Mali, Burkina Faso and Ghana

22.1.10 – Day 34 – Bamako, Mali

Mali is poor, very poor. In fact it’s the 4th poorest country on earth, with 90% of the population living on less than ₤2 per day and one third of the population is malnourished. The cost of everything is about 50-75% of that in Europe, so that ₤2 doesn’t go very far. It would be the equivalent of earning ₤60 per month in the UK – before tax! Well in fact 90% of the population are earning less that that! I guess that accounts for the empty roads - a few trucks, some bush taxis and the odd NGO or rich businessman/politician. I’ve just been out in Bamako to one of its top bars. It’s mostly filled with whitey and his local girl friend. Behind the bar are 6 local bar tenders – they are wearing what in the UK would suggest they are working girls: short mini skirts with platforms, mountains of make up, unfeasibly short skirts etc etc. The waiters are all men, wearing red shirts and black trousers. It seems that most of these restaurants, bars and boutiques are owned by ex-pats. In town also, it is a mixture of expensive 4x4s, most carrying stickers of various aid agencies, and mopeds – I guess the affordable choice for the professional classes. It’s hard to believe that this is the capital city. I think if you took away all the foreign cash it would appear to be a knowheresville – so it’s even harder to believe that this town produces some of the world’s best musicians. How on earth they make the break is anyone’s guess. I like this dusty town though and especially it’s people: easy going, relaxed and friendly. I can see why the local girls would try to catch an NGO.

23.1.10 – 24.1.10 – Days 35 and 36 - Segou and Djenae
I left Bamako early, trying to beat the rush, but was too late. I wound my way through the mainly dire roads, all dusty and dirty with stuff being sold in shops, from stalls on the ground or by hand. Not far out of the city the traffic decreases to virtually nothing – what a relief! Virtually all the villages I pass are traditional mud dwellings – I think it is more of a sign of poverty than preservation. There are shacks by the side of the roads and at junctions or police checks. They often have speed humps to slow traffic down but invariably don’t have any warning or signage – so occasionally you hit one at full speed. No shacks look like food stalls or shops, but many are. I start my day with a milky coffee (café au lait) no less, but disappointingly it’s ‘Nescafe Special’ (a very small amount) with hot water and loads of sweetened condensed milk.

I find the shop and get a baguette – thank you French – a tin of sardines and water ready for lunch. I arrived in Segou on the banks of the Niger early in the day. It’s a sleepy place and a great place for a lazy afternoon. I met another German motorcyclist and spend most of the day with him. In the evening the restaurant we were in had a band. A mixture of older guys and boys – most of whom looked like they were straight from the streets. All the instruments were hand made out of wood, gourds and the like. The music was incredible – a mixture of high energy and blues (Malian style). There were drums, half a gourd on the floor used as a bass, xylophones and guitar-type instruments.

I was lucky to be with the German guy, as he said the previous night when he was by himself he kept on being approached by local women wanting to be his ‘expensive girlfriend’. Being with another person seems to keep them away!

Today I headed to Djenae, a town on an island on the Niger, famed for having the largest mud building in the world – a mud mosque. The crossing of the river involved my first African ferry experience. A flat bed ferry that carries 3 cars – or 3 motorbikes, a horse, 4 carts and ten passengers. There is no jetty, so the ferry runs around and lowers its landing ramp into the water. The river bank is sandy and to get to the ferry is about 10 feet through water, followed by a steep slippery ascent up the ramp. Being relatively new to motorcycling, it didn’t seem to be the best idea to ride it, but all the locals assure me it would be ok. I was shown the shallowest route through the water, then hit the gas to get up the ramp, slammed on the breaks at the top and gently slid into the car in front of me. At least I made it!

25.1.10 – Day 37 – Djenae

Djenae is a remarkable town – entirely made out of mud and unusually most buildings are more than 1 storey high. The mud mosque looks otherworldly and today is market day which is held in front of the mosque. People have been travelling here to trade for centuries, from as far afield as Morocco. Like Timbuctu, it’s one end of the Saharan trade routes. The town is full of Quoranic schools, where the masses of children learn to write Arabic scripture onto wooden boards. There are over 40 of these schools for its 14,000 population and 12 muslim universities. It is very poor here and electricity has only just arrived. All the toilets are long drops and the water comes from open wells. Tomorrow I’ll have to refuel before I leave for Dogon Country and it’ll be done from one of the many stalls that sell 4* petrol, by the litre, from old glass drinking bottles. I just hope the quality of the fuel is ok as my bike really prefers drinking unleaded – high octain!

Well, by the time I get to Ghana I’ll be gagging to speak English again. My French is so bad that I only manage the most basic requests, with so many French travellers here, and being a French speaking nation it is hard going.

26.1.10 – Day 38 – Bankas

Was a little low on fuel this morning when I left, so had to fill up as it was another 100km to the next gas station. The only option was from one of the tiny shops which sell all sorts of bits and pieces. I spoke with the owner the night before and he said he slept in the shop, so I could come as early as I wanted. The petrol is 4 star – not good for my bike and it comes in 1 litre glass bottles of various kinds. It looked dodgy, but the fuel worked. Another trip on the small ferry involved fording deep water to get on and off. I didn’t fall off, so felt quite proud of myself as its quite tricky, with deep sand on the shore. I headed for Dogon Country today and the direction of Burkina Faso. The first 150km was on good tarmac but it then deteriorated to single lane dirt piste. I’m so glad I’ve got the bike I had – it makes easy work of the dirt sections. The road crossed a rocky plateau with occasional rivers allowing lush vegetation. The track reached the edge of the huge “Falaise de Bandiagara’ escarpment, which drops 2 to 3 hundred metres to a vast flat land. Under the escarpment is the famous Dogon Country: an ethnic group with unusual settlements on the cliff face and bizarre history and belief systems. Not that all other belief systems are not bizarre! Amadou became my guide – a lovely young guy – but I couldn’t understand a word – I didn’t care really.

Tomorrow I hope to head into Burkina Faso.

27.1.10 – Day 39 – Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso

The first 160km today was wide piste, mostly flat and straight and in a good state of repair. There was little traffic but when it came, huge clouds of dust would engulf me like thick fog. For a few seconds at a time I’d have no clue what was coming up. Occasionally there were concrete drains cutting across the road with concrete tops. Some of these had most of the top missing, and on one I didn’t see the 2 foot gaping hole. I pulled back as hard as I could on the handle bars and luckily I was going fast enough for the front wheel to clear it! I can average about 40 to 45 miles per hour on these dirt roads, which isn’t bad.

I crossed into Burkina Faso today and as seems to be the case in Africa, it was another bizarre border crossing. I drove straight through the customs post thinking it was just another road block. 2km down the road I saw my first car of the day – it was French and was parked next to a couple of mud huts – I pulled over to chat. Just as I was about to leave a guy in uniform appeared asking me if I wanted my passport stamped. I asked him if this was the border – he said yes! 20km down the road was another building with a flag flying. I stopped and asked if this was Burkino Faso. I man said Yes. I bought my visa from the small office with chickens running around my feet. I arrived in Ouagadougou late afternoon. First I went to the Nigerian Embassy to be told I couldn’t get a visa, then I tried to get a room at the Catholic Mission, “the only reliably safe place for a woman to sleep”. They wouldn’t accept me until 5pm so I headed to the edge of town and found my hotel.

It’s a very unlikely place. On the dusty ring road is a truck stop with perhaps 50 trucks sat in the dust. You drive through and at the other end is a gat to the “OK Hotel”. This place reminds me of movies like Blood Diamond or Hotel Rwanda. A little oasis in a run down city, with lovely gardens and a mixture of tourists and locals having lunch. White Africans with moustaches sit in the lounge talking business (I’m sure it’s arms deals!) and drinking beer.

28.1.2010 – Day 40 – Ghana – (not sure where! - Ed)

I stopped for breakfast after an hour or twos riding toward the border. I picked up some fried dough balls with fish paste inside and a Nescafe coffee (no milk). Two types of people invariably turn up at these stops: one are the children sent out with a tin to go around asking for food for the family and the other are the mentally ill. It seems every town has at least one young man with matted hair and extremely filthy who is obviously ill. In the UK, I guess these people are kept in homes – so they are out of sight. But in Africa they are left to their own devices. I arrived at the Ghanian border to find out that the issuing of visas at the borders ended a month ago. Bloody typical. Luckily Ghana is English speaking, so had a good chat to the police about my bike and trip. They wanted me to go back to Ouagadougou to get a visa! With some gentle encouragement they let me get a 48 hour transit visa so I can get to Togo. It cost me ₤20 and I was told that if I went over the 48 hours there would be an ₤80 fine. The thing is, the proper visas at the border cost ₤100, so it wouldn’t make any difference if I had to pay the fine!

Ghana is obviously very poor, with much of the population living in traditional mud and thatch hut villages, but there is more money here with the general population. There are restaurants for locals (as oppose to NGOs and foreigners) and many more of the buildings are made out of concrete. It feels like a half-way stop in development from the very poorest African countries and the developing Asian nations.

I wish it was as easy in my university days to pick up women as it is here! I stopped in the big town at the ATM. No sooner had I finished, the woman talking to the security guard said “I like your body!” and I said “thanks”. She said “where are you from?” I said “Scotland”. Then she said, “I like you, do you like me?”. Talk about forward! I made up a fib (what fib exactly?? Ed/wife) and scuttled out of the bank as soon as possible. Quite frightening with no beer inside you!

Late in the day I met a German guy who over 5 months had cycled 10,000km from Germany to here. We both pulled over for a coke and a chat. As it happens he has the same bike as Tracy – he’s had no problems and loves it. Later, in the next town, I saw him in the reception of the Catholic Mission Guest House. We’re now sharing a room. Ghana is in the semi-final of the African Football Cup tonight. Should be fun – especially if they win!

Next country - Togo! - Ed