Nearly Timbuktu - oder Flussfahrt mit Vogel

 

 Honeymoon boating

I am lying lazily on a big pile of sacs in a Cargo-Pinasse – a small freight ship – that runs down the Niger river all the way to Timbuktu, the mystery town...

Madita and me were lucky to get a place on this boat (though “place” is relative); we had set the thing up wednesday night and the boat would be leaving the next day’s afternoon –wonderful! So we would have time for an elaborate shopping tour, as the boat trip was to take three days and most food items are hard to come by in Mopti – a small port town and the starting point of our trip.

We had plenty of time and so were leaning back lazily after a breakfast of oil-baked donut-like cakes and coffee. The power got cut and so the blaring radio switched off. I took a deep, relaxed breath and sighed to Madita –“ahhh, how wonderful - a moment of silence!” Ten seconds the electricity came back on and so was the radio, another ten seconds later three guys came running in. The guy who had st up the boat thing for us was rambling in speedy french to me and it took a while until his words started forming a meaning in my brain... “WHAT??? The boat is leaving NOW?” We jumped to gather our not yet packed up luggage (and that in itself usually takes up an elaborate amount of time), climbed on the back of the guys motorcycles and rushed to the harbour while waving goodbye to relaxation and food-shopping. We luckily accomplished to grab a few random things from the market stalls at the port – better so, having three days ahead! And so faster than we could really grasp it we found ourselves thrown into a pile of people and all possible items, such as fruits, coal, motorbikes, buckets and carpets, smoked by the Diesel exhaust and the smoke of the wood-fire on which the screaming and cursing female chef of the boat was already and would be constantly for three days be cooking rice with meat or fish (so no option for us).

This is pretty much how we ended up on this boat. Doing my favourite activity – going for a pee – you have quite a challenge to master:  First you have to climb over a pile of people, then luggage, then you have to balance over a shaky plank of wood over the ship’s engine, which is loud like hell and a bit scary and where I mostly end up crawling part of the way on all four. Then you climb over a pile of coal sacs, jump over an area of the boat which is constantly under water and then, just like that, you will have reached the end of the ship, where behind a ripped rug you can squat over hole in the boat and directly pee into the Niger. I totally feel like a mix of Indiana Jones and Captain Cook – I love it!

But the best discovery of all: you can climb on the roof! What a view, only few people, a fresh breeze – and in the night twinkling stars. So after dark, when around five kids had snuggled up on my legs and I just started to feel claustrophobic, I decided to try out the roof and found myself a lovely space on a pile of carpets in between the cargo – what a lovely way to fall asleep, watching the sky full of stars turning as the boat follows the winding stream.

Though we didn’t see the promised hippos and crocodiles it was a wonderful experience being on this boat discharging its cargo in various petit fisher villages, marveling at the mud architecture and the peace and quietness of the Niger valley.

And we were to see Timbuktu – how exciting! Then again everything suddenly took an unexpected twist… When the boat arrived just an hour after nightfall at the tiny and not very busy port 16km before Timbuktu’s city walls, we were greeted by some sort of commotion. Madita and me had set up camp on the boat’s roof, where we had planned to stay until next morning, so we weren’t quite aware of what was happening until a guy climbed up to us and started rambling in a mix of French and broken English… what he said summed up to: A German was shot a few hours before in Timbuktu by Al-Quaeda and three other tourists have been kidnapped. It’s not safe to go into town right now and we should stay at the boat overnight and catch a jeep from here the next morning back to Mopti.

As jeeps are a quite expensive way to travel I frankly at first didn’t believe him, thinking it might be a new selling strategy to spread panic and then offer the only rescue option at a horrendous price. So we decided to go to sleep and call up the German embassy the next morning for confirmation – this prove to be unnecessary, when we were woken before sunrise to a general leaving-the-town-panic. We decided to go with the flow and for an over-priced rate we were guided to a battered jeep in which 4 people were sitting. After crossing the Niger with a ferry we were signaled to enter the vehicle – so were 14 other people. We were squeezed so tight that it actually was painful. Additionally I hadn’t managed to pee in the morning due to the rushed leave and it was already starting to get hot, but moving enough to take of my long-sleeve or to reach my bottle of water was just impossible in this packed condition. Starting to be dehydrated I already thought it couldn’t get much worse – when three of the people basically sitting on our laps started to vomit. Madita and me twisted our necks to look at each other, I nodded: “Das wird jetzt glaube ich ein Nahtod Erlebnis…”

It was one of these moments when you wish to be some sort of Yogi-Master to separate your spirit from your body – and well, leave the body behind in that stinking Jeep and travel light instead… I concentrated hard on this special tour-de-force-meditation-task, but admittedly failed – the only thing I separated from on this journey were all my spare plastic bags and half of my Avomine pills…

That’s how we returned to Mopti, a bit smashed and confused by the fact, that just a few moments ago someone had been killed, for no reason and in broad daylight. And that if we hadn’t missed the ferry we had planned to get on Monday, then…

We are glad to be back at Aly’s place, his rooftop has become our ultimate refuge. Thanks to his kindness (and especially breakfast), we are taking deep breaths, and life is going on, and somehow it’s okay for me if I will never see the mystery town of Timbuktu… after all, who knows if it really exists???

 The saving Roof!

 Yes, that's the loo. And yes, that's how my feet looked...

Entertaining our sleep-space-mates

My wonderful bed!

Yeah to being a pirate! You can even see the plank in the background where naughty passengers are thrown of the boat!

Feed condition

Cargo unloading...

The night feel...

Back to our holy rooftop!

Mali and the Finale

17.11.11.

I am sitting in a mud-hut in Debo-Massassi, a small village between Kayes and Bamako, and since here is neither running water nor electricity I write my blog for you with the good old pen-and-paper technique – and hope to find internet access in Bamako, where I should reach in a few days. Debo-Massassi is the first place on this journey I have returned to and so by chance happened to become a volunteer on the vaccination day against Meningitis. But let’s start at the beginning.

We had been heading out of Mauritania as fast as the road and the plentiful police-check-ups had allowed – which probably was an average of 20km/h. It had been the first time that we actually experienced shortage of water and food supplies. If we would find a market to buy vegetables from, it would be a woman breastfeeding an undernourished baby, squatting in front of 5 tomatoes, 3 eggplants, a few pieces of pumpkin and a few onions and potatoes – all rotten close to unrecognisability, covered with flies. The closer we came to the border the greener became the scenery and the happier seemed the humans and animals around.

Finally we reached the border to Mali, which didn’t consist of much more than a few huts. A felt 100 stops/forms/stamps and bills later we had achieved the goal of being in Mali with the car cancelled out of the passport. In Diema we stopped for bread and water and totally by chance a girl asked us for a hitch to her village Debo-Massassi, 20km away. The girl’s name is Ashley and she turned out to be one amazing person, living in that tiny village as a volunteer for 2 years! That’s basically how we ended up having our first Malian experience in this magnificent village where we were immediately invited to have our dinner with the locals – a millet powder which is eaten and mixed by hand with a pumpkin-peanut sauce on one big plate around which the people sit. Yummie! And we learned our first few bambaran phrases, which are innumerous kinds of greetings which are used with every single villager you run into – and that are loads!

Because Jano and Daniela were in time-pressure to sell the car and reach Senegal, we already left the next day and went to Kayes. We stayed at the mission catholiquie – which brings you into the embarrassing situation to constantly having to ask where to find the catholic missionaries when searching your way home....;P Now the challenge was to sell the car. I mean – how do you actually go about selling a car in a place where you know absolutely nobody??? The idea of “cruising” through town with signs in the windows “A Vendre” and blasting (if you would call the ability of my tiny laptop speakers that..) hiphop music had proven before to be a useless strategy. Furthermore our car by now was making as much sounds as the Flintstone’s car must, when the millstones they use as wheels screech over the bumpy road – not exactly a selling advertisement...

This time we tried something else. In the night we went to one of the poshest bars in town to celebrate our arrival, drinking beer after a long time. I decided to approach the different tables during the night and just chat the people up, if anybody knew somebody who would be interested in a white Mercedes limousine... “Chatting up” sounds easier than it is, as each and every word of the conversation was in French. And people reply fast and sometimes with so heavy accents that I sort of have to semi-guess, what they might have said... Well, at one table it sounded something like “oh yes, we are all police officers and we deal in cars...”, as such type of car dealing is strictly speaking illegal I was pretty sure I had understood them wrong, but as I was sure they were interested in the car I set them up to come over the next day around noon to see the car.

The next day we woke with heavy heads, dehydrated from alcohol and the heat. What to do next? Would we be stuck in Kayes for long? The only thing obvious was that our strategy mainly consisted of NOT having a strategy. To save some money we were camping in the parking lot instead of using the dormitory and our stuff was literally littered all over the place and the car. The heat was already starting to boil us, as Kayes is “the hottest city in Africa” – no matter how accurate that statement is, it obviously doesn’t mean anything good. We were sitting around lethargically in our mess and Daniela saw my somewhat hopeless expression and asked me – “So, if you could choose anything, what would be your next move?”... my reply:”Well, if I could choose anything, someone would just turn up here with a big bundle of cash, take the car and I am out of Kayes.” And that’s pretty much what happened next....

Suddenly a brand-new Jeep pulled over and 6 well-dressed Malian businessmen walked up to us. I quickly jumped up, wishing I would have changed my clothes or kempt my hair earlier. On the driver’s seat we still had our dirty dishes dumped from last night’s dinner... Suddenly price discussion was on, and as sudden as they had come they were leaving, saying our asking price was too high. A bit startled from it all we somehow got the kick to start emptying out the car and pack up our bags. In the very instant where we had removed our last stuff from the car a guy returned signaling to buy, but only below the price I had demanded. Just in that moment, when I started considering to go down a bit a few guys in police uniforms turned up on the site – the gendarmerie! What the hell was going on??? Just in that moment I found a biiig bundle of notes in my hand, wondering if I was just about to be trapped by the police...Then it became clear that these were the guys from last night’s pub – and that I HAD actually understood them right. And so, scared of the sudden competition our buyer finally agreed on my asking price and pushed 1.572.000 SCFA in my hand, which are exactly 2400€ - for a car we have bought for 1000€. Weeee are the champions! We made it! Alma found a new home and we are on the road again  - with filled pockets!

After that success Madita and me have returned to Debo-Massassi and are relaxing from the turbulence of the past weeks. Yesterday and today was vaccination day, where w e became volunteers and in a bit we are going to help in the fields.. and then maybe some fresh watermelon?

Luck is with the fools, I guess ;)

 South Mauritania - back to water and life

 Debo-Massassi - true magic!

 

 Debo-Massassi and Ashleigh

 Vaccination Day

 Money, money, money...

Beuteteilung

Goodbye, lovely Alma, treue Seele!

Wondersome Africain bureaucracy

 Walking bushes...

 Alma has looots of fans!

 Boy-posing

 Visiting the village chief

 Just feeling so good here!

 Everyday this garden needs watering with buckets - tough job!

 Cutie-pie

 Our miracle host Ashleigh in her hut :)

 This is where dinner happens at night around the campfire...

 Village lake - has crocodiles! "Sometimes they bite a person" okkk...

 Just so beautiful here!

 Yes, I know - petpictures are boring! But Mush is just so cute and just survived after quite a struggle!

 Fashion rules!

 Boys looking out for crocos with me... (I use the moment for a non-posing pic;)

Skinny fellow...

Chapter 3 – Mauritania

 Auberge Sahara - the place to be if car dealing in Nouakchott (but only if u like to be cheated)

Soooo extremely much has happened and i have hardly time on the net, just now, in a little moment we meet up to ceeeelebrate – but that i will tell a bit later ;)

As I had told Mauritania was tough for us, the prices they offered were bad and at the same time it was a huge legal risk to give our passport to someone for that so called dechargement. They just knew that we were in a very dependant situation as its near to impossible to enter Senegal and the border crossing to mali was 1000 km of rough terrain away – especially with our superlow city limousine, others who come here drive serious serious jeeps and such like…. Nevertheless, the vibrations there were just so negative that we decided to go for the rough drive through inland Mauritania – what an adventure! Now, that we left the ocean behind we finally were allowed to experience real heat. So from now on the overall ingredient wasn’t sand anymore but heat. The water in your bottle turns so hot that you just need to put a teabag inside if you want to have a tea.

Literally everthing gets cooked, well-through! Mauritania is the poorest place I personally have ever seen anywhere. The road was lined with cadavers of cattle, we had no clue if they starved or had diseases or died of dehydration… Additionally it is a military regime and on that 1000km we had to get through there were 31 police-stops. Each and every single time we were asked to pull to the side and give them a “fish” (in French that fiche and means document) – since we didn’t have a particular document all we could do was to give our passport and car-documents which then in an elaborate process would be copied by hand (and that by seemingly illiterate police guys). After the second post in 30km with an average holding time of 20minutes per post we knew – we will grow old and grey in Mauritania if we do not find another solution! Since copy machines weren’t available I had the seemingly hopeless idea of just writing little “fish” ourselves with just the stuff on them these guys always interrogate… with little hope we rolled into the next police post – and see! Surprise our little magic handwritten fish did work, all that was left to do was to auickly read it out to the police guy and leave him happily unoccupied! Its magic!

Now the only left challenge was to get behind the rue “desespoir” (road of desperation, as it is called)… we were already starting to wonder why it was named so; as besides the boiling heat the road was near to perfect and the stretches which were marked in the map as sandy had been clear due to the early season. That was until the road suddenly and abruptly ended. This was followed by 200 km of 10km per hour driving slalom around the crates in the road… which obviously took the whole daw and was even more nerve wrecking as alma suddenly started to make some sort of extreme noise at one of the front wheels… with every km Mali seemed to get further away and we were already wondering if we would be able to push the car across the border to it out of the passport… But our lovely Alma soldiered on and finally first trees started to be growing again and the amount of dead cattle seemed to decrease – we were finally leaving the desert and every leaf of green was a true pleasure! I totally understand why the desert living Tuareq think we tourists are crazy to just for fun go into that “hell” (as they call it)….

Uuuuh I am running out of time just this very moment so will just auickly upload some pics and hope to return later that night to write more, as after that again there wont be interet for ne for a few days and just soooo much to tell!!!!

Mauritania dessert

 First selling strategy - driving with "blasting" hiphop music out of my netbook speakers trhough nouakchott pretending it is cool to drive a white mercedes limo (it flopped)

 First time we experience extreme heat... even the road just seems to melt...

 Living animal transport mauritani style...

 Just beautiful

 Finally trees again!!

 Shopping in Mauritania... yes thats how it looked...

 Making magic fishes in the desert :)

 Well the pic doesnt belong here exactly but it shows the second stretch of route...

 Hot,hot; hot - is it me or is it you?

 Nightcamp African style

 An oasis

 Ueberfuehrungskennweichen aus Raststatt...

 La rue desespoir

 Petrol pump Mauritani style

 Village Mauritani style

 At night in my moskitonet

Thats how the roads ends and the rue desespoir starts...

 Towanda has to save the world - or at least the goat baby which lost its herd!!! (We made it !)

And something for my mother....;)

Liebste mama, dein Ruebenkraut war bis zum schluss dabei und gerade heute hab ich hier in mali die letzten reste aus der packung gekratzt... und dabei immer an dich gedacht:)