Off to Country number 5, Burkina Faso

7/8/9 February

Bobo-Dioulasso

How do they sell all this stuff?

Bobo's lovely mosque

Upon advice I’d booked the day before on the TCV bus – and it was a heavenly trip completed in less than 8 hours. Air con, clean, reliable – WOW . Even the frontier formalities were completed tout suite  (how good is my french now!!)  Now I’m in Bobo-Dilasso, a secondary city of Burkina Faso. With its sandy streets in the town centre and staying out of town a bit at Le Zion in a quiet neighbourhood, it’s a great few days rest up. I’m camping on the ‘terrace, comfy and snug in my little tent again. After a couple of days finding my way around town, and knocking back numerous guides, I enquire about renting a mobylette – think of a lawnmower engine with a seat and 2 wheels. Light and noisy they are ever so popular here. Le Zion has a couple to rent out, and I ask lots of questions about ways out to the places I want to visit. Staff are encouraging (or would that be disbelieving?) Wednesday sees me on a vividly decorated mobylette and immediately after buying the 8% essence the chain comes off. And of course this leaves me open to more advances of guide offers.. I get the chain on, get started again and get lost! All without leaving the neighbourhood I’m staying in! No one will tell me the way to Dafra ¸they'll only offer to accompany and guide me, which means I’ll end up paying double as well as paying Guide fees. I change plans, give up on Dafra (I mean who really wants to see fat chicken eating fish?)and start to head out to a small village, Koro . After negotiating Bobo’s version of the Geelong Freeway and quizzing lots of folk along the way I make it out there. I buy an ‘entrance’ ticket and and am immediately assailed by children who want to walk with me. Why didn’t I realise this really meant guiding me. But still here was a village set amongst huge boulders, with life going on as it had for hundreds of years,,, And as you climb higher amongst the boulders the view across the country side was amazing. Well worth the trip and the following tussle at the botttom of paying small children for walking along with me. Let alone a guardian fee for parking my bike under a tree!! Hmmm I set out back for Bobo, find my way accidently back to the city centre and lunch at eau d’vie – a restaurant run by a french order of nuns – heavenly. I had the best french onion soup and glace. Back out on the bike, I try heading out on one highway but after about 20Kms, I gather I’m on the wrong road. Back to the petrol station to fill up again, and try another road. This time I’m right and get to Koumi eventually. But it’s late afternoon now and most of the men there are tanked on millet beer – what else is there to do there? This village is renowned for its traditional 2 storey mud brick dwellings. I pay my entrance fee but knock back the camera fee and parking fees. Soon enough comes the tussle with locals about being guided. I reassure them that if they can produce an english speaking guide, then I will happily pay up. As they push a few blokes forward with ”he speaks english” the said bloke is pleading with me that “I don’t speak english” All a bit of farce really and soon enough after producing my ticket, I’m left alone to wander a very poor village with plenty of folk about, happy to say hello and chat.  Back to town, then on to Le Zion for a relaxed evening knowing that I managed to get out on my own, tackled the traffic etc and lived to tell the tale! Woo Hoo!!

Festival of the Niger

4/5/6/7 February

 Easy 4 hour bus trip to Segou and find a hotel with a terrace (read flat roof) for camping. Head off to the post office to try to post my parcel which turns into no mean feat, I can tell you. Firstly the woman at the desk inspects my box, which we both agree may be strong enough to post. I tape it together, pop the things in and another woman weighs it. All good so far and I’m directed into a back office where a kindly man quotes the cost after we establish that I want the parcel to go by sea mail  Still all good until he talks about the Douane – what the heck is the douane? He shows me another parcel with a form filled out and stamped. Ok, I can do that. I fill out the form listing everything (well nearly everything) that goes back into the box. Then we establish that the Douane is at the other end of town and they are the ones who do the stamping. Hmm an official office on a Friday afternoon may be hard to deal with – a lot of praying and visiting of mosques to do on Fridays. I find the Douane, and get passed from office to office, eventually finding the correct office, but yes it’s closed until she returns this afternoon. I lunch @ the Douane cafeteria next door and then settle back in their cool offices to wait. I downloaded February’s Monthly mag, so am content to catch up on some reading with a cool breeze. Hours pass and I am beginning to doubt that Madame may even return ( I certainly wouldn’t if I was her - no one is counting hours worked here!). I give a few guys a bit of a treat with my questions in french,and they find a new place for me to sit! Not accomplishing much but I figure they’d tell me to go away if there was no hope, wouldn’t they? After another hour or so folk begin to appear, and one bloke in particular is followed up by my new friend in reception who explains what I want. Within another hour he has found the stamp, he questions my honesty with “so I sign for 32 items, are there 32 items in there?” I say yes, but am beginning to realise that no one is particularly interested in what I have in there, only that the two totals add up on paper. Much nodding, repacking and finally taping the box closed, I have the stamped douane in my hand. Woo Hoo. Post office is closed now so the parcel will have to wait for Monday. Next thing is to contact Abou for my sleeping bag that I left with him in Timbuctou. He collects me and we head out to an afternoon concert. Very relaxing until the friends

MORE baguettes anyone?

and numerable cups of green tea we head back to the festival where I take my leave with blanket in hand. I head into the festival later to relax with an evening of music by the river, with beers in hand. And a great night’s sleep under the blanket for the next few nights! lol The weekend follows a great pattern of easy breakfasts, wander past all the souvenir sellers  to whom I become known as Madame Tranquil! Then watch whatever cultural dance is shown or listen to regional musicians. Lunch gets tough choosing between many cheap and yummy restaurants, then rest up to late afternoon to wander along the river to a far stage

A persistant islamic rasta!!

for music and a few beers as the sun sets. Get a lift back to town, puchase a ‘festival bracelet’ at an exhorbitant price and head back to the river for the night’s main concerts. Plenty of food and cold beer available here too. I’m afraid my african diet has gone to pack here in Segou. Most tourists head off on Sunday, but after all my hard work in securing a doune (only applicable here in Mali) and I’m heading to Burkina from here, I stay an extra day to see my parcel off successfully. A big market today in town which is really interesting but I also have trouble shaking off one particularly persistant rasta who wants to be my friend – he must be desperate and I'm the only tourist left in town,as most tourists left town today!

most

Making tea - Mali st

Fact: Festival costs are certainly geared to milking the Internationaux –one days costs me 40 euro, but Nationaux only 8 euro. I do understand the politics of it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t smart paying out.

If anyone has any ideas about what this is, please let me know - 

I think it looks like a peanut with a tumour!

Onwards to Mali once more

1/2/3 February

Baguette anyone?

GOOD LUCK

I use my one and only advantage of money to buy 2 seats in today’s sept place. This gives me all of the front seat (read death seat) and a seat belt that works for the proposed 8 hour trip! We wait several hours for petrol again this morning, but by midday we set off for KanKan. Having the whole front seat makes  makes the trip actually ok, although I was assailed by slight twinges of guilt whenever I thought of the poor 9 other folk squashed in behind me. I overnight at the Catholic Mission which doubles as a bar in the evenings!! I’m shouted beers just because I’m the best novelty that has turned up all evening, I’m sure. Too bad the beer isn’t cold as there’s no electricity here even though KanKan is quite a large city centre in the north of Guinea. Final run back across the border to Bamako, Mali the next day on a great road! But alas this sept place that couldn’t travel faster than about 60kph as that would have forced the implosion of its badly ruptured windscreen. I did hold out vague hopes of making the Burkina Faso embassy today, but not to be. Instead I hope to get the visa in the morning, and still travel to Segou’s Festival of the Niger tomorrow.

Traditional CURES?

Find the embassy @ 8am next day but alas the best laid plans still go astray: apparently whoever will sign the visas doesn’t bother coming in of a morning and I’ll have to wait till 3pm to pick up the visa – at an exorbitant cost too! But the woman does remind me that it’s half the price here compared to buying the visa at the border. So a last lazy day in Bamako – shopping and parceling up stuff to send back. BUT after pricing DHL who wanted more than $100 per kg I plump for the post office, but I miss them by ½ an hour after looking for the shop that sells boxes. I’ll try again to post in Segou tomorrow. My last night in Bamako, sleeping soundly when I awake to hostel staff showing someone in to the dorm. My light goes on and off, then the next room’s light goes on and soon there is such a commotion with swearing in english language etc? What the? I peer through my mossie net and watch as 2 hostel staff carry out a hinged wooden thing followed by a tiny dwarf bloke with a couple of minders. This bloke was not short on the abuse, as the staff tried to wrestle the thing open and I really couldn’t believe I was seeing such a thing happen. Eventually the little man was satisfied and everyone headed off out the front carrying the wooden thing away. All @ 1am in the morning! I was sure I must have been dreaming, except that I had seen this wooden thing in the dorm earlier in the day, and next morning it wasn’t there. Another thing I will wonder about forever, I guess.

Fact; Staying at The Sleeping Camel in Bamako, is a wonderful place to land in Bamako for a few days. Run by a pom and an aussie with local staff , it’s comfortable, clean and well set up for overlanders as well as backpackers. And lots of reliable info.

I'm in heaven in Guinea

29/30/31 January

Hassan showing off HIS country

The Kitchen

Two wonderful days of hiking in the Fouta Djailon with Hassan Ali. I had been told that this would be worthwhile and all I can say is GO to Guinea Conakry. Beautiful waterfalls and rivers to swim in.  Amazing slot canyons and pristine countryside soon help to fade yesterday’s hardships. The countryside is gorgeous, and only women and children walking here for miles from markets to their villages, toting all manner of goods on their heads.

Another day, another swim in waterfalls

I struggle up some of these mountain paths and that’s without a big bucket of water on my head! lol There are hills, cliffs, rock formations and many paths crisscrossing the landscape, all framed by small villages. Truly relaxing here, more so than in Mali’s Dogon Country where we were badgered at every village by tuobob, tuobob (white skin) and cadeau, cadeau (gift, gift) by the children. Here we are mostly

5 Star accommodation

acknowledged with laughter, Bonjour, ca va?? and then ignored. I learn lots about Scott (In Guinea until the problems then Benin) and Joseph (Burkina Faso) who have both finished their 2 year Peace Corp service. Both going onto more tertiary studies overseas (read not back in the US!) and they are both very comfortable in each others' company (read into that what you will). All meals are provided here at the encampment, being both simple and filling including one sauce made from sweet potato leaves mmm. No power here so candles are provided which add to the general restfulness of the place. Hassan is a very well informed ∧ interesting guy who is so passionate about his local countryside which he knows like the back of his hand.

Guinea has recently had its share of troubles but after a couple of coups in 12 months things (politics?) seem to have settled down. Once returning after a day’s hiking we are all stopped by a bunch of blokes in unmarked uniforms demanding IDs from us. Of course we had none on us and Hassan was really hard pushed explaining to these blokes (thugs?) the reasons why. They were really only interested in what they could get out of us, which of course was nothing, as we didn’t have money on us either! Slightly laughable, only because they eventually headed off up the dusty to pursue more unfortunates than us! But it take a good ½ hour of hard talking for Hassan and the 2 peace corp vollies to fend them off! I just stood in the background like all good women should in these situations! lol

 Really hard to drag myself away after a couple of days there nestled in Guinea’s Fouta Djailon, but all good things must come to end, if only to lead on to more good things. Leave the peaceful encampment of Hassan Bah – for a 2 hour trip back down to Pita. The peace corp boys head over to wait for a Labe taxi and I find the Mamou taxi. Now generally the ‘taxis’ are sept place & here in Guinea the same car becomes a a nine seater. However today in Pita it’s a 2 door 6 seater meaning they are not expecting many passengers  – this is not a good omen for filling up up and heading off any time soon. I wander off looking for lunch – nothing of interest bar a baguette (how can they sell these hundreds each day?) and a couple of tomatoes. Travelling through to Mamou for an overnight stay I am again ‘subcontracted’ to different cars a couple of times – once in Pita and again in Dalaba – where we were all forced to a long holdup waiting for petrol. Get to Mamou and turn up at a forestry school looking for a room – they’re a little bit surprised, but acquiesce after I reassure them I can manage without electricity for a night. I’m given a whole block of rooms with kitchen, dining room etc. Great digs for the night and I dine on sardines and coleslaw after discovering cabbages in the market yesterday. Great to eat raw vegies which are usually not on anyone’s menu ever here. I have no idea what anyone does with all the vegies for sale in the markets, cause they certainly don't serve them up in meals!

FACT: Guinea Conakry is very undeveloped – electricity only 7pm – 7am (if you’re lucky) in the towns that I visited and transport all in private hands so no buses etc. But GO, GO, GO if you have the opportunity – it’s gorgeous, and folk are so friendly, especially when they’re not wearing uniforms!

GUINEA Conakry (not Guinea Bisseau nor Equitorial Guinea)

27/28 January

Up bright & early at the gare routiere and one guy is going all the way to Labe, which is where I want to go. It would be great to get there in one go without a night in a one horse town, Koundara, of which I've heard a horror story of getting stuck in for days. Car fills up, we’re off and then 2 hours later we stop & park @ Velingara. Apparently this is the transport town to Guinea. As we arrive there was a car waiting for 1 more passenger, the bloke I was talking to races in and they’re gone. So I get to wait for a new car to fill up. After 3 hours we have enough passengers, and upon advice, I take a back seat. And then we’re off at midday, 15 of us including kids. And we go & we go & we go. There is a couple of blokes cadging a lift on the roof, and one of them can speak english. He reckons we’ll get there in the morning. I’m hoping late tonight. The border formalities are long and drawn out, due to many passengers not having correct, or no, paperwork. We finally pull into Koundara, Guinea, around 5pm for dinner and then start on the road to Labe. We finally arrive in Labe after a numbing 19 hours, at 6.30am. I am absolutely ripped and can’t believe I actually put myself through such a ridiculous trip. Twice they got lost, meaning more back tracking on the WORST road I have ever travelled on, including that one in Cambodia that the Chinese had abandoned after getting so far. But I am also so relieved that it’s over. I head for a Fouta Trekking rep to organise transport straight out to a very small, remote place called Doucki. I get mucked about a bit, then finally say good bye to 40 euros (I am still unclear who actually got paid for this trip!) to be driven out by two young guys in a late model mercedes benz! I knew that the road wouldn’t be good, so I did question the owner about this to be reassured with “this is a good car”. Yes, I know that but think that if he breaks down, there will no roadside assistance for a Mercedes where we’re going. Before heading off we stop by his house! To pick up petrol (why he has gallons of petrol in his home, I have no idea), and I wait in the large lounge room, which has a blackboard explaining in french the downfalls of colonial mentality etc. Not too sure who is lecturing to who here or why. And I’m not asking why – just too hard in french! Well his Mercedes Benz certainly got a baptism of fire along with a battering on a shocking road out to Doucki, the home of the Fouta Djailon. After last night’s effort today I get transported in real style with a whole back seat to myself. Arrive late afternoon to be greeted by Hassan Bah effusively, made welcome and settled into my very own hut! @ peace corp vollies have also arrived this afternoon so I’m in time for a short introductory hike out to the edge of the Djaillon at sunset. We head back through small villages & peaceful evening meal preparations. We stop by another hut to talk to other tourists here OMG – Its Caitlin & her boyfriend who I’d met in Mopti & again in Timbuctou with Fillip. Great couple who are studying Ghana & trying to fit lots of travel in before heading back to another semester @ uni in Acra. They both have an amazing attitude to travel – nothing fazes them & their up for any adventure - they got stuck in Diaobe (town before Velingara for 3 days trying to get transport into Guinea. Perhaps my 19 hours was actually a quick voyage??!!

Fact: The current president has only recently stop televising every night. Previously TV news each evening featured Moussa Dadis Camara telling Guineans of the previous government’s misrule & revelations of corruption. It was familiarly known as the Dadis Show, but apparently is not missed.

World Vision visit, Kaffrine, Senegal

25/26 January

This child obviously needs a sponsor

Head off early to get back across to Senegal, then up to Kaffrine. Stay overnight with no power, no mossie net and paying top dollar. L Walk through town to find the World Vision depot for tomorrow’s visit – Tim Costello would be proud – at least 7 4wds, and at least a dozen motorbikes are garaged there! Get to the depot, and no the coordinator, Momath is not here. Finally he arrives around 9.30am and I make myself clear – this not what I expected. Poor Momath tries explaining himself, especially when we head off in one 4wd (w/mp3 player!) & soon pull over in town to change to another car…. But when we pull into another World Vision office, brand new, with accommodation etc I meet Viviane who explains that this is the only their 2^nd sponsor visit in 6 years.

World Vision Yard, Kaffrine

I’m encouraged to ask questions and I find out that when you sponsor a child, the family nor the child actually get any money –the money contributes to local community projects initiated by World Vision! The letters to & from sponsors are written & translated within the communities by more WV representatives.. hmm Somehow I get the feeling, especially after meeting Mourtalla who barely utters a word, that the sponsors consider the personal contact a great thing when in reality the ‘personal’ letter is dictated by an adult to say whatever.

Mourtalla just doesn't look impressed, does he?

We get to the very small village, Kaur Modou Willane which is miles from anywhere and there is a small crowd waiting – all women & very small children at least. Everyone else is out working, including most able children. I meet Derek Borg’s sponsor child, Mourtalla Willane & give him a small gift of which he is not very interested – I think he really had no idea what was going on. Photos are taken, I meet the grandfather

Warming up the crowd!

who is the head of the village & soon the women get motivated, and drumming is initiated (2 upturned bowls & an upturned tub, hit with thongs & sticks!!). Then dancing, of which everyone has a go, myself included. Lollies are distributed (not too sure where they came from), a few simple games are conducted by Momath, who is very popular. As we leave I am given a gift of 2kg of groundnuts (peanuts in their shell). I accept them as Derek’s ‘rep’, and wonder at how I keep trying to lessen my baggage but seem to accumulate more. On the return trip I ask Viviane about the Koran schools, which she says are a problem, but very popular. I also tell her about the Solar Project in The Gambia that I visited, gave her details & hope that it may come to some fruition for everyone concerned. I have to say that the villages we passed through didn’t have a whole lot going for them except for mosques & groundnuts! Back @ the World Vision offices we have lunch together, and then I finally get my very first ride in an NGO’s shiny white 4wd all the Tambacounda. Heaven!

Monday 24 January

A visit to the Standard Chartered Bank today to negotiate cashing travellers chqs & find they are charging a whopping 500 Dalanis. That is way too much, try the next bank and their charge is only 200 Dalanis. Yeah, I have a win. Calculate the least amount to cash to get me out of the country tomorrow, and then head off for a yummy lunch of Tiébou Dienn ( say cheb -oo-jen) in a baguette – better known to you as black eye beans followed by a green orange & tea – all from different sellers When I bought my orange the seller wanted 50 cfas & his friend said I should pay 1000cfas! I asked why and he pointed to my white skin. I said that he was being racist, but he didn’t seem to think so! We laughingly agreed to disagree & I paid 50cfas. Now the oranges may be green but they are actually very ripe. But what was fascinating was why they are sold peeled of their rind & not the pith – a very fine art, leaving the white oranges atop a nest of green peelings. Today I worked it out (because every time I asked I was answered with a smile and an offer to buy). These are very tough fleshed oranges, but when they are peeled, it is soft to squeeze & allows you to suck the juice out from the nick at the top, leaving the tough flesh behind. Brilliant!

Yamundow picks me up & takes me to Guide Headquarters – only up the road from where I’d been a few days earlier looking at the YMCA. The photos show the Leaders uniforms are tie dyed – very groovy. I am introduced to Guiding here – they run2 year levels of school for girls who have dropped out of mainstream schooling. They are educating them in hospitality cooking, serving & english language. Their current 2nd year has only 27 girls left unplaced for their practical experience, and apparently their reputation for reliable well trained girls is very successful. They are rightly very proud of this program, and the girls are all in a Gambia Guide Uniform. The many guises of Guiding is amazing. I take photos and find that they are battling one of our problems at home – maintenance of their property. They have a small kitchen & dining room shere the girls can provide catering to the many partners who hire out the hall on the grounds. Yamundrow presents me with a gift of a length of their uniform’s tie dyed fabric.
Fact: Gambia was England's claim on a river in the midst of the French colonisation of West Africa. After abolishing slavery, Britain set about capturing other nations slave ships & Fort James (as it was known) was converted from dungeons to a haven.

The Gambia

21/22/23 January

Ahh I've been forgetting the Maggi!

I taxi off to Pompieres, Dakar again to head off to Karang and Senegal’s middle border with The Gambia. Road is ok – then gets worse & worse. But we have a good driver who negotiates the twists & turns at a fair speed, getting us to the border around 2.30pm. Now a bloke in the car is full of information and he tells me “the women at the border are cheating people – cash your money with the Fulanis” But I let him do the deal, get cheated & lose $20 worth of dalanis. And there I thought I was onto a good thing! Arriving in The Gambia, I meet up with the National Commsioner, Yamundow Jogne Jobe who invites me to dinner Sunday night & to visit their headquarters on Monday. I stay overnight in Serekunda in an awful room and go looking the next morning to move. Now The Gambia is renowned (in Europe, from where they have quick access) for its Atlantic beach resorts, and so I was tempted. I head off to look for alternative rooms but most everywhere around the beaches I was harangued & petitioned by all manner of young men for my attention – “you looking for me sister?” was one line that particularly made me laugh. These blokes are known as ‘bumsters’ and sex tourism for women is their game, so I guess you can’t really blame then for trying. I soon scarper back to the relative anonymity & shelter of Serekunda town and bargain for a better room where I’m staying then head out to Lamin Lodge wetlands. This place is built like a big kid’s castle, suitable eccentric & peaceful overlooking the Gambia River & its wetlands. Great lunch high up in a tower, get a lift back to the highway to a ‘wildlife’ park. I am immediately approached again with a hissed “Do you remember me?” I quickly reassure him that there would be no reason whatsoever for me to remember him and he scuttles off. The park is nice enough with a few birds but no animals bar a few monkeys tempted by tourist’s peanuts. I chat with a couple of poms who are also disappointed by Gambia, being stuck out at a resort & trying to find other things to do!

Seregambia is another small village that is the home to more Atlantic resorts & also another wildlife park. Not wishing to make hasty opinions about The Gambia (although they are coming hard & fast) I walk the length & breadth of this park but again no animals. :-(

Head back to town for dinner @ Yamundow’s home. I’m picked up by her nephew & a woman who is a pom by accent, by trinidadian parents. She has just had a marriage ceremony here in Gambia because “it’s cheaper’ and is going home to cook goat for her new inlaws etc. I tell her that I thought goat took a lot of time to cook – apparently not here because it’s ‘organic’!?? Methinks she hasn’t done a lot of cooking up to now. I ask after her religion - she is christian, and I ask her if she is planning to convert to Islam – she says that is still up for discussion! Hmmm

Dinner at Yamundows with her husband is lovely with typical arachide (groundnut) sauce & rice. We make arrangements to visit their Guide Headquarters the next day.

FACT Yamundow confirmed that there are no animals in the parks, due to prolonged drought here!

Sightseeing

Thursday 20 January

Isle de Goree – or the Slave Island

 

Nice ferry ride out to a small island which is really very cute. But my word there are a lot of folk trying to sell a lot of the same thing there, of which I want none. And they are not easily persuaded of this fact, either! I check out the few sights and then see the supposed slave house with its door, may really be a furphy as no ship could have docked so close to the rocks there. And history shows that of the 20 million slaves transported from West Africa, only about 300 a year left from Isle de Goree.

Head off looking for a few errands in the busy city of Dakar. Can I find safety pins – yes, I do. But they are in little sets – of 3 sizes on a bigger safety pin. The seller soon understands that I only want one of the sizes and three of us all set to work liberating 100 of the size safety pin that I want to make giveaway flag pins. I think of Monica while we’re doing this, knowing she would have loved this craziness, especially when the bloke wants to charge me for the labour, after we’re done!

Dakar

Wednesday 19 January

 

DHL is first on my to-do list – and it turns out they’re only a 10 minute walk away! WOW, well done Kyle. I retrieve my Guide uniform (or my African version of it) and many of the Guide souvenirs that I couldn’t fit into my bag before I left. I manage the local bus out to the port where I indeed find that there are no tickets left on Friday’s ferry and there is certainly no waiting list. Bugger – there goes my Casamance visit. Oh well, with a bit of thought I decide to head off to The Gambia on Friday instead. Wander a bit about town, try their big pharmacy & BINGO I can buy as much Larium as I want. It’s pricey but I take the opportunity to exercise the useless mastercard again (Visa is king in West Africa). Get the right bus back to the suburbs again and I’m not feeling so at sea now here in Dakar, which is a big city!
Wearing my newly arrived Guide uniform, I meet up with Jocelyn Delgado , who has also arranged for Senegal’s Girl Guide Commisaire Generale Mme Gring to visit @ my hotel. Then we head out to the workplace of the International Commisionar Mme Adande who stamps my WAGGGS card (upside down!) We arrange to meet for breakfast tomorrow (at least I thought we did, cause she never shows!). Jocy & I spend the afternoon together & then head out to the burbs to visit a Girl Guide unit – Brownies, Guides & Rangers meet at a Catholic school, but occupy different rooms. Boy Scouts also meet here at this time also. We visit all three sections, and sepnd time with the Rangers who ware very keen to communicate with an Australian Guides! The Rangers are making food to sell to the Scouts that night, to raise money for girls to attend events etc. Some things are so universal?? The fruit salad is very popular & soon sells out amid much fun & laughter. There is a final concluding ceremony with both the Rangers & Rovers together & left that night with a huge smile on my dial, having had so much simple fun with them. I promise Jocy to keep in touch & bid her farewell.

Dakar or bust

Tuesday 18 January

Dakar Senegal

A sept place (7 place peugot) to Dakar involves the inevitable breakdown adding an hour onto our 4 hr trip. Then I get to Pompieres, a huge place full of transport going every which way in Senegal from the capital. I manage to buy some credit to ring Jhonta Coly, who tells the taxi driver where to take me to …. AS we drive, I get the feeling I’m heading away from the centre ville (city) and try to place us on the map I have. Then I’m dropped of @ a petrol station where I am collected by Jhonta and the house is not far. We chat, he is unemployed and we’re soon joined by one of his mates… The house is very bare, except for a few mattresses on the floor. He makes a call – the ferry on Friday is full. bugger! And I’m getting the feeling that I don’t want to stay an hour away out of town. So I thank them for their offer but I will head back to the highway to get another taxi back to town, citing Point E. But of course my accent is always going to be difficult and as the taxi driver keeps reciting Ponty back at me, I gather again by the map, that we are heading again in a different direction. I keep asking “Monsieur, tu regard” (you look), “attention”  & waving the address. Only when we end up in the dead centre of Dakar on POMPY, that I again ask “Regard” and he calls another guy over when  I realise that he is probably illiterate. Omg, which is I am sure what he saying when it is explained where I really want to go –Point ugh (all together in your best french accents). Off we go again, another tour of Dakar of which I am now starting to get my bearings and end up @ an overpriced auberge, who take credit cards. OK – we’ll fly with this & get all the mod cons including hot water & satellite tv. This is a bit of a groovy area and I eat at an Ethiopian restaurant for my first night in Dakar. Now there's a bit of variety in my life! lol

St Loius in Africa

Monday 17 January

I debate heading off to Dakar, but looking for another lazy day. I telephone the number I have been given by Girl Guides Senegal, and converse with Espeance - at least she converses & I manage to comprehend that we will meet for lunch @ 12, at the Hotel sur la Poste, a historic french outpost as they established a mail run from Paris to Morroco to Dakar. daccour!  However I wait a while and start to think that I misunderstood the time, but soon here is Esperance a tall gorgeous sengelese woman introducing herself. We go for lunch at the Flamingo, and are soon joined by the National Program Manager Marie Caroline. I am invited to dinner that night @ Espi’s home which  is great - grilled fish, salad, and the inevitable pan (baguette) & pomme frites (french fries) both of which I should not eat but do cause they are always yummy. Her husband works at the hospital, speaks great english & I gain more insight to Senegal medical & education systems (we both deplore the koran begging boys), and by the time we've finished dinner Espy has Jocelyn on the ph, with recomendations of places to stay in Dakar, then her husband has a cousin who has a big house that is empty at the moment (not too sure where the italians are), and more contacts for the Casamance & Kaffrine! WOW GO GIRL GUIDES!!!!

StLouis

Sunday 16 January

I join Michel in a taxi out to Zebrabar - apparently very well known if you’re an overlanding european. Many folk get a 4wd car or van, and bring it down through Mauritania for the challenging drive, then sell the car giving the sales money to various charities of whoever is leading the drive (Carol & Andrew - one to keep in mind perhaps?). Then there are the europeans who are holidaying here regularly in their camper vans or tents... I guess it’s a very nice alternative to going all the way to India. Michel gets the great dorm (a safari tent) all to himself for a cheap price & we join up with a couple of brits & and a swiss Chris for a boat tour of the river & birdlife. No Flamingos – I am soo disappointed. But after chatting with others I gather we have been sold the cheap version and there are flamingos further on in the park. ;( BUT I do get to see the Atlantic Ocean for the very first time. We return for a traditional meal of spaghetti bolognese & then some general lazing when I persuade Michel to put his surfboard together and try it out on the river. SO far all information he has been given is very positive for his venture, and the trial is a success – the board stays together. The crazy german will go onto surf the Atlantic Ocean tomorrow for sure! We spend the rest of the arvo lazing about before I head back to St Louis in the pre arranged taxi. I get dropped off on the other side of the bridge & spend the late afternoon walking back over the bridge to & around the island. Not a real lot going for it, I have to say – people surviving, selling anything & everything to anybody, and all in french! lol

Following the Senegal RIver

Saturday 15 January

Morning brings breakfast with the priests, who I find out are from Cameroon & Niger while the 2 nuns are from India & Japan! All spending 5 years here serving the spiritual needs of a very small Catholic community & facilitating the education of the wider community with their library & computers. The priests mention that because I did not return early last night, they had feared that I had been taken by Al Queda! hmmmI ask them if there is anything i can do to help them, as well as paying a fair price for the bed - end up doing the dishes and cleaning up their kitchen a bit... Then the priest gives me a lift to the moto park to get transport in a sept place back to the highway, where we wait for a bus that is great - I had a choice of seats, got a lovely window seat near the open back door - I didn't care how often is stopped! EXCEPT when we stopped at a place called Richard Toll. Where we stopped & stopped and then found that we passengers were subcontracted onto another bus because the bus we were on had so few passengers it wasn't worth their while taking as far as they had taken money for! So more fighting for a seat and nearly the slowest 100kms that I've travelled yet - 6 hours - to St Louis. Get off feeling s little weary now, got a taxi into town where the hostel owner watched me get out of the taxi with my pack, send the taxi away, let me walk inside and then inform me that the hostel was full - no beds. Oh well, walking a few blocks in the cool breeze cooled my temper a little and I got a very flash room for more than I wanted to pay, but what the heck! Turned out to be the best mattress I've slept on since leaving home and hot water in the bathroom. I head back to the hostel to negotiate a bed for tomorrow, get talking to a German guy, Michel who had brought a surfboard that he made himself, to Senegal looking for somewhere to surf!! I was gobsmacked. But he was heading to an encampement tomorrow, and I debated whether to join him just for change of scenery. We decide to meet up again later to listen to music over @ the French Cultural place as he is also travelling alone. The french organisers were very full of themselves (unusual, you ask?) because as we are finishing our beers we are told that it is now or never to go in & listen to the music. And no we cannot take our beers in!! WOW now I know I’m adjusting to Africa because we cannot believe such a thing. We sit and drink some more whilst debating will we go in when we watch a few other groups approach the now shut door. They are obviously negotiating with some success so we leave our dregs & enter the outdoor auditorium. Then we have to listen to the frenchie rabbit on & on about how privileged we all are etc etc. Then the solo guy comes on & sings in french & english! Not really the advertised african blues… He is joined a later by a very good kora player, but we still leave early, and Michel & I arrange to meet the next morning to travel to the Parc di Barbarie together, he to stay & me to visit.