Janet's diary. Travelling with Ollie in Africa
From Bamako to the Dogon Valley
Wednesday 15th January
Leaving Bamako behind us, the road to Segou turned out to be one of the best tarmac roads that we’d encountered in Africa so far and so made good progress. Our late departure from Bamako meant that after about 130k’s we had to start looking for somewhere for the night. We came across a track leading into the bush and 500 metres from the road we found an old charcoal burner’s camp, this is where we would spend the night. Just near where we were parked there was a large blackened circle, the remains of the last charcoal fire and strewn around were primitive wooden tools, rakes, hoe’s etc presumably used by the Charcoal makers.
I don’t think Andrea has done much camping as she just stood and watched while we put up the tent for her and organised the camp. After we had got her tent up she said that she would be too frightened to sleep in it, so we put up the roof tent for ourselves and let her sleep in the back of the truck where we would normally sleep, it would mean a late start in the morning. I cooked our evening meal, again she didn’t offer to help, so things didn’t seem to be getting off to a very encouraging start.
We needed to be on the road early in the morning and so turned in at 9pm. Day 9, Mileage including Bamako 237 miles.
FRIDAY 16TH JANUARY
With Andrea sleeping below us, the truck moved every time she did so I had quite a disturbed night. I was awake at 5am but it wasn’t light enough to get up until 6.30. Seeing Andrea crawl out from the back of the truck I got the impression that she hadn’t slept too well either.
While eating our breakfast a young man arrived on a bicycle, we exchanged greetings and then he went over to some bushes behind the truck. From under the bush he took out a bundle of tools and then went over to the old charcoal fire and began work, picking out pieces of charcoal.
We set about packing Ollie and after a while our friend’s curiosity got the better of him, so he came and stood watching us. It’s slightly unnerving but something that you have to get used to, having a silent audience. When Steve started to load our boxes, tables and chairs onto the roof-rack he rushed over to lend a hand. Once we were ready to leave I gave him a bag of sugar and an empty jam jar for his help. We shook hands and said goodbye and were on the road again by 8.30. The road continued to be very good; we couldn’t believe our luck and arrived in Segou at 10am.
At Segou we discovered a pleasant town with quiet tree lined streets and dusty old colonial houses. It is the second largest town in Mali and was once an important French outpost, the headquarters of the office De Niger. Reminders of the Colonial period still stand in graceful administrative buildings built in the neo-Sudanic style and as in many towns in Mali the centre of activity is on the banks of the Niger River.
Unfortunately we could not dally and from Segou we turned south to the town of Bla and then east to San. About halfway to San a Land Rover Discovery passed us going in the opposite direction. He flashed his lights and slowed down; looking in his rear view mirror Steve said they had French registration. He could see that they were backing up. It turned out to be two of our old Mauritanian convoy buddies, Pascal and Bernard. The last time we had seen them had been in Saint Louis and now they were returning from Gao where they had been to see the Paris-Dakar rally, they had also been to the Dogon. Now they were on their way home via Mali and Mauritania. After chatting and catching up on one another’s news we continued on our separate ways, very welcome fleeting moments with fellow travellers.
Just before San we stopped by the road for a sandwich and a drink near to some huge baobab trees. While we were stopped a guy came bye on a motorcycle and pulled over for a chat (can you imagine this happening in the uk) Ahmed told us that he was a Christian (unusual around here) and proudly showed us his identity papers, then producing a Horse racing program, told us that he was on his way to a race meeting in Segou. Putting his crash helmet back on, something of a squeeze as it appeared to be about two sizes too small, we shook hands and set off once more.
Arriving at the town of San at 2pm we turned north once again towards Djenne and Mopti, the road still very good. Then after another 100k’s or so we turned off and made a detour to Djenne. It was a dirt road but in quite good condition. This is an area of flood-plains and we began to go through small villages where the houses were built of clay and wooden poles in some very strange shapes.
Just before Djenne we arrived at the banks of the river Bani where a small ferry would take us across. As encountered at previous crossings it was just a small outboard motor driven pontoon able to take two cars. We drove down the sandy river bank and onto the pontoon and were immediately surrounded by small children selling trinkets and young men wishing to be our guide. With Djenne being an important town in historical and religious terms this was to be expected. One young man attached himself to us and said that he would take us to a very good campement called Bouba.
On reaching the other side of the river with our new guide aboard, we drove along a dike where in the distance, dominating the skyline, we could see the Grande Mosque. Entering the town over a narrow wooden bridge, we drove through narrow dusty streets just wide enough for Ollie to get through, the mud houses crowding in on us. Founded in 800AD the town was originally a Bozo settlement. Our guide took us to the Bouba campement. Surrounded by a high mud wall we entered through a wooden gateway into a large treeless and very dusty courtyard. Steve parked Ollie and met the patron who told us that we could camp. Andrea said she would like a room so the Patron took us over to a two storey building and we followed him up some rickety wooden stairs, to the first floor. Opening off an open corridor were rooms that had crude wooden doors and open apertures for windows, the only furniture a straw mattress on the floor, I was not impressed. Next we were shown the ablution facilities and I wasn’t impressed with these either. I asked our guide if there was another campement in the town. He said he’d show us another one so, leaving Steve with Ollie, Andrea and I went with him to take a look.
This campement was situated in the town centre close to the Grande Mosque. Again it was surrounded by a high wall and entered through a large and impressive gateway into a courtyard. Here there were tall trees providing plenty of shade and a covered restaurant and bar. Around the outside wall there were small rooms and although not wonderful were very much better than the ones we had just seen and the ablutions, a hundred times better. Andrea took a room and I sent the guide to fetch Steve.
While waiting for Steve to arrive I spotted a white Land Rover parked in the courtyard with four people sitting at a table beside it. At this point Steve came back and we paid off our guide then getting our priorities in the right order we went over to the bar and brought a couple of beers then wandered over to the white Landy and introduced ourselves. They turned out to be two couples. One couple Pete and Marie were English but had been living in South Africa. They had driven up the east coast to Mombasa with the intention of going through Central Africa to the west coast. Due to the political situation developing at that time they decided not to risk the drive across Central Africa and instead shipped their Landy back around the Cape from Mombasa up to Abidjan in Cote D’Ivoire. Since then they had been touring West Africa and were gradually making their way back to England where they were planning to arrive in time for Land Rover’s 50th anniversary. Their companions were a French couple, Guille and Sandre who had been travelling in West Africa but had recently sold their camper van in Mopti and had then travelled here with Pete and Marie. We arranged to join them for dinner that evening in the campement restaurant and while Andrea went off to her room to clean up, we set up our roof tent and then had a well earned shower.
At about 7pm we went across to the restaurant to meet the others. Dinner was excellent, French onion soup followed by Capitain (a local river fish) and chips, followed by water melon, all accompanied by numerous bottles of Castel, the local Malian beer. Much merriment was generated as we each related our over-landing experiences. One thing that Pete told us was surprising. Whereas in the UK it was almost impossible to get sponsorship, In South Africa, they had been sponsored by six South African companies, and even the clothes they were wearing had been supplied free of charge. In return Pete was writing magazine articles and evaluating products. Later in the evening Guille and Sandre went off to bed followed a little later by Andrea and Marie leaving Steve, Pete and myself to carry on chatting. Pete and Marie, it transpired, had a few days previously, driven into the Dogon Valley and had plotted their route with GPS, Pete now gave all the GPS waypoints to Steve and in return Steve gave Pete the waypoints for the Mauritanian coastal route. We finally called it a night at half past eleven, very late for us, but it had been one of those evenings that will forever remain in our memories. Day 10.
Saturday 17th January.
A great nights sleep, got up at 7.30 and while Steve went down to the main square with camera and tripod to photograph the Grande Mosque in the early morning light, I made breakfast, and then while we were eating Pete and Marie came over to say goodbye. They were leaving for Bamako and Guile and Sandre were going with them as far as a nearby village from where they were hoping to get a pirogue to take them to Timbuktu. We wished them all well and watched as they drove out of the compound, the end of another brief encounter.
Andrea joined us and we set off on foot to explore the town. We would have liked to have done it on our own but in no time at all we were surrounded by a crowd of youngsters all wanting to be our guide. After much argument and hassle Steve finally lost his temper and told them all to push off, but then, when that failed, relented and agreed to pay one youngster 1000 CFA to come with us, just to get rid of them all and give us some peace.
Djenne is unquestionably the most beautiful town of the Sahel. For most of the year it is an island. All the buildings are shaped in the smooth lines of the Sudanic architectural style and moulded from the grey clay of the surrounding flood plain. The Grande Mosque in the main square dominates the townscape. The main square is also the site for the market that is held on each Monday. The Grande Mosque, an architectural masterpiece, dates only from 1905 but was built in the style of an original mosque that occupied the same site. The rounded lines of the façade are dominated by three towers, each eleven metres high and topped with an ostrich egg. It is built entirely of Banco or mud and protruding from the structure are timber poles which serve more than an aesthetic function because they act as a framework to hold the mud together. Each year the rains wash away the outer layer of mud and this is then replaced in the dry season. The Mosque is said to hold 5,000 worshippers, quite impressive when one considers that the total population of Djenne is only twice that number.
We wandered through narrow dusty streets and on going through a doorway in a mud wall found ourselves in a small market. It was full of people, noise and colour. Some of the women were wearing huge gold earrings that are peculiar to the Bozo tribe. I brought some peanuts to top up Steve’s store (he never stops eating them) and I was able to take some photographs of the traders.
Our young guide now took us to his mother’s house. On the ground floor we went through a courtyard where children were playing and in one corner there was a large mud oven where a young girl was cooking the day’s food. Our guide took us up a narrow earthen stairway to the next floor. From what we could understand his mother was an artist and we were shown pictures and different designs dyed onto fabric using natural Indigo. Next we went up to the rooftop where we had a wonderful view over the whole town. All the houses have these rooftop terraces where the inhabitants sleep in the hot weather.
Leaving our young guides mothers house he took us to a little shop, it was very cool and dark everything covered in layers of dust. Carvings and other bits of craft-work crammed every inch of floor and wall. I purchased a very unusual wooden mask and after much bargaining paid 7,000 CFA, the guy insisted that it was an antique, but we have our doubts! We made our way back through winding alleyways to the campement, the locals greeting us as we wandered along. We found the older people especially polite and welcoming.
Back at the campement Steve paid our guide and because he had been really quite good, gave him 2,000 CFA. We finished packing everything up and settled our bill which came to 22,000 CFA and that included everything for the three of us even our drinks and meals!
We drove back across the dike to the ferry it was just after midday and after crossing the river drove until we were able to rejoin the road to Mopti. This is a fascinating area, an extraordinary delta system. Here the Niger River slows and spreads into hundreds of channels and lagoons as it passes the medieval towns of Djenne, Timbuktu and Mopti.
Arriving at the town of Sevare, we turned off the main road and drove along a Dyke for 12 kilometres finally reaching Mopti at 3pm and went in search of “Le Campement” apparently the only place in Mopti where we could camp. Pete and Marie had warned us of the hassle that we would encounter here and they weren’t joking, every time we stopped we were pounced upon by guys wanting to be our guide. With a fair amount of difficulty we edged our way through crowded streets, stopping and asking directions as we went along. Finally a small boy who we picked up in a market place took us to “Le Campement”. It was an old colonial style building surrounded by a fence next to a main road. We drove through the main gates into a small courtyard where we parked Ollie and were immediately set upon by a mob of guys who wanted to sell us everything from river trips to shoe mending to trinkets and of course wanting to be our guide into the Dogon Valley.
We battled our way through this mob in search of the Patron so that we could book accommodation. First we went with Andrea to look at the rooms which were none to clean (at least with camping you know what you are sleeping on) the bathroom was horrendous and the toilet awful but we had little choice. They wanted 7000 CFA for the room and 7000 CFA for us two to camp, per night, daylight robbery.
Next, we had to visit the local police station as we have had to do in all of Mali’s towns; fortunately it was just next door to the Campement. We presented our temporary passport to the duty officer a policeman who spoke very good English. He raised his eyebrows as he inspected our single sheets of paper. He then enquired as to where our Malian Visa’s were. We explained that they were in our stolen passports. He said that we should have applied for a new one to be stamped in our temporary passports, which made sense but something that we had not thought about. After our profuse apologies for our oversight, he told us that he was authorised to grant Visa extensions for up to thirty days and would do it for 5,000 CFA each. We filled out the necessary forms, supplied two photos each and it was done straight away and our passports stamped. It’s rare in Africa to solve such a serious problem ( not having a visa is serious) so easily.
Back at the Campement we were once again set upon by the “mob”, our shoes were whisked away to be cleaned and mended and a pirogue trip on the river booked for five thirty that evening.
It was time for a drink at the famous Bozo bar before our river trip. The guy who we’d arranged the river trip with now became our guide and offered to lead us there. We walked through the town to the harbour and then to a crowded market place, all the while battling through streets bursting at the seams with people, noise and the smell of fish. The town of Mopti is built on three islands, connected by dykes, at the confluence of the Niger and Bani rivers. The harbour built by the French is the centre of town life. Large wooden pinnaces with their canvass covers and colourful flags were tied up to unload cargo and passengers, while pirogues taxied people back and forth from the islands. Mopti is the country’s major route intersection, pulling together all the different peoples of Mali.
The Bozo Bar, built overlooking the river is regarded by overlanders as one of “those” places that you must visit. We ordered well earned beers and plates of chips and sat and watched life on the river bank. It was fascinating, so much was going on. Huge Pirogues were hauled up out on the muddy banks, while fishermen unloaded their catch. People were bathing, totally naked, while women washed clothes and in amongst all this the ever present itinerant traders were selling their wares.
At 4pm our guide returned and led us down through the riverside throng to our pirogue. This was just a small one, made from a hollowed out tree trunk which tipped alarmingly as I climbed aboard. We settled down and our boatman poled us out into the gently flowing current. We glided downstream past small villages where large pinnaces brightly painted with canvass canopies to shelter their passengers from the sun were pulled out side by side on the river banks, some, with whole families living aboard them. Fishermen up to their waists in the river were casting circular nets, while the occupants of small pirogues, probably going home to distant villages, called out greetings to us. Now that the heat had gone out of the day it wasit was just so pleasant and relaxing, more magical moments to reside in my memory.
We stopped at a Bozo fishing village and as we stepped out of the pirogue children rushed down the bank to meet us. Immediately both my hands were clasped by small children and we were led up through the village. The inhabitants took little notice of us as our guide and the children took through a maze of circular thatched dwellings with little groups of people sitting, relaxing at their doorways after the heat of the day. Some of the men were busy mending their fishing nets and drying fish on wooden racks. Women were pounding manioc and cooking over open fires, the smoke filling the air as the setting sun, a huge ball of fire, cast a red glow over the whole scene.
Leaving the villagers in peace we made our way back to the pirogue and waving good bye to the children we set off back up the river. By now the sun was disappearing below the horizon and the river banks were alive with glowing camp fires in the gathering gloom as the people of the river settled down at the end
We had dinner at Bozo bar which by now was busy with a mixed assortment of overlanders filling the place with laughter and chatter. I had omelette and chips while Steve and Andrea had fish Kebab, it was all very enjoyable. Throughout our meal we were entertained by three street traders who kept popping up from behind a wall at the back of the restaurant. It was only by jumping that they could just get their heads above the wall to wave blankets at us that they wanted us to buy. The hand woven Sahalian blankets they were trying to interest us in are really quite famous here. After the meal our guide led us back through the by now darkened streets of the harbour back to the town, here life was just as bustling as ever. The campement car park was full when we got back and parked next to Ollie was an overland truck that we had last encountered at Djenne. The hustlers were busy with these new arrivals and so left us alone for the moment while we put up our tent
We had dinner at Bozo bar which by now was busy with a mixed assortment of overlanders filling the place with laughter and chatter. I had omelette and chips while Steve and Andrea had fish Kebab, it was all very enjoyable. Throughout our meal we were entertained by three street traders who kept popping up from behind a wall at the back of the restaurant. It was only by jumping that they could just get their heads above the wall to wave blankets at us that they wanted us to buy. The hand woven Sahalian blankets they were trying to interest us in are really quite famous here. After the meal our guide led us back through the by now darkened streets of the harbour back to the town, here life was just as bustling as ever. The campement car park was full when we got back and parked next to Ollie was an overland truck that we had last encountered at Djenne. The hustlers were busy with these new arrivals and so left us alone for the moment while we put up our tent for the night. The shoe mender returned our shoes, beautifully repaired and cleaned. Andrea went off to her room and we decided it would be good idea to take our flask up to the ; at least we wouldn’t be pestered up there. After a couple of cups of tea and a biscuit or two we wrote some cards. By now it was about 10pm and the disco next door was getting underway, god the noise was awful, it was as if our tent was pitched in the middle of the dance floor. After a futile attempt at sleep we put the light back on and spent the rest of the night reading with the tent vibrating to the music. The disco packed up at about 4.30 and we finally drifted off to sleep. “Le Campement” is certainly a place to avoid; it is noisy, dirty and overpriced.Day 10. Mileage 310
Sunday 18th January.
After an hour and a half’s sleep we, bleary eyed, emerged from our roof tent at six thirty and began packing the truck. Even at this ungodly hour the touts were gathering, vying with each other for our attention. Yesterday we had told them that a French friend was taking us into the Dogon Valley. This was a fib as we only had maps, but the last thing that we wanted was a guide. They were not at all pleased with us and said that we had to take a guide, as it was the law, a lie on their part! Trying to ignore this incessant pestering we got on with packing up.
Our neighbours, the overlanders truck had Alternator trouble so while Steve chatted to them I went for a shower. Here I had to grit my teeth and not look too closely at my surroundings. The pressure of extra people had considerably worsened the state of the bathroom, but I had to get on with it as we didn’t know when we would get our next shower. Will I ever get used to West African ablutions? After the shower I went to Andrea’s room, she was also looking a little ragged around the edges, The cause of this was partly to do with a middle of the night visit she had received from the Patron, with amorous intentions. She said that she had to scream and shout to get him to leave and had then put a chair under the door handle. We both went back to the truck and while Steve went for his shower Andréa went to buy some local craft from a nearby shop.
We had been told of an excellent French patisserie and decided that this morning we would walk into town to look for it, it was said that they made excellent croissants and so decided it would be a good place to have breakfast. We were just about to leave and Steve was securing the truck when he discovered that the back door wouldn’t lock so out came the toolbox and while he stayed to fix it Andrea and I set off to find the café.
We made our way down to the harbour which was already a hive of industry and the small tea stores lining the street were doing a roaring trade selling omelettes and bread. In a narrow side street we found the patisserie that we had been told about and evidently lots of others had been told about it too, as it was already filling up with overlanders. While we waited for our coffee and croissants Guille and Sandre wandered in. They told us that because the water in the river was to low they had been unable to get a pirogue to take them to Timbuktu, Instead they had managed to get a boat going in the opposite direction and had arrived in Mopti late at night, they had booked in at Le Campement and like us were not impressed. I now went back to fetch Steve and before returning for Andrea we paid our bill for the accommodation which came to 14000CFA.
Arriving back at the Café we found Guille having a terrible argument with the guide who had taken us on our previous evening’s river trip. The guide had assumed, wrongly, that as they were French then they were the people who were taking us to the Dogon valley. He was threatening them and saying that this was against the law. Guille was not a person to be easily intimidated and was giving as good as he was getting and of course he had the advantage of speaking the language. We told the guide that these people were not taking us and that he had no right to interfere and then told to him to bugger off.
After our coffee and croissants we all left the restaurant and once outside the guide started on at Guille again. At this point Guille lost his temper and grabbing the bloke by the throat was about to thump him until someone managed to step in and cool tempers down, at this point the guide and his mates pushed off. Now that things had settled down we said goodbye to Guille and Sandre and set off to do some shopping. As I went into a grocery shop I was accosted by a lad who insisted that that I needed help to purchase the things that I required. By now I’d had more than enough of the pestering and lost my temper. I shouted at him that I had done more shopping than he would in his whole lifetime and I didn’t need his help to do it, looking rather taken aback he turned tail rather sharply and disappeared. Finally we made our way back to the campement and Ollie.
Leaving “Le Campement” for the last time we first drove past the Grande Mosque and did some shopping at a couple of the roadside stalls before turning around and heading out of town in the direction of Bankass. Once we had reached Sevare and the main road we stopped at a garage and filled Ollie’s tanks with fuel, and then retracing our steps, headed back in the direction of Segou until we came to the Bankass turn off. This road was a rough piste that gradually got worse. After a while I took over the driving so that Steve could have a break and work out the waypoints on the GPS. At 12.30 we stopped and had sandwiches at the roadside. Just then the overland truck that had been at Mopti came past, all the youngsters waving to us.
We were now looking for a GPS waypoint that would locate a turning some distance before Bankass, this junction would take us onto a small side road into the Dogon valley and thus avoid us visiting Bankass for there we would surely have to do battle with the Dogon guides again. At 15.30 the GPS let out a beep and there, sure enough, was a track leading off into the bush and a small sign that said to Kano Bozo. DAy 11 continued in Mali 4.