Why You Should Never Travel in West Africa in the Summer

Hello all,

    Greetings from Bamako, the capital of Mali, where I am supposedly taking a vacation.  Why supposedly?  Because I was under the impression that I am supposed to enjoy myself on vacations, and I question whether yesterday was enjoyable.  But I do not want to keep you in suspense, so let me tell you how it took me 14 hours to travel 218km.  (yes, yet another travel story).

    My friend, Dana, came up to Siguiri on Tuesday (having taken 20 hours to travel 133km-the ferry broke down and she was forced to spend the night at the river crossing and then walk the last 7km the next morning-incidentally, when the ferry breaks down, I cannot leave Siguiri, unless I am going to Mali).  We left Siguiri yesterday (Thursday) morning.  Since there was no direct car to Bamako, aside from a ramshackle bus, we took a car to the border, where we then changed vehicles.  The first leg of the journey was fine, stereotypically pot-holed road, 12 passengers in the car, not very fast, but to be expected.  Even the border wasn't bad, aside from the usual registration hassles because we're tubabus.  On the Mali side, the only vehicle available was a truck - basically a pickup truck with a cage over the back and wooden benches.  They packed 21 of us into the back, baggage on top, 5 more people on top, x number of people! in the front, in other words, we were sardines, and horribly overloaded.  It was impossible to fit anymore people into the back, everyone was pretty much sitting on top of each other.  Fortunately, the road was better in Mali, but the truck had a hard time dealing with such a load and broke down a lot.  Then it started to rain and the road turned into a river and even though they pulled a tarp over the sides, my back was soon drenched.  We got to a hill and the truck got stuck so they kicked most people out (not us, the one advantage of being a tubabu) and tried again.  It was pouring outside.  However, the truck still couldn't get up the hill and Dana and I got scared and got out.  Definately a good decision because the truck looked like it would tip over.  So we waded up the road in calf-high water and eventually, with lots of pushing the truck made it up, except that they then had to work on the engine for another hour. ! So, we piled back in, wet and cold, and spent another 5 hours driving to Bamako, by which point everything hurt from the squashing and the wood bench.   Of course, we periodically stopped to fix the engine.  We arrived in Bamako at 10, having left at 8, miserable, cold, wet, muddy, and covered in dust.  As if that wasn't enough, once we got to the Peace Corps house, we discovered that our bags had gotten wet and thus, all our clothes were wet as well.  Fortunately, they have hot showers at the house, and I was able to overlook the fact.  And I while I am upset with the driver for not packing our bags properly (they shouldn't get wet, even in a downpour), at least, he was nice, and bought us all peanuts for putting up with everything.  And really, up until about six o'clock, the trip was amusing.  I mean, how often does one get to wade through a road and spend hours squashed in the back of a pickup truck, wedged in by five other men, who are arguing loudly in Malinke about the distance between Siguiri an! d Bamako (this was not intended to be sarcastic, it really was funny).  The moral of the story is not to travel during the rainy season (or at least, not without a raincoat readily available).  Of course, since I will be spending the next two weeks in Mali visiting the Dogon Country and Djenne, I will be travelling during the rainy season.  And a month from now, I will be flying home out of Bamako, so I get to repeat the trip.  I can just hope that I've used up some bad travel luck for a while.  Incidentally, I will be in the US from September 9-21 and will spend most of the time in Providence : ). 

    I hope everyone is well and enjoying the beautiful paved roads in Ameriki, or wherever you may be.  If you sent me mail in the last month, there is a fairly high chance that I won't get it, since the Peace Corps car, which was carrying my mail, swerved off the road into standing water and everything got wet.  I do not know the status of my mail, but I do not have high hopes.  C'est l'Afrique, quoi - as everyone would say here.  I'm choosing not to think about it at the moment, because all of my lesson plans were in the car as well, as well as my copy of our newly created Math Teachers Guide.  Of course, the Math Guide can be replaced, but lesson plans cannot, but there is no point in worrying about what I cannot change.  In fact, in Guinea, it is best to assume the worst, hope for the best, and deal with whatever happens.  Have a lovely summer.

Urska