The Silk Route Motorcaravan Club.

Bulletin 106 (Part 2 of 3).

France To Burkina-Faso - 2003: Mali - Dogon Country

This said, let's get back to our 'sheep', in this case Michel Barbaudy, Daniel Maguin, Roger, Maggy Demontes, Jacques and Lucette Mahaut. We left them in the last chapter at the gates of Dogon Country and heading towards Bankass. Diombolo, first Dogon village, on a track. We can just see the cliffs. Djiguibombo and its refreshingly green onion fields. The group sets off on a track which in my view is one of the main attractions of the trip.

In my day, camel tracks did not lack a certain charm, but then, the technique worked! Imagine a long narrow river of cement (wide enough for a single vehicle, with lots of passing places), almost straight on the plateau, cut up into strips that require careful driving. It literally dives into the folds of the cliffs, sometimes hemmed in by the rocks, sometimes giving a wide view of the Seno plain savannah as far as the eye can see. It never makes you dizzy: there is no precipice but the slope is around 10% and brakes are essential. It seems built to last and does not have any cracks. It could have been built for a visit by Mme Chirac or Mme Giscard d'Estaing, so it isn't all that old. At the foot of the cliff, in the grass, nestles Kani Kombole. Square granaries, beautiful mosque. After paying a tax (500 fcfa per person), our travellers climbed up to the ancient holes in the cliff for the first time.

Seen from a distance, one might think these are troglodyte holes. In fact, though they make use of reinforcement, they have always used banco [earth mixed with organic materials] for support and balance on all the ledges and overhangs. Houses, grain stores, animal sheds, chicken coops - everything is suspended up there and one wonders, how did pigmies manage to climb up there with their animals - even if they were just goats - and the spoils of hunting, and other food supplies?

Picnic outdoors. 4kms and we reach Teli, a rough Dogon village where there are bogolans, rudimentary constructions in dark colours. And high prices... the children demand money and presents.

A sandy track to the village of Yabatalou. Access to the old village requires some effort as the rocks are hard to climb and the temperature does not help matters. To go on to Dourou via Sibi Sibi, you have to go back to Bandiagara. Dourou is a large, beautiful village with dry stone buildings. A lovely party: a Muslim baptism.

The night, fairy-tale as usual, will be spent near Yawa, situated on a cliff top on a rocky promontory. After this village, another descent into a magnificent narrow gorge.

3kms further, the travellers follow a scarcely marked track across the dunes. The descent is impressive but Jacques and his vehicle manage to get down to the village of Nombori with no other problem than a sudden stop at an enormous spiky tuft. To get out of this prickle, a winch was needed, Michel's on this occasion. Things get worse when there's no longer a slope to assist progress. The VW gets stuck in the sauerkraut sand and the numerous villagers that come to help do their very best: they go as far as to heap sand under the wheels of Roger's Toyota. The more problems the travellers have, the more they can charge them! Benjamin, the guide, argues like the devil and manages to pick out ten strong blokes and agree a price he will pay to one of them. What a job! The Transporter is shaken in all directions and finishes up being freed, for the time being...

Having been relieved of their mechanical troubles, Jacques and the others undertake a difficult climb (huge boulders, steep slope) lasting forty minutes, to the home of the Hogon, current spiritual leader of the village, on the highest ledge of the village.

To enter the 'court of spirits', shoes must be left by the door. He is an old man who looks about 110, and was elected by the villagers in 1993. He does not move from his pallet, uses a rope to sit upright when one of the three women privileged to serve him bring food. It is a pitiful sight and we do not dare to take a photo. It is very dark in his den: what might be the effect of flash?

On our way down, we re-join Lucette and Maggy who were left behind in a little village square on the way up. They did not fancy going further, but no one imagined how long the walk would be. A good hour has passed, and we find them very heated, in all senses of the term. The guide had said "Don't move!" because of taboos (in all villages, lanes and areas are out of bounds) and they had obeyed to the letter even though 50m away, there was a place to stop on a shady terrace. For me, this episode was a chance to check if anything had changed: women fear taboos more than their husbands do.

The guide has decided to take his clients for lunch at the spring, a piece of paradise 350m outside the village, and for transport, he obtains a cart drawn by two oxen. The ground is very sandy. We are sitting on the cart with no backrest. The journey seems endless, especially since crossing the dry wadis we have to get off to lighten the load. We even have to push!

Here's the village at last, Ydelli Na . But the spring....? Up... high up! Here there is indeed the little brook that comes from it but it is polluted by laundry and personal washing. So we have to go up, climbing huge blocks of stone, and after the cart journey, it's hard. Still high up, they won't go on to the end. Only Daniel will reach the 'sacred lake' and its fish. Jacques tries but gives up. Everyone meets up to taste the chicken couscous brought from Nombori by two girls. Cost of the trip, 1,500fcfa per person. It's really not expensive: for comparison, mineral water is 1,200.

They still exist, brave people. During the picnic, a group of walkers, mostly very young, arrive from the cliff top. I admit it isn't easy, but is that a reason to reply to the motorists' greeting with a slight movement of the lips? Their trip is not all that spartan, since down below 4x4 vehicles with supplies await them. Several groups of this kind travel the area. They must sleep in camps and we pity them because there is often noise there, djembé concerts and other local attractions. It must be hard to get a decent rest.

The return to Nombori is carried out in the same manner and with the same constraints. The villagers gang up against the guide, wanting him to take us a different way, simply in order to get us stuck in the sand and to pay them a huge sum for pushing. This is one of the negative aspects of tourism: nowhere else will we have to complain about the people. Sandy track to Tireli, another village. Only Michel and Daniel go to visit. The others are getting to saturation level especially as all these villages are alike in spite of slight differences, and access is always a problem. However, one thing does happen. Half way up, M and D notice dancers with masks and stilts. They are jiggling about for German tourists but don't complain at the prospect of extra income. They ask for 40,000 fcfa, then 30,000, and refuse 10,000 offered by our two travellers who content themselves with watching at a distance.

On the way to Banani, the group passes through Armani and stops for a while at Ireli which is characterised by cylindrical towers. At Banani, an important market, very colourful. Meeting place for several ethnic groups. Here children do not beg and the locals seem very indifferent. I've never seen such calabashes!

A track heads up the cliff and ought to allow direct access to Banani but it seems that it is extremely hard and Jacques' vehicle cannot get through. As it is unthinkable to return backwards (down, the dune was a realistic project, but up....!), we must continue to follow the base of the cliff towards Douentza. 90kms on a well-marked track (just a few dry ditches to get over) which meanders through fields that are completely dried out at this time of year, but which allows one to imagine that, in the rainy season, the whole region must be very green and fertile. Fortunately, after the 'spring', there are fewer tourists, otherwise it is likely that all agricultural work would be abandoned. It is probably true to say that the tour operators confine their explorations to the southern part of the cliff.

After Douentza, there's a market worth seeing but no-one will see it because of a terrible harmattan, full of sand. The vehicles find tarmac again to Sevare. On the right, savannah: on the left, the foothills of the cliffs we have left behind, small hills that take on lovely colours in the rays of the rising sun.

At Sevare, the group receive confirmation of bad news. Henri Denis has been evacuated by plane from Bamako, leaving his vehicle in the charge of the German doctor who treated him. No news of his partners, Nello & Co. Benjamin, who is still with us, learns that the return to France went well. The same Benjamin, moreover, is very disappointed when the group say goodbye to him as he had hoped to be with us as far as Burkina Faso, even without payment. It can't be acceptable because even if he is quiet and friendly, his continual presence in Jacques' vehicle becomes wearisome.

And they really will not need a guide for the next part, since they have to re-take the same road to Bandiagara, Boukass before pushing onwards towards Koro. A dirt road, customs at Koro for the vehicles. Border post after 12kms where the passports are quickly stamped and the caravan leaves Mali for 40kms of no-man's land.

To be continued, if you can stand it!

More Echoes Of The West African Savannah.

Hardly a day goes by without us being reminded of a face, a landscape, an event, a problem (perhaps the best of memories) - the past is always a pleasure, isn't it? - and our trips seem to go on and on.

For us, the Auffray-Di Giustos, all went very well. Too well almost. No serious health problem, no mechanical breakdown, only once or twice stuck in the sand but sorted in a few minutes bringing spice to an otherwise routine journey.

Just one event came to tarnish this African trip. It was having temporarily lost Henri and Malou. The Pastis-stops were not the same without their warm presence. I must say that, noting our absence from Sevare, the account of the facts when Henri was having his attack when resting in the hotel is somewhat ambiguous. It is obvious that we wouldn't have gone sightseeing if we had known he was seriously ill. Furthermore, even the doc hadn't expected such a development as we learned next day We have met up again since and hope to do so gain since the expedition progressed in an excellent atmosphere.

As for the heart-stopping moments... in Mali, the Gouina falls (there's a real paradise campsite beneath the falls), and in Mauritania, the Amoghar Pass (the old access road to Chinghetti), a dreadful disappointment. For those who love drama, the Atar-Chinghetti track: leave it by a left turn 11kms away (hard to find the sign) - going out over the plateau is a bit tricky. In the other direction, taking the turn on the same level as the Monod rock paintings is less difficult and just as impressive. Not to be missed: even worth seeing twice bearing in mind that, after the next rains, it will be impossible to visit as the track is no longer maintained. Camping on the plateau with Fort Boyard in the background is truly magical. In Senegal, the Bassari land (Bandafassi). Go and stay at Leontine's Bedik campsite - it will break your heart.

Bilan: when do we go back again? That tells you all you need to know! However, all of us to a greater or lesser degree, suffered from the heat and it was that which caused us to shorten our trip (we gave up at Burkina Faso). For such a journey, the best time to set off is November.

Best of luck to future adventurers.

Nello Di Giusto

Part 3 of 3.