Drummers, Elephants, Jungles and Beaches

7 January 2007

Just when you thought the roads were getting better….. As usual when you get to an African border all funding for roads maintenance or even road building come to that would seem to cease. Thrown around the truck but still make relatively good time. Cross from the Mali side fairly easily and the Burkina Faso side is made all the more easy by a happy smiling customs official who comes on board the truck and helps us fill all the forms in …. Luckily we are not required to complete the section on the reverse of the second form entitled morality. Made a few nervous though.

After crossing the border we head south to Bobo Dioulasso (the locals just call it Bobo which is reassuring). Burkina’s second largest city (population 230,00) it is a very laid back place and we somehow manage to squeeze a very large green truck and all our tents into Casa Africa – a small campsite come hotel. Alan, Dylan, Tom and I head off in search of a place to get our hair cut. Surprisingly, given it’s nearly 4 on a Sunday there is a barbers at the end of the road. Not sure he has cut western style hair before as he only really seems trained to use trimmers. Tom’s is a grade one/two all over but then it had to be to rectify damage made by Alan in trying to do it the previous night. I get away lightly with a grade 4 all over but Alan and Dylan are a little less fortunate as both leave with large stray tufts and a less than straight fringe; still what do you expect for £2.

The barber's....

Get back and bolt tea down before heading out for a club that reportedly does live music. On stage are 11 percussionists and 2 singers and the noise is tremendous. A cacophony of sound with 6 or 7 drummers giving it plenty….the timing and speed is incredible and well worth the 60p entry fee. Leave for another club and not completely sober by the time we get home in the early hours.

8 January 2007

Spend most of the morning typing up my blog and waiting for my washing before heading into town. Share a taxi with a mad taxi driver and a large Bobonian (just made that one up) who asks us if we are cold …. Tom and I try and explain English weather to him but this just brings mad laughter from all quarters. 3 internet cafes later and I give up trying to upload my blog. Go back to base for the evening and do the same round of clubs in the evening (live music and 50p a pint what do you expect?).

I am the one in the middle!

9 January 2007

Leave Bobo for Ouagadougou (got the spelling right first time). Rowdy journey for a number of reasons which I will not go into. I blame Tom though. Fairly unremarkable journey apart from that and make it to the Campsite/Hotel in the early evening. Both Ouagadougou and Bobo are fairly unremarkable in that they are low rise, sprawling cities. What saves them both is the people who are hugely friendly and welcoming.

A few facts about Burkina …. It’s slightly bigger than the UK. Formerly called Upper Volta by the French it was renamed by the maverick President Thomas Sankara who came to power in a bloody putsch in 1982. Although he took power by violent means he quickly gained the sort of popularity reserved for very few national leaders. He renamed the country with Burkina Faso literal translation being ‘Homeland of the incorruptible’ or ‘Country of Honest men’ and combines two of the country’s various languages (More and Dioula). Unfortunately for Sankara his reforms, anti corruption stance and denouncement of western imperialism was his downfall and he was assassinated in 1987. Since then Burkina has slumped to 143^rd on the UNs list of the 146 poorest countries. Fairly unremarkable apart from that….as usual in West Africa they like roundabouts which seem to receive a hugely disproportionate percentage of government funding. Indeed I would not be surprised if they had a Ministry for Roundabouts!

Oh, nearly forgot, you need a permit to take photos and if you take wildlife photos this is $80 although reports suggest this is rarely enforced. In truth there is not a lot to take pictures of….hence the lack of quality in this part of the Blog….. I promise there will be more in Ghana!

10 January 2006

Head for the Ghanaian Embassy to sort Visas. We have to present 4 photos and fill in 1 form with all sorts or seemingly irrelevant information on and they need 4 copies which have to be written out by hand… it’s like being back in the Civil Service!!! It’s about time they invested in a photocopier! Spend the rest of the day trying to find an internet café where I can upload my blog. Eventually, the second PC in the hotel reception proves adequate after 4 failed attempts elsewhere. Then discover the hotel has wireless and the rest of the day is lost catching up with e-mails, news and sport!

11 January 2006

Lazy morning, joined at breakfast by a mad goat which clearly thinks it’s a dog flitting between butting and being stroked. It certainly showed some physical expression of it’s enjoyment but I will spare you the sordid details.

For the past couple of days there have been numerous black backed vultures circling overhead – suddenly a lazy day by the pool does not seem the best idea. After lunch we head off into town to get our Visas, well at least we would have done had we not flattened the truck battery by leaving the amplifier on. Bizarrely we decide to try bump start 17 tonnes of truck. Even more bizarrely it works and we are soon on our way to collect visas. On leaving the Ghanaian embassy we are stopped for ignoring the no trucks sign and Dylan is left to talk his way out of the fine….negotiating the fine into a bribe and reducing costs from 26,000 CEFA to 13,000 CEFA (about £13). There then follows the luxury of a Supermarket visit where a large scrubbing brush is purchased in one final attempt to get my feet remotely clean – the price of wearing sandals all day - we then head south to the border and Ghana!

12 January 2007

Tent buffeted by the wind for most of the night so slightly irritable due to lack of sleep. We are up early to cover the 70km to the Ghanaian border at Leo. Progress is halted temporarily due to a problem with the accelerator which Robin manages to fix (at least temporarily). Looking forward to getting to Ghana for a number of reasons…. The main language is English (then Twi, Ga and Ewe). So far I have had to work in French which, although improving slightly, was never my strong point. The alternatives of Berber, Bambara, Arabic etc were never an option nor were the 71 different dialects along the Dogon valley.

Ghana is about the same size as the UK but with only 20 million people there is a little more space. We change currency, this time to the Cedi. With about 11,700 to the Euro you get quite a lot of notes for your money especially when you change 100 Euros and the largest note in circulation is 10,000 Cedi (about 60p). Head south to Mole national park (with an inch and a half wad of bank notes) and another evening in a bush camp. Sit up playing cards with John (some dodgy adding up and he still lost), Cindy and Su and polish off the rank cartons of wine we purchased in Burkina….not sure where the Ghandia or Don Simon vineyards is!

Another tough day on the road.....

13 January 2006

Cover the distance to Mole National park (Ghana’s biggest at 5198 sq. km) fairly quickly…..2,000 Cedi for a photo permit and 30,000 entrance fee per person and we drive in and park next to the viewing platform which overlooks a huge pan (area of water where animals drink). Various warnings about the baboons – can’t camp here as they rip tents open, and elephants - we are not allowed within 50 yards of them. Unfortunately no one told the elephants this! After peering at some elephant like shapes in the distance we turn round to spot an old bull elephant wandering around next to our rooms. He spends the rest of the afternoon around the hotel making short work of some of the flower beds before dozing under a tree. We leave him to it and go to order food and sit by the pool.

Two old boys enjoy the pool (the one in the pool is Stu our Aussie tour leader ... Crocodile Dundee meets Dame Edna)!

Of all the things I miss – family and friends, semi skimmed milk (not UHT), cold crisp mornings, bacon etc there is a sausage egg and chips on the menu which, when compared with the rest of the fare in West Africa, is an absolute luxury and barely touches the sides. Our friendly elderly elephant (about 60 years old) then makes an appearance stepping daintily over the small wall and taking a drink from the swimming pool. He returns twice more during the afternoon and is clearly at home around the hotel. We later find out that he arrives every year in January and stays until September or October when he returns to the bush.

Other visitors that afternoon are the baboons which use the truck as a toilet covering the front of the cab and the windows (not a pleasant job for Dylan) and a number of warthogs snuffling around the lawns. The evening meal is a Guinea Fowl Curry washed down with a bottle of the local brew (Stone lager), sensibly avoiding the Arrow at 6% (a nice change from the Flag, Castel, Sobbra etc that we have come across so far on the trip). Curry and a beer cost 63,000 cedi (£3.60)…. Big lad heaven!

Ghanaian names – the Akan people (including the Ashanti (terrible film) and the Ewe) name their babies after the days of the week usually adding a middle name of an ancestor on the eighth day. This works as follows: Monday (m) Kwadwo (f) Adwoa, Tuesday (m) Kwabena (f) Abena, Wednesday (m) Kwaku (f) Akua, Thursday (m) Yao (f) Yaa, Friday (m) Kofi (f) Afua, Saturday (m) Kwame (f) Ama, Sunday (m) Kwasi (f) Akosua. So now you know. Plans to impress the locals with my knowledge are somewhat scuppered as the first Ghanaians we meet are called David, Michael and Raphael….all getting geared up for a football match against a team of tourists in the morning. I would have been tempted to sign up for this a few years ago but after volunteering for a full 90 minutes in a baking hot Colombo and suffering for a number of days afterwards my boots are officially ‘hung up’!

14 January 2007

Dig myself out of bed at 6 for a walk in the park. This is especially difficult as I have my own room with white cotton sheets and a fan - an absolute luxury and something I really want make maximum use of! Our guide for the walk is DK who takes us down round the pan for the next two and a half hours. Strangely the noise generated by 8 white tourists scares most of the animals off long before we even set eyes on them but we still manage to spot waterbuck, bathing elephants, warthogs, an Aardvaark’s burrow (resident long since moved out I suspect) and some crocodiles! Not a bad morning’s work and just about worth leaving my bed for. Two omelettes, tea and toast (did not realise until now how much I had missed toast!!) sets me up for the day.

Head south and eventually pick up a tarmac road (another luxury) crossing the Black Volta as we head down to Kumasi. Did you know….. the damming of the Volta river in the mid-1960’s created the world’s largest artificial lake. Anyway, continuing south the road once again deteriorates as we cut through a stretch of dense jungle. Sand clouds the air and coats the towns and the surrounding vegetation. Road works slow us for nearly two hours primarily because there is only one man operating both stop/go signs and he has to run between the length of the roadworks which clearly slow things a little. Eventually roll into Kumasi at 9 settling for the Presbyterian Mission as our base for the next two nights. They certainly like their religion in Ghana….most trucks, shops etc. displaying a godly message!

15 January 2006

With food on the truck a little scarce (supermarket trip this afternoon me thinks) we decide to eat in the Basel Mission Restaurant. Seems a good idea at the time as the prices are cheap. While I am first to order I am last to get served and everyone leaves while I repeat my order for omelette and toast on 4 occasions. The complete lack of movement or smells in the kitchen do not instil a lot of confidence. Spend the time reading the Ghanaian newspapers the main headlines being ‘Woman roasts Nephew on coalpot’ and ‘Overflowing Ashaiman Police Latrine Bombs Neighbourhood’….. I will spare you the gory details of both! Strange days indeed! An hour after ordering my food I go to the kitchens to say that I am leaving and am a tad surprised to be greeted by a hearty farewell. The fact that I have not eaten is clearly irrelevant to the level of welcome and farewell you receive in these parts???

Empty of stomach, I head off into Kumasi. Without a map I wander the streets for an hour or two passing the Military Museum (a few planes, a helicopter and a jeep in the grounds is all I can see as the place is closed – well the door was open but the bloke would not let me in). Kumasi is an incredible place – street vendors absolutely everywhere and the place is packed with people going about their daily routine. You tend to wonder why the pavements are packed with people until you see the road network which, by midday is totally gridlocked with traffic at a standstill and the sound of horns reverberating through the crowded streets.

Hunger drives me back to the campsite and I drag Dylan and Alan away from the Internet and into Vic Baboo’s café. Double burger and chips and two vanilla milkshakes and all is right with the world.

Kumasi town centre

A lazy afternoon and a bucket shower before heading off to the Moti Mahal curry house (big lad heaven again) via the Cold Spot, a shack at the corner of the road which sells cold beer and, as purchased by Dave and Tom some ‘One Touch - King of Aromatic bitters’ (a vicious vanilla spirit) said to have aphrodisiac powers. Not sure about this or the label which had a happy looking tribal chief on the front. The curry makes a nice change although relatively expensive at nearly 2,000,000 for the 13 of us. The wad of money to settle the bill takes a little organising and a lot more counting.

Enough for a curry and a beer!

16 January 2007

Sad start to the day as Robin has decided to go his own way. Not sure how we will manage without him but he has made his choice and we all wish him well for whatever lays ahead. He has brought an awful lot to the trip and not just lighting camel dung fires and fixing the truck. All the very best Robin and if you are reading this please let us know how you get on.

The road to the Coast

A quick stop at the supermarket where we are surprised to find that one of the local Ghanaian delicacies is tinned ‘Delicious Shito’ a mix of pilchards, onion, tomato etc…. while very tempted I decide to pass on this occasion.

Back on the road and we head back into the jungle, cutting across mountainous dirt roads through dusty towns as we head to the Cape Coast. Wherever we go we are greeted with literally hundreds of smiling faces and at one point, an entire school comes to a halt as the children sprint towards the truck waving and shouting…. The sight of 12 westerners in a green truck is clearly a rare one in these here parts!

We arrive at our destination, Brenu Beach Guest House, and are very pleased with our campsite for the next 3 or 4 days. Situated, slap bang on the Atlantic Coast beach there is little else around but a school further down the beach and a thousand or so palm trees….a living hell….. and they have a bar restaurant that sells a mouth watering array of freshly prepared meals and the odd lager or two. A dip in the sea who would have thought the Atlantic would be warm and welcoming in January, a spot of tea and I crawl into my tent with the sound of the Atlantic lapping at the shore.

17 January 2007

Sleep like a large log. Dylan and Alan head off into Accra as Dylan needs a new passport (his is full) and Alan wants a few pampered nights in a hotel …. Not sure what he has planned but it can’t be a lack of sleep driving him to a comfy bed. An Alan type near death experience at breakfast when a falling coconut misses me by a couple of yards…..not really worried at the time but John Roberts points out that 6 people a year are killed by falling coconuts (Su challenges him on his source and the accuracy of the information on the grounds that he, allegedly, over exaggerates most things – a little harsh but this fuels some debate). A dip in the sea, a snooze on the beach and it’s time for a mixed grill and chips for lunch….

Another dip in the afternoon is curtailed just as the waves are getting nice and lively because of a shoal of tiny jellyfish which give you a nettle like sting. Evening meal is very Ghanaian – red red beans (so good they named them twice), plantains (bananas to you and I), kinky (maize pulp), chilli and tomato dips and cassava fish. Top meal although the red red beans do seem to have a certain methanity to them (just made that word up – sure you can work out the meaning)!

18 January 2007

Back on breakfast duties but not till 9 and by the time I drag myself out of bed most of it is already done by Cindy. Some of the local boys have arrived with large bowls of water keen to clean the truck. Dylan has agreed a price of 5,000 cedi each….that’s about 30p each…..given that the truck is a deep sandy brown colour and barely recognisable from it’s original bright green I would not touch it for 10,000 times that but they seem keen and there is bags of enthusiasm on display for the entire 3 hours it takes to clean.

We head off into Cape Coast for the fort. Built in 1655 it was the headquarters for the British Colonial administration until the capital was moved to Accra in 1876. It is now a UNESCO world heritage site. First we take a tour of the museum which covers both the Fort and it’s role in the slave trade as well as a social history of the Ghanaian people and Akan culture. Lots to learn in here, on the slightly lighter side is the social structure of the Akan people. Elderly women are given special respect as they are associated with wisdom and the ability to solve difficult problems. I make a mental note to try and remember this the next time I am trying to explain to my Mum (for the 18^th time) how her central heating controls work!

The much more thought provoking side of the museum’s display and the fort itself is the history of the slave trade and the role the British (amongst others) played. Estimates vary as to how many Africans were enslaved (12 to 20 million) but most were exported as a product through the ports of Western Africa….their destination split relatively evenly between North America, the Caribbean and Brazil. Many came through the Cape Coast fort and we are given a guided tour which details the appalling conditions they were subjected to. Hundreds were locked in dank, underground chambers for weeks at a time awaiting the next ship across the Atlantic. Those who dared to fight back were thrown in the condemned cells and left to suffocate or starve – their bodies then thrown into the sea. It is nearly 40 degrees (not the hottest time of year by any means) but the conditions in the cells are incredibly dark and oppressive and we only stood there for a few minutes. The condemned cell itself is incredibly claustrophobic with little room for more than a handful of people and little or no air…..certainly not a place to stay for more than a couple of seconds and a horrendous place to spend the final days of what would have been a very short life.

The ‘door of no return’ is aptly named as it is the last view of Africa thousands would have had before they were crammed onto waiting ships.

Before we leave we cover another part of the museum which details more history of the fort itself. The most notable aspect being the involvement of one Justly Watson, an apparent expert in fortification, who was brought in to carry out a thorough inspection of the castle and recommend improvements which would take 16 years to implement. I suspect we may be related as the East Bastion collapsed in 1770! I am called Justly for the rest of the day.

We grab a spot of lunch in the Castle Bar which has great views of the fort and the Beach below. There follows one of the more surprising sites of the trip….Brigitte and Claudia walking across the sands. Neither hangs around for long but there is a tender moment as Brigitte is reunited with Tom (would be surrogate Grandson).

19 January 2007

Today’s destination is the Kakum National park. Tucked away in this small pocket of rainforest there are said to be endangered forest elephants, colobus monkeys, 300 species of birds and 600 species of butterflies. The only novel creatures we encounter in taking on the canopy walk (100 feet above the forest floor) are Brigitte and Claudia. I spend some time talking to Claudia who seems a good deal better but still refers to her time on the tour as her worst nightmare. I suspect this is a combination of factors but it is nice to see her happy and well. Lunch is in a hotel on stilts surrounded by a crocodile lake (not that the crocs look too enthusiastic), then it’s back to the market to pick up some lunch. This is the third time we have been to this market and once again we park next to the ‘God can work miracles dressmakers’ which is still shut.

20 January 2007

A slightly dodgy stomach gives me the ideal excuse for a lazy day on the beach while most of the group go off for a look round another fort. Mid afternoon sees the truck return and the 2 John’s take on the gutting of market bought fresh tuna in preparation for tea. Luckily John R has some experience of this but it still takes some time and is not the most pleasant of jobs in 35 degrees of heat. We get some help from one of the local boys who puts us (me especially) to shame as he has clearly done this plenty of time before and I am left to reflect on my lack of basic cooking skills. The only way to get rid of the stench of fish is to take back to the sea. The waves are high and provide some major body surfing opportunities – hard work but fantastic fun………

21 January 2007

Waking up creaking a little as clearly overdid it in the sea the previous day…. Travel to Accra takes 3 hours or so but we are rewarded with the best Supermarket of our tour. Yes I know I seem obsessed by supermarkets but you have to understand the rarity of certain key products. As we walk through the door Su and I are transfixed by the array of chocolate on display – Ghana clearly is the land of plenty. I leave with a sausage roll, a chicken pie, a large bar of Cadbury’s crunchie chocolate and some diet coke (luxury upon luxury). I fear being robbed for my stash as I return to the truck but manage to consume most of my swag before sharing some of the chocolate…..

We roll up at Ryan’s Irish Bar which is shut on Sundays (you have to remember how religious Ghana is!). We pitch our tents in the car park and head off into the Osu region of Accra. After a couple of Milkshakes and a brief Internet visit we track down the Sisters of the East Chinese restaurant which is showing the Man Utd v Arsenal game. A Ghanaian man who has passed out on the table in front of the TV is removed by the waiters and we have pride of place in a Restaurant where no one is eating food. The young waitress soon takes a shine to John Roberts as he and she are the only two Man Utd fans out of about 20 people (makes a nice change!) She seems very happy when Man Utd take the lead but as Arsenal equalise she tells John she is ‘going into the kitchen to pray for the death of our enemies’. More praying is promised as Arsenal score again and go onto win and we leave for camp and an early night.

Our sleep is disturbed by the return in the early hours of Tom, Linda and Michelle. Tom is singing One Love (never was a big Bob Marley fan) and talking at length about the fantastic fried egg sandwich he has just had!

22 January 2007

Some of the group seem a little worse for wear….especially Michelle who has managed a rather unusual grey look to accompany the same dress she was wearing when she left to go out the night before. We head off and eventually track don the Nigerian embassy (everyone seems to have a different idea of where it is and we are given a range of directions across the city). Anyway, it would appear that in making it tough for the Nigerians to entire the UK we have incurred their wrath and they have retaliated by charging $100 for us to enter Nigeria (it’s only $20 for Australians, and $57 for Italians). We decide this is a cultural tax which is why the Australians pay so little! I can’t actually put down in writing Stu’s response to this suggestion entertaining as it was. Anyway, after photocopying our passports and entry to Ghana stamp (twice), yellow fever, insurance etc we complete two forms and these are left with a Nigerian official who says it will take at least 48 hours to process as he is a very busy man and has one application already…. Oh nearly forgot…..Michelle fills several plastic bags while outside the photocopiers …. slightly ironic as the shop next door is called ‘Pukey’s…..can’t remember the rest of the title but you get the idea.

Back to town and manage to find a laptop charger! $103 and all because a power surge at Mole National Park wrecked the last one and left me without a means to type my blog. With this purchase safely made we head for Ryan’s bar where I spend the afternoon sampling the food and ale, charging my laptop and swapping travellers tales with various travellers from the other Overland Trucks that have dropped in. They are also collecting visas from the Nigerian Embassy – one of the trucks has been waiting 8 days as they ran out of stamps! It would appear that all trucks have a wide range of ne’er-do-wells although with 20 people plus it is easier to hide from the odd resident nutter.

Anyway, top bar but odd to see so many white faces and the percentage of Americans is far too high and the whooping and hollering is clear evidence of this!

At last, a working Internet cafe!!!!

23 December 2006 Not a lot achieved on a lazy warm day. Read a lot of my book, swam in the pool and slept. Made it to the supermarket which was a bit odd as all the cashiers were white and there was a boss eyed French man dressed up as Santa. Tom, Cindy and I end up in the bar till late watching the Miss Mali final with the locals. Much hilarity as the tastes here are somewhat different with the runner up having a permanently startled look which seems strangely popular with the hugely enthusiastic crowd around the bar. A lot of mooing and ‘moose’ shouts in the direction of the TV….

Christmas Eve

The Fetish market

With secret Santa presents still to sort, Tom, John, Su and I head for L’Artisan Maison and the Fetish Market. The taxi driver clearly has not got a clue where he is going and it takes us an hour to do a journey that should talk 15 minutes. We eventually arrive in a huge, bustling market place and locate L’Artisan Maison, a huge craft market selling everything from goat hides and Dogon Face masks to Xylophones and deep fried something or other (we never did quite work it out). In one corner of the square is the Fetish Market. It is effectively only 4 stalls where people with a problem can stock up on dried dead stuff : shrunken monkey and cheetah heads, lizards and so on, as they have been directed by the marabout (holy man). All very unpleasant but an indication of how some in Mali still believe in magic. The bustle of the square is constant and we attract a lot of attention from overly persistent hawkers keen to negotiate a deal. As the heat rises we retire back to camp for a swim and a welcome evening out. Get a mini bus (big green van with no windows) to a Tex Mex restaurant in central Bamako. Have a great evening but the Take Me Home cocktails (Rum, Vodka, Tequila and Blue Curacao) and far too much Vodka see Tom and Alan much the worse for wear. We manage to get them home in the early hours but have to first extricate Alan from the hedge he has fallen face down into while looking for his room. Sit up by the pool for a while before eventually crashing out but not before Cindy manages to fall into the pool.

Christmas Day

Breakfast is a little quiet with most of the group nursing hangovers. Spirits are raised by a cross dressing Tom who is wearing Cindy’s still damp dress.

My attempts to ring family and friends is only partially successful as the land lines are constantly engaged and two trips to the available phones in town only allow me to make one phone call. Very annoying and does not really feel like Christmas being so hot and not a Turkey in sight. Secret Santa presents are passed out by Dave making a slightly worrying looking Santa dressed in hat with pigtails. Xmas tea is Capitaine (fish), ratatouille and sauté potatoes. Not the usual Christmas fare but an impressive effort by Sue and Tom and things feel Christmassy as the truck is decorated and we have rigged some lights up in the tree next to the tents.

Boxing Day

Efforts at phoning home again prove fruitless with my plan B to by a SIM card thwarted by a crowd of over a hundred people sat outside the Orange shop….not a clue why. Spend most of the day watching football beamed live via a South African football channel. Slightly odd developments as it is reported that Claudia (who is still with us) is convinced that her Secret Santa is from Dirk - her lost South African love. Not sure how he would have tracked her down in Bamako after what must almost be a year but then rational thoughts are rare in someone who has barely eaten for 4 weeks and refuses to take any medication, advice or support. The Secret Santa is actually from John Roberts who thought she should have something to open on Xmas day despite her decision to opt out some time ago. I suspect John will be called Dirk from here on in. Early to bed….bushed!

27 December 2006

Time to leave Bamako after a lazy but very relaxing five days. Visas have not yet been sorted but this is because we have found out that they can be done at the border with Burkina Faso. Claudia signs her disclaimer and leaves the group despite Inna (the Camp Site owner) spending some time explaining the risks a single woman faces travelling alone in Mali. Brigitte also leaves today (as planned). She is travelling as far as Segou to see a child she sponsors. Big hugs all round from Brigitte but not before she has given Dylan one typical blast of grief in German for going the wrong way just as he pulls up outside the correct destination. After a salad lunch and the luxury of a cold Diet Coke we head north east on the way to Djenne and the world’s largest mud structure. With the usual several hundred kilometres to cover we stop a 200km short and find a bush camp under the bows of a giant baobab tree. The bizarre shape of which is explained in the African myth that god gave all the animals the choice of picking a tree coming last to the Hyenas. The Hyenas, miffed at coming last in the pecking order, choose to plant the tree upside down as a protest….hence the shape. Camp is quickly moved 50 yards after Robin triggers off one of three bees nests and the large Owl leaves in disgust. One owl get out of here….two owls …..now yer talking! Vic and Bob reference.

The Baobab tree

After supper and a cheeky glass of wine and port (Christmas treat to myself) it’s off to bed but not before checking the underside of the truck to see if our Austrian departee is doing a Cape Fear on us and holding on to the undercarriage. Grrrr woooof!

28 December 2006

On the move early which is made all the more easy by a lack of facilities. Back to using baby wipes in the morning in a failing attempt to stay remotely clean. Spend the morning on the road leaning out of the window at regular intervals to take the mick out of Dylan’s driving and choosing cheesy songs off my Ipod to play to the rest of the truck…..the amp is finally fixed after packing up during the border crossing. Think I might have pushed things a little too far with Barry Manilow’s Mandy although the Grease Megamix went down well. Not entirely sure how either of those got on my Ipod but suspect a McNaughton influence somewhere. Stop in Sans for lunch and a classic pigeon English conversation with the Chemist trying to explain what Sciatica is. The man is clearly talented and manages to find me a back up supply of painkillers which will cover me for any relapses on the trek through the Dogon valley. Arrive at our bush camp on the Niger river a short ferry ride from Djenne. It’s 38 degrees but we decide to walk the 5km from the far side of the river into the town centre. Not an easy hike but nice to get some exercise after the Xmas excesses.

Djenne is a strange place made up of smooth mud buildings which appears to have changed little since it’s 16^th century hey day. The Mosque itself sits in the main square and has an overwhelming impact on a town of only 21,000. The mosque was closed to non Muslims for a number of years after a French fashion shoot decided to go topless. Even today the price hikes are such that no-one wants to fork out the extra and we choose a bar to sit and chill before climbing onto a roof top terrace to grab some photos while the sun goes down. The journey home is in the back of a bush taxi which has certainly seen better days. Two small boys give the truck a bump start and we are on our way at the second attempt in a large cloud of smoke and oil. One lad tries to cycle behind us but is overcome by fumes after a few hundred yards and opts to see a few more years than continue his pursuit. The driver opens the door on regular occasions to check the wheels and passengers are still on the truck….miraculously all are still present and we make it back to the river and across to the camp safely.

Djenne and the journey back...

29 December 2006

Lazy morning to give those who have not been into Djenne the chance to see the Mosque. Most of it is spent lounging around the truck reading and avoiding eye contact with any of the kids constantly trying to sell you things. Tom utilises the time well and tries to push his Cobra aftershave on all willing to try it. Not sure it’s a huge hit but there you go.

Tom avec le Cobra

We leave around midday and head for north for Mopti which will be the starting point for those wishing to travel up to Timbuktu (Tombouctou). Initially adamant that I was not going to do the 300km trek across the desert I relent and sign up for an early start the following morning for a day’s drive followed by a 3 day boat trip back down the River Niger to Mopti. After trying a number of campsites in Sevare we eventually drive back to Mopti for a quick meal, beer and bed.

30 December 2006

We are up at 5.30 to meet our slightly less than friendly driver and his battered 4x4. Luggage and tents are piled on the roof while Tom, Robin and Alan get the short straw and sit in the back on the bench seats, heads bowed due to the lack of head room. John, Sue and Cindy get the middle seat while yours truly gets the rather luxurious front seat. Within the first few yards of the journey it becomes obvious that the steering and brakes are dubious to say the least and it is with some relief when we get out of town and hit the open road. A stop for breakfast at around 9 and a fried egg sandwich produced using a grubby looking jar and frying pan at a road side stall. Lots of crossed fingers that this stays down on the road to follow.

We pass time by thinking of songs related to Rivers…. Personal favourites are …..

XTC…. Making plans for Niger

Glen Campbell… Rhinestone Cowboy

The Jacksons…. Elbe There

Judy Collins Amazon Grace

Anything by Bryan Ferry or Nile Rogers

Ave Mariver

I think you get the idea….plenty more and I would of course welcome any other ideas….

After leaving our friendly fried egg butty salesman the road ends and we are high tailing it across the desert in something akin to the Paris Dakar rally. High speeds, large volumes of dust and numerous bone shuddering bumps that compress many a vertebrae of those sat in the back seats. After 6 hours we reach a spit of sand that runs out to the ferry crossing and Timbuktu on the other side. One rather posh 4x4 is stuck ahead of us in a mix of sand and water. Our helpful driver drives round in front of him with, we think, a view to help him out. However, this proves not to be the case as he simply reverses at some speed into front of the stranded vehicle stoving in the front of the grille with his towbar. We then drive off to our queue for the ferry. Unfortunately it is the Hadj and as a celebration many are slaughtering goats and sheep….this and the rest of the festivities take some time and the ferry does not arrive for a further 2 or 3 hours. Still we fill the time tormenting various small children who are either harassing us for presents or sweets or, in the case of those over the age of 3, punting between some of the small sandbanks in long narrow boats. I take a photo of John swinging a small girl around and am spotted. She runs over to me and hits me repeatedly for several minutes demanding payment for the photo…..

We eventually get on the ferry which is a mix of western travellers, 4x4 vehicles, Tuareg goat herders and other locals heading for Timbuktu. Not the quickest ferry but we hit land again about 4 and head across a tarmac road for 30km into the sand filled streets of Timbuktu. We arrive at the Tour organiser’s ‘brother’s house’ where the seven of us are offered a mattress on the lounge floor for the night. Before settling in for the evening we get a fairly quick tour of Timbuktu by Sans a very smart looking and well spoken Tuareg guide who, in fading light is keen to impart his wisdom but also wants to join the evening’s festivities. We are shown a number of houses once occupied by explorers sent by Queen Victoria…..most of whom have met an untimely end after failing to follow Islamic customs. Walking is pretty difficult as all the streets are buried in thick sand, still we manage to take in a range of mud built mosques and museums. All the locals are dressed up to the nines for the festival and there is certainly a party atmosphere across the town. Incidentally – one story goes that the old woman in charge of the 15^th Century settlement was called Bouctou meaning ‘large navel’ while Tim means ‘well’. Make of that what you will!

From left to right..Cindy, Su, Tom, Robin, John, Alan and me....

Anyway, once the tour is finished and the girls have fought off advances from a number of men who have arrived from the desert after going camel racing, we have our photo taken in front of the Timbuktu sign and it’s off to the Poulet D’Or for tea (Golden Chicken). We get back to our lodgings just after 8 and are in bed shortly afterwards. Not sure what the lady of the house made of this as we beat most of her kids to bed! Still, it’s been a long and very tiring day but well worth it as the atmosphere and mysticism of Timbuktu are worth the 800km trip whatever the conditions. Oh yes, nearly forgot…..bought a Timbuktu T shirt which, rather strangely, smells of household emulsion when I take it out of the bag. Suspect it is fresh off the press! And another thing ….. Timbiktu only has a population of 35,300 ….. surprisingly well known for a place so small.

New Year’s Eve 2006

Up at 5.30 again and once safely on the truck we head off to meet our boat for the 3 day journey down the Niger. We are met at the port by our Captain, Cilla, who looks the spitting image of Eddie Murphy, as well as his chef, Mustapha and the ‘Cabin Boy’ – Afou. We are soon on our way and with the whole boat to ourselves have plenty of room to spread out which is a good job as it’s surprisingly cold on the water and sleeping bags are required until almost lunchtime. The Niger offers many surprises – firstly the volume of water which is beyond anything I expected or have seen before. At certain points the river is almost a mile wide – elsewhere it narrows to a hundred yards or so. At all points the birdlife is plentiful – kingfishers stand as sentinels to their nests every five yards or so searching the reeds and water for food, competing with hundreds of Egrets and Herons while at the same time steering clear of the Kites which circle constantly overhead. On the river banks numerous mud villages come into view with excited children running along the water’s edge waving enthusiastically (it’s a bit like driving a car through Norfolk!). As it’s New Year’s Eve Cilla (see Les you are not the only one with a girl’s name) stops at one village and we find a rather run down hotel to purchase crucial supplies for the evening ahead as well as firewood.

Cilla had mentioned that there was a very slight chance that we would see a hippo although this was unlikely given the time of year. However, luck is on our side and two are spotted although the glimpse (a first in the wild for Tom ad Cindy) is all too fleeting. With dusk closing in we moor up on a small strip of sand south of Tonka and with palm and acacia trees and curved dune of sand it feels (not surprisingly) like a desert island and is a fantastic spot for New Year. Mustapha goes to work on tea while we set up our tents and dig out the bottle opener. With a roaring campfire, a plateful of pasta and tomato sauce and a couple of drinks the evening is soon in full swing. Cindy’s talents as guitarist and lead singer are accompanied on an empty Jerry can by Mustapha and Cilla – although Cilla is unable to concentrate as he keeps falling off his stool laughing at Robin’s one legged dancing. Not sure what any of Tuareg crew made of it as none of them drink but they certainly seemed to enjoy themselves. We somehow managed to make ourselves understood utilising Robin’s knowledge of French and the medium of music - Cilla even lets me try his turban on. We have a great night, falling asleep by the campfire some time after seeing the New Year in.

The local and not so local Tuaregs....

New Year’s Day 2007

Wake at 6 to the rhythmic sound of the gangplank which sounds like something very different. We put our largely unused tents away and set back out on the Niger. A strange Flu like illness seems to have taken hold of many of us although the Tea Total crew are fortunately unaffected and progress is good. The strong winds in some of the more open stretches of the river see the front sections of the boat get doused by the waves on an all too frequent basis. Alan is resilient to everything and remains snug in his sleeping back sleeping his way through the day and only waking up for meals. By the time we moor up half way across a dark Lake Debo he has spent thirteen and a half hours in the same position, not even tempted to move for a toilet break. I should add at this point that the toilet is a whole at the back of the boat surrounded by ply wood the only route to which is the thin plank that surrounds the outside of the boat. Still, it is cleaner than most of the ‘long drop’ toilets we have come across and with the added bonus of toilet roll and fresh air cooling of the nether regions it really is to be recommended. Once moored up we light a fire but most of us call it quits before 9 but not before a passing mum has used her fire to warm her baby’s bottle.

2 January 2007

The 24 hour ‘mystery’ bug has cleared and we awake at 5 for an early start across the rest of the lake. Alas, the high winds mean it is unsafe to cross the vast main lake and instead we head through the some of the various channels around the side. An early morning stop at one of the many fishing villages allows us the chance purchase lunch, Petit Capitaine, and see how they are smoked. Alan stays in his sleeping bag! We arrive back in Mopti around 3, head for a nice hotel to await the arrival of Dylan and the truck. It’s then back to the campsite for dinner and a welcome shower.

3 January 2007

No rest for the wicked…..straight back on the road and off to the Dogon valley for a 3 day trek. After a sleepy 3 days on the boat we should be fairly well rested but not sure we all feel that’s the case. The road from Sevare to Bandiagara is fine – well at least compared with the 20km that follows to Dourou and the start of our trek. One of the blocks of seats comes completely adrift of it’s moorings and lies flat in the back of truck by the time we arrive at our destination.

Our beds on the roof!

No apologies for the next bit which is a straight lift from the lonely planet but serves as a very useful summary of what the Dogon valley is like – The land of the Dogon people (Pays Dogon in French) resembles Hobbiton with villages like scattered rocks, granaries with witch straw hat roofs, shocked looking Baobab trees and perfect small fields spread across unlikely, inhospitable terrain. Mud houses huddled around the copper red, cracked and wrinkled, 150km long Bandiagara escarpment. The Dogon have a unique cosmology and villages are protected by fetishes – these are sacred places – usually mud mounds, often covered in porridge.

The Dogon are believed to have arrived at the Escarpment in around 1500 when it was occupied by the Tellem (described in Dogon tradition as red skinned and about 3 feet tall) who lived in cliff dwellings. One theory is that they could fly or had magical powers; another is that creepers covered the cliffs in those wetter days, forming natural ladders. The Tellum were forced away by the Dogon , but their architecture remains and is used to bury the Dogon dead.

Anyway back in Dourou we are given a tour of the first village which lies at the top of the escarpment and an explanation of the animist culture and the Dogon way of life. All linked to the earth and all that comes from it. A week only has five days (not sure if this includes a weekend or not) and there are no months just cycles of the moon and seasons (which I suspect is how we all started out). After our tour we are given lunch which is cous-cous and chicken in tomato sauce. With me serving the chicken we all get a bit of a surprise when Michelle’s helping contains the full chicken head! Another two are found and a few opt out all together…. Not a lot is wasted round here!

Dylan samples the chicken head.....

The afternoon sees us set off walking along the escarpment before dropping down off the plateau into the valley below. A stunning walk and well worth the effort. Once on the valley floor we walk the last few kilometres into the town of Nombori – an absolutely amazing place which, as the lonely planet suggests – is straight out of Lord of the Rings. The market place is awash with bright coloured fruit and veg surrounded by rich fields (all watered by hand) and the escarpment upon which sits the village. Unfortunately the villagers don’t allow photos as they see this as a loss of potential revenue but you are allowed to take photos of buildings and landscapes – not sure I see the logic here but so be it! We climb the hill into the main area of the village and our hotel which sits at the top – not sure you can really call it a hotel. A group of mud huts with some mattresses on the roof. Still an absolutely amazing place, great views of the escarpment and the Tellem houses in the rockface…..meal, drinks and a very early night – 8.30 eat yer heart out Harvey! It’s quite strange waking up at night and being able to use the moon to judge what time it is.

4 January 2007

Woken by the noise of a thousand cockerels and donkeys echoing along the escarpment and the stench from the toilet. Great place to wake up though. After a local breakfast (sort of doughnuts and honey or guava jam) we walk down into the village and head north along the escarpment. Stopping in the village to unite Dave with his Oxen and Donkey cart which, for health reasons, will take him the rest of the way. Dave calls the Ox Bella (strange name for a boy) and I christen the Donkey Oti (work it out for yourself). With the scenery and a large hat it very much looks like Gandalf’s (spelling?) arrival at the start of the first Lord of the Rings film and is highly entertaining. The wind is lighter than the previous day and the sky much clearer. We cover 7 or 8 km in the morning and the same in the afternoon and despite the heat we achieve this very quickly allowing us time for a very leisurely lunch and a relatively early finish. Stunning views all the way. Another so called hotel for camp and it’s more mattresses on the roof and a good night’s sleep once Alan has finished using the mud walls and his newly purchased Dogon catapult to pepper all and sundry. I think I preferred the quiet sleepy Alan of the first few weeks. Speaking of Alan perhaps now would be a good time to list the various ‘near death experiences’ he has supposedly suffered in his short time with us…..

1. Attempted mugging in Bamako….. bloke tried to get his wallet and cut his arm with a blunt razor blade …… a quick knee in the you know whats and our intrepid sleeper was away on his toes relatively unscathed.

2. The falling in hedge incident of Xmas Eve.

3. A log stored on the top of the boat on the Niger rolls off onto his head.

4. Wandering the streets of Bamako at night s drunk as a lord shouting ‘I am going to get murdered’.

5. Nearly falling of the Bandiagara escarpment (twice).

Please note that all the above (except number one) are in Alan’s head and can hardly be classed as near misses.

5 January 2007

Awake early and pepper Alan with lumps of mud in a very childish act of revenge. Set off on our 4 km walk to the village for lunch and make this in less than an hour so spend the rest of the morning buying souvenirs or fighting off souvenir sellers. After lunch we climb up the escarpment and along to Sanga. A steep climb but relatively steady despite the heat and certainly worthwhile for the views back down to the valley floor and across to the Tellem houses. An hour or so later and we have made it back across the dirt track road to our camp in Bandiagara….we do lose a window on the way though which together with the mud flap is one of two truck casualties in the day …. Tom gets covered in glass but survives unscathed. We are back on cooking again so vegetable curry, a few turns at shaving big clumps of Dave’s hair off and early to bed again (this really is becoming a habit).

Today’s song list is goat related….

Nanny I’m not your Daddy by Kid Creole and the Coconuts

Nannie’s song…John Denver

Wake me up before you go goat….Wham

Billy don’t be a hero by Paper Lace

Anything by Ugly Kid Jo, Billy Ray Cyrus etc.

Once again all ideas welcome….

6 January 2007

A lie in till 6.30 and then head to Sevare. Two heinous crimes occur…. Alan hogs one of 3 computers in the town the whole time we are in the town….grrrr! Secondly, while we are sat on the truck waiting for everyone to change money Dave sneaks in a sly steak and chips….this may not be on a par with Sweeney Todd but when you have not even set eyes on a steak for a few weeks the jealousy is almost overwhelming.

Walk round Sevare with Tom and eventually manage to find a post office….Tom splashes out £1.40 on a pair of gap jeans which have clearly been donated to a charity by some caring individual and are now being sold in the local market place. Just remember that next time you pop into Oxfam…..

Head south and bush camp for the night. Pitch my tent next to Dave’s and on a rock. The combination of a lumpy bed and excessive snoring and flatulence from the tent next door make for a fairly sleepless night.

In your next instalment…..

13 mad drummers….

Goat eggs and Butcher Monkeys

$80 to take photos and Burkina Faso…….

African Ales

Grade 4 haircuts Etc etc…..

Hope you are all well and a very Happy New Year…..life certainly is good!