As soon as I praised my hotel for 24hrs electricity and water the water stopped. I got a bucket in the morning and I had to keep asking for small bowl to somehow wash myself. Then on to putting the gauze and plaster on my scratched knee, which was in fact completely dry after the night. Not sure if I did well dropping hydrogen peroxide on it, the liquid makes the dry stuff soft and mushy again.
When in the pharmacy yesterday I wanted to ask for plaster and I used Google translate to find the word in French, it gave me the word plâtre which is word for the white stuff that you put your broken limbs in, a plaster too, and the pharmacist started asking me what I broke, confusion ensued. She told what a plaster is in French but she used some complicated word and I still don’t know it.
Fully plastered I left the hotel. First things first, coffee. I went to the boulangerie and spoiled myself again, with croissant aux amandes and espresso. It was good, 1000cfa. On my way to the bakery I saw a woman selling plastic bags of coffee at the edge of the market. I asked if she knows where I can buy coffee beans and she pointed to a direction across the street. So after breakfast I went there. There was a warehouse, similar to the one I have been to in Nzérékoré, except they were dealing with coffee and cocoa – Ivory Coast is I think the biggest cocoa producer in the world – but they only had coffee unroasted. They pointed to where the coffee roasters are but it was a bit far, so the directions were not specific and anyway it is Sunday so the roasters are closed. In fact, a lot of shops were closed today, including market stalls. Dommage.
Across the road from the pharmacy I see another booth that says “Korhogo direct”. I walk up and ask. Departure 7am, price 12000cfa. If there are no problems we reach Korhogo at 7pm. Whoa.
There were four places I wanted to see in Man: a sacred forest of Gbépleu, a waterfall, a place where they make masks and a place where they sell masks, as listed by Bradt Guide.
I caught a shares taxi to the forest, 300cfa. Bradt says it is frowned upon to enter the forest, Google lists the forest as “monkey forest”. As soon as I get off the car, young men arrive and start talking to me. They have bananas, if I buy a banana, monkeys will come and will eat from my hand, good picture opportunity. They say the monkeys are macaques.
The forest is impressive from outside, huge trees, wall of green, I told the boys I’m not interested in monkeys I wanted to visit the forest. “But it’s payable, you know?” How much? 15,000cfa.
15,000cfa is €23 is $26 is 98zł. The forest is maybe 500m by 500m in size. How do I even approach the discussion on the price?
So I left. I walked the road along the edge of the forest towards the junction leading up to the waterfalls. One of the boys followed me and said we could make an agreement and lower the price. I asked how much he said it depends, it could be 10,000cfa or even 7,000cfa. I thanked him but it was still ridiculous.
I walked down to the junction with a big sign pointing towards the waterfalls, the asphalt ended there and a dirt road led into the hills. The landscape was very pleasant – rocky hills covered with green, pity it was all hazy.
No taxi was turning towards the waterfalls, I finally stopped one, the driver asked me how much I wanted to pay, I said 500cfa, he said no. These waterfalls are that far? They looked pretty close on the map in the guidebook.
Unfortunately internet connection slowed down to a halt and I couldn’t confirm the distance online. I saw a couple getting out of the taxi, a man carrying the woman’s handbag and they walked up the road. They looked like they might be going to waterfalls. At the same time finally Google delivered the distance: 1 (one) kilometre. I followed the couple, asked them, yes they too go to waterfalls.
10mins later I was by the entrance. 500cfa entrance ticket, it’s very green around, and a couple of men hanging around the entrance. Do you want a guide? No thank you.
There is a concrete staircase going down, you reach the waterfall in 100metres.
Visiting waterfalls at the end of dry season isn’t a good idea, there is barely a trickle of water. At the base there is a concrete rim that creates a possibly swimming pool but the water looks awful, a brown soup with even some water plastic bags floating in. Some boys are lying down on the rocks letting the little water that there is fall down on them. There is a rope bridge but it leads from nowhere to nowhere. From what I read in Bradt it used to be the main viewpoint to the waterfalls so I guess the site has been redesigned.
I’m out after maybe 20mins. A man in front of the motorbike asks me if I wanna climb a mountain around Man, it’s called Man’s Tooth, dent de Man, he says it’s the 2nd highest mountain in Ivory Coast and he claims it’s 1000m high. It’s in fact 800m+. I ask how long is the climb, he says he would take me to a village and it’s 2 hours up. With these obscure views? Nah. Then the other man, a guide, mentions I should visit a forest. I tell him that I did and the young boys demand 15,000cfa. He says it’s because I went without a guide. I ask how much would it be with a guide. He says maybe 1000cfa. I ask how much is the guide. He says 2000cfa. I ask him if he’d pay 3000cfa for a forest in which he’d take 10mins to cross from one side to another? I mean the waterfall which I assume is nice when there is water costs 500cfa, so how can this forest be suddenly so expensive? But they don’t understand. I tell them that a forest is even around here and noone has to pay for it. The guide answers that maybe he can take me up the road for a walk in a forest around the waterfalls. The discussion isn’t going anywhere but it’s not the first time I see such and I don’t even know how to talk with such.
Below you can see the forest.
I walk down to the junction, catch taxi to quartier CAFOP where the atelier Gue-Dan is located – an apparently sacred place where the Dan masks are made (I repeat after Bradt).
Taxi driver has no idea what I’m looking for so I just get off and keep asking people. It’s there, a simple roof standing on four pieces of wood, so not even a house, with no sign. The man welcomes me, another man comes out from bushes at the rock, third man is asleep. They show me the masks, they are quite nice, I like the one with a tucan-like beak. Some of them have hair attached, made of plant fibre. They are all black, with red stripes over their eyes. I only want to see them, the man doesn’t talk much, so I only manage to get out of him it takes a week to make a mask, the black colour is made by a black paste that’s in a bowl lying on the ground. They only sell these masks in town – who buys them? – and these are masks for tourists. People in villages still use masks but then they make them for special order and differently, gris gris, charms and such.
I mention the guidebook, he’s aware that there is a book in which the place is mentioned.
I ask if I can take a photo. He says I should pay. I ask how much, he says how much I want, there is no price. I don’t know how to deal with such answers so I ask if 500cfa is OK. He says 2000cfa is fair. I say no thank you. He says 1000cfa, I say no thank you. He says OK, take a picture. I tell him I don’t just want the masks, that the whole “atelier” and with him it would be most interesting. He isn’t too happy but I manage. I give him the note, he still isn’t happy.
It’s been awkward towards the end and I thought maybe if they charged anyone who visits it would feel more fair. But how much to charge? 2000cfa noone would pay, even 1000cfa, I don’t know. I had to drag out information from the man and apart from the few masks there isn’t much to see. But maybe then they’d feel more relaxed and talk more?
9 years ago I was in a village in Togo that was mentioned in the same Rough Guide to West Africa as a place where one can see some voodoo temples. As soon as I arrived, on a motorbike, a man materialised and took me to the king of the village. In there, I was shown a box into which I was told to drop money for the visit – again, as much as I wanted. I remember I dropped a coin, possibly 100cfa and the woman from the king’s palace commented: “oh but the Americans give 2000!” I had left the palace and the village without seeing any of the temples.
I get back to the main road and walk a bit, searching for Maquis Infinitif that Bradt mentions but it’s closed. None of the other maquis look tempting so I get into a taxi and 200cfa later I’m in town. I go to Maquis Central, same as yesterday and I have rice with leaves and chicken and a large beer, all for 1500cfa.
The second atelier according to Bradt is a shop selling the same masks that are made by Gue-Dan, next to the main mosque but according to Bradt it’s closed on Sunday. I walk through the dusty streets and when I reach the mosque, o start asking. I am directed to a place that isn’t a shop but another mask-carving workshop. It’s not only masks they make but also standard animal figures, key holders etc. The masks are the same as at Gue-Dan but without the hair, they also maintain they sell them only in town – who buys them?? – and when I ask for an asking price of a mask I am given 25,000cfa, a bit less than €40. Bradt says it’d be possible to go down as far as 10,000cfs but who knows. I’m not trying.
I walk back to the hotel, drinking two ginger juices on my way, they both taste a bit like anise to me.
I see men packing cocoa nuts that lie on the ground drying up into bags. It’s another warehouse. I ask for a photo, the man asks me to explain myself and allows for pic and even encourages me. They only sell raw cocoa here, everything else is done already chez vous – in white man’s country. The price of cocoa: 750cfa per 1kg. Coffee – again raw – 700cfa per 1kg.
I leave hotel at 5pm and walk to the Korhogo departure booth that is next to my hotel. There the price is a weird 10100cfa and when I ask why the extra 100cfa, who will handle the change, the man doesn’t understand what I mean. I ask for a seat in the middle (not by the window) so I can stretch my legs but the request is too complicated, the man wants to call the boss and finally tells me just to come in the morning and buy the ticket then. The sign on the wall says departure 6am, the man says it’s enough to be there at 6:30, that’s when they start loading up the baggage. There are already quite a few people there, I wonder if they are already waiting for the next day’s departure.
I take a walk along the main roads. I pass a woman selling avocado. They are huge. I decide to buy one and have it with baguette for dinner. It’s 3 for 200cfa. I give the woman 100cfa and ask for one. I pick from the avocados lying on a plastic sheet on the ground but she tells me these are still hard and if I wanna eat it today, she will find it for me. She picks one from a table. I’m not an expert on avocados but she picks a colour that I’d never pick myself: bright green, almost yellow in colour. Later on when I cut it open, it’s like butter and also yellow in colour. The woman allows me to take a photo.
I walk all the way to the boulangerie that has coffee and the place is full! No seats available, everyone is enjoying the ice cream. I buy a baguette, no more croissant aux amandes, I take pain au chocolat. I walk a bit further to take coffee in the shack where I had it yesterday but I have 500cfa coin, coffee is 100cfa and the boy serving the coffee says there is no change. So I walk back and I see another place where men sit with small cups. Could it be? Yes. It’s a family business, mother and daughter frying and selling what looks like meat pies, the young son serving the coffee. Child labour issues aside – the boy is maybe not even 10 years old – the coffee is good. I take two cups, 100cfa each. A man stands next to the coffee stand and I think he asks me to buy him coffee. I ignore him. Then he asks him to give him a piece of baguette. Aime ton prochain, bread I share.
Not far from the main street, rue du Commerce, I see a football pitch. I once read that the best football school in the world is in Ivory Coast. And the pitch looks very green from the distance. With the hills above I think it will be nice picture. I walk down. The pitch is regular size, there are three groups training, the grass looks actually well maintained (cut) but it’s littered with water plastic bags.
Just before the hotel there is a patisserie et buvette, a strange combination of bakery and drinking joint and yes, they have beer. I take a bottle of lager called Class and I get back to hotel.
There is still no water, it takes me an hour to get a bucket and I ask 3 times, the receptionist not too consumed with customer service. The water in the bucket looks full of dust. The baguette with avocado is good, even without condiments.
I noticed why women here look so exotic. They underline their eyes with black line. They often dress in black with a lot of gold motives and a lot of golden jewellery. It all makes them look even darker than they are. I’ll have to ask for a photo if I will gather my courage.
I also noticed the men are also dressing in colourful clothes – both shirt and trousers. If I remember correctly that type of clothing will reach its apogeum in Benin. People here are so beautiful.
All these money issues today made me think about going to Korhogo again. There is a fetish site outside town – although the road there is very vaguely described in Bradt – but if I have to go through the haggling again, if might not be worth it. But then with all the beauty of people I assume Korhogo will be even better – and with Sahel countries in trouble – and a prospect of going back to the coast soon – let me go.
Speaking of pictures, I had two different perspectives given to me from two different people – I post photos mainly to my Instagram account, the WordPress (this blog) app is full of nonsense when it comes to dealing with photos and also internet is usually slow. Deepak the Indian friend told me I am documenting poverty. Sola the Nigerian friend told me the photos are natural and represent well the reality. So there you go. I only wish I had more courage and energy to keep asking people to allow me to take photos of themselves!
Water just started flowing. There is hope.
Coming back to Maman 