Drove through a large rice paddy area and saw lots of fields of vegetable crops which we have not seen before in Burkino Faso.
At the Mali border the customs officials wanted to sell us a visa and didn't seem to recognise the one we had got already. After some broken French we were stamped into the country. There wasn't an office and we sat on a bench under a mango tree to do the official paper work.
The Malian bus had a few empty seats and we were lucky enough to get behind the driver who had an open window as the bus air conditioning units no longer worked. The windows in the bus were all sealed and so the only air getting in the bus was from the two roof vents that were opened above the aisle. it was so hot and smelly, even the locals were dripping with sweat.
The road was pretty bad with lots of potholes and speed humps and the toll booths and security checks added time to the slow trip. We also lost an hour and a half when we blew out a tyre and had to get two tyres repaired in Segou on the banks of the Niger River.
After 14 hours we arrived in the dark on the outskirts of Bamako. With another passenger from the bus we got a shared taxi to the Catholic guesthouse we wanted to stay at. The guesthouse had rooms around a courtyard that was full of vehicles belonging to the nuns and some other travellers. There were no double rooms but I was able to get a bed in the female dormitory while John got one with the men. The nuns were very welcoming.
We had had an email from our Brit friend Chris and were planning to meet him at the guesthouse. The nuns told us he was around but we never saw him until later in the day as he had been to listen to music. The clubs start about 9pm and don't close until early morning so he was out and about with people he had met at the club. When he was not in his room the nuns became worried about him and were most relieved when they finally saw him. It was such a caring and welcoming place.
Across the road from the guesthouse was a vegetarian cafe so we were able to get something to eat without having to go far. The street outside the guesthouse was dusty and full of people sitting under the trees chatting or sitting in front of their shops chatting. A small stall had a TV blaring with lots of the locals on benches in front of it watching soapies. Kids ran up and down playing in the street as well. As we ate hawkers came by trying to sell us their wares.
The streets are full of rubbish. Everyone walking on the street tosses their rubbish onto the road or on the floor in whatever shop they are in. Once a day the shop owner sweeps out the shop and leaves the rubbish on the street/footpath or into the uncovered drains. If there is a kerb and channelling the rubbish is swept there. Stretsweepers who are up and about in the early morning only sweep up some of the road rubbish and leave the drains etc. We saw some shop owners pay young boys with carts to sweep out the kerbs and drains in front of their shops. The boys then take the rubbish to an empty section or piece of land near the main highways or railway lines and dump it. There doesn't seem to be a citywide rubbish collection service nor any designated rubbish dumps. Consequently the drains fester with green-black gunk and the huge rats come out at night to scavenge. Bamako is the only place we have seen rats so far!
After one night in the dorm we were able to move into a room with three beds, mosquito nets and a shower. We met lots of interesting people. Sara from the US was doing research on the role of midwives and had to do some interviews in the city although she was staying with a rural family most of her stay.
Anette, from Sweden and ten years older than me talked bout her travels through West Africa. She is divorced with no children and having retired four years ago decided she should take advantage of her opportunity to travel without having to worry about a husband or children like her friends. She rents out her apartment in Sweden and leases a place in Morocco that she uses as a base. She was a French and German teacher so has no problems communicating in French in West Africa and her English was excellent as well. While her friends think travel is difficult she tells them it is no different than in Sweden. She catches a bus from one city to another stops and then catches another bus to another. When she puts it that way it certainly doesn't sound any different than travel in your own country. She has travelled in West Africa many times and has a notebook full of her cellphone numbers in all the different countries. We plan to catch up with her when she is in Senegal.
These lads arrived in the old Mercedes from Portugal. On the way they convinced a Mauritanian customs officer to join them on their road trip as well. They had a long hot drive through Morocco and Mauritania to Mali and were pretty exhausted when they arrived. They only had two weeks' holiday and then would either drive all the way back or try to sell the Mercedes and then return. They were driving onto Niafunke southwest of Timbucktu to visit the home of musician Ali Farka Toure, even though he died in 2006.
John awoke on the third day to find three quarters of the white of his left eye was bloodshot. He had no pain but we decided to get it checked. The nuns sent us to a hospital but when we got there the eye clinic was absolutely crowded with patients. We phoned the American embassy and asked them if they had an optometrist on their books who spoke English. They gave us the name of the optometrist they used but as he didn't speak English we asked Anette if she would translate for John. The optometrist said the bleeding was caused by the high temperatures and after prescribing some drops it cleared the next day. John was able to have his eye pressures taken as well and they are at the lowest pressures since leaving home and in good condition so that was pleasing to know.
Chris was able to leave his excess baggage with the nuns while we decided to take ours to Sevare. After the walkin Dogon Country we would return to Bamako as we need to get visas for Senegal.
