July 14th...
What a long day to get to Bamako!!!
I woke up in Indar. The sky was very low and threatening. The whole village took quite a while to wake up. For once I was among the first few to be awake and up.
I could have rushed out and taken off by 8am like I initially thought I would do, but because I wanted to say some sort of goodbye to the villagers, I took my time. Marie and her 1 yr old daughter Sofia were the ones I had the hardest time to say goodbye. I like Marie because she is the only I really felt was working everyday. And she has such a nice smile and voice. And well, Sofia is adorable, and so cute when she breaks a dance.
I wish I could have said bye to Bernard and the kids up in Ethiwar. I felt bad about not doing so. But the plan we had all committed to was to go to Ethiwar today and tomorrow ad for me to depart from the village Wednesday at the earliest. But since as usual, neither Yohan nor the Bediks can keep their word, the plan fell apart. So in the end, I didn't really feel bad about an unplanned departure. On the contrary actually, I was getting tired about stalling surrounded by constant unambitious drunks. Don't get me wrong, the Bediks are amazingly nice people, but if only they could be reasonable on liquor and tobacco.
So it is relieved and free that, after sitting under the big mango tree for almost 45 minutes for a ride to pick me up, I decided to hit the road walking and hope that someone would soon or later pick me up.
Just like my first day, after an hour, I got lucky, a truck stopped by and picked me up. Interesting ride.
The truck owner, quite well educated since he actually owns a truck and can speak a very good French, reinforced my frustration with regards to the complacent, lazy, and educational waste mentality and behavior of those minority ethnicities of the region. Indeed, when talking about challenge and problematics for the local farmers, the pick up owner dared telling me that the situation was very difficult because locals need partners from the West, and also because it is impossible to farm well given how often cows end up all over the seeded land eating the seedings.
He was so dumb when just saying that alone it is not possible. They need western partners. Though I was unable to obtain a single tangible argument as to why. And well I told him that farmers could just build up fences, and cattle herders could just monitor them closer and or tie them up, he didn't know what to say other than it is impossible.
There are so many simple basic solutions, but they couldn't seem to see them or even conceive them.
It just upset me to much to feel that they want others to do the work for them and they will wait for this to happen.
Anyhow, they dropped me off in Kedougou where they showed me where to inquire about vans to the Mali border town of Malasa.
It didn't take long until I found one. But I kind of got into a miscommunication argument about the price with the owner so I took off and hoped for another way.
The owner of the shop where I hung around told me that there are some big commercial trucks coming from Gambia going all the way to Bamako, but that they are infrequent. So he didn't know when would the next ones show up. Today, tomorrow, next week...
By luck, his son was also heading my direction, the town just before the border, and so he helped me get a seat in the van he was going to ride in.
The ride was not that long, but it was definitely hot. Our destination was this giant ghetto town of gold diggers who built this huge slum in the middle of nowhere, with no access to water nor electricity, but where the soil is supposed to be rich in gold. Or at least used to be rich in gold when only a few people moved in. Now it is easily tens of thousands of people who live there. Quite surreal!
Once there, the place where to get a car to drive all the way to the border was quite far, but since I was quoted a price way to high, I decided to walk. What the hell!? No way I was going to pay two dollars to do a few kms! Even if in the criminal heat and sun and even if crossing the whole slum.
This slum is supposedly composed of Malians and Burkinabes who came here out of desperation for gold. And surprisingly, though it is a slum which at times looked quite scary and strange, its people were super nice and welcoming. Everyone greeted me and welcomed me there. Ha! When I think that in the West, such behavior would never happen, it seems that the world is so upside down. The most educated people in the world would maybe need serious people interaction education in order to learn how to behave in society.
She I finally made it to the place where the transportation cars are, a guy on a motorcycle approaches me: Hello Mr white man!
I really expected all of Africa to be a bit like Asia, where people approach you with the main objective to make money off of you. But gosh am I wrong.
This guy asks me where I want to go. He checks his gas level and tells me to jump on. My reflex is to first ask him how much he wants. He got a bit offended, saying he never mentioned any money.
OK, I jump on and he drives the 25 km that separate us from Mali. He was actually from Burkina Faso. He just wanted to be kind and helpful to someone the same way someone helped him years back when he first arrived in the country. Beautiful west Africa and its extreme kind hospitality.
The border passport check point was funny. Just basically a small room with a big messy table, and this guy suffering from the heat. He even wished me a happy Bastille Day! (I had totally forgotten) that was for the Senegal exiting part. The Mali entry was in an even smaller room. Two guys dying of heat, barely able to read my passport. They almost didn't even pay any attention to my presence while looking at my passport as they were so caught up in their own conversation. I got my stamp and left. Voila! Welcome to Mali. Easy as that.
Right away I found where to catch the bus to get to Bamako. I was told that if I am lucky, the ride will not take more than 8 hours. Hmmm...not the most comforting of precision.
The guy running the bus ticket booth was this super nice guy. A semi pro soccer player who didnt make it to play pro soccer in Europe like his friends for lack of financing. But he is sticking to his plan and saving up little by little, when his mom, his sisters and his fiancee don't suck up all his money.
The bus was as basic as can get. I was sitting on the front row seat next to this 19yr old kid from Bamako who works as a jeweler in Keniebe by the border. Not much of a talker but very well educated and polite.
At one point, we took a break in the dark where tons of food stalls were selling their stuff thanks to flashlights. I wandered around a bit lost trying to find a snack and something to drink. After a while we went back in. He had bought two drinks and enough meet for the two of us, and just gave me the bottle, opened the bag of meet on the seat, and just told me "eat!". That's the first word he spoke. So I did. Was delicious. And I was starving. The rest of the ride was smooth. A couple of army check points here and there. We arrived in Bamako by 1:30am. He told me to follow him that if I didn't mind I could sleep on the floor of where his uncle works and that by 6:30am we would have to take off. Okidoki for me! He laid a foam mat and a dirtyish sheet on the floor of a pseudo classroom in this old building. Thank god there was a fan. I fell asleep right away. I was disgusting of dirt and sweat from the whole day of walking and bussing.
By 7am we had taken off, and I was in a cab on my way to the catholic mission dorm. But it is now July 15th.
It was so nice to see nuns again, after Spain. It reminded me of the Camino. Though here, they are not really talkative nor sharing. No real interaction at all unfortunately. Oh well. I fort my bed, showered, did some laundry and took a long nap...
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