The nicer bits of Mali

Staying in Bamako for one week was a welcome change to being on the road and putting up and taking tents down daily. There was cold beer, showers (albeit also cold), excellent food and random nights out. We intended to get our Nigerian visas here but they were unable to issue them in time. But nonetheless we also wanted to stay somewhere nice for Christmas.

Aside from my ‘incident’, we had a great time in Bamako. The fetish market was unusual with everything from rats with their guts exposed,

to dead parrots that are apparently eaten as an aphrodisiac, rotten dogs’ heads, chicken heads, pelts of various animals, hippo skulls, and dried chameleons amongst many other delightful things.

We visited the nearby Artisan’s market several times during our stay to purchase Tuareg swords,

masks, jewellery, etc. Aside from the annoying touts that wouldn’t cease to follow us around, we had an incredible time and Shaun and Karen were even invited into a stall to eat with the locals.

Speaking of eating, we have had some amazing meals – both eating out and home cooked. At Amandine café/bar/restaurant they do excellent vanilla milkshakes and I averaged about one a day during our stay. At our campsite, Staci, Josh and I made Vietnamese rice paper rolls one night which were a hit particularly with the hot, dry weather.

‘The Desperate Tent Wives’ cooking group (Andrea, Katie and Karen) made fattoush (Lebanese salad), kofta balls (or vegetable skewers and baba ganoush for us vegos) and hummus. As Kristy would say in a high-pitched voice “Thanks cook group – it’s amaaaaaaaaaaazing!”

But the most incredible experience of all was one of our night’s out on the town. We started off at a local bar behind the Canadian Embassy which had a large outdoor area where we could sit under the stars and drink cold beer around large wooden cable drum tables whilst listening to an incredible local Malian band. The best part of the night, however, was at the Diplomat. The crowd was trendy and casually chatting at long tables whilst the local Malian band played. The songs picked up in pace and soon enough locals, expats and travellers alike were getting up and dancing. The local dancing resembled a form of salsa, possibly as salsa has its roots in West Africa.

The main act everyone was waiting for was Lamine Tounkara who told us he plays the djely doudou ba. He took a particular liking to Dom and seemed to be playing to him alone!

Lamine came over to our table at the end of the night so I asked him in French if Dom could have a go and he was very happy to teach Dom how to play his instrument. Dom gave it a pretty good go and Lamine seemed quite pleased with his new student. He’s very keen to play in Australia at a world music festival so if anyone has any contacts, let me know – he’s amaaaaaaaazing!

Afterwards everyone seemed to lose each other and Dom and I ended up at Jet 7 – a trendy nightclub where locals in funky (and skimpy) clothing were dancing to the latest hiphop and techno beats.

Malitary

Ever since the boys got locked up in Senegaol, I had been teasing them. Perhaps then it was karma that I was at the centre of the Mali ‘experience’.

It all transpired on our first day in Bamako. An interesting mural in a park across the road from the fetish market attracted my attention and I went over to take a photo of it. Little did I realise it was right next to the National Assembly. The annoying thing is that I am more than aware that you shouldn’t take photos of anything remotely military or guarded, but I hadn’t seen any guards, nor had I seen the National Assembly next to it. And there were definitely no signs saying you cannot take photos.

A guard waited until I had taken a photo before running over to me and shouting ‘Donnes-moi ton appareil!’ Needless to say I didn’t want to hand over my camera so I politely said ‘Non’ and tried to get around him as he was blocking my path out of the park. Next thing I knew he grabbed my left wrist with both hands and was trying to haul me into the National Assembly.

Luckily I was with 7 other people from our group who came to my rescue. Special thanks goes to Andrea who ran up to me and gave me a big bear hug and wouldn’t let go, telling the guards they cannot take me away! Special thanks also goes to Staci. Somehow my big toe came out from under my thong (sandal for the Brits) strap which really annoyed me and was preventing me from walking properly. I told the guard to let me go so I could put my toe back in my shoe and was frustrated most of all by the fact he wouldn’t let me! I asked if anyone could put my toe back in and Staci kindly obliged – I felt so relieved when my shoes were all sorted out! Staci later told me it was hard to do as I was shaking so much which I didn’t realise at the time. Looking back on the incident it was hilarious that I was most concerned by my big toe coming out of my sandal strap!

Somehow we managed to prise their grip off my wrist and walk away but before we had reached the other side of the market about 6 guards ran after me, one grabbed my camera and put it in his pocket and I was obliged to follow them into the National Assembly. A local who’d been showing us around came in with Zach, Garrett, Andrea and I and helped us out a great deal without expecting anything at all in return. We finally managed to convince the guard to give me my camera so I could show him I’d deleted the photo I didn’t even know I wasn’t allowed to take and he reluctantly let me hold onto my camera though really he wanted it or more likely some money. The local guy told us to just leave and all of us couldn’t have exited more swiftly.

Taking photos in Mali generally appears to be tricky. Even taking a photo of a statue can elicit some violent finger pointing and head shaking from any nearby locals or oncoming traffic. And you definitely cannot take photos in the National Museum either. Luckily in the fetish market the locals are a bit more relaxed and some let you take shots for free and others for a small fee.

Appropriately, my new nickname is now ‘Paparazzi’…

Gripe of the week

Certain people walking around campsites in y-fronts and often in the nude! Put it away - please!

Bush camping to Mali

The drive from Dakar to Bamako took us five bush camps.

Needless to say, we got the baby wipes out again; here’s one of Shaun’s feet after a wet-wipe shower, and one without.

But we were also fortunate enough to stop by the side of a river after a few days and have a more thorough wash.

Some of camp sites were stunning such as this one by the riverside where we played around with a soccer ball in the water.

There was only one that was a little questionable as Amy accidentally set off a large trap – luckily she didn’t get caught in it.

At another one, local kids came over to check us out and I asked them where the nearest baobab tree was as we wanted to see the fruit. They pointed us in the right direction but later that night came back to our campsite with arms full of baobab fruit for us! We gave them 5 litres of water in a large bottle for their trouble and we all took plenty of photos of each other – they snuck a photo of me on one of their mobile phones!

As we were leaving one of our campsites our truck got bogged. The boys couldn’t have been more excited – they rushed to help dig out the truck’s wheels and lay down the sand mats so Nev could drive us out of the hole. Afterwards Andrea put on the ‘Truck got stuck’ song – very appropriate.

We had some excellent campfire meals

and incredible sunrises and sunsets.

The villages along the way made the experience for us though where kids were waving at us with both hands and jumping up and down in excitement or running after our truck.

We particularly enjoyed the street food in the villages too such in Kita where we tried fried dough balls and sweet potato chips with ‘piment’ (spicy sauce).

Much nicer Senegalese experiences

Despite a couple of unpleasant experiences, we managed to overlook these and see the nicer side of Senegal.

A 1 ½ hour boat ride to St Louis was much more tranquil; the only sounds we could hear were the soft purring of the motor, the splashing of water as birds dive-bombed the surface in search of fish, and the slight scraping of a plastic container against the bottom of the boat to bail out water when we started to sink a little too low.

The island itself is very picturesque.

Fishermen were hauling in or repairing nets

goats were wandering aimlessly through the narrow streets,

or on the beach,

eating rubbish,

or being washed…

Another highlight was plenty of cold beer accompanied by delicious meals, such as meatballs that the ‘Three Amitos’ cookgroup expertly made.

But best of all, we were once again reunited with our Americans in Dakar (who’d been spending time in Senegal as they couldn’t get into Mauritania). After much welcoming and many group hugs, poor Staci was thrown right back into it for cook group duty with Josh and I that night.

At our campsite, we found some tortoises in need of water and quickly refilled all their bowls. They enjoyed our scraps of watermelon rind and a few back scratches.

A few of us visited the Ile de Gorée

and wandered around the slavery museum, Castel, fort and small cobblestoned alleyways lined with art – some bright and modern and some just plain bizarre.

Later we sat down to enjoy a traditional Senegalese meal – Thiou au Poisson (fish in tomato-based sauce)

though I much prefer the Yassa au Poisson (fish in onion sauce). I washed it down with some tasty hibiscus juice and baobab juice (I didn’t even realise baobab trees had fruit as I don’t think I’ve ever seen any with it – until now.)

Before leaving Dakar, we stopped briefly at the controversial statue of a scantily-clad man, woman and child,

which overlooks the Westernmost point of Africa.

Senegaol

Travelling around Africa is incredible and we’ve had some amazing experiences so far. But it’s important to remember, we’re in Africa, and things can also go horribly wrong.

So far, we’ve had two prickly experiences – one in Senegal and one in Mali.

Unfortunately right from the border crossing, Senegal and us started off on the wrong foot. After several hours of intense investigation, let’s just say we made it into the country a little less well-off than when started.

A night out in St Louis, however, proved to be even more nightmarish. A word of advice to travellers: DO NOT GO TO FLAMINGO BAR! Or if you do, ensure you get receipts for everything you purchase and ensure it says ‘payé’. A group of us went there for lunch and afternoon drinks and were getting along famously with the wait staff. That is until the group thinned out to just three people who were then charged for (extra) tequila shots that they never had. The police were called and hauled the three of them off to jail. One lucky one we’re now calling ‘Jail Break’ managed to escape and alert Kristy. The other two were not so lucky and spent the night with 4 other locals in a prison cell that stunk of urine emanating from a full jerry can.

Afterwards, we found out that this apparently happens quite regularly and one unfortunate soul spent two weeks in a cell!

There was nothing Kristy could do until the morning, when, accompanied by a few others from our group, she began negotiations with the prison guards. The two ended up paying for the drinks they never had plus an additional fee. Luckily that was the only price they had to pay…

Malitary experience to come soon…

Transiting through Mauritania

Crossing the border from Morocco into Mauritania took us 7 hours and 6 minutes in total. It was most of our group’s longest ever border crossing. Our passports were checked multiple times, our truck was x-rayed and a sniffer dog sniffed (and left dog hair on) all our bags. Other than that, there was just a lot of waiting as there were many trucks in the queue before us. No-man’s land between the exit from Morocco and entry into Mauritania was filled with rusted cars, parts and old tyres. I could have had a field day litter picking here, but we didn’t get out of the truck or even deviate from the road as apparently it’s also littered with land mines.

Mauritania itself was similar in landscape to the Western Sahara – lots of sandy, rocky desert with small shrubs and the occasional herd of camels. We saw the ore train which Lonely Planet describes travelling on as being only for the most hardcore traveller.

We made it into Nouadhibou just on sunset and never ceased to attract attention in our big yellow bus.

Josh and I were on cook group duty (Ron also got subbed in as Staci is in Senegal) so we got straight on to preparing a “truck meal” otherwise known as a “floorboard special” – canned meatballs with mash and baked beans with mash for us vegos, as well as pasta and beetroot for a salad for tomorrow lunch. I ended up finishing my shower at 11pm that night and was up again at 6am the next day preparing brekkie and finishing off the lunch prep.

Nouakchott was our main destination in Mauritania as we were only ever meant to transit through the country due to the UK’s FCO advice. Us Aussies had to get our Senegal visas here, and luckily we managed to get them as normally they don’t issue them on Thursdays, and are closed on Friday and Saturday. Nouakchott was an interesting town

with a few main sights – Ali Baba’s burger joint, the grande mosquée,

the market,

and the colourful fish market about 4kms out of town

where I did some litter picking.

Most of the rubbish consisted of plastic cups.

We then had one bush camp on the way to the Senegal border and slept in Jo’s new pink double mozzie net with lace around each side (purchased in Nouakchott for 3,000 Ougiyas: 1 euro = 360 ougiyas), protected by the Gendarmes who spent the night near us to keep us safe.

The next day we drove through the Parc National du Diawling and saw some warthogs, monkeys and many birds including egrets and herons. When we reached the end of the park, we had to pay and found out the rates had gone up from 1,000 to 2,000 Ougiyas from 1^st June. They joked that if we left 4 people behind, all of whom had to be women, and one of them me, then we could get a discount! Needless to say, we quickly paid the increased rate.

We also found this car nearby, but clearly wouldn’t want to be going anywhere in it in a hurry!