Late nights in Bamako, Mali

In Bamako we treated ourselves and the Land Rover - the latter to an oil change and plenty of grease, and us to a fine hotel on the river Niger, the Mande.

 

This week is the anniversary of the death of Ali Farka Toure, the Malian blues musician, and apparently there are various events to pay homage - but it is not easy to find out about them. The tourist office staff were nice but uninformed, and sent us to the national museum; they sent us to a 5 star hotel, where there was indeed a gala dinner, featuring music from Toumani Diabate, Oumou Sangare and others. Instead, we went to Toumani's club, Le Hogon, where we knew he'd play later. 

It turned out to be much later, and when I left Jason there with his Castel beer at 2am, Toumani was just taking the stage. I took a taxi to the airport to meet Steffi, and by the time we got back to the club at 4am the concert was finished, but Toumani told us about a free concert the next evening. 

Inevitably, the next evening we missed his group again; we took Jason to the airport at the critical moment. We met that rarity, an interesting and well informed taxi driver (highly recommended if you are interested in the local music scene - Ibrahim, 683 1143), and the next night he took us to another club, the Djembe. After a couple of weeks of getting up at dawn, I've got jet lag from the switch to nocturnal life. So apart from the music, did nothing in Bamako but laze by the pool. 

On Monday morning, I tracked down the main organiser for the Ali Farka Toure events, his US manager, and she was on her way to Niafounké, his home town, for a concert there. We are welcome to join her entourage. So, a bit sooner than planned, we quickly packed, checked out, filled both tanks, and are off to Mopti, a few hundred kilometres downstream on the Niger, to catch a boat to Niafounké.

Camp Life

Thanks to EU funding, there is now a beautiful road for most of the way from Kayes to Bamako. Only about 80km is piste, and that is being upgraded. Along the way the clock passed 5000 miles on the journey, and we saw our first monkeys, browsing in a baobab.

We camped 110km before Bamako. The savannah is thicker now, almost forest, and at each village there are stacks of firewood and sacks of charcoal for sale. The ground is dry and hard, and apart from birds and the occasional lizard, all is quiet.

This is our ninth camp in a row (in Nouakchott we parked at an auberge but slept in the tent). Generally the routine has us looking for a spot around 6pm, preferably several kilometers from the road. Once the engine stops, out come the chairs and cold beers. Or I should say chair, as the other one collapsed irreparably. We unfurl the side awning and put out the table, stove and food boxes. Then, shower off the dust using the tank water and hose with shower extension - the pump gives plenty of pressure.

The roof tent is up in one minute, but takes about 10 minutes to pack away. We have bought a local gas cylinder and have a two ring burner, and cook after sunset, which is at 7pm. For some reason I only brought one set of cutlery, but that was alright as one could use the fork and other the spoon. However we lost the set in the sand somewhere, so for several days we've been eating with the wooden spoon and ladle. The evenings are cool, and the tent has screens on four sides that allow the breeze through. We have a light on an extension for reading in the tent, and are usually asleep by nine.

We get up at sunrise, about 6.45am, a good time to take photos, have a run. We bought a tray of eggs in Agadir and still have supplies despite a few casualties on the bumpy pistes. After breakfast, it takes a full hour to pack up camp, and we are usually on the road by 8.30am.