starting to have stomach problems and she spends the next day in bed before finally being cajoled into having the doctor come out who takes some samples using the medical kit that we have carried with us. I am worried that I have given her Salmonella as its supposedly quite infectuous (I had it in the UK and was in isolation for 2 weeks in hospital before being allowed out). It 'luckily' turns out to be be Giardia Lamblia a bacteria of the gut and shes put on antibiotics as well.

Having spent the weekend at Mac's we decide to delay our Dogon trip till Tuesday and head to Djenne for the monday market with a stop onroute to pick up some more money. After a breakfast of pancakes, thanks to Mac, we head to Mopti to get out some money and to pick up some transport to Djenne. Getting the money is amazingly smooth considering they dont have an ATM but we find the transport to be a lot more difficult. After waiting for a couple of hours for the bus to fill up, they only go when they are full, we decide its getting late so with a Spanish couple we met at Macs arrange to buy the whole taxi and thus get off immeadiately. First of all immeadiately is not quite to the Western ideal, and its after a lot of shouting, a taxi ride to a petrol station and then finally into an empty transit, that we start the journey. Secondly we have been told that anyone who joins the van will pay us but soon we realise this isnt the case and the person that organised it all has pocketed the extra cash and we just have an earlier start with a driver thats understandably not taking any notice of us.

Crossing part of the Niger we float in to Djenne which is near bursting point with locals doing their weekly shop. Its a nice experience to walk around without the usual touts and finally see a bit more of an average Malian life. The market is in the forecourt of the largest Mud mosque in the world and one can imagine a day here without the market would have its own benefits, but having booked a trip into Dogon with an early wakeup the following day we have to rush our visit and only have an hour and a half or so to dash around. so before we know it we are back at the bus stop arranging for our return journey. Of course after the Mopti experience we are expecting the worst and pretty much get it. The cab again isn't quite full so won't leave and again we pay for the remaining seats, although this time its only about a pound or so each. As we get in the car and the engine starts we think we've finally managed it before we are surrounded with taxi officials and the odd spectator wanting to have his say all shouting at each other.

It seems we have paid for the cab but they have another passenger and won't give us his fare. After 20 minutes of shouting leaning through windows and gesticulating the guys allowed in and the car sets off.

The driver has got to be 90 and drives accordingly, speaks no french let alone english and has to lean forward as he is partially blind, so the 80 miles takes over 3 hours and we arrive late tired and having missed dinner quite hungry. Oh well into bed and hopefully the Dogon country will be better that the current experience.

Edge of the world, Timbuktu!!!

Having paid for five nights, we stay on board until 9am before finding a 4x4 taxi that will take us the 18kms to Timbuktu. They pack us in, there must be about 20 people crammed in the tight space, but for 2 pounds one cannot complain. With only one stop on the way to fix some engine troubles, we arrive outside Hotel camping Tombouctou with another German in tow.

After checking in, we head for some planning and breakfast at the Patisserie down the road. The plan is to take a tour of Tombouctou to visit the sights that are on offer and find prices for our camel trek. However the town is nearly dead and its only after enquiring that we realise its a Sunday. Oh well it will have to be a day in the cyber cafe and maybe I'll be able to catch a rugby game. Disappointingly no luck with the rugby although I can watch American football and a host of other random sports.

On Monday we arise to the desert, its scorching and thus decide to venture out after midday when it should start to cool a bit. Befriending Carston, the German who shared the 4x4 with us, we set off with our own little tour group. The mud mosque is fairly impressive and we get a sneaky little wander round before being told to leave. Passing some houses that have plaques declaring the explorers that succeeded in making it to Timbuktu and seeing the small enclosed market we wound our way around until the Ethnological museum. This has got to be my favourite museum in Mali. OK, the well is unimpressive and its all in French but it definitely gives an incite into the culture and limited history of this region and Mali. Timbuktu also has an impressive monument, the Flamme de la Paix (flame of peace), to mark the ceremonial burning of 3000 weapons at the end of the Tuareg rebellion.

With many touts offering camel treks, we bargain hard and end up going with Boubar a guy we met on the boat and didn't hassle us but was simply friendly. The trek leaves the next day at 4pm and includes breakfast, dinner and a night under the stars. To pass the time till the trek we reattempt to watch our DVDs but find that they are solely dubbed in French so its back to the faithful book until we need to leave. Arriving at the predetermined hotel we find many tourists and get a pang of worry that we have been duped and will be joining this crowd, but their was no need to worry as we set of on foot to meet our camels separately.

The camels turn out to be dromedaries each with someone to walk in front and our guide Mohammad speaks some sparse English. Everything about camels is strange, from their seemingly dislocated jaw that chews their regurgitated food and their subsequent smelly breath to the sounds they make and the manner in which they stand up. I was expecting to ride it in a similar way to horse riding but its a whole different affair, for stirrups you have to use their neck and for a saddle you have a wooden seat with a back and a front. Moving with their rolling gait we set off over the dunes and into the sun to our camp for the night. It is not until we set off that we realise we are heading into an area where the local army is worried about a Tuareg rebellion and to top it off its the 11th of September. But there is no turning back and soon we are surrounded by a sea of sand, and by the time we reach camp we are happy as the seats are uncomfortable, the sweat is poring off us and the view although magnificent is at the end of the day only sand.

The bed for the night is a mat on the sand and the food just rice with some herbs (I still think that it was spiced with camel dung), however the view of the sunset is amazing. After sunset we are surrounded by Tuareg's who have come to sell their wares and much bartering ensues before we end up with some jewelery. As the stars come out we stick some sticks into the sand and manage to put up our mosquito net, before lying down and enjoying the spectacle that surrounds us. The stars are simply amazing, and with some luck we have chosen the night of the new moon, which further enhances our view. There are so many stars its hard to determine the constellations and if you could see us, you'd see us guessing them as the shooting stars fell.

After a restless night we awake as the sun rises with aching joints. Breakfast is solely some sandy bread with no tea, coffee or spread, so I am very happy to share it with the local lads. Sitting around as the day gathers heat we wonder what could be taking so long. The guide takes us on foot into the dunes for no apparent reason and as we stand on a dune I in my naivety scan the horizon and surrounding area for some sort of ambush. Obviously there is no need and it turns out we are looking for the camels as one has broken out of its bindings (they bind the legs together so the camels can roam but not go too far). After an hour or so of searching they give up and Lot and I end up sharing a camel, with me riding bare back behind Lot. My legs are spread over the Camels back, with a cushion for comfort and at first it feels more comfortable than the wooden chair option. However after an hour the enjoyment has turned into posterior chaffing and its bliss to finally clamber off the camel. I can understand now why the nomads walk.

Meeting up with Boubar we find that our hopes for piroguing it to Gao have fallen short as he i charging extortionate prices for the 3 day trip. In fact he had told us a price which we refused whilst out in the desert only to find that his better offer is higher than the first? Knowing we can get a 4x4 to Douentza and it'll take only 4 hours and be a lot cheaper, we part company. Heading back to the hotel we arrange to be picked up at 4am from the hotel and put down a deposit. The driver then takes us to our hotel so he knows where to collect us and we decide after our camel dung food to feast on a collection of Western goodies think Pringles, choc chip cookies and fruit juice (something virtually unheard of out here). After our feast we lounge for the day thankful for simple comforts like a mattress.

Having packed most of our stuff the night before we awake at 4 and wait an hour for the car to arrive. It should be more comfortable than the bus but we end up sitting 4 to a row and the 4th person could be a Malian Sumo wrestler and is of the opinion that he got there first so he doesn't need to move. Its hard to get across that its going to be 4 people on the row and sitting dead centre is just not going to work. Eventually with much gesticulating he moves over an inch and we get seated. As the sun starts to rise we arrive at the ferry and stretch our limbs. The morning is fresh and clear as the locals start to rise from their tangled mess, it seems they sleep where ever they fall, and its with the chickens pecking at grain and sleepy eyed children asking for "cadeau's" that the boat finally boat sets off across the river.

The road on the other side deteriorates and the next 4 hours are spent jolting up and down with the fat Malian slowly taking up the whole of the row. Just before we reach Douentza we pass what the Malians call their "monument valley", an impressive mountain range that rises out of the plain. The 4x4 makes the journey without any of the usual mechanical problems even though most of the streams it has to go through cover the bonnet and many tiles its easier to go off road than stick it out on. Arriving in Douentza everyone is eager to alight and we decide to skip Gao and find out about the Dogon country at the campement de Douentza.