OUT OF MALI: (…leavin’ on a jet phh-la
Trip Start
Feb 27, 2010
1
15
19
Trip End
Apr 09, 2010
Koro, Mopti, Mali
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
The plan was to as follows:
Day 1
- Plane out of Timbuktu to Mopti – 45 mins;
- Bus from Mopti to village called Koro (in Mali close to the Burkina border) – 3-4 hours
- If lucky, then another bus the same day from Koro to Ouahigouya (Burkina) – 5 hours
Day 2
- Bus from Ouahigouya (Burkina) to Ouagadougou (Burkina) - 4 hours;
- Ouagadougou (Burkina) to Po (Burkina)– 4 hours;
- Po (Burkina) to Navrongo (Ghana) – 1 hour
However, as before, not everything went as plannedJ
I left the hotel for the airport at 8 a.m. for my flight that was supposed to depart at 10 a.m. The flight was an hour late … big surprise. While waiting at the airport for the boarding call, I met a Dutch/American couple who were working in The Gambia as medical researchers. There was also an English family heading out to Bamako. The husband from the family happened to be the coach for the Malian national swimming team, and had just come to Mali for a five year term. Before Mali, he was the national swimming coach for the English Olympic team. We chatted about how talented the Malian team is and that there was a possibility of them making it to the London Olympics. He also mentioned how he was trying to create an organization to engage the Malian elite to support the sport. I told him how wonderful that idea was but warned him about handing it over in good hands when he leaves after 5 years for sustainability. He nodded in agreement.
The 45 minute flight to Mopti seemed like a joke compared to the 5 days it had taken me to get to Timbuktu. I was in Mopti by noon. At the airport, I needed to get to the bus stop for Koro. But given I had some time in hand, I decided to call the one and only Ali Baba. "Bonjour. One man no chop. Everyone chop small small!". He laughed hard at the other end and told me he was coming to receive me at the airport. He should up an hour later in a borrowed 4x4.
We went over to a friend's office (tourism agency) and chilled for a bit. I told him about the wild ride to Timbuktu. He couldn’t believe it. After a few laughs, I was on my way again. Ali said he’ll accompany me till the dug out for the buses.
The person at the dug-out told me that there are no buses to Koro – just bush taxis. He continued that I had just missed one for Koro. The next bush taxi was to leave as soon as it was full. So far I was the only person on the next bush taxi; hence long wait was a given.
We waited for a bit. The rate at which the bush taxi was filling, I thought I would not be departing that day – and I could not afford to lose so much time. Mini panic! We asked the ticket person if there would be something/anything departing for Koro that day in case the taxi does not fill. He assured us that if there are not enough passengers by 6 p.m., he would arrange for a smaller car for us that evening. It was around 2 p.m. then. If I had left immediately, I could have reached Koro by 6 p.m. and easily gotten a car to Ouahigouya that day as well. But now I was stranded in Mopti till evening. I kicked myself for wasting so much time with Ali and his friend. Had I left earlier, I could have caught the prior car for Koro. But now I was going to lose a whole day waiting for the next one. Uexpected delay !!
Ali, seeing my nervous state, called a friend and asked if there was anything anywhere in Mopti that was leaving soon for Koro. His friend told him there was a big bus departing from Sevare (neighbouring Mopti) for Koro almost immediately and that it would pass by Mopti within the next 30 minutes. I could probably jump on that one. Sigh of relief. I picked up my bags and ran over to the spot where the bus was going to pass by.
I and Ali grabbed a quick bite on the way before arriving at the waiting spot. I asked Ali how the family was coping with his father’s death. “Well!” he said. He also told me that he was not taking any more clients those days as he would be travelling to Dubai, India and Cambodia. I asked him how he could afford such a trip. He replied he couldn’t. A couple, that was his client a year back, were organizing this trip for themselves and had invited Ali to accompany them – all travel expenses paid!! Unbelievable - many people wouldn’t do this much even for their family. Ali told me how the couple really appreciated his services when they were in Mali and had told him they wanted to do something for him. I wished him luck and handed him US $10 (the last bit of foreign currency I had) for his trip. He thanked me and asked a boy passing by how to get it exchanged for CFA for him.
We chatted for 2 hours before starting to wonder where the bus was. These had been long 30 minutes. Ali called his friend and he told us “On arrive”; a phrase I had learnt to comprehend as “it will be a while”. We had no other option but to wait. We chatted some more. I told Ali how I planned on getting to Ghana in 2 days. He applauded my courage. He insisted that when I get to Accra, I should visit his friend at Jonshine Café at Kokorobite beach. His friend had a mysterious name “one man, no chop”. The mystery lied in the fact that the term “chop” referred to 2 things in Ghanaian lingo – either food or sexJ He even put me on the phone with him. Sounded like a friendly chap. He told me I was welcome anytime to visit him. Ali told me he was a live wire and would show me a good time. I told them I would visit if I got a chance.
I used up some of the time buying some Malian music CDs. Salif Keita, Habib Koite and Rokia Traore were the ones I sought. I was surprised by how expensive buying music in Mali was – 2,000 CFA per CD. It wasn’t that I was being ripped off as I had seen similar prices elsewhere in Mali as well.
It was around 6 p.m. that the bus arrived. By now, the car at the ticket attendant (who had promised a smaller car) was also ready to depart. Ali recommended me taking the smaller car as it would be a quicker ride. I chose accordingly and soon I was on my way. It was ironic that I took a plane from Timbuktu to Mopti to save time, but ended up wasting the whole day in Mopti. That was the local transport there – frustrating and absolutely unpredictable. I bid farewell to Ali Baba once again.
The car to Koro was a station wagon with 10 people stuffed in it. I was sharing the front seat with another gentleman. The area below the dash board (glove compartment for North American folks) was broken and all the exhaust air from the burning engine was being directed on my feet. I covered them with one of my bags.
The ride was a quick one, with just one stop for Maghrib (sunset prayers). The drive during the night was particularly scary as we were driving off road and there was no light outside, save the car’s headlights (which were rusty). To top it up, the driver was driving in the usual manner – like a lunatic. I was afraid we might end up in a ditch. After 4 long hours, we arrived in Koro. It was past 10 p.m.
I hopped off the car in a rush with faint hope of getting into Burkina that night. I asked around for a ride to Ouahigouya and was told there was nothing till tomorrow morning. I was very frustrated now as I felt I had wasted the whole day – couldn’t even get out of Mali. My frustration was vented out on one of the many hagglers (Charlie) on the street trying to get me to spend the night at their campement. I asked him how much it would cost for a mattress out in the courtyard and he said 3,000 CFA. Knowing it is usually no more than 2,000 CFA per night, I scolded him for trying to take advantage of a visitor to his village. I told him I didn’t have any money and that I would sleep on the pavement. I embarrassed him to the extent that he did offer me free accommodation for the night along with a moto ride to the hotel - (In the end I did pay him 1,500 CFA for the mattress as I felt bad).
The hotel was a dark shady courtyard with small corners where mattresses were placed for customers. There was food there – chicken and rice. I was starved and devoured my meal. During dinner, Charlie inquired where I was headed. Upon learning, I was headed to Ghana, he offered to give me a ride on his moto till Ouagadougou (not to be mistaken with Ouahigouya which was 4 hours before Ouagadougou). This way I would avoid the long wait for a bus in Ouahigouya for Ouagadougou, hence, save lots of time. He said getting to Ghana within a day from Mali was impossible given the long waits for the bush taxis. If I was lucky, I could make it in 3 days. 3 DAYS!! I panicked a bit but did not show it to him. Out of curiosity I asked him how much he would charge. 25,000 CFA! Ahhh!
It should be noted that the currency in Ghana is Cede and the currency everywhere else I had travelled so far was Western African CFA. I just had 20,000 CFA left on me and was in no mood to withdraw anymore CFA as they would be wasted in Ghana. I was extremely tired and didn’t want to think & stress myself about the rest of the journey. I didn’t even try to negotiate with the person and told him I’ll manage with the public transport.
As soon as I completed my dinner, I was invited over by a group of guests there for a quick chat. One of them had spent 10 years in the MAROUA. It was wonderful to chat with him about it. I soon said good night as I wanted to crash on my mattress asap. But then I got invited by another Malian gentleman who was dressed in a gendarme’s outfit. I felt pressure to honor the invite when he said in his broken English “I beg of you to join me for a few minutes”. I sat with him and was offered a drink. He introduced me to his lady friend standing by his shoulder. He said he came from the western corner of Mali but was posted in the east for a year. He was a senior officer and shed a lot of insight into the realities of living in Mali – something that tourists normally can’t observe. We then chatted generally about my travels, Mali and inevitably went on to talk about the rampant corruption and (unfortunate) hypocrisies people commit in the name of religion. Just before the discussion started to get deep, I threw in the towel. I told him I had a long day of travelling ahead of me and needed to rest. Soon afterwards, I crashed.
There was a bus that was supposed to leave at 6 a.m. in the morning. I was up at 5:30 a.m. and at the station with 15 minutes to spare. I was not surprised to see that I was the first person on the list for the bush taxi – in other words this means a very long wait. I purchased the ticket and took off to grab some breakfast and see if I could find any quicker means of departing Koro. I couldn’t afford to wait for very long if I were to reach Ghana the same day as I had to catch three other buses in Burkina after this.
By 10 a.m., the bus was only half full. I knew I had to find another way to getting out of there. I went back to the hotel to talk with Charlie about his offer regarding the moto ride to Ouagadougou (Ouaga). Seeing my desperate state, he jacked up the price to 30,000 CFA. We settled for 23,000 CFA after some negotiating. He then said his friend would be taking me instead of him. I met the friend and agreed. However, the friend was nervous about driving all the way to Ouaga as this meant 7 hours under the scorching sun, on a dusty road. Even I was a bit concerned, but was desperate. The friend then refused to take me all the way and told me the best he could do was till Ouahigouya. I was getting frustrated and anxious now. Charlie then told me to wait and took off for a bit. Returning 30 minutes later he said he found a vehicle leaving immediately that could drop me in Ouaga … for the price I had negotiated with him. I was immediately interested but did not show it.
I asked for more detail. He said that it was an oil tanker heading to Benin and would pass by Ouaga en route. I now saw that Charli seemed a bit desperate for the money we had negotiated, given that his friend had refused to co-operate. I decided to test the waters by telling him I would not take the tanker as there would be longer waits at the borders and a much slower ride than on a moto. He (as well as I) couldn’t believe that I was willing to leave a comfortable ride in an oil tanker for that on a rusty moto. But I knew the moto was out of the question and the only way he could make money from me was if he gave me a good price for taking the tanker. He told me to at least look at the tanker and meet the driver.
The driver did not seem like much of a bargainer, which was great for me. After initial reluctance, I agreed to take the tanker for a reduced price of 15,000 CFA. They couldn’t believe their ears and told me I didn’t know what I was doing. I told the driver that me travelling with him was not going to cost him anything and that he could bag all the money I gave him – so a reduced price was no issue. They told me to go ahead and take the bus instead which wouldn’t depart till later that day. I pretended to not care and collected my bags and started walking away. Soon the driver ran up to me and accepted my offer. I told him I would pay 5,000 CFA now and 10,000 CFA upon arrival in Ouaga. He agreed and, unbelievably, I was on my way to Ouaga – through a much more comfortable and quicker means of transport. I couldn’t believe my luck.
I then realized how crazy this trip had really been. Just a few days back I was bruised to bits; stuck on an endless boat journey; stranded in the middle of a desert with a gun slinging Tuareg; almost met my demise on top of the cargo at the back of a rusty, overstuffed pick-up truck; and just when I thought I couldn’t make it to Ghana in time, I was now on my way in an oil tanker. It was remarkable how despite all the setbacks, things had a way of sorting themselves out – regardless of me stressing about them. I had a smile of content on my face – “que sera sera” indeed.
The trip to Ouaga was a long peaceful one. The driver was not much of a talker - I tried to strike a conversation with the driver but that didn’t last very long. I rode quietly, occasionally dozing off to catch up on lost sleep. Crossing the Mali border (and entering Burkina) was surprisingly fairly straight forward. The customs took less than 15 minutes compared to an hour’s wait with a public bus. With the exception of one stop (for afternoon prayers), we drove non-stop. It was an uneventful ride – the way I preferred it!
Ouaga was nearing. I had looked up the timings for the buses from Ouaga to Ghana. The last bus leaving was at 4:30 p.m. I reached Ouaga around 4 p.m. and was fortunate to be dropped off very close to the bus stop. My drop off was quite the scene - a long bulky tanker pulling over at the side of a narrow street just so that I could descend. I thanked the driver and gave him the balance of the agreed amount. I couldn’t resist the temptation to take a picture of him. He laughed.
4 p.m. at the bus station, I grab a hold of a staff member asking him about the next bus. He first told me that I was at the wrong location. I was at the bus servicing station and that the passenger station was further ahead. But then he told me that the next bus was leaving at 5 p.m. (not 4:30 p.m.) and that he will arrange for a car that would drop me off to the passenger station soon. I thanked him and was relieved that I would be able to reach Ghana (Navrongo) in time after all. With one hour to spare, I freshened up, prayed and grabbed a light meal – egg sandwich with café.
One of the gentlemen at the food stall asked me where I was headed. Upon me saying Ghana, he said had missed the last bus. It was indeed at 4:30 p.m. and had already departed from the passenger station. It was around 4:45 p.m. right now. Panicked, I called the staff member and asked him if the bus had already left. He assured me it hadn’t and that he will confirm with his supervisor. After checking with his supervisor, he came back with the bad news that the bus had indeed left. I was furious at him. I told him it was imperative for me to reach Ghana that day and that because of his negligence, I now couldn’t.
He felt terrible but assured me that I should be able to find a bush taxi departing later that evening. He apologized and told me not to have any hard feelings. I was nervous and unsure if I could believe him. Nevertheless, I grabbed a taxi that took me to the bush taxi stop. Fortunately, there was a car leaving shortly (it was almost full when I got their). I paid the fair and 45 minutes later I was off to Ghana.
The bush taxi was a mini-van. I had the privilege of sitting at the front with two other people. The bottom portion of the dash board was ripped out, allowing the exhaust from the run-down engine on to my feet. It burnt! The ride lasted 4 hours, 3 of which were in pitch darkness. A huge portion of the journey was off road with ditches all around. But the driver was a skillful one, who knew the route inside out. I reached the Po, a Burkinabe town bordering Ghana around 10 p.m. From here I took a one hour taxi ride to the border.
The border comprised of a bridge that is closed at night. So I had to cross the border on foot. After walking for 45 minutes I reached the Ghanaian immigration and customs office. Eager to get to my destination as quickly as possible, I presented the officers there with all the documentation they required. Despite of that, the officers tried to cross examine me. It was past mid night by now and I was a bit cranky after a really long journey. I told them to search the answers himself in the documents I had provided him. My stern attitude worked and very soon I had the entry stamp in my passport. Ghana … I had finally arrived !!
