Kayes, Mali

The drive to Kayes was fabulous, with forests of baobab trees, full of bird life. The rollers were the most spectacular. We came upon a convoy of donkey carts carrying hay to town, each with a boy reclining in a hammock slung below in the shade of the load; but not much other traffic, and no cars at all. It had taken about ten hours of driving time to cover the 190 miles since the last tar, and I enjoyed it more than any other part of the journey so far. 

We crossed the Senegal river into the town of Kayes, a dusty bustling place, the "hottest town in Africa" according to the guidebook. Our thermometer shows 42°C in the sun, but it is probably in the comfortable low 30s. 

We reported to the main police station to show the passports. It is a dilapidated French colonial building of stone and brick. Inside, a prisoner lay face down behind a locked gate in a windowless and totally unfurnished cell. The officer was very pleasant and we had a conversation about horseracing while waiting for an insurance salesman to arrive. 

This chap came in and sat in an office that had a desk, two chairs, an ancient typewriter, painted-out windows, and an adding machine: evidently the extortion office. After much rumination he came up with a figure for a month's insurance. Following my shocked reaction he asked how much I had expected to pay, and we settled for much less (about €40 for a month). There followed a discussion about what constituted a month, as he had given me 28 Feb-27 March. So, not much different to dealing with Irish insurance companies.

The market is a real African market, making the Arab souks look calm and orderly. Wonderful colour, I bought a woven mat and a red teapot. We accosted passing salesmen pushing their bikes to buy fans (see photo) and flip-flops.