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!

Bumping east!

It was quick and easy to pack up after a night on the banks of the River Saloum on the eastern edge of Kaolack.  We got back on the main road heading east, Christophe was still coming with me but unsure where he would turn back, but this was sadly his final day.  I had heard from Oleg, the Russian biker who was sending google map locations via WhatsApp as to where he had been camping, he was probably 250km ahead of us!  I had 511km to complete to enable me to stop in Kedougou for the evening, we stopped a few kilometres down the road in Birkelane for breakfast next to the Mairie (town hall).  Continuing on, we came across a bus that had recently crashed, it was on it's side, burnt out and still smouldering, another reason I don't travel at night!  The following village two large trucks had crashed head on, we both thought of Pietr and Marius who were reliant on truck drivers to give them a lift, luckily they weren't in this smash!  The road was in a good state of repair, the vehicles were often not so safe!  

Another coffee break

We continued on, Christophe was debating whether to stay in Tambacounda, which is a large town and gateway to the Niokolo Koba National Park.  A small minibus full of toubab tourists kept overtaking us, we were surprised they didn't seem to stop to show the tourists the sights en route.  Eventually we got to Tambacounda and refuelled on the eastern edge of town having tried to find somewhere for lunch.  Christophe still wanted to continue, so I suggested we get to Wassadougou and have lunch, about 60km further on, I'd stayed here years ago on my way back from Guinea and the Fongolimbi border crossing with a Spanish man who owned a campement.  

Really into baobab country

We entered Wassadougou at speed and almost had a nasty meeting with the bridge which shocked us both with Christophe at the wheel.  Having crossed the bridge I knew we'd gone too far, so we turned around to find Francisco's campement just off the main road.  We spoke to a man walking out of the road that led to Francisco's place, he confirmed that it had been closed for a few years.  We drove back into the village and followed the signs to Campement Hotel Wassadou which was a few kilometres through the bush, to the most stunning site on the banks of the Gambia River.

A group of German tourists had just arrived and were settling in.  We went into the restaurant to be told there wasn't anything to eat, they had only catered for this group!  We ordered a drink and were given a bowl full of nuts, this was the end of the road for Christophe, he had decided to get transport back towards Dakar from the village.  It was a sombre half hour talking about my drive to Kedougou and his accommodation options in Tambacounda where he finally spent the night.

Views from Campement Hotel Wassadou

We got back to the village and I noticed a minibus loading, calling out to the driver to ask if there was a spare seat, Christophe was suddenly dispatched.  It was a quick, brutal and difficult goodbye but probably better that way, wished each other luck, gave each other a big hug whilst they loaded his bag and he got on. I'll admit to having a few tears to see him go, he had truly been the most amazing traveller and we had completed thousands of kilometres together on brilliant terms.  We're still in touch by phone and both wanting to do the trip again!

Solo ... I started Franki, pulled myself together and started to drive out of Wassadougou.  I got 300m and was stopped by a young police officer, I couldn't believe it.  He was rather unfriendly and kept insisting I get out of Franki which I refused to do, the doors were locked and I asked him what he wanted.  Eventually it transpired that the man we had asked about Francisco and his campement was owed money by Francisco, the two of them decided I was bound to pay the man.  I was obviously a friend of Francisco and should settle the financial matter.  I wasn't having any of it, I made it clear I had met Francisco whilst hitchhiking from Kedougou towards Dakar, he had offered me a lift then a room at his campement years ago.  I had no other contact with him, the argument continued for 30 minutes or so, I was hoping Christophe had maybe seen me parked on the side of the road with the policeman but he had long gone!  Eventually I was allowed to continue onto Kedougou 173km away.  It was already after 2pm and I wanted to be there by dark, little did I know what I was about to encounter!

Christophe's transport west

Nids d'Elephants ... the most horrendous piece of road for 90km, this was a relatively good stretch!

Only 8km from Wassadougou I found roadworks, red dust found its way into everything, this continued for 30km. It was gruelling and I could help but thinking that Christophe had done the right thing to leave me at Wassadougou.  I turned the music up, sang along (Christophe used to whistle badly but he hadn't heard my singing which is always badly out of tune) and got on with the job of driving.  I entered the Niokolo Koba National Park which is split by this main road, and hoped to see the end soon.  Coming across a small two door car that had stopped in the opposite direction with a French lady in her fifties or so and I presume her elderly mother I asked when it would end.  She grunted at me and said, it's horrendous, it gets worse.  I hoped she was just in a bad mood and this wouldn't be the case.   The roadworks finished, I was on tarmac again for all of maybe a kilometre then the potholes started, in French they're called 'nids de poules' or chicken nests.  These weren't chicken nests but elephant sized nests and horrendous, I was averaging 10kph it was taking all my concentration to drive Franki through the best bits of the road.  The worrying part was that there was very little traffic, for an hour or so I didn't come across any traffic at all.  The only signs of life I saw were a few warthogs and some policemen happily asleep under a tree midway through the park.   Putting a possible breakdown situation to the back of my head, I slowly crept forward to Kedougou wondering if I'd make it by dusk.  I later told my friend Phil in Bamako about this stretch of road, he took it a few weeks later on a jakarta scooter and also suffered!

120km later, I made it to Mako and tarmac.  I was so happy, so filthy, thirsty and very hungry.  I decided to press onto Kedougou anyway as it was only 43km away and I was worried the road would change again.  It didn't, it was a smooth ride!  On the edge of Mako I noticed a lot of small boys, between maybe 8 and 15 years old all covered in mud.  I'd heard that this region has now turned into a mining goldfield with a lot of illegal and dangerous mines, the boys were obviously being exploited in the mines.  Walking along the side of the road, ragged clothes, barefoot and very muddy, life can't have been easy for them.  I crossed the Gambia River and pushed Franki eastbound.

Pulling into Kedougou, 512km from leaving Kaolack that morning I was elated to have made it. I drove around looking for somewhere to stay, I couldn't find the auberge I'd stayed in years ago.  Due to the mining activity, hotels were pricey, so I drove off to the 5* hotel in town, Relais de Kedougou and had a chat with the manager.  Negotiating him down from 5,000CFA, he agreed I could use a shower and stay in Franki in their car park for 2,000CFA or 3€.  The shower was pure bliss, the red earth was washed out of my hair, my ears and I scrubbed my very red face ... I felt normal once more.  I discovered the minibus that Christophe and I had seen earlier that day, it had been full of Spanish tourists who were staying at the hotel. Keeping to my agreement with the manager, I entered their restaurant, chose a table overlooking the river and thoroughly enjoyed a good meal.

It was Thursday 28th December, I was still on target to keep my promise to friends in Yamoussoukro, to spend New Years Eve with them ... but would I make it?

Gambia River crossing at Mako

River Gambia at Kedougou, from Relais de Kedougou

Yamoussoukro & into 'rebel zone'

Entered the capital Yamoussoukro from Abengourou; long & seemingly expensive minibus ride of 6.5hrs because of the driver who really didnt know how to drive or change gear!!! Overjoyed to be in town at 6pm having not eaten for 11hrs but had drunk several litres of water I found a lovely taxi driver called Ibi.

Ibi took me to a few hotels before I found something seemingly 'suitable' - turned out it was another brothel but I was too tired to move and it seemed OK; at least the security was better than a Bassam hotel; it was cheaper and the door locked well!!!! I had Ibi's number and he picked me up and drove me all over the place! I had planned to move 'hotels' in the morning, to find one that preferably had water when you turn the shower on; so that I ddin't have to scream down corridors to get it all working!!!

Unfortunately I didn't spend long in Yamoussoukro or go up to Koussou, to the NW. Tired but getting text messages from a friend in Bassam I decided I had to visit my friend's hometown of Bouake and maybe onto Katiola. I had some fascination of Katiola, I still don't know why; my hotelier friend's wife in Assinie is from Katiola & maybe that drove me to wanting to go there.

Yamoussoukro is weird. It's not an African capital. It's European, with a modern architectural/town planning influence but with the most gorgeous lily lakes in the centre .. it feels like the city's still not fully formed. People there were lovely, very open and arriving in town I discovered I had a military convoy as company whilst Ibi was trying to find a cheap hotel for me; all very surreal!

Ibi dropped me at a Lebanese restaurant that served burgers in a nouvelle cuisine sort of style for a price that could be paid in any large city. I wasn't impressed, it was my fault, I'd seen an internet cafe and realised the restaurant was next door but I was miles from anything else & my weary body wasn't in the mood to move any further!!! Spent a few hours between sending e-mails, eating & refreshing myself before I realised there was a far better option just around the corner. More fool me!

The following morning I had a look at the cut on my leg I did on the way to Assouinde. It didn't look good. I went off in search of a pharmacy and found one nearby and bought a cream, crossing the road to Yamoussoukro's version of my Starbucks I met Ibi. Apparently he lived nearby; didn't start work till 2pm so we sat and had a coffee together and a chat ... he was telling me that work has really dried up.

During the crisis things were bad but now it was even worse, taxi drivers were driving around empty for hours on end ... He organised a taxi for me that I commandered to take me past the Basilicia for a photo then down to the gates of the Presidential Palace where there's a crocodile pool. Amazingly at the crocodile pool some guy quietly asked if I'd like to buy a chicken to throw to the crocs, no pressure; just asked & being money conscious I turned the offer down. Nowhere else in Africa would you get that, it would be constant pressure to pay for one!

Having explored the market, had a coffee & been clock watching I had two choices; to go to Bouake that afternoon or to move hotels by 12pm. I chose Bouake, I needed to do laundry, I needed a different hotel and seeing as Bouake was just over an hour away I thought it wouldn't hurt doing a short journey despite being tired.

Getting into Bouake was an eye-opener, just on the edge of town is 'La Corridor Sud', essentially a checkpoint set up by the rebels to divide the Cote d'Ivoire between north & south. On the way there there were more & more checkpoints manned by CI soldiers. Getting there I had a young unfriendly militaire & for the first time this year ask for a cadeau, the guy next to me gave him 500CFA I did the usual shrugging of shoulders, don't speak French routine and stayed firmly in the van. He told me to get out and go through the control, but strangely enough I didnt understand French. Interesting thing was that the others on my minibus said I should have been stamped into Bouake, so I kept my fingers crossed the police didn't ask for my passport ... oh well such is life in Africa!!!

Sitting in Bouake I decided not to carry on north as I was too tired! Bouake was a little 'hot' shall we say ... leaving Yamoussoukro I asked around and everyone said it was fine but being there was another thing, people are certainly suspicious as to 'why' I was there, the friendliness had gone and I got the feeling its still a little jittery - the UN were all over the place I wasn't too worried. It was sad seeing so many of the buildings around town that had been shelled during the crisis.

Had some great conversations there about the situation past and present. Firstly I met a Burkinabe who had a restaurant in town who sat and chatted with me, telling me about how he stayed put during the crisis & gunfire happening 15m away from his front door. Whilst he was telling me this I had a boy come over. He said he was 12, at school, but his parents had returned to Burkina Faso & he had nothing. The story really didn't add up, I asked him over & over again what exactly was going on. I offered to call Abidjan and take him back with me to the centre which gave him a look of shock in his eyes. Finally I lost patience with him having conferred with the restaurant owner about the boys background which was in fact far better than he was making it out to be, the boy was well known as a scrounger!

That evening I went to an allocodrome next to the auberge I was staying at (having done all my laundry & hoping it would dry by the morning). The lady who owned it was a head teacher, she came and had a drink with me telling me about the delay on getting registered to vote, she'd only registered the week before yet the elections should have been held on 30th November 2008. She went through hell during the conflict, her house was almost gutted and left for a year to stay with relatives in Yamoussoukro. However her neighbour, a gendarme, came home to find nothing left of his house, even the ceilings had gone! Then I had an interesting chat with a young guy Jean-Marcel who was one of the rebels but accepted the 80,000CFA x 2 payout to leave and is now setting up a phone kiosk at La Corridor!

Spending the night in Bouake, it was fine, the rebels are still very much in charge there although seemingly weaponless; cadeaux were demanded at any point but with my refusal to understand or speak French they didnt get very far with me! I managed to get a pic of La Corridor Sud on my way back south which is 'the boundary' between north and south, the north being controlled by the rebels; they werent happy with my camera being out but knew I was the 'difficult one' who didn't speak or understand French so couldn't do much about it!

My Irish friend was a well-known man in Bouake!!! Everyone I talked to about imprisoning foreigners came up with the story of one of my camerades who was in jail in Bouake on 17th March 2007, got laughs all round when I confessed to meeting him in a brothel in Bissau!!!

Heading into the wild north ...

Arriving in Binouan was like arriving in the wild west; its in the centre of cocoa, coffee, banana and rubber plantations. There hasnt been anyone white through this way since before the war - from Ayame onwards the amounts of gasps I heard and 'ohhh, une blanche' was hysterical.

My new-found friends in Ayame called a friend in Binouan to look after me. I was in the front of the minibus with a guy who knew my Binouan contact so he set me up at a new hotel in Binouan behind the pharmacy; then I went off for food + drink after a hot, dusty 3hr ride from Ayame! I was soon at my new contacts place, 2km the other end of the village. He had sent a boy on a motorbike to get me; a great guy, Nigerian by origin who was born in Cote d'Ivoire speaks French and Yoruba but finds English difficult! His youngest was 15months and was very sick that night with stomach cramps and fever. Yet again, Ivorian hospitality came in abundance, a Flag was put in front of me on arrival and then his wife cooked for me; they refused to let me pay for anything including the refreshments!!! I have a lot of making up to do on my return!

The next morning I walked the length of Binouan with my 2 packs .. had coffee with the family whilst waiting for transport. The transport never arrived. I then found my pack being strapped onto the back of a motorbike by my friend. Some 16yr old driver he'd found was going to take me through the bush to pick up transport further north. Hesitantly I hopped on behind him to do a 15km journey through the bush to Attiekro to pick up transport there. I warned him before we set off not to go too madly but he didnt listen so about 1km out of Binouan he got his ear twisted ... we were friends by the end of the 40min journey!!!

At Attiekro I sat in the sun for an hour or so waiting for transport, got on a 22seat minibus which after an hour decided to stop! We were to change, but the village where we stopped had another 22 odd people already waiting to go to Abengourou, I could see it was going to be a fight to get on! At Attiekro, I'd met Francois a student, who tried to organise the front seat for me, but that wasnt going to work. So when the minibus turned up, Francois + friends ran onto it and grabbed seats followed by another 35 or so all trying to get on. The big guy in charge argued with Francois until he saw me asking the driver for the front seat and told me to take the place Francois had got me, but with 35 odd trying to get on board I had to climb onto the fuel tank and go in via the windowless windows!!! Once seated we were 6 across each row unlike 4 across in the other ones I've been in here due to the sheer volume of passengers! Lots of arguments yelling etc going on ... but then the driver told me to get out again (via window of course!) and get in the front!!!

So I got to Abengourou, it was lovely; fresher than further south, my friend from Binouan rang a friend of his who worked for the former French company, Unifoods. He met me in Abengourou and I was installed at his house with his wife and 4kids who bent over backwards to make me welcome!!!

Leopold is a classic example of what has happened to people since the crisis started in 1999. He & his wife were at school together, went to university together. She became a teacher & luckily has kept her job. Leopold meanwhile has been unemployed since 2004; their eldest daughter of 14 is at school in Grand Bassam and he wants to send her to the UK to train as a doctor. The house isn't finished, he started doing it up whilst he had a job. The company he worked for was French, the managers all fled the Cote d'Ivoire during the crisis and left the company floundering; it's now been bought by the Lebanese who have tightened their belts and not offered Leopold his job back. He's desperate for something to do other than being a house husband.

The following morning their daughter, gave me a doughnut at around 7am for breakfast but then I discovered we were off to church, Pentecostal church and I had to dance (I don't do Sunday mornings, church or dancing in or on either, but I tried to smile!!!). I left a few hours later to get transport to the capital Yamoussoukro, famished!