Days 30 and 31 – Mole National Park

The roads in Northern Ghana leave a lot to be desired. The trip to the town of Wa took us around 4 hours despite being little over 100km. However, the noises of the village coming to life at around 5:30am this morning ensure that we were up and about early and leaving the village on the dot of 7:30am waving our goodbyes and thanking the community for their kind hospitality.

Wa is a dusty small town in the North West of Ghana. We used it primarily for a chance to change money, get lunch and even use the internet, of which we managed 2 out of 3 successfully and struggled with probably the slowest internet yet for half an hour before giving up and finding lunch. Lunch was a real treat (sorry, I realise I talk about food a lot in this post) mostly because it was so surprisingly good. We found a lady on a less-busy street with a huge bowl of rice and asked her to give us a bag of whatever she had. Luckily there was a younger guy there waiting to buy food and he was able to suggest what we should have. It turned out that in her various pots of pans, she had ingredients including rice, black-eyed peas, noodles, cabbage, spicy beef and tomato/chilli oil, all of which she lumped in a bag asking us for a cedi (less than 50p) each. Delicious!

Around 6pm we made it to Mole National Park – the entrance of which is 80km up a dirt track with its fair share of potholes and other bumps. We headed straight for the bar only to bump into Jon’s second cousin, Rachel and her family, who have been living in Accra for a few months and were on a few days holiday in Mole while Rachel’s sister is over to visit. Rachel works for DFID in Education and Health Programs and Jon had been in contact with her to potentially arrange a meet-up in Accra next week. But to both their surprise, we all ended up at the same motel in the park anyway. What are the chances?!

On Thursday morning (Happy Thanksgiving, Kristy) we woke with the sun to take a 7am safari walk with our guide Christopher. The safaris at Mole are ridiculously good value with each person paying 3 cedis (less than £1.50) for each hour walking around with a guide. The park has a good range of animal and bird species and in that first walk we saw warthogs, baboons, green monkeys, pata monkeys, various antelopes and even an elephant. Elephant sightings are quite rare these days, especially at this time in the year which is mating season, but Christopher tracked one down using footprints and clearings through trees within the allocated 2 hours. It was actually quite amusing how we found it because we were all trekking through some thick forest and found a rather recent looking elephant poo! We were all busy saying to each other how ‘fresh’ and ‘recent’ it looked when we looked up to see the old fella standing no more than 10m away in front of us!

Thoroughly contented with our morning safari, we headed back to the motel for a swim, a read and a bite to eat and then some of us went out for more – this time in a Land Rover. No elephants this time, but a lot of ‘boks’, warthogs and some bird sightings as well as a really beautiful sunset over a large watering hole. Once we got back we found out that those who had stayed behind (half the group) had seen an elephant from the pool and had also managed to be thieved by a baboon who had made off with our Thanksgiving pineapple dessert! Following that and an unsuccessful trip for vegetables in the nearest town by Matt we decided to have our Thanksgiving dinner at the hotel instead and ordered some roasted guinea fowl with rice and potatoes. Not a bad way to celebrate Thanksgiving given that we are in a National Park in Western Africa.

Day 29 – Crossing into Ghana

Tuesday was spent with a long day of driving into Ghana. It took us a while to leave Bobo because we needed to make various trips into town before leaving – some to use the internet, others to buy more food supplies – and then we needed to find a garage who had the necessary equipment to top up our oil and lube the axle. We found a well-manned Shell garage and while they went to work, we went to find a café so that Jon could have his first ‘proper’ coffee since starting the trip.

The café was full of men having omelettes for breakfast or sitting in small groups sipping coffee. Throughout the trip, the people we have come into contact with in places like these – cafes, bars and restaurants – as well as in positions working with tourists as guides, campsite owners etc have predominantly been men. The women are out working, manning the street stalls, looking after children and tending the home. The men, unless they work in the tourism industry seem to spend a lot more time relaxing with friends, chatting over a coffee or something stronger. This goes the same for the children – most of whom we meet are boys who are presumably ‘allowed’ to have this contact with tourists and to try their best to bring home empty bottles (which they re-use or sell), money or leftover food. I can only presume that the young girls are either protected from such exposure to strangers or are busy at home looking after younger siblings and helping their mother to juggle work and home-making.

Once the vehicle had been tended to, we got on the road and made the 5 or so hour journey to the Ghanaian border – our last crossing as a group. Ghana is an English-speaking country surrounded by a sea of French-speaking ones – Cote D’Ivoire to the West, Togo to the East and Burkina Faso to the North. For all in the group, this came as a relief – firstly to the French-speakers amongst us who no longer had to do the tasks that supposedly required foreign-language communication and secondly to all the others who can now understand what is going on and benefit from the added sense of interaction with the communities that we are passing through.

Once over the border, we came into contact with one such community almost straight away. With the sun starting to set and us in need of a place to sleep for the night, Matt pulled up at a village bar and asked the village elder whether it would be ok for us to set up camp in their village. Slightly taken aback and amused, the elder soon said that of course it would be fine if that was what we wanted to do and we ‘parked’ (with a vehicle this side it can sometimes look more like ‘abandoning’) and started to set up camp. As with other communities that we have stopped near , there was a great deal of curiosity surrounding this group of tourists, but many of the community approached us to welcome us to their village and to make sure that we were ok. This continued all night as more and more people heard about our presence and felt the need to come and introduce themselves. We made our usual ‘rough camping’ popcorn, much to the children’s delight and indeed to the adults who, after a few bowls had been depleted, pushed the kids out of the way to enjoy a whole bowl themselves. Then after dinner, we settled down to what is becoming a customary movie night whenever we stay outside of a town, and some of the villagers joined us to watch it. One little girl was extremely determined to stay awake to watch, but managed to fall asleep sat on the hard stony ground in such an uncomfortable-looking pose that I wanted to move her to a bed several times.

Tomorrow we aim to get to Mole National Park where we hope to stay a couple of nights.

Day 28 – Bamfora Part 2

Km count: 85 (back to Bobo)
Mopeds jinxed by Jon in a single day: 3

The next day we were up surprisingly early despite the late night out and we headed 11km into town to try to find some bike/moped rental places. As we soon saw, we were spoilt for choice. The town seemed to be some kind of 2-wheeled transport heaven with every other shop housing battered looking mopeds, scooters and even pushbikes. We found a reliable looking shop and soon paired up to choose mopeds and velo-moteurs to make the 6km journey to the local tourist attraction – a lake called the Lac Teriguela which is home to around 20 hippos who pop up to say hello mostly during these few months at the beginning of the dry season when they have enough water to remain submerged but not enough to remain unseen.

After all of 500m, Jon and my moped unfortunately broke down. Seeing the trouble Jon was having restarting it, various mechanics from the stalls next to the road came to our rescue and each started their own diagnosis of the problem. Deciding they had figured it out, they offered to clean the fuse for us, but we politely turned them down thinking it may be best to return the bike to the original rental place and to ask them to offer us another, more reliable moped. Sure enough, on our way back, a mechanic from the shop next door to our rental place recognised us (“you’re from the group of 6 girls, 4 men and a truck, right? Here come this way…”)

Once back, we were promptly given a new bike and should have heard the warning signs when he immediately said, “let’s just check the air in those tyres, though I’m sure they are fine” and then led us to another shop down the road so that they might find a tyre pump! Anyway, happy that the engine now started, we made our way back onto the road to the Teriguela lake and attempted to miss any major potholes en route. At one point, our gears, which apparently followed no normal logic had a problem at the bottom of the hill meaning that our progress slowed to less than walking speed and was quite some amusement to a whole group of school children who were been spoken to by their teacher at the side of the road.
done

Anyway, shortly we caught up with the group who had sent Tom back to see what on earth we were up to and made our way along the last track to the lake. Once there, we paid our entrance fee and for a boat trip and parked our bikes on the shore. We were soon told that we actually needed to move them all of 2m backwards for them to be in the ‘official’ car park (a movement that allowed for us to find a slip of paper reading “moto 150F” (or, Moped 150F (20p)) when we returned. We were lucky enough to see around 4 hippos on our outing and the girls also received a very elegant-looking (?) crown and a necklace made of water-lillies and fashioned very expertly by our competent piroguiers.

After an omelette and spaghetti lunch by the lake, we returned to our bikes (and paid the parking tickets), re-mounted and realised that our replacement bike had already got a flat tyre. Luckily, there were two spaces on other bikes – one with Tom and one with Kristy – and so we decided we’d all head back to the shop, leaving the bike with a flat in the bike park at the lake for its owner to come back for later. So, I set off with Tom and Jon clung on to the back of Kristy’s (I still think he looks to big to be a comfortable passenger!) and we started back at a reasonable speed. However, just 1.5km or so along the road, Tom and I followed Kristy and Jon through a significant hole in the road which caused such a bump that their key flew out of the ignition and the bike ground to a gradual halt. After spending 10 mins looking for a needle in the proverbial haystack, we gave up looking and decided that Jon and I would push Kirsty’s bike back while she and Tom continued to town to notify the owner of the second of his bikes that had become un-useable on the return leg. I’m sure that the fact that they were both used by Jon (in addition to the broken down one that had been replaced) is purely coincidence…

After all that, we arrived back from our little excursion a bit later than planned so only managed to make it back as far as Bobo for the evening. It is the first time we have retraced our steps so far and was weird to go back to a place we had already stayed at – it almost felt like home!

Tomorrow, on to the Ghana border for a week in an English-speaking country before leaving for Senegal!

Day 27 – Bamfora, Burkina Faso

Kms count: 85
Bowlfuls of fried plantain eaten as a snack: 8

Today, we head slightly of-route from Bobo to make a short trip South West to some waterfalls called the cascades de Kerefuela, near a town called Bamfora. We arrived at about 12pm after a 2hr drive from Bobo, a journey which was about as quick for the first 60km as for the last 20km because it had been 5 years since Tom was last here and it was a first time visit for Matt. We had brought with us a nice picnic lunch with us – which in itself had provided quite a lot of amusement because on the trip back from the supermarket, Jon had gone to put the groceries in the boot only to find a pig in there taking up the whole boot. It was funny until we realised that the poor thing was tied up, making sad and pathetic squealing noises, probably knowing its fate for that day.

Anyway, sandwiches in hand we made the short but steep climb to the top of the waterfalls and settled in for a couple of hours of swimming, sunbathing, reading and relaxing. Well, most of us. Jon was like a five year old having found a playground and shortly took it upon himself to work off his lunch by climbing and jumping his way down to the very bottom of the waterfall darting in and out of our line of vision from the top and chancing it with the various snakes and spiders lurking amongst the rocks.

After a couple of hours rest, we headed down and, as is a usual occurrence in most places that we visit, we met Matt’s new friends. Having stayed to guard the truck, Matt had made yet new acquaintances who had already told him the best places for us to stay, eat and listen to music for that Sunday night.

Sure enough, the campsite was a nice one, with round mud hut bedrooms, a bar serving cold drinks and an open area for us to cook in. Most importantly, though, it had a complete petanque set with enough balls for 5 pairs to battle it out around the entire campsite undisturbed by any other tourists. After a long game (won by Rachel and Jon) we sat down to replenish our energy supplies with 8 fried plantain and a beef and potato stew.

At 8pm ish, Matt’s new friends came to pick us up to take us to the local bar which had also been recommended as a good local restaurant. For this reason, some of us had restrained from eating too much back at the campsite and were soon bitterly disappointed to find out not only that the Lonely Planet’s recommended oven baked pork was no longer on the menu, but that the chicken alternative that we were served definitely smelled like it was rotting. I am pleased to say the sweet potato fries I went for, were extremely tasty.

The music was a local type of drumming called djembe which was accompanied by xylophone and maracas and each of the group singing along. For a Sunday, the bar was pretty busy and we enjoyed the music for a few hours before we realised that we had out-stayed the rest of the patrons and decided it might be best to leave. Opting for the second of the two taxis, Matt, Jon and I made it only half way home before being taken to another bar where there was still a large crowd. We stopped off for an hour or so more dancing and a rather more ‘local’ experience albeit in a much dirtier bar that definitely wouldn’t have made it into the LP’s recommended nightlife section.

Day 26 – Men down!

Day 26 – Men down

Kms count: 355
Birthplace of Victoire (a.k.a Victoria)
Men down: 4/4

Saturday morning brought with it some casualties and we found ourselves starting the day with driver-Matt having been sick in the night, Tom following suit all morning and Andy concerned about his first dodgy stomach of the trip. With the common denominator being several obscenely large pieces of beef that all the boys, including as yet unfazed Jon, consumed yesterday we seemed to have the cause pinpointed and it made for an uncomfortable 355km journey for the boys. Jon showed the tell-tale and very worrying signs of being ill when he passed up the lamb at lunchtime (a very rare event) and felt ‘uneasy’ all afternoon.

Admittedly beer consumption may have had its role to play in the worse-for-wear state of all the boys. Yesterday, whilst some of us girls went for a relaxing swim and sipped some cold rose wine (how civilised), the boys tucked into a fair few beers before we went out for our dinner in town, The restaurant wasn’t particularly busy for a Friday night but there was a group of guys drumming and they put on an entertaining performance. Unfortunately, being the only tourists (actually, pretty much the only customers) meant that we were hassled unendingly by artisans trying to sell us their wares. Eventually we left the restaurant and had a reasonably early night having seen a small part of the centre of town.

Saturday’s kms took us to Burkina’s second town, Bobo-Diolasso, a place described as ‘charming and lovely’ by the Lonely Planet and also birthplace and home (for all of three months) to Victoria who now lives in Switzerland. Bobo is smaller than the capital city and known for its old town, large mosque and its shopping! We got in at 3pm and headed into town for a look around the shops.

The centre of Bobo is full of many similar shops all selling very similar souvenirs. I have personally been looking for a painting similar to one I saw in Namibia and have regretted not buying ever since! I even saw a similar one that a friend bought in Tanzania when I went to her house last year and reminded myself that it would look great in my lounge. Unfortunately I didn’t find exactly what I was looking for but still found some interesting cloth paintings that may have to be sneaked into Jon’s bag when he returns to the UK next week!

Jon decided to pass on the shopping in favour of having his first shave of the trip at a barbershop called “Seduction Coiffure”. He settled down in front of a man dressed in what can only be described as a ski jacket (NB: it hasn’t dropped below 30 degrees for days) and let him work his magic. Unfortunately the blade that was used for his beard had seen sharper days and was used with some dry foam and no water and so the process was less than comfortable. However, he got the full service with a full hair-cut (rather short in places)) and also a nose hair trim (performed using a large pair scissors) and even a quick shave of any chest hair on show. When it was apparent that the barber thought he’d completed the job (using a bottle of rum as aftershave), Jon pointed out that he still had a full handlebar moustache that he wasn’t intending on keeping and so asked that maybe the man could finish the job. By way of explanation he then saw a can of Brylcreem that the man was glancing at and saw a picture of a man with a very short clipped haircut and full handlebar moustache and presumes that maybe he was just given the standard ‘house cut’ of the Seduction Coiffure!

A group of us decided to treat ourselves to yet another meal out while Tom and Andy took to their beds and a few others rested at the campsite. By now, Jon had also been struck down by the lurgi and was keen for his bed and Matt was hoping for a problem-free night of good sleep before our drive to the waterfalls tomorrow.

Days 24 and 25 – The best name for a capital city in the world

Kms count:120 + 230
Vowels in the city’s name: 8
Suspected food poisoning: 1
Cinema night in the ‘bush camp’: 1

The distance from Bandiagara to the Burkina Faso border is not far but it is very bumpy! The 100 or so kilometres to the border ended up taking about 5 hours and then a 90 minute border control stop meant that we made it just over the border in time to set up camp for the night.

NB (Feel free to skip this paragraph if you don’t want further details of aforementioned food poisoning!)
About half way to the border we had stopped for some street food which I can only assume didn’t agree with me (thinking back, the fact that I saw and removed a bug of some kind that crawled out from underneath the chicken reassures me that this is the case) because on arrival at the border I started to feel particularly nauseous and had to refrain from leaving the border guards a little memento outside their passport check hut. Thinking I was just severely dehydrated I downed a few litres of water which thankfully helped me to expel the food from my stomach just before dinner was served – surely extremely appetising for the rest of the group, but great timing for me to refill my stomach with yet more rice (of the special fried variety) and the second tin of baked beans that we thought needed using up.

The camping spot was a great find – unbelieveably quiet (not a cow or a rooster or a donkey in sight – yippee!) and full of excellent bonfire wood. Our resident Australian, Matt (why are Australians always so good at making fires?!) set to making the fire on our arrival and we gathered round it for warmth and an after-dinner film viewing of a Michael McIntyre comedy episode. It was slightly surreal to be sat in the middle of nowhere crowded around a campfire and a Macbook, but it provided excellent entertainment and lots of laughs and definitely cheered me up after feeling so awful all afternoon.

Friday, we got up as it got light and got on the road to Ouagadougou. With just one stop for some roasted guinea fowl (at 10:30am for a mid-morning snack) we made it to the city at 2pm. First we made a quick stop at one of the best supermarkets we’ve seen for a while and treated ourselves to a few boxes of wine and replenished the sweet and biscuits jars in the truck. We then trotted over to the Hotel OK Inn (love the name) for a slap up meal, the deal being that if we spend £5 or so on a meal we can then camp in their grounds for free and even use their swimming pool. Excellent.

TBC…

Days 21-23: Beautiful Dogon Country

Kms covered: 30 (by foot)
Cous-cous lunches eaten: 3
Meals containing peas: 5/5 PERFECT!

We set off from Bandiagara on Monday morning for a 3-day trek in the Pays Dogon (Dogon country). Recently named a UNESCO World Heritage site, the Dogon Country stretches 240km from North to South and is home to the Dogon people – a civilisation which has lived in this area for over 6 centuries. The Dogon country’s main feature is the steep-faced cliffs that run along one side of the valley and into which houses and settlements have been built. Originally home to the Tellem pygmies, it is hard to believe that they were able to build their houses half way up the rock with only strong ropes and excellent climbing skills. Even now, the cliffs look like a challenging climb even without the 30+ degree heat.

The Tellems were hunted by the Dogon people and chased out of the area sometime during the 13th and 14th centuries at which point the 8 ancestors of the Dogon culture set up communities in the 3 parts of Dogon country – on the plateau above the cliffs, on the cliffs themselves and on the expansive plains in the cliff’s shadow.

On Monday we made our way down the escarpment at a place called Sangha. We were surrounded by school children who spend their lunchtimes before school restarts at 2pm helping tourists down the cliffs hoping to get a piece (coin) for their troubles. The walk itself was not difficult, but I soon found myself with one ‘guide’ on either side, telling me stories and making sure that I didn’t trip or fall flat on my face. Once at the bottom, we settled down for lunch and were given 4 choices which then remained for each meal on the trek – cous-cous, rice, spaghetti or macaroni. Having been banned (unbelieveably) from eating cous-cous through the whole of Morocco and Mauritania (Mark, our previous driver was not a big fan) we opted for a delicious and generous-sized cous-cous lunch (which, as it turned out was the first of 3 identical lunches that we had in the Dogons) and made our introductions to the guide.

Our guide Mamadou, who loved to refer to himself in the third person, is originally from Dogon country and now works as a guide out of Bandiagara. He told us that he used to skip school to show tourists around, gradually finding jobs being employed as a porter where he would listen to the guides and learn about the culture and history himself so as to equip him for future trips that he would run alone. Having met the dozens of kids who helped us to make our way down the cliffs, you can see that a future as a tour guide could be the dream for many of them who want to stay living in the Dogons and find it hard to find work in the bigger cities.

The afternoon was a relatively easy 4km stroll and a great chance to take in the scenery. The place is so quiet and peaceful and visually looks like some kind of imaginary world or the set of an Indiana Jones film or even Jurassic Park. Having made it to our overnight camping spot of Ireli, an evening of star-gazing and another similar meal was followed by yet another early night and the first feeling of well-deserved sleep after actually doing some exercise for the first time in 3 weeks.

Tuesday was a long day which started with a tour of the village and a few explanations about the traditions and roles within the community. Each village in the Dogons has a village elder/ chief and also a spiritual leader or a hogon. The village chief remains within a single family whilst the spiritual leader is voted in by the inhabitants of the village and is responsible for establishing the links between the Dogon people and their god Amma. In one village that we visited the hogon has recently died and the villagers must wait 3 years before they elect his replacement.

Another interesting tradition to witness has been the way in which the Dogon people greet each other. Each and every time Mamadou greeted somebody the same routine of around 10 questions and answers would begin. The questions go something like “How are you”, “How is your family?”, “How is your Mother?”, “How is your Father”, “How are the animals?”, “How are the crops?” etc etc. The funny thing was that each question seemed to get the same response of “Fine” and then the whole process was repeated while the respondent asked the same questions to the other person. Imagine doing that each and every time you saw someone in town…

At lunchtime on Tuesday we attended a masked dance which replicated the ceremony held every 60 years as a celebration for the ancestors of the community. The costumes were pretty spectacular and the masked dancers told the Dogon people’s story to the accompanying beat of drums. After the dance we got back to the trek and had another 9kms to complete before we made it to our overnight stop in Nombori. The accommodation was basic and we all had the chance to try out our bucket showering skills as well as experience a rather unpleasantly smelling long-drop toilet. Nice.
done

Our last day of trekking on Wednesday inevitably involved a climb to the top of the cliffs and a good heart rate raiser! I will upload some pictures to show the very different landscapes of the three areas of the plateau, the cliffs and the plains. All of it was so beautiful and some of the best trekking I have ever done. We passed a fair few tourists, all French, I think, and saw a couple of groups along the way who were cycling the route, but the tourism wasn’t at all invasive or even that noticeable. The funny thing about the Pays Dogon is that it really isn’t that well known by tourists even though it is such an amazingly beautiful place. People who come to Mali are usually drawn by big names such as Timbuktu or maybe Djenne. As it turns out, the FCO have recently upgraded their alert for Timbuktu and the surrounding area and so we, like many others, are not able to go because it would invalidate our travel insurance. Obviously actions like that by the FCO can really affect a country like Mali’s tourism as well as tour operators like Matt who are aware of the significant pull of Timbuktu as an attraction. So the irony is that on the one hand, the ‘smaller’ attractions like the Dogon Country (which has been, for me, the real highlight of the country) would pull in a lot more tourists and money if it was heavily marketed as the trekking/ climbing/ extreme sports paradise that it is. But on the other hand, an influx of more tourists would arguably ruin the peacefulness of the villages and could impact on the traditions and rituals that make the culture one that Unesco so wants to protect.

At around 12pm on Wednesday we met Matt in a town called Dourou, ate another mountainous pile of cous-cous and then made the bumpy ride back to our base in Bandiagara. Tomorrow we head off for Burkina Faso, our penultimate country of the trip and birthplace of the lovely Victoria (or Victoire as we call her). First stop will be the brilliantly-named Ouagadougou.

Days 19 and 20 – Laid-back weekend in Sevare

Total Kms covered (2 days): 72
Omelette sandwiches bought at 2am: 7 (between 4 boys)
Failed attempts at ATMs before finally getting money out: 10+
Favourite sandwich so far: minced meat with plantain. YUM!

After the excitement of the boat trip, we headed to a very nice campsite in Sevare, just 12km from Mopti where we had docked on Saturday lunchtime.

Complete with wifi, hot showers and an idyllic rooftop setting for our tents, we have once again been spoilt by a group leader and driver who know all the best spots. What’s more, we decided it was a good evening to use the ‘Tesco’s finest’ chorizo that Tom brought out for us when he returned to make a delicious chorizo stew a la Doss (a friend from home)…even if i do say so myself!

On Saturday night we headed to a local bar (by donkey cart of course!) to listen to some Malian drumming music and singing. Not sated by the chorizo stew by 2am, we stopped for an omelette sandwich (the boys) and some boiled yams at a street-side stall before making our way back to the campsite. It was a welcome break and relax for us given the amount we have been on the road. Sunday’s grand total of 60km that needed covering also meant that we had a relaxing morning doing washing, going to the bank and, yes, more eating before setting off for Bandiagara, the gateway to Dogon country and the next stage of the trip.

Day 18 – Cruising the Niger

Cruising the River Niger was one of the things I was most looking forward to about the trip. The river itself runs all the way from Guinea in the West through Mali and towards Niger and then Nigeria before spilling out again into the Atlantic on the West Coast of Nigeria. It is the principle river of West Africa and runs over 4000km.

So early on Friday we caught a pinasse with three brothers at the helm and we slowly floated our way up the river. Along the way we stopped in villages to see communities living in total isolation without electricity or internet and who were naturally curious about their visitors. The people living here don’t really speak French and use “ca va” as a greeting, a question, a good-bye and pretty much anything else they would want to communicate. We are called “toubabouts” (sp.?) which literally means “medicine man” but has come to be a term meaning “white person” and the children were quite happy to demand us to take their photos saying “toubabout, photo” which of course we happily did.

Again, I think the photos say it all so I won’t dwell on the boat ride. Suffice to say that it was an extremely relaxing 36 hours, during which we saw an amazing sunset and camped on the river banks with bats circling our tents. I think the crew were less than impressed with our food, unfortunately as we decided to use up the massive 2kg tin of baked beans that has been traveling with us since the start and which, for many of us, were eaten with marmite and bread. Porridge the next morning got a similar reception! Oh well, for one day at least we can give the impression of eating as princes rather than kings. Its good to have lowered the expectations temporarily from the amazing food that we have been getting used to!

Enjoy the photos!

Day 17 – Djenne and its Mahusive Mud Mosque

Having been woekn so kindly and efficiently by the cows, we thought it only polite to hit the road to Djenne early so that we could get there to have a look around before sunset. We made quick progress towards Djenne, stopping only for lunch. Now that Matt has joined us, lunch has taken a somewhat different turn, with us now trusting his substantial appetite for good food and following him to his recommended street stall. As much as I love a good marmite sandwich, this food on the side of the road is amazing! Today we stopped and ordered a leg of lamb cut into small bite-sized chunks and covered in a yummy mix of spices, plus a decent portion of fried plantains and yams for the group of 10. This whole feast cost us around 10 euros for all ten of us, so works out a bit cheaper than bread and cheese too. Great!

To get to Djenne, we got the mighty beast of a truck onto a ferry to cross onto the island. We had to wait for a couple of ferry crossings before there was sufficient room for our truck to make it onto the ferry and so the necklace and earring sellers made the most of the down-time to advertise their jewelry to us. A main problem with all of the small street sellers over here is that they are all selling the same thing! We have seen the same necklaces and bracelets everywhere since arriving in Mali and so unfortunately there wasn’t much to tempt us into a purchase. Luckily, after a brief half hour or so we were safely aboard the ferry making our way over to the island.

Djenne is most famously known for its huge mud mosque (see photos) which is said to be the largest mud structure in the world. Being at the end of the rainy season (which runs from July to September) the mosque is currently undergoing renovations to make sure any damaged walls are rebuilt. As non-Muslims, we were obviously not allowed to enter the mosque to see any more of the building, but we had a good guided tour around the outside and then to a rooftop with excellent views over the town. I think the pictures speak for themselves so I will leave it there!