I was worried that I should have gone all the way to Republic of Guinea today. Buba to Bafatá is 135km, 2 hours and here I was at the bus junction, before 9am. Bafatá is recommended by The Rough Guide to West Africa AD2008 as one of Guinea Bissau highlights. Pretty town with Portuguese red-roofed houses. But will it be enough to be interesting? Probably not. Worst I’ll jump on another bus and continue towards the border.
The toca toca left soon. I managed to get a baguette sandwich. Somehow I wanted to have it with canned fish, at it seemed such a nice change from the margarines and mayonnaises and the chocopain spreads. The man in the only stand who had baguettes didn’t know what I wanted and when I asked him if he could make me a sandwich of baguette and sardines he said no. But he agreed that I could do it. I borrowed a knife from him and soon enjoyed a huge sub with two cans of sardines in soya oil in it. Well, it wasn’t as delicious as I had dreamed but it wasn’t bad either. 850cfa.
My fears of reaching Bafatá too soon had soon dissipated. We caught a tyre puncture. We made many stops to allow people to step off. Then… we caught another tyre puncture and this one even a bit scary as it was sudden and the bus was speeding.
As we were waiting for what I thought it would be yet another tyre change, I was told that nope, this bus is finished another bus will take us to the next road junction and the bus is just behind, parked as if going the other way, its roof full of 50kg rice bags. The bus approached us and started loading our bags onto the roof. Then a man sitting next to the driver stepped out and started shouting. Shouting chaos ensued. People were sitting in the bus already. The men were shouting. I had no idea what was going on. Then suddenly the driver of that bus said we should unload all the bags and leave. Turns out the man who started the noise paid for the bus to take him the other direction with his bags of rice and the driver thought to earn extra money to drive us to the next village where we could catch transport going further. But no. We were waiting for something to show up. The conductor of the broken tyre car collected money, I paid 2000cfa, which possibly is 1500cfa + 500cfa of baggage.
The village at which we stopped had the most hardcore well I have seen so far. There was not even concrete rim, just two tyres placed on top of each other and no pump. Just buckets on piece of rope.
While we were waiting for some other transport to arrive, we were sitting under a cashew tree. I either haven’t seen a cashew tree in my life or I haven’t paid attention to it (possibly the latter). I took one unripe fruit – now I know it’s called apple – with its seed attached underneath and tried to rip open the outer nut shell. Suddenly the women started shouting at me gesticulating at me to throw the nut away so it won’t burn me. I already managed to crack open the shell and the transparent liquid was all over my fingers. I felt slight numbness on the fingertips, similar sensation to the one when skin gets in contact with battery acid. I threw the thing away and washed the hands. One woman showed me the ripe fruit, yellow in colour as safe to touch. Later in the bus the conductor gave me one, it’s very sweet and juicy, quite delicious!
Now as I searched for the cashew acid online I know it’s called anacardic acid. It actually makes cashew nuts one of the foods that are not very ethical to consume – people working with harvesting them often suffer vicious burns from this substance. It’s actually good I’m not a fan of cashew nuts. Brazil nuts on the other hand…
Another toca toca arrived fairly soon. I was taken to the Bambadinca, a village with a junction, where roads to Bissau and Bafatá/Gabu part. 250cfa.
In Bambadinca there was a 7-seat car taking me to Bafatá for 500cfa, driven by an enthusiastic rasta-looking driver who spoke a bit of English and spoke the whole way to Bafatá. He loves America but it’s too much money to go there. He once had a girlfriend from New York and she and his first son live there. He thinks Donald Trump is dangerous.
Bafatá is very hot. My phone showed +41C. I decided to follow Google Maps’ directive and stayed at Apartamentos Cuburnel. A pleasant building with dark rooms (windows shut, feels cool during the day but it’s just a bit less hot) and running water and electricity only at night. 10000CFA. I arrived in Bafatá after 2pm.
I waited till about 4pm to walk out. It was dead hot. I walked around the empty “post-Portuguese” quarter, mostly abandoned and defunct buildings but also some government agencies. I saw two bars, both non-functioning.
I walked back to the upper part of town where there was a market. I saw a restaurant-bar sign. It was dead empty. A lady came out from a cottage and said yeah there is food, chicken and rice 4000cfa, fish 4500cfa but it’s so hot. I somehow understood it as a sign she was not very enthusiastic about making food at +40C so I left.
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earby, another restaurant, Ponto de Encontro. I went in. White people sitting at a long table with plates upside down and wine glasses as if prepared for a fiesta. Plates of olives on the tables. Yes there is food: eggs, chouriço, chicken. I chose chicken. I said rice but somehow they talked me into taking rice chips and salad (salad I welcomed). I took a small stout to it.
The salad was onions and yellow tomatoes, tasty, the oil-based sauce had a fresh flavour. Chips were fresh, rice nice, malgeta spicy. The chicken was inedible. Skin and bones and what was left of the meat was very hard, unchewable. At the end the serving woman asked “coffee?” and dangled a capsule in front of me. Yes!
I paid 5500cfa.
After this food I went to the BAO ATM but it refused my card almost immediately. I bought baobab fruit and lemon juices on the street, 2 small bottles 250cfa. They were very refreshing but no longer chilled. I went back to the guesthouse to wait the heat over.
I went out again at night. As I walked to try the ATM again, I got reprimanded by one of the juice ladies that I didn’t return the bottle from the juice. I said I’d bring it back. The ATM kept refusing my card. I thought I’d need some CFA to change into Guinean francs at the border but looks like I won’t.
I brought back the bottle and three empty water bottles but the lady was gone. I saw a bar. I came in. It’s stout time! It’s a jovial place, with outside seating, music playing loud but not deafening loud. I saw a lady serving what looks like plates. I asked if they had food. Yes they did. Fish is 1000cfa, the also had chicken that she called galinha de terra but after my lunch chicken I picked fish. One or two she asked. One it is.
The fish arrived with… fresh salad! Now I’m getting spoilt here, fresh vegetables twice a day? Sprinkled with some sort of vinaigrette sauce it was delicious. I know many people won’t eat salads, and I’m talking local people, Africans, saying that they don’t trust the water and washing process. Well. One must have trust. And it’s a beautiful evening, one of those African wonders, when it’s warm at night but not too hot, you’re full with good food, beers make you fuzzy and you’re just one happy person and you don’t wanna leave.
Coming back to Maman 