Mark & Isai at Terya Bugu

22 -25 january, le cactus bamako

A sort of lethargy has settled over us. Our pace has slowed down from slow to actually not much at all really. It’s not to say that we are not busy. Time goes past quickly enough doing the daily chores of preparing meals, eating, washing up, clothes washing, finding food and water, carrying out little vehicle repairs and general “house keeping”. General camping life, I guess. The lethargy bit comes from the remaining time in the day between the morning and night-time mosquito sorties. Whereas, we would normally go and do something; you know the sort of thing, visit something, meet someone, explore somewhere... at Le Cactus we’ve taken to using any spare moments to relax, read a book, do a sudoku, chat to a fellow camper. Yes, I know this is part holiday and it sounds like we’re just doing holiday things, but it makes for a very dull diary if we don’t actually do something from time to time.

Between bouts of lethargy, we drag ourselves off into Bamako a couple of times. Once, during the day to wander around the markets (buying a very exciting 5 tonne hydraulic bottle jack) and also to have a look around the Mali National Museum. The markets are heaving, arranged into distinct zones (shoes, cloth, electrical, food, etc.) and remarkably hassle free. The MNM is well worth a visit, although I do admit it’s a bit far to come for the weekend from London! Renovated in 2003, it’s a beauty. Full of things to see, all of which have good, clear and informative descriptions. There’s a section consecrated to ritual masks and statues from local tribes (Dogon, Bambara, Senoufo, Peuls, etc.), mostly dedicated from the passing from childhood to adulthood. Another section is full of Malian textiles, with more than 200 different pieces from the 11th century to to-day. A diversity and richness of colours and styles that just wouldn’t suit me at all unfortunately, however the Tuareg blue might be just right... shame about the camel accessory though. Another area shows off archaeological finds. Some wonderful pieces, especially 13th century snake man. The shame is that most of the pieces on display are recovered at border posts, rather than dug up by the Malians. The Niger delta is rich in archaeological history and international demand strong for good pieces. Most digs are illegal and aimed at finding pieces to sell to foreign museums. As a result, when pieces are seized at the border, the authorities don’t know from where they were extracted or in which context they were found. A rich history, plenty of evidence, plenty of gaps.

26 january, bamako

Desperate for a decent shower, we head into Bamako. It’s certainly relaxing at Le Cactus, but when the campsite gets busy the buckets of water for the toilets and the showers soon run out. The shower becomes a dribble. Not the best way to get clean...

We drive through Bamako and head east, looking for a nice spot by the Niger to watch the world go by. We find the Niger and the world finds us. I spend a good half hour playing frisbee with village kids while MJ does unintentional tours of the Landy for the crowd gathered around the front doors. It only takes 30 minutes for a number of the kids to be better than me at throwing the frisbee in a straight line! Damn thing!

We’d been given the number of the sister of a friend we’d met in St. Louis - Malick- who lives in Bamako. We give her a ring to say hello and arrange to meet. As she works for a charity and there’s another conference in town this weekend at which she is exhibiting (looking for sponsors), we end up driving back into Bamako to catch up with her to-day.

Seynabou works for a number of charities focusing on children (AIDS, child trafficking, education). It would have been great to have been able to spend some time with her. Unfortunately, it transpires that there’s been a death in the family and to-day is the end of a period of mourning. We meet the family briefly under these sad circumstances, hoping to be able to catch up with them again later.

27 january. bamako to fana (bush camp)

Driving east towards Segou, we bush camp a few hundred metres from the road. Not a soul comes to say hello or disturb us (apart from a few inquisitive cows). We sleep very well.

28 january. segou

It’s a week before the festival and we hope to be able to find some accommodation in Segou before the crowds arrive. Too late, everything is booked. There’s camping behind a hotel on the outskirts of town. It’s expensive and grotty. We think not. Never mind, we’re sure that something will turn up at some stage.

We continue to head east, towards an experimental farm set up in the 1960’s by a White Father monk, le pere Vespieren. Over the years, it has expanded and now includes a hotel, bar and restaurant and can accommodate campers. Teriya Bugu (Bambara for “the house of friendship”) is beside the river Bani. The farm was established with the idea of showing that Mali is capable of growing many diverse crops; of providing sustainable work for the local village and later, of providing what is essentially eco-tourism. Teriya Bugu is a wonderful place, well worthy of it’s name - Le Paradis. It’s quiet, beautiful on the banks of the river - a broad band of blue river between flat brown bank and tall green trees - , cool under a rich canopy of 44 different types of trees (including a stated 400,000 Eucalyptus). It has a lovely swimming pool, electricity from a large bank of solar panels and biogaz and hot showers. Perfect for dirty overlanders like us. It provides work for 54 people directly and supports their families - over 400 people in all. The farm grows a wide variety of vegetables and fruit, thanks largely to an extensive network of pipes that provide water across the site and offers day long spraying. As a result, there’s a wonderful banana plantation. A rabbit farm and chickens also provide meat and eggs for the restaurant. In fact, the farm and village are pretty much self sufficient in food. Unfortunately, the whole enterprise is still losing money over 40 years after it’s inception. Since the pere Vespieren died 2 years ago, Teriya Bugu has depended on the trust fund he set up in France before his death to keep going. The trust fund also provides for 4 French (paid) volunteers to come and work at the farm for periods of 2 years, providing management experience. It’s a lovely haven, at the end of 37 km of dirt track, in the middle of nowhere. Its’ future is uncertain. If you’re travelling from Segou towards Djenne and Mopti, do stop in for a day or so. Visit the farm. Enjoy the pool.

Overlander info:

Teriya Bugu is signposted from the tarmac road between Segou and Mopti. The turning is at GPS : N 13°08.713 W005°51.081 and the farm itself at GPS : N 13°12.675 W005°31.752.. Camping is 3,500 per vehicle per night and an empty villa is made available for use of toilet and hot shower.

29-30 january. teriya bugu

Not much to report, folks. The air filter is very filthy and gets a good, long clean. MJ reweaves the mat we bought in Morocco. I change the headlight bulbs back to standard ones as our superdooper ones keep burning out relays. We enjoy the pool. We talk to the little bunny rabbits and the monkeys. We eat foie gras with generous Frenchies. Mark catches a cold.

31 january. return to segou

We’re sitting in L’Auberge hotel having a mid morning coffee when we recognise Alain and his friends in the street outside. We’d met them at Teriya the previous day briefly. Like a large number of the French we’ve met in Mali so far, they’re retired and drive down to this part of the world every year dispensing presents and helping villages or groups year after year. For the last 9 years they had been delivering help to a school in Fatick in Senegal. The introduction of the carnet de passage in Senegal last year meant that they could no longer go into the country without paying (too much) to take their cars in. (The carnet prevents cars older than 5 years old being taken into a country without insurance (the carnet) that the owner won’t sell the car whilst in the country. As a result, the number of tourists driving into Senegal has fallen markedly. It may be a coincidence that the son of the president owns a large car concessionary.)

We invite Alain, Serge, Christiane and Annie to join us for coffee. They’re starting their journey back towards France tomorrow and have bought armfuls of wooden boxes, nicknacks and presents to take back with them. Touareg street hawkers flock round them, sensing more sales. The 6 of us drink our nescafes surrounded by a horde of box-proffering Tuareg. We talk about the projects they’ve undertaken on this trip - computers in one village, sewing machines in another, clothes elsewhere, a table for women to give birth on (after a women died in childbirth on the ground in a village while they were there), and here in Segou it’s handing out a bin liner of teddy bears to a crèche and football strips donated by Guingamp to a local football club. They are a genuine, generous, friendly bunch of people. For the 9 months of the year they are not in Africa, they are collecting, fund-raising, selling, organising, presenting to schools in France to build up further supplies via their charity for the following year’s trip. They look to develop projects in villages that they can follow over a number of years. As they themselves recognise, their projects often end in dependency rather than self sustainability as hoped for, but they hopeful of making a difference. (Meeting people like these and the Africans we meet provoke many hours of discussion between ourselves as to the role of aid/charity here.)

Alain knows of somewhere we might be able to stay. Near where they are staying is a restaurant, the Balely Agne, where there is a courtyard. The waiter has offered them to camp there previously. We follow them in the Land Rover as they walk along the streets away from the town centre looking for a taxi. Street vendors trail in our wake. Tuareg boxes. Lowest price. How much you pay?

The restaurant is in a large compound off a main street behind a government office. The square restaurant building with a thatched roof is in the centre. It has lighting and an old, grey fridge in one corner. A goat pen, rubbish tip and the worst toilets we’ve experienced so far stand on one side. A car wreck, a pile of big rocks and a covered area used for prayer is on another. A third side has a row of rooms for rent and the kitchen area, where cooking always seems to be on the go. A conference room (always empty) and the entrance complete the square. We camp in the grounds of the Government office that surround the restaurant compound under the trees on one side. Next to an abandoned yellow taxi, a horse and amongst the chickens and piles of rubbish. A small house and courtyard nestles against the outer wall of the main compound. Two old women look and 11 children from two to eighteen years old live in the small house not much bigger than my parents garage. The kids adopt us from morning to night.

In all, there must be about 40 people living in the compound. All depending on the restaurant that charges from 50p to £1.25 for a meal. Scrawny “bicycle” chicken for £1.25. 60p for Spaghetti. 50p for To, a stable Malian dish. Ground maize, flower and water are mixed together to make a thick, dense, pretty firm pancake. Grabbed in chunks with your hands, the To is dipped in a mixture of two fish based sauces that are stirred together. One is a red, spicy fish sauce. The other is a green, gunky, slimy fish sauce. It’s eaten morning, noon and night. We give it a go one evening. Not bad, but we wouldn’t rush to order it again. The other restaurant dinners make fun of the fact we can’t manage to eat the whole bowl of To. MJ manages about half, while I can only get through a third. It’s the most filling thing I think I’ve ever eaten.

We camp here amongst the rubbish and the kids for all our stay in Segou. Marie-Jo becomes more and more like a mother, nurse, peace keeper, teacher to the kids as the days go by. We’re given Malian names. Marie-Jo is Massan (after the wife of owner’s son). I am Bara, short for Ibrahim.

Traveller’s Tree at
Teriya Bugu

Serge

Neighbours

Sidi

Kevin & Jean