We have made it to Djenné, home to the world’s largest mud bricked building. It was a relatively short drive from Sévaré and then just a short ferry to arrive in the town.  The ferry was particularly entertaining because a few of the vendor kids knew some English.  It surprised us while we were crossing the river and the little girls came up and exclaimed “Hey mister! You give me cadeau!”

Bobby was successful in bartering.  He traded 2 candies or bon-bons for a little car made from old tin cans.  She came down from a steep price of 10 bon-bons.  It was quite the deal. David accidentally stole a little wooden mask from one of the kids, they were thrusting it into his hands and bargaining with themselves.  They just forgot to claim it back.  Another kid tried to get a walking stick that was a gift from our Dogon guide to David and said “Hey mister, you give me this stick, it is good for me!” and we tried to shame him by saying “but you are a young, strong boy and he is an old man and needs it to walk”.  He didn’t care so much.

The cadeau girls

We also met a Dutch family that we shared a campsite with.  They are traveling with their two year old son and four year old daughter.  They will drive all the way around Africa with them and get their daughter back home to the Netherlands in time for kindergarten.

The Great Mosque of Djenné was very impressive, of course.  We couldn’t afford the ridiculous bribe to get inside through the back door so we just settled on enjoying the views from the plaza.

View of Songo

Aga po sewo (how is your morning)?
Séo (good)
Uneshe sewo (how is your husband)?

Séo

Ginwa sewo (and your family)?

Séo

Unuwa sewo (and your children)?

Séo

Rock paintings, Songo

The fantastic, lengthy greetings of the Dogon people sound much like a song.  The formula is always the same and the responses are rapid and rhythmic.  I had fun trying it out today and got a couple of full asking and responding sessions with the older women.
We made it to Dogon Country a few days ago and are staying at a place that Mac recommended, the Hotel Les Deux Caimans in Sanga.  The son of the owner, Line, came in from Bamako for the start of the tourist season to be our guide.   We had our first taste of Dogon country in the village of Songo where we saw the famous rock paintings that an important part of the circumcision ritual that takes place every three years.  Yesterday, we visited some of the villages that are hiking distance from Sanga with Line.

Granary

The Dogon houses are interesting to see; limestone blocked centers then covered with a mud plaster but what makes them really impressive is that they are clinging to the cliffs and hidden in rock crevices.  Some of these are said to be the work of the Tellem, the people who lived here before the Dogon and it is said that they have magical abilities (such as sticky hands to help climb the rock faces to enter their dwellings) and very small in stature.  The old Tellem homes are high up in the cliffs in what seems to be impossibly inaccessible spots.  It is also thought that the vegetation may have been different then, lush and filled with vines that they could have used to climb to their homes.

Old Tellem village

Everyone here is very persistent with the cadeaus and bon-bons.  Line explained that the French tourists often bring candies with them.  I would calmly explain to the kids that we are not French and that only the French bring pens and candies.  We bring them friendship.  They didn’t want my friendship in the end and would have preferred the candies.

Around lunch time we witnessed a chicken being fed to one of the sacred crocodile of Amani, it is one of their totems.  That was definitely a first for me, I can’t shake the squawking noise the bird made when the crocodile snagged it and slowly pulled it under the water.

Lunch for the sacred crocodile

I tried to show the kids I have no football to give

Being our last night in Dogon country, we stopped to visit the local market in Sanga.  There were packs of kids following us who were quite aggressive. First they hold your hands, which may be cute the first time, not so much when there are three or four of them trying.  I asked them to please stop because I need my hands.  It worked for a few seconds before they were snatched up again. I couldn’t even look at anything in the market because I was too busy fighting off the kids.  If they can’t hold your hands, and sometimes even while they hold your hands they begin the “ça va?” scam.  The “ça va” or how’s it going is basically the entry point to making their demands.  If you acknowledge them or respond to the ça va, it then leads into the tirade of “give me a pen”, “give me a bon-bon”, “give me a present”, or my personal favorite “give me a football” as it is something that I obviously do not have in my pocket or bag.

At one point, the kids got annoyed with Bobby for ignoring them and were pretending to hit him as they walked behind him.  I rushed up to them and grabbed them by the shoulders and scolded them.  At first I felt incredibly guilty but I caught the glance of an old man who gave me a smiling nod so it seems people don’t approve of the children’s actions either.  After that I was just so sick of talking to people, they all try to be friendly only to try to get things from you.  The whole hand holding thing is really just to make you feel guilty so you will give them things.  Give me, give me, give me!  Give me PEACE!

Our battery levels were dropping

We planned on heading to Dogon Country straight away.  While we were lined up for the ferry, we met a missionary who had lived here for 23 years.  He suggested for us to start in Sévaré and then head to Sanga rather than Bamba which was our plan.  Lucky for us of this change of the route; just as we were outside of Douentza, the alternator gave and the battery starting dying.  We were all getting nervous whether or not we would even make it to Sévaré at this point. At least we were on the main road rather than some back road going into Dogon Country!

We arrived at Mac’s Refuge in Sévaré and it was miracle.  First, we were lost coming into town since we didn’t have a map for it.  We got not only directions when we asked for help, but they even led us to the street that we needed to turn off on!  When we arrived, Mac had literally just arrived himself and we walked in together.  Each night he has a special themed dinner; tonight is Italian night!  Mac grew up in Sanga so he knew the area inside and out.

Thank goodness for Mac!

Lucky for us, he helped us get a mechanic lined up to fix the alternator.  Not just that we had a great place to relax…good for me.  I had a little surprise while at the local internet café… dysentery, blood and all.  Stopped in the pharmacy literally across the street to pick up the medicines and I should be fine in a day or so. We hadn’t planned on coming to Sévaré, but I can’t imagine how differently today would have turned out if we hadn’t.

Fresh baked bread

Things started to return to normal today and many more people were out on the streets…even street food returned!  We got our Timbuktu stamps and discovered that we can no longer visit the mosque because a Spanish couple had gone in “making love”, not sure if they actually had sex, kissed, or just held hands.  I suppose it doesn’t really matter; just that they considered it disrespectful and have since closed it to keffirs.  After the normal haranguing of the touts, one was actually quite friendly and offered to take us around and pay us whatever we like.  So we accepted and he took us to the three great mosques of Timbuktu (didn’t go in of course) and also the explorers houses.  Several European explorers were fascinated with the famed city of Timbuktu and took on Tuareg disguises in order to gain entrance into the town.

We told Alkaidi that we wanted to try a local dish, so he arranged for a Tuareg woman to make some tô for us.  We went to her home, which was no more than a few tarpaulins spread to watch her prepare the dish.  She was beautifully dressed and hennaed for Eid.

Preparing a local dish for us

She probably wasn’t much older than I was and had nine children.  We spent a few hours, every now and then helping the kids with the large pestle to grind the grains.  The time spent with the family was very nice; better than the meal.  It does take some getting used to the popping sensation one gets while eating granules of sand.  Considering that they do live pretty exposed to the elements, I’m sure they are used to the sand sneaking in to their meals.

It will be our last day here in Timbuktu, so we just had to get out and see the sand dunes.

leaving my mark in the Sahara: ?????? ? ????

There aren’t so hard to find; they are literally creeping in on the city any way.  Later we stopped by the artisan place; I couldn’t leave without getting a Croix de Tombouctou and a Tuareg passport necklace. Shopping around I found one guy open who had both so I tried to speed up the bargaining process as much as possible.  I already knew the price I wanted and just kept repeating it in Arabic, French, and English.  He got a kick out of my Arabic bargaining; Syria taught me well.  Eventually I got both at a great price and didn’t take too long since everyone was already in the car waiting for me.  Tomorrow we leave for Sévaré.

Seasonal Flooding

The rain season brings many changes to a dry country such as Mali.  Temperatures drop (only when raining of course), crops and land get the direly needed water and patches of wetlands appear to offer animals a place to drink.  On the negative side, flooding happens and the roads and villages disappear.  We have gotten to see the more positive aspects during our drive to Timbuktu; the countryside was verdant, lush, and teeming with life.  As soon as we crossed the river on the ferry to Timbuktu, the landscape dramatically became barren; no more seasonal wetlands and singing birds and instead the touts emerged from the sands.  We knew then that we had arrived in the famous city.

Even camels like to keep cool.

During our lunch it was well over 100°F in the shade; we huddled in the small shady patch to escape the unforgiving sun and also the persistent touts clamoring for our attention to offer us Tuareg “passport” necklaces and camel rides into the desert.  It is irritating to say the least, to have every person you meet offering you something; but it IS the low season and they are just trying to make a living.  I just wanted to sweat and suffer from heat stroke in peace, that’s all.

Our tent on the roof

It was a relief to find the Camping Hotel here; Alkaidi runs the show, he was delightful and made us feel at home.  Inside the hotel there is a large communal room with fans and we were even able to plug our laptops in.  We chose, however, to set up our tents on the roof, it will be cooler at night that way and we will hopefully get more air circulation.  Tomorrow will be Eid al Fitr, the end of Ramadan.  Everything will of course be closed; if I was a Muslim this would be the day that I would most eagerly await!  After a month of fasting from sun up to sun down, Eid al Fitr brings everyone together to break the fast one last time.  I’m looking forward to finally being able to get street food during the day again!

Scenery as we entered Mali

After successfully completing our pirogue trip on the Niger River, we accomplished everything we wanted in Niger and made our way over to the border with Mali.  We entered with no problems; it wasn’t until we actually entered into Gao that things turned sour.  The entire town seems a bit desolate; flat, sandy streets lined with mud brick homes.  The heat was intense and we were all getting edgy.  IT was time to get out of the sun and relax.  We wanted to check in with the police first thing just to avoid problems since we read that this is the procedure in the guide books.  It turns out that the police ARE the problem.  They required more forms and photos from us in order to spend one night in Gao than we need to fill in order to get our 5 year visa to Mali.  Ultimately, I had to make my French worse and ultimately pretend to not understand a word hoping to move things alone.

The males of Gao are persistent.

Every man in this town seems to be a tout.  They all followed us in the room to attempt to speak on our behalf.  Of course, they all had suggestions that they gave to the police officer where we were spending the night.  I got really mad that first of all, we don’t need their help, and secondly we do not want a safari anywhere, no desire to ride a camel at this time, no desire to stay in a hotel, no SPACE even for the stupid passport stamp that doesn’t mean anything anyhow!  I got so frustrated that I left the room and went back to the car where David was waiting and also being pestered by touts swarming the vehicle.  Bobby and Peta returned with our unnecessary passport stamps that cost us 1,000 CFA each.

Market scene

We drove around this blasted town for hours trying to find a place to stay.  Guys on motorbikes were thinking that they were leading us to their /friend’s /cousin’s hotel.  We had no intention of following them, we just happened to be going in the same direction while they are diligently signaling.  Once we turned on the street that we were looking for they grew very worried we went the wrong way and rushed after us.  David yells at them that we aren’t following them and to please go away and we start this whole process over again.

We were all overheated, flustered, and starving.  We stopped in a restaurant that serves 3 things.  Not bad but a bit strange, just like everything else in this town.  We met a robed and turbaned man from Amsterdam who was walking to Jerusalem; he is taking quite a detour going via Africa.  After lunch we spent the rest of the afternoon looking for Camping Euro or the Sahara Passion.  Never found the latter, it just seemed to disappear like a mirage.

On a positive note: the women here are fantastic.  For as aggressive and persistent the men are, the women are friendly and laid back.  This is also the first time in Africa that we have seen women driving motorbikes; some even carrying men on the back.

We found a place to stay, actually one of the first places that we stopped to ask directions.  It was a campment right on the big, dusty plaza by the Algerian Consulate.  The proprietor was a nice Nigerian big mama.  We drank lots of drinks and ate dinner there, big mama made a nice and simple meal.  During dinner there was a remarkable rain storm; amazing to witness considering this is a part of the world that is seldom blessed with heavy rain.

Gao has left everyone frazzled and we are eager to get on the road to Timbuktu!

105 Degrees 5pm in the shade

After successfully completing our pirogue trip on the Niger River, we accomplished everything we wanted in Niger and made our way over to the border with Mali. We entered with no problems; it wasn’t until we actually entered into Gao that things turned sour. The entire town seems a bit desolate; flat, sandy streets lined with mud brick homes. The heat was intense and we were all getting edgy. IT was time to get out of the sun and relax. We wanted to check in with the police first thing just to avoid problems since we read that this is the procedure in the guide books. It turns out that the police ARE the problem. They required more forms and photos from us in order to spend one night in Gao than we need to fill in order to get our 5 year visa to Mali. Ultimately, I had to make my French worse and ultimately pretend to not understand a word hoping to move things alone.

Every man in this town seems to be a tout. They all followed us in the room to attempt to speak on our behalf. Of course, they all had suggestions that they gave to the police officer where we were spending the night. I got really mad that first of all, we don’t need their help, and secondly we do not want a safari anywhere, no desire to ride a camel at this time, no desire to stay in a hotel, no SPACE even for the stupid passport stamp that doesn’t mean anything anyhow! I got so frustrated that I left the room and went back to the car where David was waiting and also being pestered by touts swarming the vehicle. Bobby and Peta returned with our unnecessary passport stamps that cost us 1,000 CFA each.

We drove around this blasted town for hours trying to find a place to stay. Guys on motorbikes were thinking that they were leading us to their /friend’s /cousin’s hotel. We had no intention of following them, we just happened to be going in the same direction while they are diligently signaling. Once we turned on the street that we were looking for they grew very worried we went the wrong way and rushed after us. David yells at them that we aren’t following them and to please go away and we start this whole process over again.

We were all overheated, flustered, and starving. We stopped in a restaurant that serves 3 things. Not bad but a bit strange, just like everything else in this town. We met a robed and turbaned man from Amsterdam who was walking to Jerusalem; he is taking quite a detour going via Africa. After lunch we spent the rest of the afternoon looking for Camping Euro or the Sahara Passion. Never found the latter, it just seemed to disappear like a mirage.

On a positive note: the women here are fantastic. For as aggressive and persistent the men are, the women are friendly and laid back. This is also the first time in Africa that we have seen women driving motorbikes; some even carrying men on the back.

We found a place to stay, actually one of the first places that we stopped to ask directions. It was a campment right on the big, dusty plaza by the Algerian Consulate. The proprietor was a nice Nigerian big mama. We drank lots of drinks and ate dinner there, big mama made a nice and simple meal. During dinner there was a remarkable rain storm; amazing to witness considering this is a part of the world that is seldom blessed with heavy rain.

Gao has left everyone frazzled and we are eager to get on the road to Timbuktu!

Scenery as we entered Mali