The illustrious 504 traversing MMBA

Journal Entry 48

April 26th, 2005

"East in a 504"

 

A weary Brian greets you. Two days ago, I spoke to the first white person in two weeks. It's strange when you arrive in the capital of Mali, and are happy that you've reached 'civiliation' and comfort again.

My last journal ended as I entered southern Senegal. The landscape'd gradually changed from plains to a slightly lusher greener one, with mango and cashew trees. This is the 'Casamance', the troubled but beautiful lower part of Senegal.

I visited Elinkine, a scrappy little fishing village where I stayed on a lonely beach, and also stayed in a bitty village called Niambalang. I was in a land where topless women weren't uncommon, and the buildings were predominantly circular, with mud/clay walls and grass roofs. Here is where I had that guitar jam session I mentioned last...15 kids dancing singing and clapping as I sat on a little bench and played under a mango tree.

I left Senegal and entered Guinea-Bissau, an extremely poor former Portuguese colony. The whole place is a giant cashew grove! It's quite nice, as they're in season and the colorful red, orange, and yellow fruits are everywhere. (did you know--I didn't--that the cashew grows upside down from a pear-shaped fruit? The fruit usually goes to waste, then you have to burn the kidney bean-shaped seed to a crisp and break it open to find the little nut inside...now you know why they're expensive!)

En route I met Lamine, and I stayed with his family for two days on the outskirts of the capital city of Bissau. Met lots of relatives and had a lot of good meals. Bissau strikes me as a city that could be paradise, but it's become so run down that it now seems quite tragic, especially after the civil war only a few years ago. Now you can only see the ghost of what it used to be.

Things got eerier as I headed east. Very dumpy, most everything is built from traditional materials outside the capital area, it seemed to me. Even tin roofs struggle to make a scene here. I stopped off in Bafata. A deserted church, a cracked clock tower, crumbling pastel homes with broken red tiles, a dusty red street lined with lamps defunct for decades. What made it stranger was that so few people were about! Where are they hiding, are they peering through holes? Post-apocalyptic.

Next day, Guinea. A peek into the immigration register shows I'm only the 21st non-African to cross this particular border in 2005, the first in four weeks, and the only American. Hop on an overloaded station wagon driven by a 13-yr-old across a dusty red track. Now this is travel!! Several hours later I found myself packed into a car, travelling all night on a rough dirt track that included a hand-winch-operated ferry crossing, with my head 90 degrees back and slightly tilted to avoid hitting it on the ceiling and attempt to catch some zzz's.

Yeah, that got old fast. Guinea just about killed me. Long rough voyages and longer waits. Even slept in a bush taxi one night as we didn't have enough passengers for the driver to go. Waited 19.5 hrs before we began, in a scorching parking lot. Fun. And Guinea is very poor, so as far as vehicles go, it gets Africa's leftovers. Take your standard station wagon, a Peugeot 504. In Senegal, it'll take 7 passengers. In Guinea-Bissau, 9. Guinea? 12 or more!

But I met some interesting people. Foremost was Mamadou, whose family I stayed with for three days in Labe, Guinea. Did little aside from read, visit people, play guitar, and walk around town. I broke the key on his door, and paid to have a locksmith come to the house, remove the mechanism, replace, and two new keys. The ordeal set me back 4500 guinean francs. Ouch? Not really, that's just over a dollar.

At his insistence, we went to a portrait 'studio' on my last day and had a picture taken together. The background is a cracked picture of a palm tree, and there's an old oil jug next to us. The expressions on Mamadou and his wife's face resemble a deer in headlights. Funny picture, hope to post it some day.

It's nice, but staying with people can drive me up a wall internally at times...have I mentioned I have an independent streak? And it's worsened when you're with someone who speaks about 10 more English words than my French (which isn't that many). Time to move on, especially after a drunk guy tried to steal my flip-flop...

Spent a couple more days in Guinea's 'Fouta Djalon' region (one of West Africa's few highlands, though it's basically just a 1000m high plateau with lots of rolling green hills), my only notable adventure being a 25 km round-trip walk one day in search of a waterfall. To say I got lost doesn't mean much, because that would imply that at some point, you were NOT lost. Ended up sometimes on random tracks that petered out, stumbled into a small banana grove and a vegetable garden near a stagnant stream. Ultimately, found the waterfalls (very nice), and a building that I wasn't supposed to find, where an official who obviously hasn't gotten any, in ages, wanted to see my laissez-passer (permit) which potentially I could've got if I hadn't been lost and missed the police checkpoint on my way there.

Several miserable rides and waits later (the last of which was a van carrying 22 people, one full-size bed, and several couches, in addition to luggage), I end up here in Bamako, Mali's capital. Blazing hot from about 8am until about 3am, I'd say, giving you a very small window of comfort. Luxuries include cheap fruits, the biggest mangoes I've ever seen (some as large as Nerf footballs, which will mean nothing to non-Americans), paved streets (main ones anyway), and new salmon-colored flip-flops (having busted my first pair--yellow--already).

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Foods. New fruits: the cashew (which I've described already a bit...tastes a bit vegetabley, and if you eat a lot your throat gets kinda sore), kuyfoytai (little furry brown pods with little furry fruits inside), and neri (long brown pod with a pasty dry yellow fruit and seeds inside). Boiled green mangoes. In Guinea, lacciri e kosan (sour milk poured over corn couscous with salt). Then there's dishes you find across this region that have different names but are quite similar: fonio (millet couscous with sauce), domodah (tomatoey sauce over rice), mafe (peanutty sauce with a hint of fishiness over rice), and sauce de feuilles (diarrhea-like greenish-brown sauce made from mushed cassava leaves and peanuts and crushed fish, served over rice).

Drinks deserve their own paragraph. Gunuk, or palm wine. Cashew juice. Bisap (red hibiscus juice). Sum di cabazera (one of the best concoctions I've ever tasted...only found it in Guinea-Bissau, and was unable to determine its exact origin...it's almost creamy, very sweet, tan-colored), ginger juice, touba (another ginger-like concoction). Almost all beverages are bought in little baggies. You wipe it on your shirt (which surely cleans and disinfects it very well!), and then bite off a corner and sip away. Available on any street.

Guinea's the cheapest country I've visited since Asia, easily. Mangoes...get this...for a dollar, you could buy 138 of them! Damn, and I bought one in Minneapolis for two bucks. Strangely, despite its poverty, it's the country with the fewest beggars I've seen in Africa. And it has baguettes that put France to shame (though once, to my surprise, I found a burnt matchstick baked into mine). On several occasions I've had small children see me and grasp their parents' legs, or start to cry.

Almost all meals here are communal. Several people gather 'round a bowl or large platter. Mix rice with whatever sauce is on top (with your right hand), and scoop the food by squished handfuls into your mouth. You eat a bit back from the bowl so food from your mouth doesn't drop into it. One of my best images is from Mamadou's house, he and the wife and a few little kids stooped around a dish, by candlelight, every evening, sloppily shoving food into our mouths. A cup of water is always communal here as well, so I try to drink before the little kids to minimize the backwash factor.

Women in Africa. What do they wear? Strikingly gaudy, frilly, and colorful dresses and headwraps. What do they do? Walk around with stuff on their heads and children slung on their backs, prepare meals, wash clothes, and braid each others' hair. That seems to be it, though it's a lot more than the men. And the kids mainly just roll wheels around with sticks.

Lots of 2" protruding outeys. How did this come about? They look like miniature erections and are terribly disturbing.

I get strange flashbacks sometimes. Just last night, I was imagining myself in Ljubljana, Slovenia. It was cold, I was going for runs every morning, and was soon to begin my whistlestop tour: London - Zurich - DC - Minnesota, so it was a strange time for me...

From an outsider's point of view, it may seem I'm moving quickly, but I prefer to think of it as constant, almost like there's a metronome, though it's a bit more fitful.

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I'm 4350km (just about 3000 miles) from Rabat (Morocco), where I started this little African adventure. That's direct, so I've probably gone quite a bit further...After a long way more or less south, the past few weeks have been generally easterly. As it stands, I'm stuck here for a bit, awaiting a visa.

I don't usually think like this, but damn, what I wouldn't do for a bowl of Banana Nut Crunch with cold milk and a tall glass of red grape juice.

'...situations in life often permit no delay; and when we cannot determine the course which is certainly best, we must follow the one which is probably best; and when we cannot determine even that, we must nevertheless select one and follow it thereafter as though it were certainly best. If the course selected is not indeed a good one, at least the reasons for selecting it are excellent. This frame of mind freed me also from the repentance and remorse commonly felt by those vacillating individuals who are always seeking as worth while things which they later judge to be bad.' (-Descartes)

 


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