The Capital Goal

Another good night's sleep in a bed for a change, excited to be setting off with the hope that I'd reach my goal of arriving in Yamoussoukro, Cote d'Ivoire's capital city to spend that evening, New Years Eve, with my friends.  I was concerned that the road would be problematic all the way south as I'd heard that it hadn't been upgraded since my last time on this stretch in 2009.  I had 387km to complete today, venturing out of Ouangolodougou the south side of town was a mess with trucks all over.  I soon discovered why, the road to Ferkessedougou was being re-done and had just been completely resurfaced.  Lovely smooth road for 45km to Ferke where I stopped to withdraw some cash and have some breakfast whilst receiving a call from a Moroccan friend Hamza who works in Abengourou and wanted an update on my progress!

Things never change, I'm always too optimistic whilst travelling around Africa in regards to the time it takes to get from one place to the next or the state of the road.  Of course, I left Ferke at 930am with the dream that this smooth road would continue southbound, of course it didn't!  It was a crazy, tiring, zigzag drive all the way to Katiola, 186km of pothole slalom with police and gendarmes stopping me every 15km or so, asking for a chicken to eat, my hand in marriage or just plain paperwork!

Bus from Niamey, Niger - a long tiring drive!

Poor old sheep, sun, exhaust fumes and staying upright with the bumps

Finally I pulled into the southern edge of Katiola, it was about 1pm and I decided I deserved some lunch.  I found a small shaded maquis and parked Franki under a tree.  A young guy was serving a few bits and pieces on the side of the road, ordering some spaghetti with liver I sat in the shade under a mango tree with a drink.

Setting off again, I reached Bouake with a few less potholes, this is where the north/south divide used to be prior to the 2010/2011 crisis.  Initially I came to Bouake in 2008 when the Forces Nouvelles (now the united FRCI) were in charge, getting through 'la corridor' to enter the north on the southern edge of Bouake was always interesting as being white they usually assumed I was French.  Luckily, having an Irish passport made things somewhat easier!  Bouake had grown since my last visit, I was surprised by the change in town and development that had gone on, I drove through fairly quickly, almost able to smell my Yamoussoukro goal now!

Bouake

The road from Bouake was in a similar condition to the Katiola - Bouake road, in relatively good condition until finding a sizeable pothole that could cause serious damage.  I certainly decided I preferred the roads that really slowed you down with gaping potholes.  Driving along this one was hair-raising as it gave drivers confidence to speed along, and then dodge the potholes.  It wasn't much fun at all.  I pulled up in Tiebissou, a small town I've stopped in before, it's the centre of Baoule cloth weaving where there are many stands with cloth for sale.  The cotton is hand loomed on extremely long looms found throughout the village and surrounding area.  It comes in strips, like Kente cloth in Ghana but then sewn together to make one large piece about a metre wide and 1m70 long.  After a bit of negotiation I bought some more and set off south again.

Ridiculous place to take a photo whilst driving!  Should be ashamed of myself!!!

41 kilometres later I finally entered Yamoussoukro, so happy to be back, I was in very slow moving traffic due to the police stopping vehicles ahead of me.  I got my phone out and took a photo of the 'Orange' telecom sign welcoming me to Yakro!  A bit of a stupid move, doing this in full view of the police who of course watched me take it.  I was STOPPED!  

Police:  "Madame, where have you come from?"

Me:  giggling "ummmm" more giggling ... "today or originally"

Police:  Scratching his head trying to work out what drugs this 'blanche' had been taking

Me: "From The Netherlands"

Police: "Alone?  You can't take photos whilst driving in Cote d'Ivoire"

Me:  Still giggling, "sorry but I'm so happy to be here in time for New Years Eve with friends"

Police:  "I should fine you, just go, but Happy New Year Madame"

My welcome into Yakro, I was so elated!!!

I pulled up a few hundred metres later and called PC to ask where he lived.  I was told to wait exactly where I was and he came to find me in his car.  He was in front of Franki less than 2minutes later, massive smiles, screams of joy to see him again, I followed him back to the house.  I caught up with his three children, the smallest of which I hadn't met before, she's a real little character.  His son who was born just after the 2010/2011 crisis, I welcomed in the early hours of the morning when we were part of a group on Twitter and then his older daughter.  Both his son and older daughter I'd met before, but his son was about 3 years old last time and petrified of me, he hadn't met a 'blanche' before and we had all had a good giggle in their old apartment in Abidjan in 2013!

New Ivorian beer, made from rice, brewed by Heineken

PC - to who I owe a lot over the years, a true friend!

After a decent shower, some clean clothes and my sandals a little cleaner, PC took me out to a maquis nearby.  He bought me an Ivoire, a new beer on the market that seems to be doing remarkably well.  We sat and talked for ages whilst Irene, his wife, was on her way back from shopping.  I was so happy to be back with them all.  Returning to the house, they got ready to go to church, I was left in charge of the house, with the keys.  I curled up on their sofa watching TV, the air conditioning on feeling thoroughly spoilt and promising to be awake when they got back ... I fell asleep.  They returned from church and spent quite some time trying to wake me up, finally PC managed to wake me with a phone call, I was a very embarassed house guest!!!

By 1am we were out again, at PC's maquis Restaurant Alie-Fe near the centre of town with his business partner and other friends.  A long night with too many bottles on the table by 4am, I had a very sound sleep for the rest of the night!

Final border

Franki at The Sleeping Camel

A restful night at The Sleeping Camel I got up to have a warm shower and coffee.  Phil was already working and hoping to finally introduce me to his wife and new son. Sitting, sipping endless cups of coffee with him and Jeff, a UN aviation consultant, we chatted for what seemed like hours.  I was getting more than aware that time was marching on and I should be hitting the road south.

The aim was to get into Cote d'Ivoire today, it was Friday 30th December 2016 and I could see my goal of spending New Years Eve in Yamoussoukro with friends being accomplished!  I had to unfortunately bid goodbye though, but not before Phil refused to let me pay my bill, too kind of him!  I had missed meeting Bintou and Andre who I hope I'll meet in the near future.  I drove back out onto the main road to find someone to check the tyre pressure.

Getting out of Bamako was straightforward, I knew the road well as far south as Ouelessebougou and once out of the chaos of Bamako and nearby dormitory towns, the road was smooth sailing. In  Ouelessebougou it was obviously market day, driving through teems of people along the road selling their wares.  After Bougouni the road was quieter until eventually I pulled into Sikasso without stopping, covering 368km by around 1.30pm, I was happy with our progress. I had ideally wanted to go to the bus station and talk to people there about children being trafficked southbound, but as Sikasso had witnessed a fairly recent AQIM attack, I needed to find a bed tonight during daylight hours so dropped the idea.  Found a lovely service station in Sikasso, bought a few bits to eat, had a coffee and refuelled Franki.  

The road from Sikasso to the border was in relatively good shape but the relentless re-surfacing caused a few problems and it had to be treated with a little more respect than the one from Bougouni.  I sent a text to my friend PC in Yamoussoukro to ask him for some Ivorian phone credit on one of my Ivorian numbers just to be ready.  Reaching the border at about 4pm, it was a painless and straightforward process to exit Mali apart from dodging around trucks to find the correct offices.  I was out of Mali, I was finally heading into Cote d'Ivoire, I surprised myself by finding tears running down my face.  I was back in the most beautiful country after 4 months away, a country I seem to have adopted over the years!!!

The Ivorian border started with the police.  I had a grumpy officer who sent me back to Franki to get her documents too; desperate to find something out of place he finally grunted and stamped my passport! The rope barrier was raised as the passenger door was suddenly opened, another officer jumped into the passenger seat, I asked him what he was doing and was told that he was coming to Abengourou with me!  I managed to extract myself from that situation and drove onto customs at Pogo which was a kilometre or so ahead, which is where the trouble started.  

Heading into the customs office they told me I could have a 'vignette touristique' as I didn't have a carnet but this would cost 32,000CFA or 50€.  I laughed at him and told him that I knew they were free, he wasn't laughing, I knew I had a battle on my hands.  I flatly refused to pay, told him it was just a corrupt way of getting cash out of 'la blanche' and a real shame for tourism for Cote d'Ivoire.  He still wasn't budging, so I offered to call a senior police officer and friend ... he thought I was bluffing, I wasn't!  Slightly bemused he took the phone from me and my friend told him that he wanted to speak to his chief, he disappeared into the chief's office for a few minutes, returned and handed me the phone.  I thanked my friend profusely and watched my vignette touristique being typed up!  Grinning from ear to ear, I jumped back into Franki and headed as quickly as possible at about 5.45pm towards Ouangolodougou, known as just Ouangolo (/wangolo/)

The road for the first 86km in Cote d'Ivoire was horrendous.  Pot-holed and difficult; I wasn't happy about being near the border in the dark and know that this road is often ambushed by 'coupeurs de route' at night.  I pressed on as fast as was safe to do so before finally reaching Ouangolo about 2hours after leaving Pogo.  Getting into town 557km after leaving Bamako, there wasn't anywhere obvious to sleep, I found a young couple getting on a jakarta and stopped to ask for ideas of where to stay.  Stephane told me to follow him, he took me to what seemed to be a nice hotel but I wouldn't be able to park Franki inside and the rooms were out of my budget, I asked him if he knew of another.  He told me he would drop his girlfriend who ran a fish stall at a maquis then take me across town.  We finally ended up at a great little place with rooms at 4,000CFA, I then asked him about a nearby maquis to go and eat at; there wasn't anything but he offered to go and get me some fish from his girlfriend.  Very happily esconced near the hotel with a drink, he came back with the fish which is when I got the news that my friend's father had died, someone I held in very high esteem.  Tears poured down my face, poor Stephane really didn't understand what had gone wrong ... I managed to explain, apologise and pull myself together, we finished the fish together, he headed home to his gendarme father and I had a sound night's sleep!

Ouangolodougou - Arrived from Bamako, destination: Yamoussoukro 

On the move

Waking up having heard shooting from the maquis I was in the night before, I decided that it wasnt worth hanging around.  At 8.45 I got a  call from a friend further east who asked what I was up to; I said I was heading that way later on in the day.  My friend and I went to a maquis at 11.40am, as the previous night it was all too calm in town, walking 500m we passed very few people in the street, heard no music but continued on.  By 12pm her husband called asking where we had gone, unhappy we’d not stayed in the house.  It wasn’t till later we found out 2 had been killed in town, her husband was annoyed we’d left and gone out but we didn’t realise the situation, naive maybe!

I rang another friend, a muslim, from the maquis to tell him I was back, he wanted to come over but was surrounded by military in his compound.  A little later he turned up telling us people had thrown stones at the mosque.  We discussed a few things and I decided my idea from earlier on was the best decision to make.  I asked my friend if she wanted to come with me, white and female, we were both in the same boat.  I also offered to take her step-daughter to relative safety but we were concerned if we’d be able to get through the military blockades with a child without papers.

I left, my friend following me.  Her husband wasn’t happy as we left demanding to know how we’d get transport.  We were on the side of the international road leading out of Cote d’Ivoire flagging any traffic that passed that was rare, probably 3 vehicles per minute probably 10% of the normal traffic.  After a few minutes my friend said she had to return to get a swimsuit ... 10 minutes later their maid arrived asking to return with her bag, they’d been arguments at home, she was staying.  Her husband accused her of abandoning the family & that I was a part of this abandonment.  I was also made aware that I was alone and I couldn’t return to the house.  I’d been put out on the street, I’m afraid it’s something I’ll never forgive in this situation as he knew the situation he was putting me & his wife in.

For over an hour I was flagging down vehicles with a young boy from the house who shortly went inside when he saw the military coming past towing large guns behind their wagons.  No one would stop, maybe they thought I was heading for the border, maybe they thought it was too much of a risk to take a white woman.  I really don’t know.  However I ended up calling a friend who has a taxi to come and get me as an hour and a half in the blazing sun was too much to take.  My friend had returned to my spot prior to the taxi arriving as her husband had stormed out, we discussed things and promised to keep in touch despite her problems at home.

Finally I was inside a car, we crossed the bridge without the problems of the previous day and after a kilometre or so found a taxi going further east.  I swapped taxis and continued my journey for an hour or so calling a friend in the town I was heading for who promised to meet me at my destination of Aboisso.  I got there and went straight to the maquis and got a big welcome from old acquaintances amazed I was back and told to sit & join them for a drink.  It felt good to be with more friends who were stunned by what had just happened to me, unhappy at an Ivoirian's behaviour.  Almost an hour later my friend pulled in and then I found he was with another friend I’d met 2 years previously, big welcomes, hugs & kisses all round.  I was glad to be back with people I had confidence in, I felt safe again, I knew where I stood.

They continued drinking for a while and finally we got into the car, only to move 200m to a nightclub at 5pm!!  More beer was served and I was told it had to be finished.  Around 7pm we rolled into town, stopped to order some grilled chicken to eat later and as we got into town there was a welcome party waiting for me. 

The Mayor, his wife, various friends and children all wanted to say hello to me.  I sat with the mayor for an hour or so whilst more & more people came up to greet me, I was near tears with the greeting I recieved from them all with the situation the country’s in, it was incredible that I had such a reception.  The Mayor invited me for lunch the following day (Sunday).    I was told that I was part of town now, that this is my home in CI ...

The difference in atmosphere between here and where I’d come from was amazing, people wandered around the streets, music was playing, it was all very normal.  I went out with my friend having said hello to his wife & children, saw my room we then reclaimed our chicken and partied the night away until the curfew at midnight when the sole gendarme of the town drove us home.

The April trip ...

I've not been out of Europe since April.

My return to Cote d'Ivoire in mid-April was wonderful, only 4 days there, the flights with TAP (aka Take Another Plane) were terrible, even their ticketing system was atrocious with a flight change from Lisbon to Sal (Cabo Verde) then they obviously thought I could swim to Dakar to get my connection to Abidjan.

The whole saga happened on Easter Friday with my flight due to leave on the following Tuesday, it resulted in a drive to Barcelona over 300km away to get a shuttle to Lisbon to rectify the situation. On my return (my wonderful travel agent Dominique having given all my mobile numbers to TAP) I arrived at Abidjan airport and told Laji, my driver that I'd be fine. He went home & left me to it; 30minutes later I was in Air Senegal's office fighting with them to endorse my ticket to Air Ivoire as they had done with most of the other passengers as Air Senegal had cancelled the flight (& gone bust!); amazingly the lady who typed one handed whilst the other rested on her thigh (I was gnashing my teeth with her attitude) told me they didn't have any contact numbers for me & that I could have flown out with the contactable passengers the night before on Compagnie Aerienne de Mali - well thanks TAP for not passing my numbers on!!!

290euros lighter, thank god I'd taken my visa card with me; I was in the possession of an Air Ivoire ticket to Dakar, departure time 23.30, arriving in Dakar at 2.30am. Wonderful!!! My soon-to-be host, Alain in Dakar had the unpleasant surprise of a text from me announcing my 3am arrival at his place ... could he give me directions please. He said he'd meet me at a petrol station near his place, pleased I'd picked up some attieke for him from the market on the way to the airport.

During my ranting in the airport, I'd rung Tomas, a Czech friend living in Abidjan who told me to get into town & he'd run me to the airport. I finally found a taxi to Zone 4 at a reasonable 1,000CFA, the driver after hearing my sob story whilst watching the soldiers about to descend on us in his mirror dramatically dropped his price. We sped off to Zone 4. He dropped me at my favourite maquis opposite Prima, St Christophe run by Patrick and I dumped my bags & ordered a rather late lunch whilst waiting for Tomas to finish work. He took me back to catch my Air Ivoire flight, excellent flight & on time, with a few other delegates for the conference on board. Getting to the conference at 8.30am was very difficult however!!!

My four days in CI were a little crazy. There for work & to catch up with everyone & the children at the centre. I saw an Aussie friend I haven't seen for 6years, had an e-mail a few months earlier asking how safe CI was; the week she was there was also the week my friends John & Therese got married in typical Ivorian fashion!

My arrival was a lot less stressed than my departure. I flew in from Dakar in daylight, great to fly over Abidjan, the lagoon; thrilled to be back, stupid sentimental idiot that I am, I had tears in my eyes on landing. Either that or due to the 6hrs I'd spent at Dakar airport restaurant trying to sleep on 3 chairs in the company of several cockroaches and an over zealous soldier who I fell out with!

I'd called Yao before leaving home to ask him to pick me up from the airport; told a few friends I was on my way back, told others to keep quiet. Denis, my friends' husband was so confused by the secrecy of my return he wasn't even sure if I was on my way back. Yao, turned up in his van, big smiles and out of the back popped Bassman aka Assouman who owns a gorgeous little hotel in Bassam 'Hotel Atlantique', a surprise for me .. lots of laughter, greetings & kisses all round then JB showed up to greet his 'grande soeur'. Unfortunately we had to leave JB behind to get a taxi to Bassam alone to meet me there.

Denis had prepared a great meal of poulet braise & attieke for me. How did he know I'd been dreaming of that for months?!?! Yao & Bassman were invited in, confused by the situation which I'd created, in that they were all friends but Yao hadn't told Denis that he was picking me up! A little later JB had managed to arrive by taxi & met us at the nearest maquis where I bought lunch for him as I felt so guilty leaving him at the airport.

Shortly after I took JB with me to the centre, he'd never been before. We put the 30kg bag of clothes, shoes, games & medical supplies in a taxi and set off. I'd told Diouf, the assistant I was coming back as he's in charge of the children's health & had been communicating drug names for me to pick up; I was thrilled I'd managed to get 11months supply of a particular medicine for the child who has sickle cell. I had told him not to tell Erick the manager as I knew that he'd tell the children I was coming, I wanted to surprise them all.

Surprise them I did. I knocked & knocked & knocked at the gate, no noises inside .. I was really confused as to where they all were. Finally one of the boys answered the gate & gave me a massive hug, suddenly I had someone from behind me hugging me to; it was the Erick admonishing me at the same time for my unexpected visit! The children were all having a siesta! We woke them up, all very confused to see me there!!!

The children were all doing well. M is very happy, very settled and a little monster at times ... she is constantly in trouble for locking the smaller ones in the bathroom, breaking things & pushing people around. Mama Liza spends most of her time scolding her for getting in the way of cooking preparations!!! The others were doing very well at school, one of the boys had an exceptional report at school, the one who hopes to be a magistrate - I really hope he gets his dream. I went to see them everyday I was there, it was hard to say goodbye after such a short time. One of the smaller boys said that next time he's going to be my pilot!!!

My Aussie friend had been working for her company up country. I discovered that she'd been eating typical aussie food shipped in especially for them; she'd never had any typical Ivorian food. After several calls to her CI coordinator taking full responsibility for her welfare, she arrived, with her driver in tow. The driver, Moussa, had to accompany us everywhere, he was from Senguela in the north of the country where there had been a lot of fighting during the crisis.

After a couple of hours with him we started devising ways of losing him ... it worked to an extent! She met the children and then we headed for the beach at Assouinde. Arriving on the edge of the village in the rain, I asked Moussa to stop his sparkling blue Peugeot and called for Ama ... she was thrilled I was back, she hadn't forgotten my promise that if she got a good report & was top of her class I'd bring a present. I lifted her into the car to sit on my lap much to Moussa's disgrain but removed her muddy red dirt covered sandals for the final 200m to Jardin d'Eden.

Moussa was like a shadow, the only problem was that he was about 8inches shorter than both of us! He constantly had the car keys in his hand. I said to him that we were spending the night here & he might as well go back to Abidjan & pick us up the next afternoon, he wasn't prepared for his boss' wrath and so I arranged accommodation in the village for him. We went out, back to the Bleu Marin so K could enjoy a real night out. A little later she went outside the club to get some air, I suddenly heard a call and Martial wanted me outside as she'd collapsed! My worst nightmare, I had a friend sick, barely conscious in a village with the nearest hospital about 30km away. She slowly came round, I made her answer a lot of ridiculous questions and most of the Jardin d'Eden crew had gathered around us. Arsene, the owner who's been a great friend to me had already organised a car to drive us back the kilometre up the track to get K to bed. He wasn't having us stay in the beach shack where I normally stay, but opened up one of the hotel rooms for us.

Of course, the following morning Moussa got to hear of all this & gave me a lot of stick for not calling him. Basically she'd been working 15hour days for 15 days straight & it was sheer exhaustion. I made it clear to Moussa we were staying till the afternoon as she needed rest, he wandered off disgruntled & got his dirty muddy red Peugeot blue again with the hosepipe!

The other days there were fairly run of the mill, except of course the wedding!

A fantastic affair which I almost missed. I was with Tomas & his business partner in Riviera, waiting for them to drop me at Cocody Hotel de Ville, but his business partner mis-directed us to the mairie!! When I finally got dropped off Athere I saw endless wedding parties lining up outside & had a horrible feeling I'd missed it. Finally I found a few people from John & Therese's party around the corner, I'd just missed the ceremony & photos! Typical! I managed to get a lift in a UN vehicle to the reception, yet again no one knew where it was but a helpful taxi driver seeing 5 blancs in a UN 4x4 stopped to tell us where to go!! Lots of sermons, dancing, eating ... a beautifully staged reception in a garden; I began to wonder how to get back across the lagoon to Zone 4. A new friend who's a cameraman for Reuters offered me a lift, a bit earlier than I wanted but we went to Koumassi together & had a few drinks before heading to Zone 4 & meeting Tomas. The plan was to go to Parker Place that night for a bit of reggae, between the sun, the drink & general fatigue, I fell asleep!!!

My time there wasn't long enough, calls from Ayame, Binouan, Abengourou, Jacqueville ... all asking me to see them! Next time inshallah!

A late arrival in Dakar caused a lot of problems. The first day it was a case of keeping my eyes open with matchsticks at the conference. We arrived at Dakar airport at 2.30am, the baggage guys obviously needed waking before working and at just gone 3am I was fighting off taxi drivers & trying to find one to get me to Mermoz at the correct price of 2,500CFA. I finally accomplished this but not without insults from a few Senegalese stunned by my hard bargaining at that time of the morning. I was concerned about going in a clapped out VW Golf at 3am with a big Senegalese guy but he was honest enough!

Alain, originally from SW France, brought up in Cote d'Ivoire until the crisis started & now working in Dakar was a wonderful host. He got up in the early hours, rode his motorbike to the rendez-vous petrol station & my 'taxi' followed him back. My final night before my 2am departure on TAP; my American friend Sam took me out for an Indian that night. A rarity, he was a gem to choose Indian, can't get it in this corner of France!