Mosquito repellent: check
Anti mosquito spray: check
Compass: check….
… and here we were, ready for our first real African adventure. The past 4 months we were too busy finding our way in Bamako, the capital, but finally…. Segou, a ‘town’ 235 km east of Bamako, our first taste of the provincial Mali was waiting for us.
Normally it is a 4 hours drive to Segou, except that finding the right way out of Bamako was our first 30 minutes challenge.
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| The Old bridge in the centre of Bamako |
First test was to cross the Niger River, what shouldn’t be a difficult task knowing that there are 2 bridges in Bamako centre and one very old passage outside the city, which is only usable in the dry season and only if you pay a ‘baksheesh’ (or should I say bribe) to the police man guarding it. The logical choice would have been the closest one of the 2 bridges in the city centre, but because of an African logic, this choice was out of the question at this hour of the day. And now I can see the question marks in your eyes: “Why?” Because… this bridge is transformed in a one-way bridge for a few hours every day, twice a day during rush hours. It allows traffic to flow in to the city in the morning and out of the city in the evening. It was morning and we wanted out, an impossible combination.
So we decided for the second logical choice, the ‘baksheesh’ bridge outside the centre. After asking a few police men and receiving answers like “ça dépand = it depends” on our question if we can cross the river over that bridge, we finally made it to a path that actually did go over the river, better said, go IN the (luckily) not too deep water with one short unstable bridge section. The other side of the passage there was a branching dirt road waiting for us where the first item from our check list came in handy: the compass! We also tried asking people, but the word “Segou” (the second most important town in the country) was totally unknown for them.
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| Baobab tree |
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| Petrol station |
Once on the big road, little by little the traffic disappeared. The scenery changed as well. The mango trees and greenish grassland gave way to baobab trees and dry fields. The few “petrol stations” on our way were small huts, selling 1 liter bottles of fuel. Tiny villages with mud houses, some of them with cute miniature mosques, also build in mud, broke the monotony. Sometimes overloaded trucks passed by making us wonder how can they keep on the road, leaning so extremely to the side with their cargo. And sometimes, in the middle of nowhere, there was a cow slowly passing the road.
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| African traffic jam |
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| Hotel faro (not my photo) |
Knowing how chaotic Bamako is, I was wondering already about the time that we would need to find our hotel in Segou, the second most important town in Mali. (I’m sure that those of you, who have been to this place, are now laughing at my naivety.) My concern was not necessary. Hotel Faro is situated before the city, well indicated. In between mud huts a dirt road brought us to a well-hidden paradise, along the Niger River. Build in a traditional Sudanese style, this place totally blends in the entourage. The owner, Nathalie welcomed us with the good news that our “pinasse “ the little boat that was going to bring us to Kalabougou village, was waiting for us at the “harbour”.
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| Pinasse |
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| Pottery in process |
Kalabougou is situated on the other side of the river, about 45 minutes by “pinasse”. This village is producing pottery and … only pottery. In this scenery, where I had the impression that we were catapulted back in many centuries, if I had seen Jesus walking toward us, it would have seemed normal. It was the most mystifying visit of my life and when after 1 hour it was over, I thanked the Universe that I wasn’t born there.
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| The Chief |
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| Local boy |
Salif, our guide made our visit a lot smoother than when if we would have done it on our own. Instead of being swarmed by bagging children, the kids were following us politely, some taking us by our hands. The villagers only speak bambara, a local language and except “bonjour, ça va” there was no way to communicate with them. Salif was our translator and he also explained the rules. In Mali, if you want to visit a village, you have to ask permission from the chief of the village and eventually pay a tax, which was our case. After having paid 3.500 CFA (about 6 €) we were free to wander around and to take as many photos as we wanted. Salif explained us how the pottery is made, showed us the plants and stones that are used for colouring and when I asked him to see the oven for baking the pottery, he smiled about my “stupidity”. Once a week, the villagers make a big campfire on a square and bake all the pottery produced by every family in the same time.
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| Kalabougou |
What shocked me the most in this village was the poverty. There were only small mud houses with dirt floors, without doors and windows, no basic furniture at all. And no electricity! There was a tiny new school building though with a small sun energy system on the roof, providing enough electricity for that one building.
The way back to Segou the silence was dominating in the boat, being deep in our thoughts, trying to digest our visit…
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| Mosque in mud construction in Kalabougou |
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| Kalabougou |
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| The circumcision house |
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| Anybody home?! |
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| No Barbie but happy |
