My Dad and I met Cheri and Gray in Tamale for a pre-trip dinner. Up to this point, the plan was to meet in Bolgatanga on the 23rd of July, travel through Burkina Faso into Mali, walk around Dogon country and aim to return to Ghana by August 1st. Aside from these loose plans, we were winging it entirely. Meeting in Tamale on the 22nd was an unexpected surprise and offered some mellow conversation as a precursor to intense travel. Gray, Cheri, my Dad and I got along swimmingly and were ready to carve adventure out of a roughly planned vacation.
The four of us traveled via Mass Metro bus to Bolgatanga on the 23rd and my Dad's crash course in West Africa continued. We continued to travel north as temperatures increased, road quality decreased and lodging became more sketchy. Bolga was new territory to all of us so we played tug of war from "wing it," and "tourist guide book," sides of the spectrum. We three PCV's stayed at a dorm style Catholic guesthouse while my Dad was set up in a self contained AC room a few blocks away. A nice dinner, great conversation and some piedro (look it up if you've never played) lessons brought us to the end of the night and time to part ways. Dad's key to his room didn't work so we had to track down a hotel employee. The employee couldn't open the door so after several minutes of struggling with the lock, I got the distinct pleasure of kicking in the door to a hotel room. I was given permission to kick in the door to a hotel room!! The room was open, an ipod was mysteriously missing and the adventure had undoubtedly begun.
By early afternoon on July 24th, each member of our group had sat on a crocodile, received a passport stamp and struggled to gain directions with limited french. My Dad blew the rest of us out of the water regarding French fluency; a typical conversation that he undertook would contain at best equal parts Spanish, English and French. Spirits were high and we enjoyed steak sandwiches, beer and stories from Burkina PCVs. We stayed in Ouagadougou for two nights in order to allow for laundry and rest. A second night with volunteers gave my Dad further insight into the Peace Corps life. Several Burkina Faso volunteers were enjoying their final week of service and seemed to enjoy sharing pluses and minuses of service with the rest of us. I always love to hear varying perspectives and my Dad was clearly interested in hearing more about the 2+ year experience. Peace Corps Ghana and Peace Corps Burkina traded envious accounts of the luxuries offered in the others' host nation. It seems that Ghana offers the beach along with better beer, chicken, rice and produce while Burkina has steak, strawberries, baguettes and dairy products. The grass is always greener.
Burkina volunteers helped arrange a 5:30 taxi to the bus station and we were on our way to another country. We were convinced that an official Visa (nearly 180 US dollars) was unnecessary and that we would be able to offer 10,000 CFA (roughly 26 US dollars) at the Mali border and would get an "unofficial" stamp.
We caught the 6am bus to Ouahiguiya having been assured that we could get a connecting "bush taxi" to Koro and would be in Mali by 1:30pm. We made it to Oahiguiya by 9am, had a small breakfast, loaded up on CFA and we were ready to continue. We bought bush taxi tickets, bought kola nuts for Mali and then we waited. We waited 4 hours before being prompted by a dutch NGO worker to pay a bit more money for the remaining seats in the bush taxi. We paid the extra money and joined an incredibly uncomfortable van. The front seat consisted of a driver and two passengers as usual. Behind the front seat, there were a pair of love seat size benches facing one another. There were two more benches going back and the last three benches had fold-up jump seats beside them. I initially climbed into the back seat but the bench was tilted to such a degree that the woman to my left could barely see through the window while I had to bend my neck in order to press my ear to the ceiling. Cheri and I sat in the rear facing bench behind the driver seat. We were pressed knee to knee with a couple from French Guyana and a Burkinabe (that's right, it's not Burkinian or Burkina Fasoan) man who sounded like a French Mike Tyson. Despite paying for 3 extra seats, we were loaded up to the brim. Anxious to get to Mali and meet our guide Oumar, our group didn't mind the discomfort as the car pulled away on the way toward Mali.
Within mere minutes, we all had t-shirts or bandannas pulled over our faces as we learned that the majority of the car's exhaust was being spewed back INSIDE the car. We tore through mud puddles at a pace just above a crawl and two flat tires and billions of asphyxiated brain cells later, we were in Koro at sundown. We passed several camels, managed to get our passports stamped and geared what little energy we maintained towards the days ahead. Oumar met our groggy crew with enthusiasm and a big smile. Born in Dogon, Oumar learned English in school and now spoke with a hodgepodge accent acquired through ten years of guiding English speakers from around the world (he's 29). A cold beer, some travel discussion and a deep sleep got us through our first night in Bankass, Mali.
The first day of our guided Dogon tour began on a horse cart. Having added Oumar, the five of us were led 12km by horse cart toward Tely and thousand year old cliff dwellings. The heat was wearing us out but watching a Malian horse cart driver walk 12km through puddles while pushing and pulling the horse with full force kept us from complaining. Mid-rainy season, we saw great puddles and a good amount of green in what is 120 degrees and dry for much of the year. Each kilometer traveled offered a greater view of the escarpment ahead. Upon arriving in the first village, we were led to a shady rooftop and given water to wash our hands and faces. We dropped our bags, rested briefly and were then taken on a 3km walk up and around the escarpment. Initially built as protection from wild animals and enemies, the cliff dwellings now sit above a village of roughly 1200 Malians. Many Dogons are Animist but each village we went to visit was a mix of Animist, Muslim and Christian. Words and photos can't properly describe this first day. We had heard great stories about Dogon country and were constantly told that it was a "must see," but we were still unprepared. It is absolutely breathtaking.
After the initial 3km hike, we had a lunch break and were offered a few hours of chill time. We had a nice lunch of rice and even tasted the local millet dish with Baobab stew. My dad hung around for a nap while Gray, Cheri and I went exploring. In the distance, a very small waterfall was visible. We came upon a dozen Malian girls using boulders as water slides and diving boards. The three of us hiked around in the cool mid-day shade and looked on in wonderment as the spray of the waterfall moved around like a slow pendulum. The amount of water was small enough and spraying from such a great height that the slightest gust of wind would bring a spray of water following us around the rock basin. Oumar repeatedly requested the we not swim because two white tourists were "boiled in the water," when they went swimming and angered the water. We didn't swim but enjoyed the cool shade and the sprinklings of cold water while watching numerous Malians on horseback or cow as they watered the parched animals.
The afternoon provided a relaxed 4km walk through the shadows of cliffs and baobabs. We ended the night in Oumar's hometown and were shown around to indigo dyers and mudcloth makers. The artwork was absolutely beautiful and the relaxing evening was a nice break considering adventures to come.
The first words I heard spoken on my 26th Birthday were along the lines of "Oumar, I woke up twice with explosive diarrhea and couldn't find water to clean up after myself." I guess there's not only "Ghana tummy," but "Mali tummy," as well. Though we'd been careful with food and water, the millions of exotic bacteria seemed to have worked their way into my Dad's system. At 26 years old, I was suddenly in the role of father to my father. ORS and biscuits were forced on my dad with 6km and 8km walks ahead of us.
Several shady water breaks and an introduction to "free ranging," brought us to the next village (Gray wrote down the names so I'll add them when I hear back from him). A hand of piedro and some more forced water had my dad feeling better. Sweating like a beast combined with diarrhea and not enough water is an exhausting combination.
Our 4 hour break offered a much needed cool down option but my dad was only able to eat a bit of lunch. It was decided that Cheri, Gray and I would hike the next portion and my dad would take a cow cart and meet us at the next village. Oumar told us at the beginning of the trip that this 8km was the most "amazing," but also the most difficult. In retrospect it's clear that my dad would have had a hard time if his health was 100%. After 20 minutes of uphill hiking, the four of us were winded and borderline nauseous. We were climbing at an incredible rate on a natural switchback staircase. The climb continued for 2km and we while catching our breath and enjoying a rewarding view, we learned that current villagers make this hike whenever they need to visit neighboring villages. Until recently, women would carry loads to market while hiking this same route with no shoes. A tough touristy hike for us is a daily commute for so many others.
We climbed across a horizontal ladder and faced the 200 foot drop below as the hike continued. From here on out, the hike consisted of slight ups and downs but no serious climbs like at the beginning. Within minutes, it felt as though we were back at ground level. The cliffs were no longer in view and lush farm plots peppered the rocky terrain wherever possible. While still catching our breath, we passed an ancient barefoot man with a local tobacco pipe clenched between his teeth. Again, we were humbled by the real-life difficulty of the terrain and the man smiled at us and worked away at his harvest.
The afternoon hike went by surprisingly quickly. Our new group dynamic allowed for a faster pace and we were all perfectly content in awestruck silence. We passed one Animist village and walked amongst Dogon people listening to Oumar greet as he passed. My best attempt at the confusing greeting follows:
Owana
Useo?
Seo
U
Useo
Seo
O
Oseo
I'm sure it's clear that I have no idea what they were saying but Oumar would not stop to greet but simply made the same exchange with passersby. We couldn't help but smile at first but at the end we did our best to make a similar exchange with excited Dogon elders.
A sunset descent brought us to our home for the night. Surrounded by precariously balanced 100+ ton boulders and good friends and family, I was a happy birthday boy.
It turns out that my dad had to hike the last 1km uphill to meet us and that alone had really worn him out. He was happily resting and it was clear that he had made the right decision by taking a cart rather than hiking. Gray produced a birthday gift of a fine cigar and after cool bucket baths, the four of us (my dad less so) enjoyed cold beer, a fine cigar and a taste of local tobacco through a traditional pipe. My dad remained in good spirits despite his condition and the four of us shared what was surely one of my best birthdays to date. A rooftop bed with only a mosquito net between me and the unbelievably clear sky ended a truly sensational day.
Still elated from the day before, I came upon Gray doing wash in the early morning light. With no sign of worry, Gray was washing my dad's shorts, telling me that Papa Shag had joined the infamous club that clearly expands beyond Ghana. Father to my father duties continued through the morning. I helped my dad clean himself up and forced electrolyte tabs and overwhelming amounts of water on him. Reluctant to drink the warm water, I was forced to emphasize the danger of dehydration in Africa. He continued his day via cow cart with 5 liters of water (2 liters cold with Gatorade powder provided by Gray) in tow. We three PCVs proceeded for a fast paced 13km day through forced farmland and beautiful views. Oumar pointed out a dead viper during the walk and assured us that the 7 inch snake could easily kill a man in 5 minutes. Oumar had told us earlier how Dogon people don't go under fig trees during hot days because the devil sits in the branches and will kill them (snake and devil one and the same?). I have no doubt that our group passed dozens of deadly snakes of the 4 day hike but Oumar took great care of us and we made it through virtually unscathed.
The end of the third day included a descent as intense as the initial climb. Swallows and egrets circled above as we finished a descent that Indiana Jones would appreciate. Another night of good food, piedro and bathroom breaks led us to our last morning in Dogon country.
My dad took off on cow cart while Oumar took us to another cliff side village and showed us the circumcision board. Dogon men partake in group circumcisions at 14 years of age and sleep on a wooden board for 21 days before returning to society. Dogon girls are circumcised at 2-3 years of age and despite our shock, Oumar showed no sign that he shared our dismay at the tradition. Oumar continued to tell us that Dogon men have their first marriage arranged by their parents and that cultural hierarchy plays a big part in this decision. After the first marriage is arranged, men are free to choose additional wives for themselves.
A 3km walk through dunes of the Sahel desert brought us to meet a driver and my dad on cow cart. An hour and a half in an uncomfortable car brought us back to Koro and to the end of our trip to Mali (one flat tire and getting stuck in a deep puddle included). We again payed for extra seats in a bush taxi (comfortable this time) in order to leave on time. We barely made it to Ouahiguiya in time to catch the last bus to Ouagadougou. We actually missed the bus but some travel mates from the Koro-Ouhiguiya leg made the driver make a loop in order to find us and keep our trip going.
We arrived in Ouagadougou at around midnight and chowed down on burgers while mosquitos did the same to our shins. We slept in for once and traveled another 6 hours back to Bolgatanga. 5 hours of sleep got us to the bus station as a groggy group and Gray split off for a trip to the Upper West region of Ghana. My dad, Cheri and I got to Tamale by 9am and explored the Northern Region capital for the day. My dad bought beautiful gifts at Colwoods, a store run by battered and abandoned women. Unfortunately, I somehow lost the bag of goodies so while the proceeds will still go to a good cause, the gifts may not make it to the intended recipients.
The three of us shared a nice lunch before Cheri left us to run errands. I did my best to put this blog entry together in Tamale but the power went out and I was stuck half way through. My dad and I took the 4pm STC bus from Tamale to Accra and arrived this morning at around 3am. He's feeling better over time and another relaxing day in Accra should prepare us to go back to Bormase.
More to come. I'm still groggy so I hope this entry does the trip justice.
Love to all!!
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