At 7am, the water lake across the hotel gate was back, I walked out to find transport to Bamako. The gare voiture, more of a damp space between more shacks, was busy. Walking distance from the hotel but I nevertheless took a moto for 3000gnf in order not to waste time finding the place. Also, often different destinations have different places the cars depart from, so it’s all minimising time waste.
I was passenger no. 7 already. How nice. Distance to Bamako is 340kms, I reckoned 6 hours drive + border time but borders around here don’t take time. Aha. Ticket price 140,000gnf + 20,000 baggage.
It was raining almost the whole night, everything was moist and kinda muddy. I found coffee. In the coffee house I was questioned by curious co-drinkers and they liked me so much that they bought me a cup. The day was getting to be great.
Soon we were departing, I passively submitted myself to the directions of getting-into-the-car-master and I was directed to sit… in front! Granted, my co-passengers were not much smaller than me, we’d die of suffocation in the back seats. I sat together with a young Guinean man, who didn’t look to happy seeing me but we somehow managed.
The road was not very bad but there were some potholed stretches. The road at one point follows river Niger, which now, at the end of dry season, isn’t much too look at. Swaths of sand and little water although progressively it managed to look better (i.e. more water in the river). The land is mainly flat, there is neverending plastic covering both sides of the road. What was curious is that there were actual road signs, pointing to villages left and right of the main road. Those road signs led to roads which immediately turned into narrow pistes that looked no more than bush paths. Maybe there are road signs like this all over Guinea but I just didn’t notice them because I was not in the front seat.
We arrived at the frontier village of Kouramale. In fact there was a road block where we had to leave the road and parked in front of some police building and a small roofed area with a big EU-sponsor banner talking about fight against uncontrolled migration. A lady with an EU-sponsored t-shirt taking about fight against uncontrolled migration asked where we are going and we went into the police building. There in a small room a policeman was calling us one by one and shouting how much each of us had to pay. My co-travellers paid up, and small monies, €3-4 per person. Nothing was asked of me, I got an exit stamp.
It’s a bit of a distance from the post to the village and the actual border. On the border there was another control. And again, we were called up one by one and everyone paid up, again €3-4. And then the border guard (or whoever that was) asked for my vaccination card. It was in the bag on the roof of our car. I went out of the building but the car was gone. Turned out it had already left into Mali to get the customs done. And everyone keeps telling me ah this is the border you just have your yellow card with you. Of course I do but noone ever asked for it on this trip and I simply forgot.
So I did enter Mali, found the car, struggled with the fish net that wrapped all the bags on that car roof and managed to take out the yellow card. It’s in pretty bad shape.
I came back to the Guinean side, thinking this time I’ll have to pay up, for the delay, for treating my yellow card with disrespect, but nope. The guy barely looked at it and gave me the papers back.
Customs in Mali took time though noone asked about the bags. Everyone including me bought a SIM card, Orange Mali, 1500cfa/20,000gnf that was supposed to include 2000cfa of credit but it didn’t. Also the guys selling the cards do not sell the actual recharge so we were left with our empty SIM cards until Bamako.
There were three people from Ivory Coast in the car, a man and two women. The man asked me if this was my first time travelling in a car like this. I said no, this is what I’ve been going through the whole Guinea. He said when he saw the car he thought they wouldn’t be able to squeeze in but when he saw me back in Kankan approaching the car with confidence, he knew everything would be just fine. I’m a veteran.
It was quite a long drive from the customs through the village to the passport control office. I was even a but worried that for some reason we passed it already, the people with me only had their ID cards, maybe they didn’t need to be checked? Also I had my little adventure skipping immigration while entering Guinea so better be careful. And there it was, in the middle of nowhere, a new-looking open but almost empty of goods alimentation Nana (no recharge, no food, I was getting hungry) and passport control. And again, we were called up one by one, my co-passengers had to pay up 2,000cfa each (€3) and me nothing. Although I took time because I was the one with visa, because they had to know the names of my parents and name of the driver, who had already driven away. Also, there were two women who travelled without any papers whatsoever and that grounded us for over an hour. I was even surprised they were eventually let go. Talk about fight to control uncontrolled migration.
The three Ivorians started asking me if I had to pay anything. I didn’t have to pay anything and I told them that they were being ripped off, which they knew. I told them that I’d ask for a receipt if I was asked to pay. But then I already paid for the visa so asking me to pay twice? Hell no. They also told me that they are going back to Abidjan. And they will take a bus (like a real bus, imagine) from Bamako and the next day they will be at home. When I asked why they didn’t go to Ivory Coast directly from Guinea they said the road was bad. Not sure how bad the road was but to add extra several hundred kilometres? And the 9 (nine) hours it took us to reach Bamako?
The man sitting next to me was a bit of a traveller but he wouldn’t say what he was doing. He was talking about his flights from Bamako to Algiers, from Algiers to Marseille but that’s it. When I asked him if he was doing some business he just responded “which business?” and he wouldn’t say more.
I was getting hungry but the only thing that was on sale were Indian biscuits, not nice at all, I already had them in Guinea. On the topic of biscuits, there are many Turkish biscuits in West Africa and they are recommended. Biskrem forever! Here, on the side of the road covered with firewood and charcoal bags there were only Indian biscuits and “meat” but the meat to my white man’s eyes looked horrible, there were teeth in the meat!
Finally the no-paper ladies came back. Another woman in the car already managed to join another car, she cried she was late for a funeral that starts at 2pm. We finally left.
The road seemed better, there were actual traffic signs, as in speed limit, village names and such. In fact on entering Mali the driver had to pay road toll. There were even tourism signs and many of them, by Office Malien du Tourisme, pointing to some hidden attractions. There were actual minibuses on the road. I even asked longingly if maybe some of them go all the way to Kankan, but apparently no. The road was empty most of the way, 120kms to Bamako. And we managed to get a flat tyre.
It’s incredible to see people changing tyres while the passengers sit in the car. I saw it with the minibus in Guinea Bissau and here too the women sat in the car. Granted, one of them travelled with a small baby and there was no shadow on the road side, the vegetation reduced again to low shrubs, Sahara is near. Yet still that all the machinery used to lift up the car doesn’t break, a miracle.
The scenery got even quite attractive, with a rocky escarpment running alongside the road.
We got out in Bamako in a so-called gare de la Guinée. I paid 2,000cfa for the taxi to Auberge Djamilla in the district of Badalabougou. I found the auberge on the iOverlander app, the only guidebooks for Mali being Rough Guide to West Africa AD2008 and Bradt Travel Guide to Mali AD2008. Lonely Planet to West Africa refuses to talk about Mali although of course on the cover they are bragging about covering all West African countries. Lonely Planet is a scam.
And the auberge, small sign on the door, was full! Today, tomorrow, sorry Sir. I asked if they can recommend somewhere else and they mentioned Sleeping Camel, which is quite known among overlanders, safe between embassies but it’s also expensive 15,000cfa. I was directed to Hotel Seguere, not much cheaper at 13,500cfa. I took a 500cfa taxi, the hotel has no sign outside. I wonder if this because of the terrorist attacks that had happened in Bamako in the past, both on hotels and tourist camps.
The room has shared toilet and bathroom just across the hall from my door, there is ventilator, slow WiFi (that even stopped working later on) and it seems I’m the only guest here. The room has seen better days, there are posters here from 2003, 2006 and such. Oh Mali.
The caretaker, his name Bogoum, showed me around the area, it’s quite a nice peaceful neighborhood, bit dusty though as the streets are not tarred, the hotel lies almost next to the river. Bogoum took me to a restaurant where they were out of rice and the only dishes left were the expensive ones. I had a 1,200shawarma. Then he took me to find ATM, then as I was wondering whether this walking is maybe too much for him he asked me if this walking is too much for me. He showed me a supermarket, a very richly stocked supermarket, with Evian water for 1,500cfa and such. I bought two bottles of local water for 800cfa both, and we left.
My plan to Bamako was to be here for the weekend so that I can catch a music concert. On my previous two visits here I saw the concerts and they were beautiful. The music is something else here. So I did ask around.
The taxi driver at gare de la Guinée knew nothing. The taxi driver who took me to the hotel from the auberge said there is a concert on Saturday in Palace of Culture. Bogoum said he thinks he knows where to go but he needs to confirm. And he did. In a bar/club named now Radio Libre but known after a local musician Tiken Jah, there is music, concerts start 10:30pm. In fact, on my first visit in 2015 I was there treated to great music and now again I looked forward to going.
Just before 10pm I went out trying to find some food. The trouble I have with food here is that while the women on the street cook most of the time tasty food and often better than you find in restaurants, not to mention cheaper, it’s difficult to know where they are or even recognise that a woman sitting by the road is actually cooking. There is often little to tell you what’s going on. A small plate on a table, a few pots. And here I was in the dark going from light to light trying to guess if this was a barber, a small shop, a tailor or the food place. I found a few, none of them had rice, I ended up eating baguette with egg omelette. 575cfa including bag of water.
Taxis didn’t wanna take me to the club for less than 1,500cfa but I finally found one who went for 1,000cfa.
There was a chalkboard on the wall with a full week’s music programme, there are free concerts during the week, Friday is 1,000cfa paid for Babsy Touré.
The concert takes place in a smaller downstairs space of the club. I entered 10.40pm it was empty, only the stage ready and neon disco lights abound and bored staff. I got a Beaufort beer and sat down.
Not many people came, maybe 15. The concert started at 12h20am, Babsy a dreadlocked singer, accompanied by a six-man-band. This is Mali, the music needs a full squad: a drummer, an African drums drummer, a keyboardist, two guitarists and a kora man. The music was beautiful, desert blues with a bit of reggae and Afro-Cuban style, the musicians going crazy with their instruments, jamming happily, Babsy singing in Bambara in a classic Mali style. Our little crowd applauded, people were coming up stage and placed banknotes in his hands and even sharing with one of the two male dancers who were entertaining us. It is often in Africa that when someone’s brain gets stimulated by the rhythms in melodies to the extent that they can no longer sit, they get up and walk onto the stage and start showing off their dance skills. It’s always a good joy, especially that people here know how to move.
The concert ended just before 3am, it took me a bit to find taxi, 1,500cfa later and with no police checks, I was back in bed, burnt my mosquito coil and dropped dead to sleep.
Coming back to Maman 