We are squished four to a normal car bench seat plus
a baby, my new friend Amadou is making comments about how ridiculously packed
another slightly fuller vehicle is, “there all stuffed in there” while
currently he is sitting on part of my leg and the only way we four can fit on
the one bench is if we stagger leaning forward and sitting back. He also makes
comments on how dangerous it is for people to ride on tops of cars and large
trucks, none of us are wearing seat belts, and there are 11 adults in this 8
passenger vehicle, including two teenage boys sitting on each other in the
front seat. There are also three children but kids do not go into the people
count in vehicle rides and I have adapted. It’s all relative.
This trip started out yesterday morning, I was up anxiously
at 6 am packing and praying that my escort (a national pastor that works with
our company) would be on time in picking me up at 7. I knew deep in my heart
that this anxiousness was in vain, that my friend would most definitely be at
least 30 minutes late, this is Africa. But I have taken this nightmare road
between Conakry and Kankan before and I know that if we make good time, it
should only take 14 hours. I really want to get a few hours of sleep before I
take another taxi 6 hours to Bamako the following day.
My escort arrives right when I expect him and we
fight the Conakry traffic to the Madina Market where the taxis line up that are
heading out of town. We find a taxi for Kankan almost immediately, and I follow
some sound advice of fellow ex-pats and purchase two places in the taxi (those
two “places” being the front seat). I make sure my backpack is tied securely to
the top of the taxi and settle into wait for the Taxi to fill up. It’s already
about 8:30 but no sweat I am sure there are lots of people who need to go to
Kankan today and surely these people do not want to be riding that cursed road
at night. At 11:30 we pull out from Madina Market only to stop a few blocks
down for gas (and so our driver can talk to his friends). Okay, well at least we are the road now, even
if this guy is slow I can still check into the guest house for a few hours and
shower before I head to Bamako tomorrow.
Flash forward, we have been on the road (off it more
than on if you ask this American) for the past 14 hours we should already be in
Kankan yet are still barely over the half way mark. We have stopped for 2
meals, stopped at a Mosque for prayer, stopped to change a flat, stopped twice
for engine trouble, stopped to gawk at an over turned vehicle, we have been stopped
and hassled at every police stop between Conakry and Kankan (apparently the
driver does not have all his papers in order), and we have stopped in between
those stops every 30 to 45 minutes so that the driver and 7 men in the back
seats can pee (what is with their bladders? I never see them drink anything!). It’s
is 2am, we met up with another taxi a few hours ago and have been caravanning since
it started getting dark. Thankfully the lead taxi is a little more aggressive in
his driving and we are finally beginning to make some time. Suddenly our taxi
pulls over; our driver gets out and sprawls out comfortably on the hood of his vehicle.
He then naps for the next three hours. Only one person shows any irritation at this
abrupt decision by our driver. He walks casually over to the sleeping driver
and nudges him, (rough translation this is all in French) “Hey friend, I uh thought
we were going to Kankan?” Driver grunts and rolls over. Not satisfied the man
begins to nudge him again only to be shouted down by other 7 passengers in the
car, “Hey man! Leave the chauffer alone! Can’t you see he is trying to sleep?”
I hug my computer bag and fall asleep.
None of the 8
other passenger show any sign of distress. No one else in the vehicle seems the
least surprised or irritated that we have just been on a gruesome fourteen hour
ride across cheese grater trails and portions of the moon and that this trip is
slowly, oh sooo slowly, turning into 24 hours of misery. On the contrary, after
the drivers three hour nap, when the car stops again after having only started
45 minutes previously, everyone leaps from the vehicle as though they thought
the driver would never give them a break. Patience is a virtue. It skipped me
but not Africa. Africans are extremely patient.
We arrive in Kankan exactly 24 hours after we pulled
out from the Madina Market. It’s almost noon I am exhausted but beginning to
mentally practice in French how I am going to find a taxi to Bamako. I have
already called the World Venture Guest house I had reservations at and told
them my story and that I would not be staying there unless I failed to catch a
taxi too Bamako today. As we are dropping passengers at different locations in
Kankan, I meet someone who speaks English and he tells the Taxi driver for me
that I need to go to the Taxi stand and find a Taxi to Bamako. I am the last
one in the taxi and I am nervous about finding a taxi to Bamako, my French is
weak, very weak. The woman who with her husband runs the World Venture Guest
House calls me to find out where I am and how I am doing. “So you are going to
catch a taxi today… Do you speak French?” “um well, yeah kind of, no, I don’t.”
As soon as I step out of my first Taxi, her husband is there to help find
another taxi to Bamako. I am in luck (*cough* God), there is one taxi going to
Bamako right at this moment and it has one seat left. Also as I wait for my
backpack to get secured to the top of the taxi I meet a man named Amadou who
speaks English. He had been in the taxi ahead of me on our journey from Conakry
and he is also going to Bamako. This is more than just luck, Amadou is loud,
outgoing and has apparently learned most of his English from sitcoms but he takes care of me as we cross the
Guinea/Mali border (even when I thought I lost the taxi with my computer in
it!) and is conveniently from the same neighborhood that I need to find in
Bamako.
After the border and only one stop (a quick tire
change), we finally arrive in Bamako. Amadou arranges a second taxi for me and
all the other women in our taxi and makes sure everyone gets where they need to
go safely. We meet Rita at a gas station in sight of the Tour d’ afrique and I
exchange numbers with my new friend. Deep breath. Mali. It only took 36 hours. My
head wrap feels a little crusty and comes off in a solid helmet shape but I am
here!
Okay Lord, what am I here for?
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