|
|
Welcome to my travel log! You will find here a lot more than in the travel reports, stripped from political correctness. Enjoy! 
Jan 06, 2005 07:00 PM Burkina Faso - Sindou
Sindou
Another magnificent scenery in southeastern Burkina are Les Pics de Sindou. Their location is quite remote on the way back towards Mali, and it was almost a miracle that I actually went there.
The route from Banfora to Sindou is navigable with low clearance vehicle only in dry season. It is not too bad but it can get very dusty. I read in the book that the sandy track may be rough, and I bore that in mind while selecting a vehicle to take me there.
I made it quite clear to Ali that the car has to have windows so the dust does not ruin my camera and cloud vision in my contact lenses. Yeah, yeah! Nobody listens to me. Claiming that there were not other cars to rent, Ali chose a Toyota LandCruiser that was older than me (I actually did not realised they have been making this model for so long) and had broken windows. I protested and explained to the driver why I did not want to go with this car. Hi however insisted that he would be driving carefully and that nothing was going to happen to me and my invaluable holiday equipment, meaning my camera and my eyes.
On this basis, I agreed and we made plans to set off early in the morning.
It was a good morning. I enjoyed looking at numerous picturesque little hamlets on the way with extremely relaxed parents letting their toddlers wander off onto the road with absolutely no-one else in the sight. Like those kids came down from the sky with no mummy and daddy. We had a close call of eliminating one of those…
The Pinnacles of Sindou are an impressive piece of nature's art. The three-kilometre long sandstone massif presents tall and slim rock towers occasionally crowned or hatted by more erosion-resistant pieces of rock.
It is a splendid place, which was inhabited until XVI century. There is some evidence of this. There are small ruins of a village and a castle. Now, people moved to Sindou declaring most of the pinnacle area sacred, restricting access.
This is also one of the reasons why guides are obligatory for the site, the price of whom is already included in the ticket costing CFA 1,000. Additional CFA 1,000 is needed for the photo permit. Since the majority of the area is off limits due to its sacredness, the escapade to the pinnacles is never very long. This is a pity, because exploring this fascinating landscape would be a great fun for several hours.
I definitely enjoyed being again in a remote place on the African continent. Again, people were waving at me, smiling friendly, welcoming me in their country. It is a good feeling being welcome.
Apart from little villages, I was passing heaps of cotton, some of them several meters high, fields of tall sugar cane and rice paddies. There were also several dead donkeys lying on the road, perhaps ran over by passing cotton lorries, which cannot manoeuvre quickly.
For a little while I was going through eye-biting smoke of burning bush where flames easily creep onto the road licking already exhausted and hot tyres of my ancient Toyota LandCruiser extraordinarily surviving Burkina's rough terrain and mercilessly long hours of going and going and going. I could not believe my eyes how close I was to a serious bush fire, which clearly went out of control.
Already in the car, I realised that my prediction was right. I was completely covered in red dust. I deliberately decided to wear a white linen shirt to show the guys what was going to happen. I was on similar tracks in Africa before, and I knew exactly what to expect from a sandy track and a car with no windows, bit nobody listens to me!
Unfortunately, the dust was not present only my shirt, it was in my eyes, contact lenses, ears, hair, and inside my camera. It was actually scary to imagine how much of it was getting everywhere. To this day, my camera carries this dust.
|
Jan 05, 2005 07:00 PM Burkina Faso - Banfora, Les Domes de Fabedougou
Banfora
The entire area around Bobo-Dioulasso has plenty to offer though. One of the natural choices is Banfora, which in itself is not a nice town at all. Perhaps in the past it was a pleasant village with mud brick houses and huts roofed with dry palm tree leaves. Now, it is a simple by-the-road-on-route place with square concrete or corrugated iron structures with no colour and absolutely no character.
One does not come to Banfora to see the village. It is the landscape; rock formations, a lake (Lac de Tangréla) and a waterfall (Chutes de Karfiguéla), which are the traveller magnets. I came to see one thing there – a site, which in my opinion should be rated at least as a national park, or even considered for UNESCO inscription – the rock formations.
Les Domes de Fabedougou
That site’s name is Les Dômes de Fabédougou. They are a very interesting groups of rocks eroded by water and wind to the shape of gentle but giant domes. Although, there are a few of pinnacles around as well.
It is very easy to climb them and the view from the top is great! Not only to the other domes, but also the vast plantations of sugar cane, a key ingredient for certain type of liquid being produced in the nearby brewery.
I stood there on the top of the domes, and tried to imagine how many millions of years it took the waters and the wind to shape these rocks. The domes have those horizontal lines indicating that this must have been a staged process.
The Domes are located in a rather isolated place and it is tricky to find them. It is best to take a local guide. the fact that they are secluded, means that few tourists venture there. I was there on my own, and no other people came. It was perfect, only nature and I.
The rocks make also, a perfect spot for picnicking. There are two possibilities, one is at the top of the domes, which make a perfect table with a view, and the other hidden between the domes, when no-one can spot you or, even better, you’s.
|
Jan 04, 2005 07:00 PM Burkina Faso - Bobo-Dioulasso; on my birthday
The very next morning I decided to change the hotel and move to something more upper class. It was my birthday, so I deserved to splash around a little.
I chose L'Auberge hotel, which is run by the same family who owns L'Auberge hotels in Segou, Sikasso, Bamako and Ouagadougou. It is nice with great facilities and rather good restaurant yet disappointingly awful service.
The hotel's reception is the worst I have ever encountered during my many travels on this world’s six continents. The TV reception in my room was very poor so I advised them of the fact and asked they fixed it. They claimed they had a technical problem and television signal was bad in the entire hotel.
That was a disgusting lie as I discovered later. The problem was simple. The coaxial cable was broken. I told reception that and asked for another one. They made faces and reluctantly and very, very slowly one of the male receptionists came up with me to inspect the problem. I could not believe this attitude! I should have complained to the owner, whom I saw happily relaxing at the porch on several occasions.
Well, the problem was eventually fixed but it took 30 hours to do it and I was very unhappy with the service, for which I was paying a lot of money.
In Bobo-Dioulasso, I encountered something utterly strange. Well, at least I thought it was strange. A poor, and probably ill, naked man with an incredibly massive penis kept appearing everyday in various places of the city. He was only wearing an open coat and looked dirty and homeless. He was like a ghost, walking peacefully on the streets without making any sensation or consternation whatsoever. I wanted to give him some clothes but I found from the local people that many gave him clothes but he always throws them away. He has become an inseparable part of the city’s sights whom the locals learnt to ignore. I learnt not to think about too much or even try to understand his eventual motives.
On my birthday, I wanted to go out a little and check the local nightlife scene. Unfortunately, as this was Wednesday, I found that few places had actually anything going on. There were a few bars of doubtful reputation and upscale restaurants offering traditional drumming until 11pm, not long before they were closing.
I stumbled across a discotheque, or nightclub, but it was completely empty. The bouncers dressed in rather expensive leather jackets let me have a peek inside but I thought it would be unwise to pay for the ticket and then spend the entire night playing with myself waiting for the crowds to trickle in, with no guarantee that anyone would actually show up. Ali kept me company all the time, but he was not so keen on going out that night. He was missing his tea drinking and socialising with his fellow Malians.
By the way, he actually came across a few acquaintances from Segou, who were taking tourist to Bobo-Dioulasso. I thought it made another proof that the world was small, but then again, it was not so very far from Segou, and Bobo is a first choice destination for tourists, who whilst visiting Mali want to have a quick look at Burkina Faso.
|
Jan 04, 2005 07:00 PM Burkina Faso - Dafra and Koumi
Dafra
Another site, literally just outside Bobo, is Dafra, famous for its sacred catfish.
The guidebooks somehow forgot to mention that it is quite a hike to see the natural pond with the fish. It is in parts tricky on loose rock and very steep. Good boots are an advantage.
The scenery is on the other hand unexpectedly striking with rocky pinnacles and domes with the trail eventually entering a rather deep canyon filled with surprisingly lush vegetation. This is all part of the Banfora Escarpment, a range of cliffs similar to those of the, nearby in fact, Dogon Country of Mali. The trick is that since Bobo-Dioulasso is on the top of the escarpment, the cliff is not visible and this is why it comes as a great surprise in Dafra, where it drops several hundred meters.
I was trekking there with mixed feelings. The first one was that it was so unprepared for hikes longer than an hour in full sunshine. To put in the exact words – a little cross. The second one was utter awe and joyful contemplation of the completely unanticipated scenery. And both of the feelings provided my bloodstream with ample adrenaline, exactly what I needed for my holiday.
The legendary and famous catfish is in large numbers rather than size, which is disappointing. The individual fish measures maybe 60 cm (24 inches) the most. Therefore its descriptions of 'enormous' or 'huge' are seriously inaccurate.
Koumi
Somehow I got attracted to see the village of Koumi, which is now referred as a “touristic village”. The literature describe the place as a fine example of semi-defensive or pseudo-fortified architecture, which I honestly did not manage to find.
There were finer examples of pseudo-fortified villages around with round huts placed in a circle and linked together with a wall. It is a pity that I did not take a picture of them actually.
The Koumi village should be renamed “tourist-trap village”. There is absolutely nothing there to admire.
Furthermore, I had a bad luck as on the day I was visiting the chief of the village was out so everybody wanted to introduce their own laws about tourists visiting the village. Everyone was hyper-aggressive trying to profit from any foreign visitor. I do not even remember how many people wanted to be a guide and charge me on the top of the ticket I had to buy to visit the village and the ticket for photo permit. I already came with two guides – Ali and a local guide I took from Bobo-Dioulasso, but that apparently was not enough. I was not pleased with such reception and I left promptly.
Minutes from the unpleasant incidents in the village, I was a witness to the Police Municipal freely exceeding their mandate making it virtually a lawless region. The evil and obviously corrupted officers wave at cars, which is supposed to mean 'stop'. Well, this is not something peculiar, I know, but sometimes they stick out their hand right at the front of the windscreen (in a last second) expecting the vehicle to stop at their feet.
This is unbelievable, impossible and clearly unacceptable. So, if you are unwise and eventually stop ten yards later (a skill in itself) they charge you CFA 10,000 for not stopping at their feet.
Moving vehicles in a busy city are not ponies in a circus! Such behaviour is simply ridiculous and seriously undermines the role and purpose of Municipal Police. I even know the name of one individual who practises this outrageous behaviour – Mr Mousa Salou. In my opinion he should be arrested and castrated with his entire family to ensure he never procreates spreading this evil seed.
Such behaviour obviously brings Burkina a bad name and press, and although one crooked police officer is not a representation of the entire population, but the government should better deal with this before being accused of the same.
|
Jan 03, 2005 07:00 PM West Africa - Segou (ML) to Bobo-Dioulasso (BF)
I was not sure why I was going to Burkina Faso, to be absolutely honest. I read somewhere that it was one of the poorest, if not the poorest, country on this planet, and I wanted to see what that actually meant.
Few countries on this planet are so unfortunate like Burkina Faso, formerly known as Upper Volta (Haute Volta). It would have never existed had the colonialist administration of the French never divided the Ivory Cost and what was called the Soudan Francais, now mainly parts of Mali and Niger. The country has absolutely no natural resources or raw materials.
The only natural benefits are the waters of the river Volta’s many tributaries, Volta Noire, Volta Blanche, and Volta Rouge. The name Volta comes from the Portuguese expression of rio da volta, river of return. In a way, these rivers contributed to the Burkina’s main attraction – the landscape. But I will tell about it as I go along.
As I made friends with Ali, I let him take me from Segou in Mali to Bobo-Dioulasso, Burkinabè second largest city.
The trip was shorter than I expected and the formalities on the frontiers of top quality. I should not forget to remind you that I travelled within the ECOWAS, an African equivalent of European Union, dare I say. Ali did not need to take his Malian passport and I was asked no questions apart from one at the Burkina’s border if I needed to buy a visa or whether I already had one.
There was some paperwork to be completed because I was travelling with a rented vehicle, but that was harmless. The Burkinabè officials needed to make sure that I was not allowed to sell the car in Burkina Faso.
|
Jan 03, 2005 07:00 PM Burkina Faso - Bobo-Dioulasso
Bobo-Dioulasso is a pleasant town with streets lined up with mango and other large trees.
I was not sure if I liked the town at the first sight but I have to admit that it is difficult to appreciate West African cities since there is little one can see from the streets. Buildings are usually two, maybe three, storeys tall and they are hardly visible behind high mud or concrete walls.
There are some interesting buildings in Bobo but governmental bodies or related organisations usually occupy them and therefore, they cannot be photographed. Even the magnificent railway station is off limits to picture takers.
The Old Mosque of Bobo is truly magnificent and since the construction looks seriously old it is maintained in a perfect condition. I loved it. Unfortunately it is surrounded by various large objects making it hard to photograph. They are trees, iron prayer shelter or overhead power or telephone line cables. It is actually amazing to see how beautifully this building survives. I do understand that it is being in constant use, so it must be kept in adequate condition.
The mosque stands on the edge of the old quarter, which is very interesting but rather odoriferous. I kept saying odoriferous, but I do really mean smelly.
There is a small and filthy stream between the quarters of animists and Christians (picture on the right). It is filled with large catfish, faeces, pig waste and washing detergents. The fish is considered sacred and hence is not eaten. If one actually ate this fish surely would become very sick due to the water quality, in which this poor fish is reduced to live.
My first night in Bobo-Dioulasso, I spent in the Watinoma hotel recommended by guidebooks. It is rather shabby for the price – more than CFA 20,000 with very poor bathrooms, which perhaps have seen better years. The majority of the rooms have no windows and the rooms are small, dark and completely uninviting. The only good thing about the place is pizza. It is actually very good! The chef knows exactly how to balance the dough with the beautiful magnitude of toppings. I was happy, but Ali, whose favourite dish is pizza, was ecstatic.
|
Jan 02, 2005 07:00 PM Mali - Segou; a comeback
There is another district of Segou, the Old Segou or known as Segou-Koro, which should never be missed. It is located some 10km from the commercial centre. It is actually more of a village rather than a town, but it is very interesting and it is packed with significant historical structures.
There is a tomb of one of the very important kings King Biton Mamary Coulibaly, who ruled the Empire of Segou, following the fall of the Mali Empire.
The tomb is rather small and a short mud wall, nowadays usually covered with drying clothes, surrounds it. This nicely indicates that although people do respect their ancestors but they are not necessarily paranoid about the holiness of their tombs.
There are also two magnificent and old mosques, one of which is located at the shore of the Niger, which makes the place one of the most picturesque spots in Segou. There is also a school for the Islamic marabouts, which can be visited where there are no classes.
The chief of Segou-Koro charges CFA 2500 per visitor, which is said to be spent on facilities improvements. The chief is tall, serious and rather non-talkative man, who yet happily shakes hands with the visitors.
I cannot believe that I almost missed Segou-Koro, as I never included it on my itinerary. I only found out about it from my driver and guide, Ali. It was not mentioned in Lonely Planet’s West Africa guidebook that it should be one of the key attractions of Segou and surroundings.
|
Jan 01, 2005 07:00 PM Mali - Dogon Country; Yabatalou and Djiguibambo
It was early. I got up at about 7:30 and having stretched my legs a little, I packed and left on a short 75 minutes hike from Ennde to Yabatalou.
On the way, I met many free range donkeys enjoying their morning grazing at the feet of the cliff. There were very few people around and the hike was uneventful. The scenery was not different from the one between Kanikombole and Ennde and the villages looked very similar. It was a nice morning walk for exercising but I did not take many photographs due to the Harmattan.
Djiguibambo was the last Dogon village where I took photographs, snapping both the architecture and the people – for a price, of course. Although Djiguibambo is situated on the top of the escarpment, it does not, again, differ much from those villages at the bottom.
|
Dec 31, 2004 07:00 PM Mali - Dogon Country; Ennde
It was a strange feeling because I actually went to Ennde three times. The first time was almost immediately they killed and skinned the ram for me. We went there because of the festival that was going on.
The second time was when Ali took me for the New Year celebration in the middle of the night, for which I could not be too grateful as Kanikombole was so dead.
The third time was when I actually hiked from Kanikombole on the 1 January.
The second time was the best. Not only because I was thrilled to be a part of the festival with drumming and dancing until wee hours of the New Year Day, but because there were many local people around enjoying themselves.
I was soaking the atmosphere and although I could not entirely understand the rituals, I was jumping along to the rhythm of the drums.
I saw kids dancing as well, and I was so impressed with their skills. Not only skills, but also their attitude and passion with which they were participating in the festival. These were mainly boys, who could not be older than six. Looking around, I was wondering where they could acquire these abilities.
There was also a rather funny thing that I observed during the festivities. Many of the artists and the people were wearing traditional costumes for the dancing and the spectacle but the majority of them were also wearing Nike and Adidas t-shirts underneath.
It was special. The traditional clothes were made of wood and metal, sometimes of grass and mud, so the perfect cotton twenty first century shirts were a special spice and addition to the merriment.
The village of Ennde is unusually made of three parts, which in normal circumstances would have their own names and their own chief. These, however, had all Ennde in their names and only the name of the district was added after a hyphen.
I stayed at the Ennde district, in which the chief of the village had a house. He also ran a campemant, which was traditionally African with elements of Dogon art, including carved doors and statues.
In Ennde, I changed my itinerary again, and I decided not to hike much more within the escarpment. From the benefit of the hindsight, I can see that it was a good decision. The visibility in the area deteriorated dramatically, and I was better off heading back to Segou.
By then, I realised that the Dogon villages in the area did look alike, and there was hardly anything special or even extraordinary about them. They all had a mud brick mosque, square mud houses and square mud millet compartments. I was struggling to justify me staying even longer there. I began missing the conventional (by European standards of course!) bathroom.
In the Dogon country, the shower was nothing else but a bucket of cold water served with a cup to pour smaller amounts of water on oneself, in a mud brick cabin without a roof.
It was a great experience and the scenery facilitated the ambiance, but the hole in the floor serving as a toilet with no door or light in the night was fun for once or twice. There was just too much stress, that whilst you were taking your perfect shit, someone could enter the utility as well without you even noticing…
Furthermore, I was not even too good bending this way in order to avoid hitting my boots, with either yellow or brown. I know, it is definitely my fault – I should have practised!
So, having seen the villages of Teli, Djomboko and Oualia, I decided to take a morning hike to Yabatalou via Bagourou and call it a trip, at least in the Dogon Country.
|
Dec 30, 2004 07:00 PM Mali - Hombori to Kani-Kombole
An early, cold desert morning, about three quarters before sunrise, let me take my cold shower under the fading stars with still very bright moon. The showers had simply four walls but no roof, and I was ecstatic to experience that. I think that was my first time. I loved it!
Then, the sunrise came illuminating the surrounding cliffs, rocks and weird formations of this Mali’s Monument Valley. Life was beautiful.
On the way to the Dogon Country, we lost one tyre or rather its part. It happened in the middle of nowhere many miles away from any human settlement and out of mobile phone range. Theoretically it was possible to continue on this 'bold' tyre but it was better not to. Ali changed it. Exciting!
Frankly, I was not sure what to expect from the Dogon country. It was ‘the destination reason’ for me to come to West Africa. One would think it would result in great expectations but it did not. Not really.
It was all my fault that I simply left to my guide to decide on everything. He decided what village we will visit and where I would be staying. I just accepted it with extremely limited criticism or without even a reasonable verification. I simply wanted to get on the road and visit ‘the thing’. Wrong attitude!
It is worse than ‘take my hand and lead me to the bar’ attitude. I was there in Mali to visit the country, meet the people and soak the atmosphere of the gargantuan difference between the European and African cultures. I should be in control.
The first night I spent in Kanikombole, a village where my guide had specific connections. I was staying in a campament, which offered nice shaded area and Spartan rooms with bare, mud floor and no windows. I am still not sure what the connection were but I cannot say that I especially care.
Already in Hombori, I decided that I was going to celebrate the New Year’s Eve like it should be celebrated – with a party and good meal. Therefore, being hinted, I set my mind of killing a lamb (or sheep) for this reason and let the villages to cook it in a traditional Dogon way.
It was a very good idea. I said that I was going to spend CFA 25,000 for it, hoping there was going to be a nice, young lamb to cook for it. When, I reached Kanikombole, I instructed the guide to find the lamb and slaughter it. In the meantime, I went to see the area with another guide.
I climbed the escarpment and saw the tiny Pygmy compounds hanging to the cliff. I appreciated the view down to the village and beyond, and concluded that I was genuinely impressed with the baobab tree park within the village.
As the village was very small, I struggled to occupy myself with activities that would last until late afternoon. It was 31 December, and I was eager to find out what was going to happen next.
So, I came down to the village to inspect the proceedings with the sheep slaughtering. I promptly found out tat I seriously needn’t do that. I actually witnessed the very activity of skinning the ram. It was a large ram and although I was not too keen on the actual sight, I was impressed with what my money could buy there. I also did not realise what I actually did. I provided for the entire village. Not only was it my purchase and income, the villagers had, but also the meal. As it turned out I was not buying this animal for myself, but for the entire village. I did not expect that and my guide never told me that. I was pleased and happy for the people that they ended up celebrating the New Year with me in some way, but I was unhappy with my guide who never told me that I was actually going to be donating to the whole village.
Do not get me wrong I was very popular in the village and eve villager loved me for what I did. It was overwhelming. The problem was that I only found out about what I did by accident from Ali. He was speaking to a villager, who was looking at me in a particular way with tears in his eyes. When I asked Ali to tell me what happened, he explained that the entire village for praying for me.
I wanted to believe that this was the reason why I travelled to Africa. It was too intense.
This was after I tried the cooking. They cooked the lamb (mutton) very well and the meat was tender to perfection. I never had mutton so good before in my life, but apart from fish, I have never eaten an animal that was alive less than two hours before my meal.
The first dish was mutton in spicy sauce, which nearly caused me an orgasm. I thought I was dreaming. The meat was so tender that it was simply dissolving in my mouth. Then, came the very Malian style smoked meat, which I have to admit, I was not very fond of, but this maybe because I was so full after indulging on the previous perfect saucy dish.
Van went to bed, claiming he was ill. Ali was not pleased with this attitude and was so nice to keep me company. He really did not have to. He was just the ripped off driver. But not only did he stay with me that night, but also took me to the real party in Ennde. Kanikombole was seriously dead. New Year did not exist to anybody, not even the tourists, who stayed there!
A local guy said that there was a party in Ennde and that we should go. Ali said that he would take me and that we should go by chariot. I was so surprised he said that and I was so happy as well.
Eventually, we could not go by chariot because the donkey was also asleep like the entire village. Ali surprised me again and said that we should take his car. Bu that time, I did not know that we could take a regular 2WD at night on those Dogon roads. Nevertheless, Ali insisted and we went.
Before I forget, I must say that the night sky threw me on my knees. By 22:30 (10:30 pm), the night was completely moonless. The sky was clear that it seriously hypnotised me. And I am not joking! There were so many stars in the sky that I could not distinguish the star constellations. It looked like an alien sky, not from this planet. It was actually scary, because I was completely sober and I knew that this should not be happening to me, because I was in Africa before and I should know this super clear sky phenomenon from before. However, I was extremely overwhelmed with the sky. That it was not normal. I cannot describe it! It felt like I was on a planet that did not have atmosphere and that I was actually in the bare space.
I cannot exaggerate this sensation! It was so strange.
|
Page:
89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99
|
|
|
