Trip Diary

However, there were no back-handed charges, lots of smiles, handshakes and helpful advice about the road ahead. Some of the officials we found asleep in the shade. The chief of police in Keneiba, Mali, interrupted our passport stamping 'session' with him to try on his new outfit for Military Day on 20th January. It was hot and slow but we had no particular deadlines as we had planned to sleep in Kenieba, so we were happy to go with the African timing, which really is the key to getting through these crossings without getting het-up. And if the way we have been treated is indicative of Mali, then I think we're going to love it.

The only problem we faced was the 'campement' in Kenieba looked and felt decidedly seedy so we were left with no option than to drive out of town to try and bush camp.

A few kilometres on we passed a gendarme stop (i.e. straw hut with recliners) with three friendly gendarmes who looked like they were there to stay overnight. We asked if we could camp there and they said no problem. This was fantastic. We were in a beautiful, free spot with three impromptu Malian bodyguards. They made a fire and we joined them for tea, chatting about life and Mali. It was a wonderful experience and we felt very blessed by the warmth and openness of these real Malians with whom we had managed to share a moment in time.

Needless to say, the going was tough. The French call it a 'piste' but we have started to get irritated by this expression as it means anything that is not tarmac. Now, what we have discovered is that a 'piste' can range from 'very good gravel or dirt road with an average speed of 60kmph' to 'horrendous rocky, mountainous, sandy, nothing-that-at-all-resembles-a-road and should have a 4x4 warning attached to it'. We found ourselves on the latter. Let's just say that it was one of those experiences that you begin to enjoy when it's over and a story that you re-tell as it gives you good 'piste-cred' in the overlanding world. Most of the time, if you can excuse the dreadful pun, we were feeling pretty, 'piste-off'.

The up-sides were that we realised what the Mpudi is truly capable of and we saw some beautiful rural Malian villages and landscapes.

Things continued to be a bit stressful as the light was fading fast and we really wanted to get to Manantali where we were hoping to stay. We had heard via the travellers grapevine that the hydroelectric power plant in the small town of Manantali is owned by Eskom and run by South Africans. Like a mirage in the distance we both spent the day dreaming of falling upon South African hospitality, boerewors and ice-cold Windhoeks at the end of this dusty track.

Sadly, this did not materialise, but, unbelievably (or not if you believe that God is looking after us, which He most certainly is), as we turned up, in partial light, there was yet another retired French couple setting up camp in a gravel car park! Amazing - especially as the accommodation we had heard about in Manantali turned out to be a travellers tale. The spot they had chosen was also within sight of some more Malian gendarmes - our new best friends - so we went to say hello and they assured us that they would be there all night.

So we headed to bed, weary, hot, and very, very dirty, covered in the red sand of Mali but very grateful that we, and the car, were in one piece and that once again we had some friendly French neighbours for company.

We made it to Bamako on an excellent toll road that could have been surfaced in gold for the sheer delight that it brought us. We shared it predominantly with donkeys, cows and bicycles as there really don't seem to many cars in Mali, between cities at least. At one point we were amused to see an apparently empty donkey cart going along the road and then realised that the owner was asleep on the cart whilst the donkey made his way home! Who needs self-drive technology? Get a donkey.

Driving into Bamako was challenging. To drive in African cities, one needs to have at least six eyes to look out, simultaneously, for pedestrians, motorbikes, traffic lights, gendarmes, donkeys, chickens, cows, dogs and potholes. We made it though, to this wonderful place ' The Sleeping Camel'. It's a brand new auberge run by three Brits and one Australian - hoorah!. We decided to take a room - our first since Spain - in an attempt to get clean. It's the best money we've spent and such a treat to have a real bed and an en-suite bathroom. Our skin is gradually returning to its normal colour.

(Note to travellers - this place is an absolute gem and well worth a visit - www.thesleepingcamel.com. It is friendly, laid-back, comfortable, clean and cheap. The food in the restaurant is excellent and brilliant value. There is free wifi, a cheap laundry service and it is in an excellent location. The owners will go the extra mile to help you out with local and embassy information. Staying here enabled us to really enjoy Bamako and we stayed much longer than originally planned.)

We ended up being in Bamako for six nights, partly because of complications getting our Ghanaian visa and partly because we found it hard to drag ourselves away. We fell in love with the friendly, crazy hustle and bustle of the city and enjoyed the relaxed feel of The Sleeping Camel. Bamako straddles both banks of the Niger River with two bridges to connect the city. The river is impressive and beautiful and the sole reason that this area of Mali is as developed as it is.

We also had the opportunity to meet up with some people working for YWAM (a Christian mission organisation) and therefore get to do things which we hadn't done for a very long time - be invited into people's homes and go to church. These experiences made such a change from the perpetual world of overlanding when you feel that you are constantly an onlooker and rarely get the chance to spend time with people who are immersed in the community. We enjoyed a meal out with Jean-Patrick and his family and a meal in the home of an American couple - John and Julie - who had came from California to Mali ten years ago to work as missionaries. They inspired and challenged us greatly with their stories of how their whole perspective on life has changed and how much they love being in Bamako.

On the Saturday, when we got up, Matt, the Australian owner of the Sleeping Camel, asked us if we wanted to tag along in their bus on their outing to Siby - a town about 45km from Bamako. They were thinking about setting up some day trips for travellers so we benefited from getting a free ride on their reccy.

Along with all the owners and four other back-packers we drove through the vibrant street market in Siby and walked up to some stunning rock formations with expansive views across the bush.

At the top we found five local boys who were keen to show us around. They said they were all brothers, but not in the same family. We didn't quite work this one out!

The elder of the boys said he knew the way to the water falls which we had also hoped to find, so we agreed to take him in the bus to show us the way. They all merrily entered the bus as if it was a school outing and proceeded to join us for the day which they absolutely loved. It was about 17km to the falls where we all had a dip and a sunbathe in the refreshing natural pool. I don't know if the boys had ever been there but they loved the water, took the opportunity to wash and did some fishing. I had to keep silencing the teacher voices in my head - 'have you done a risk assessment for this trip?' and 'are the parents of these kids worrying about where they are?'. This is Africa. No risk assessments here. Just the ability to be spontaneous, use your common sense and have a great time. Europe should take a leaf out of this book every now and again.

We have certainly been missing church and our trip on Sunday to a local congregation was fantastic. The service was in French and Bambara so I attempted to translate into English for Neil. There was a very friendly atmosphere, we were made to feel completely welcome, and we were pleasantly surprised by the prompt running of the service - 8.30 to 10.00am. After some reports we thought we may have been there all day!

The rest of our time in Bamako was filled with three trips to the Ghanaian embassy, walks around town, a visit to the National Museum and a trip to the local music festival, which was happening on the banks of the Niger River.

We arrived at our hotel car park in time to grab a taxi back to the banks of the Niger River to watch the sunset. It's such a magnificent river and the source of all life, food and community development for hundreds of kilometres. The sun peeped through the dust-filled sky to shine on the water and we watched fisherman in their pirogues, laying their nets for the following day.

We also enjoyed meeting yet another friendly retired French couple who kindly shared their red wine and Breton caramels with us - what a treat!

We had been put in touch with Sylvana and Samuel through Jean-Patrick in Bamako. It was fantastic to be in a home this evening and such a welcoming one at that. Sylvana, from South Africa, and Samuel, from Mali, and their two children Gideon, 9 and Anne-Marie, 7 were all wonderful hosts.

Sylvana and Neil were both equally excited to have some fellow South African company and we were treated to full African hospitality with piles of the best food in a long time (frikkadels, nogal!). With two English-French speakers, one English speaker and one French speaker, our conversation was a wonderful amalgamation of language and interspersed with translation.

We slept in their garden with their three dogs at the foot of our ladder.

This is understandable given that Malians work them so hard. We have seen quite a few being beaten with sticks in order to make them comply. This apparently is a big problem here in Mali and there are even adverts on TV saying 'do not hit your donkey... too hard'.

Sylvana took us to the YWAM base in Koutiala and we enjoyed being shown around the primary school, which currently has 350 pupils and a much greater demand for places. I certainly experienced a tug at my heart strings! However my mind still boggles when I see a classroom of 50-60 pupils in rows, using chalk boards as their only resources.

We watched the mothers sitting under the trees in the play ground area, preparing simple snacks, which the children buy during their break. Incidentally, the play area was infinitely better than the one we had in London, with its large sandy area and lots of shade provided by huge mango trees. That beats the concrete jungle any day.

We wandered into town to experience market day and quickly got hot and bothered so decided to spend the rest of the afternoon back at Samuel and Sylvana's. We are adapting to local customs and draped ourselves under the trees in their garden.

Samuel made us Malian tea and taught us how we should slurp it very very loudly to show our appreciation (darn it, just when I thought I had weaned Neil off that habit). We sat and chatted the afternoon away and enjoyed having time just to enjoy people. The evening was ended with a wonderful braai prepared by Samuel and Sylvana.

We also revelled in the blissful realisation that when someone asks us 'where do you live?' we can always answer 'here' and when they ask us' what do you do?', we can always answer 'this'.