OBUASI

Ashanti memories

Having been born in Ghana, and with an archive of Obuasi memories accumulated throughout the 70’s and early 80’s, returning after almost 30 years was going to be an emotional balance between curiosity and intrepidation.

As I have been involved in the mining industry since graduating from the Camborne School of Mines in 1982, I have been able to keep track of the operational changes that have taken place at the Ashanti mines. However, the other aspects of Obuasi life I would have to experience personally in order to appreciate the changes and try and put my memories into some sort of perspective.

Driving from Kumasi along a tarred road (instead of the old potholed laterite road) took about an hour, and as we approached the Obuasi area the hills were immediately recognisable. We were stopped at the police check point on the outskirts of the town and had a friendly chat with the officers, as a true bush-man wandered by stark naked. We had arranged to meet Doug Hayes, a Canadian mining engineer who has been working on the mine for around 15 years. Doug had kindly offered to sort out accommodation for us as well as set up a general surface tour and an underground visit.

We then proceeded to the Anyinam Lodge with its infamous Plava Bar. The drive through that part of town gave us no clues as to where we were in respect to the old Obuasi we remembered. The Anyinam Lodge is near to Sansu and was built to house the contractors involved with the sinking of the ‘new’ mine shafts (Kwesi Mensah and George Cappendale) and the Sulphide Treatment Plant. The gardens at the lodge are really nice and it has a swimming pool and a decent restaurant. The Plava Bar speaks for itself and apparently, when the constructions were in full swing, was full of Nigerian prostitutes. Mine camps, wherever in the world, will never change. Driving to the lodge, it was clear that there has been a lot of development in the Sansu and Ayenem area and the bulk of the Ashanti Mine operations have moved this way. There was a lively buzz in the town with many Ghanaian bars and restaurants lining the roads. Ashanti Goldfields was taken over a few years ago by AngloGold, a South African company, and it has been renamed AngloGold Ashanti.

The following morning Doug picked us up and took us to the Adansi Shaft offices to get our gear for the tours. Once we had driven a couple of kilometres from the lodge we recognised the Catholic Church by the golf course and from that point onwards the pieces of the jigsaw started to fall into place. We drove through the main security gates and on to the old Ashanti complex that we remembered. On the way we had a quick drive past the cricket field and up to the Obuasi Sports Club. We planned to come back later after our mine tours to do some filming. The Adansi Mine was in its day very rich in gold, but today, with the reserves depleted, is mainly used as an admin base. We gathered our gear and remembered the location of the offices of some of our friends’ dads. Then it was off to STP (Sulphide Treatment Plant) which has replaced the old PTP (Pompora Treatment Plant) as the focus of gold treatment and extraction. Over the decades, the predominantly rich native gold ores have been replaced by more complex gold rich arsenopyrite ores. STP has thus incorporated some of the latest technologies, in particular a Biox Plant in which bacteria ‘eats’ the sulphides and frees the gold for recovery. However, the richness of the gold ores is nothing like it used to be and with a grade of around 6 grams per tonne, I wonder about the long term viability of the Ashanti Mine. In all respects the Ashanti Mine is truly a world class discovery as it has been producing for close to 100 years and still has considerable gold reserves in the ground. The hills in the area were scattered with old diggings and workings and there is surely further gold laden reefs to discover. We drove past the George Cappendale Shaft, and this brought back memories of when my Dad would drive me there to see the bush being cleared away and the start of the shaft collar. There was nothing here at the time, no village or people, only a laterite track and thick bush. Now it is a developed area and it was nice to know that this particular shaft had struck it very rich with 2 ounces of gold per tonne being common. In fact, this shaft had carried the Ashanti Mine through a very difficult period of its history.

That afternoon, with Doug having gone back to work, we decided to take a drive to the golf course, the fresh water dam and the Monsi Valley estate. The golf course is now quite run down although the course itself is in good order. The road to the club has deteriorated badly and we stopped at the old grave yard where Mr Corner (a former GM from the late 60’s) is buried. Whilst there we met a Ghanaian called Charles Texan who caddied Mr Corner and others that we knew. At the club we read the Cup Winner and Club Captain boards and recognized many names from the past. Johnny Berry and Keith Fernandez were listed as cup winners and I recall them both being very good golfers.

Next it was down to PTP (where my Dad worked for 27 years) and the freshwater dam where we all spent fun times fishing on the wooden boat. We had no trouble recognising the road to PTP and onwards towards the dam. What was strange was not seeing any tailings dams up on the hill side....they are all gone. As we drove along the old road things became less and less recognisable so we stopped at an earth clearing operation and made some enquiries. We were told that the old water dam had gone and had been replaced by a large tailings dam, but we could still drive up and check it out. What was also fortunate is that we met a Ghanaian called Charles Asamoah who still worked at PTP (now renamed TTP – Tailings Treatment Plant) and fondly remembered my Dad. Charles offered to take us into PTP to meet a few others who also remembered my Dad and to dig out some old pictures. We agreed to pick him up on the way back from the dam. Further up the valley we came across a large tailings dam wall and after a chat with the guard at the gate we proceeded to the back end of the dam. Once we reached the back the terrain became instantly recognisable, but the old village and the boat hut were no more.

We drove around the dam along a laterite track through the hills and then picked up Charles and proceeded to PTP. Arriving at PTP we noticed that most of the equipment has now gone, but the admin offices are still there. We went into my Dads old office and remembered playing with the type writer. Charles then introduced us to Thomas Asamoah, who also remembered my Dad well and we spent some time chatting about people we remembered. One name that came up was Peter Enimil, and this was someone I had often heard my Dad talk highly of. We were told that Peter was living near to the Anyinam Lodge and Thomas agreed to take us there. Peter was a true friend of my Dad’s so we were looking forward to meeting him. We drove to Peter’s house and instantly recognised him. He now has a thriving bottled water business and has built a school. He drives around in a car that he won in a Standard Bank raffle and anyone who remembers Peter will recall him as being very lucky with competitions. We also learned that Kimpo, another name from the past, and a friend of my Dad’s was also still around. I remember Kimpo as a very keen fisherman and we would often go to 9 Mile river on Sunday fishing for catfish. Peter said he would track him down for us and take us to visit.

That evening Peter picked us up and we went to the Obuasi Sports Club for a cold Star beer. The club has changed quite a bit and is not the social focal point today that it used to be. The restaurant, snooker room, library, main bar and tombola room are all still there. I remember fondly the fabulous West African Curry that was served at the restaurant on Sundays by Kwasi and his staff. We sat in the Cornish Corner of the stoop and reminisced with Peter about the old days. We left just after closing time at 9pm and went back to the lodge. The next morning we were meeting Doug at 7am to go on the underground tour of either the Kwesi Mensah Shaft or the George Cappendale Shaft.

We were picked up on time and drove to the Kwesi Mensah Shaft where we signed in and awaited the cage down to the 34 level. The shaft is almost 1.5km deep, but was not as rich as the George Cappendale Shaft. The night before there had been a large fall of ground in one of the stopes, and we were to join an inspection team that were assessing the situation. Even though I had been underground many times during my own career it was interesting seeing the methods they used to mine the gold ore and also how the planning team were developing a potentially new stoping method to cut down costs. The whole Ashanti Mine operation today produces about 400,000 ounces of gold per year at a cash cost of around US$560 per ounce. However, even with the gold price today being US$1220 per ounce, the Ashanti operation does not make much of a profit as it has a forward sales program in place that forces it to sell its gold at a much lower price......very unfortunate. After visiting a number of stopes and reviewing the state of the ground conditions where the rock fall had occurred, it was time to head to surface. The shaft was on maintenance today so we opted to drive to surface up a ramp system which ran through the George Cappendale Mine and surfaces at the Sansu open pit. The ride was a rough one and with some relief an hour later we emerged at the bottom of the Sansu open pit. We then drove back to the lodge, changed clothes, grabbed our cameras and headed to the security gate. Upon arrival we were told by the security that we could not enter with Proper Job as it was not a Ghanaian registered car. Doug again came to the rescue and offered to lend us his jeep for the afternoon. Eventually we entered through the gates and started our tour of Onyinase (now called Biney Estate). We followed the old bus route around Onyinase and remembered where our friends lived along the way. In general, the condition of the houses was good and I took a video of the route so our friends from Obuasi can see where they lived. Whilst walking around, a young European boy emerged with a few Ghanaians armed with catapults.....exactly the same as we used to do all those years ago. In hind sight I am glad I was not a good shot with a catapult as the birds in the area are spectacular.

We drove up to the Residence and the GM’s house and noted the great views they both had......the perks of being the boss I suppose. We then drove past the hospital and up Engineers Hill. I remember the bus driver in those days having really thick glasses
(presumably for poor sight), and looking down the steep hills as we were driving up I guessed that in today’s world there would be no way that would be allowed. The end of Engineers Hill is where the bus did a u-turn and the last house was where the Wintle family lived. Bill and Elsa were good friends of my parents and I recalled that we would look after their chickens and pigeons when they went on leave. We then proceeded back down the hill and across the railway line, turning left at the top towards South Shaft. Further along and up the hill is where the Warwicks ended up living and I remembered some great parties on their stoop. The road up was in very poor condition and we should not have been as surprised as we were when we arrived. The Warwick’s (and later Storey’s) house is now almost derelict and has been stripped of doors, windows etc by the Ghanaians. This was by far, of all the houses we had seen, in the worst condition. I wondered why this was so, and on further enquiry was told that for the past few years no one had wanted to live there as, being at the end of the road, and on the edge of dense bush, it was notorious for being burgled.

Next we drove up to the Obuasi Sports Club, where we walked down to the squash courts. There are now two courts instead of one, and I recalled we used to play a game every day. In those days it was good to be in the Obuasi mine squash team as we would often play the Kumasi military. You may wonder why it was good to play the military ? Simple, in those days, during all those coups and times of shortage, the military were the ones with all the beer ! Justin will remember those times proper.

Next we walked around the club itself and spent some time in the restaurant (which looks exactly the same), and the play stage (where I remember sneaking in as a boy and looking at all the costumes and stage sets). The film hall is the same, and I remember watching all those black and white films (Charlie Chaplin and the Key Stone Cops). They even used to come around with ice cream and lolly pops......ahhh those were the days. We moved on towards the swimming pool and noticed the old play ground had disappeared. The whole of the gardens between the club and the pool is now an outdoor bar area. The first thing that struck me when we arrived at the pool was that it was a lot smaller than I recalled. The changing rooms are still there, the slide and the diving board have gone, as have the sets of wooden stairs in the shallow end. The fountain and baby pool are still there, but the tiling has been replaced. I recall us being chased off the fountain by the pool man as it affected his pumps. The AGC diving structure at the deep end is still there although it has tilted over a bit. The fencing around the pool is still there and I remember Colin Greg used to walk around its perimeter like a chimpanzee.....sorry Colin ha ha. We used to spend most of our time at the pool and, looking back, it surprises me that we could have done so. I guess the squash, football, fishing, golf and chatting up the lovely Pauline Clark (good job Nick doesn’t read my Blog) broke up the day. We then made our way around the back of the pool to the old school, which has been turned into a police lodging. Apparently, there are some problems with illegal miners in the area. Although the structure is the same, there is little to remind one of the school. The old clock s still there and I remember the area where Moses, the school janitor, killed a big spitting cobra......I am sure Fiona Greg may remember that as she was one of the discoverers and screamed the loudest. Fiona’s mum used to teach at the school and I recall how she would try and get us to pronounce ‘Food’ the Scottish way, which sounded more like ‘Fud’. I remember all of us running out of class and playing football on the field, rarely getting a gold star for any work, and dreading maths. I also clearly remember my last school assembly where Mr Nichols asked the whole school to say goodbye to Marina Wintle and me, as we were being shipped off to a boarding school in England.

The hours went by quickly as we reminisced on the past and it was soon time to head back to the lodge before heading to Doug’s house for some traditional Ghanaian food. Doug is a typical Canadian who exudes kindness, and his Ghanaian wife Anne had prepared a feast for us. I spent most of the evening chatting with Doug about common people we knew from the Canadian mining industry and it once again reinforced what a small world the mining world is. Doug had even worked in Red Lake, Ontario, where the company I was running, Gold Eagle Mines, was fortunate enough to discover a major gold deposit in 2008. That discovery led to a high profile corporate take-over which enabled me to move on from the mining industry and embark on this trip around Africa. We said our fond farewell to Doug and Anne and thank them profusely for their kindness.

The following morning we had arranged to get Proper Job serviced as we had reached the 5000km milestone and figured that Obuasi would be a good place to get it done. During the car service, we again met with Peter Enimil who had tracked down Kimpo. We spent a pleasant hour or so at Kimpo’s house before it was time to pick up Proper Job and pack for our trip to the coast.

One of our regrets was not being able to re-connect with Yaro, our old steward boy. We tried but to no avail, and you wonder sometime if it was just meant to be. We drove for the last time past the security gates and past the AGC junior staff club and headed down to Cape Coast.

What has become apparent is that for sure, because of the turbulent 70’s, we were unfortunately very restricted to where we could go in Ghana. We have seen infinitely more of Ghana on this trip than we saw in 18 years of living here. Ghana offers much to do and see. Even within Obuasi itself we were restricted to a small area, akin to being under a ‘corporate umbrella’. Throughout all the military coups, it was a common factor that as the Ashanti mine produced most of the foreign revenue, it was closely protected by successive governments and leaders. The few times we had managed to get permission to go down to the coast by train or car were special times, and I was looking forward to revisiting some of these places on this trip.

In my opinion, living in Ghana provided a healthy lifestyle based on sports and socialising. Also, in many ways, it was a life where materiality was relatively irrelevant. Ashanti did provide us with the opportunity to go to expensive boarding schools in the UK. It was also a transient place where people moved on and were easily forgotten. Although we certainly missed out on things by not growing up in the UK, on balance I would say that growing up in Ghana more than made up for it.

Personally, living in Ghana gave me a true sense of adventure which has enabled me to visit many parts of the world. This in turn has enabled me to achieve what I could not even have dreamed about whilst living at Obuasi. Fate certainly has a big part to play in life, but I have to believe that the life we led here helped in some way to navigate through the difficult pathways in life. I know, much of the above is very subjective, but I hope my Obuasi friends have all gained much from spending their informative years in Ghana.

It is difficult, maybe impossible, to put into a few paragraphs what it is like returning to a place that made up all of ones’ teen years. Trying to put those memories into perspective will take many weeks of pondering. As we left Obuasi, I conscientiously recognized that I would not be back again. There was no sadness as my fond memories from Ghana are still very much intact and I was truly glad to be back and able to recall so many friends and fun times.

There are many changes here, but, for sure, Ghana with its friendly people and lush bush, is still one of the nicest countries in Africa. Long may this be so....hope the Black Stars shoot well in the World Cup !!

Make sure you look out for the video footage that we shot, which Jane will post on Facebook when she gets back to the UK. Hopefully, it provides a good overview of Obuasi for you.

Burkina Faso

Surprise Surprise and Go West

We took the scenic secondary road from Bandiagara in Dogon country, down into the escarpment and then via Bankass to the border. Again we had a smooth crossing at the Koro border post. We were given a 7 day transit visa and were through and into Burkina Faso in an hour. The road through to Ouagadougou was in good condition and we arrived in the late afternoon at the OK Inn, a popular stop-over for over-landers. Ouagadougou immediately struck me as a nice city, when compared to other we had been to on the trip. It certainly was far superior to Bamako in Mali. Like Bamako, there are hundreds of bicycles and mopeds. What is noticeable is the number of woman driving mopeds, which is quite different to Mali. The religious mix in Burkina Faso is 50% Christian and 50% Muslim and this probably explains this observation.

As the number of days we had to spend in Burkina was limited we intended to maximise our time. We arrived on a Sunday and planned to get to the Ghana embassy Monday morning to apply for our visas. That evening, we called an Australian friend we had met in Bamako and got some info on restaurants and bars. We ended up going to a restaurant called Le Verdouant which is famed for its pastas and wood fired pizzas. Indeed it lived up to its reputation. After finishing our pizzas and a cold beer we headed towards the sound of live music. Luckily it was only about one block away and we entered a garden area which had a stage and a number of well positioned tables. This turned out to be a really good spot as bands could randomly turn up and play. It was a lot of fun and the extremely friendly waitress called Mariam, after serving us a few SoBaBra beers (which we managed to clear their whole stock) managed to get us on stage to dance African style. I am sure Jane will end up putting the video on Facebook.

The following day we got to the Ghana embassy in good time and were told we could pick them up the following day at midday. The rest of the day we spent lounging around the OK Inn swimming pool and catching up with administration chores. We had been told by other travellers that the Banfora region, in the west of the country, was a must visit. Also Jane really wanted to see elephants and we had read that Nazinga reserve in the south of Burkina on the Ghana border was the place to do this. Hence, we planned to leave for Banfora the following day, stay for a couple of days and then head back 300km westwards to Nazinga before crossing into Ghana. Sounded doable, but once on the road to Bobo Dioulasso it dawned on us that to do this in the available time we had left in Burkina would be tough going. The road to Bobo started out poorly from Ouaga but the further you got from Quaga the better it got. Also it was very apparent how much greener and bushier it got the further west you travelled in Burkina.

We had no real plan of where to stay in Bobo and choose a small place called Villa Bobo, which was recommended in the Lonely Planet. One thing that attracted us to the place was that Xavier, the French owner, was very knowledgeable on the Banfora region. Once we got to Bobo, we could not find a sign for Villa Bobo or we could not find anyone that had even heard of it. Eventually, after driving around aimlessly for an hour we asked a local to call the number in the Lonely Planet and a person greed to meet us at the Minister of Transport building on the main road into Bobo. We went and soon someone turned up on a moped and beckoned us to follow. We set off after him, and about 200 metres he stopped and we had arrived at Villa Bobo. There was not even a sign post on the villa itself, but we were met by Xavier and welcomed in.

Xavier turned out to be a very interesting person. He had been in Bobo for 7 years and before that was living in Corsica where he was a member of a vocal band that performed in the opening ceremony of a French winter Olympics. The other thing to note about Xavier is that he makes the best jam you will ever try...and I am not joking. His mango and pineapple jam is to die for and, for this alone, I recommend Villa Bobo. Besides the jam it is also very reasonably priced. Xavier is not into marketing, but prefers people that are willing to call him personally for directions. Banfora is renowned for its mangoes, and Xavier will not use any other to make his jam. With my newly found addiction, I was eagerly awaiting an opportunity to test this out.....and the sooner the better !

That evening, with Xavier’s help, we made a schedule for the following day to visit Sindou peaks (50km along a dirt road from Banfora), the Karfiguela waterfalls and then the Domes du Fabadougou. We also decided that the trek back to Nazinga reserve was too much so opted to cross into Ghana via the Quessa crossing directly into the north western corner of Ghana, According to Xavier, the Quessa crossing was a small one and very easy to navigate. Furthermore, the road from Bobo to Quessa was mostly tarred road accept for a 50 kilometre stretch.

That evening we went to a local restaurant called Bankan and had a gorgeous peanut-stew meat dish with rice...and it only cost about £1 each. We had not found much really good African food (accept at Le Thiosanne in Senegal) so far on the trip and this meal certainly made up for it.

The following day we headed off early with our guide Amadou from Vila Bobo towards Banfora and the Sindou peaks. The road from Banfora to Sindou is a rough dirt track through African villages and due to its poor condition it probably means that this area is not visited as often as it should. The peaks are sandstone and have been carved by the wind and rain forming a weird and silent landscape.

The next destination was the waterfalls and we had to backtrack about 40 kilometres toward Banfora before taking a non-descript left turn which led to an even smaller dirt track through a landscape of rice fields. After navigating some water-logged sections and crossing bridges that were about the same width as Proper Job we arrived at Baobab Camp where we had a great fish pizza. After lunch we headed to the falls. The temperature had become hotter as the day went on, but it was thankfully still relatively cool compared to that we had experienced in Mali. We arrived at a small camp near the water fall and, after paying our parking fee, we headed off with our swimming costumes in tow. The walk to the waterfall was really nice as the path winded its way through an array of amazing massive trees full of birds. We climbed the hill to the waterfalls which, looking down over the jungle, reminded me of a setting from a Tarzan movie. I had read in other traveller’s journals that the best pools to swim in were further up river so we continued walking for another 10 minutes until we found them. Upon arrival we found a few Europeans who were also enjoying the plunge, so we donned the swimmers and leapt in. The relief from the heat was most welcomed and we spent the next 2 hours wallowing in the falls. Eventually though, it was time to move onto destination number three, the Domes of Fabadougou.

The drive to the Domes took about 15 minutes and we arrived in late afternoon. Again the rock structures were sandstone, but were completely different from the Sindou peaks. We climbed to the top of the Domes and as the sun went down, the Domes became a lovely hue of red.

On the way back to Bobo, Amadou had been asked by Xavier to pick up a load of mangoes for his next batch of jam. We stopped at a place that Amadou insisted sold the best mangoes. On arrival, we were immediately surrounded by woman shoving mangoes and cashews in our hands and pockets. It was mayhem, but with a little theatrics we managed to get things under control and Amadou selected one lady’s whole supply of mangoes. That evening, we tried them and they were divine, the best we had so far tasted on our trip. The trip to Banfora is certainly worthwhile and we wished we had more days to explore this very interesting region.

That evening we ate at a restaurant owned by a French friend of Xavier, which was conveniently located just down the road from Villa Bobo. The owner Patrick, is a very patriotic person from Brittany (the Celtic region of France). Coming from Cornwall (the Celtic part of England), we immediately hit it off and had a great evening eating some more fabulous African food followed by more mangoes.

The following morning it was time to depart for Ghana and, after having one more of Xavier’s mango and pineapple jam breakfasts, we grabbed our bag of mangoes and said farewell to Xavier. We eventually managed to find the tarred road to Quessa and made good progress until we hit the 50 km section of laterite road that we had been warned about. On the whole though, the route was good and we reached the border at 11.30am. The crossing went very smoothly and within an hour we were through.

One thing to note on the Burkina side is that the customs office is very easily missed and is a couple of kilometres back from the police and immigration office. Luckily for us a customs officer was sitting under a tree having lunch with some police friends and he agreed to take our customs form back to the office so we didn’t have to back track.

The people of Burkina Faso lived up to their reputation as being super friendly and we wished we could have stayed longer as it is a much under-appreciated country.

So, with a massive Welcome to Ghana sign at the border, Jane and I were back in the country after almost a 30 year absence.

Mali

Are You Feeling Hot Hot Hot !

The 200km drive from Tambacounda in Senegal to the border took 4 hours and the strong hot winds were relentless. The closer to the border we got the hotter and dryer it became. Once at the Diaboli border crossing the formalities were fairly straightforward. The main thing to be aware of is that you must go to the gendarme office first, which is not near the immigration and customs offices. To get to the gendarme office you must go into town and down a dirt track for about one kilometre. After getting the necessary information registered we sauntered through both the Senegal and Mali border controls within an hour or so. Another thing to note is that Mali doesn’t accept the Carnet du Passage, which we were not forewarned about.

Our intended destination for the night was Kayes, which is reportedly the hottest place in Africa. The drive took us about an hour through a sparse savannah landscape with numerous Baobab trees. The town itself is on the River Niger and is the first place that the French settled in Mali. We stayed at Hotel Le Khasso which had been recommended to us. Kayes doesn’t seem to have much going on. I did notice a SGS testing laboratory which means that there must be some significant mining and exploration activity in the region.

We decided to go for a walk into town along the river where it would be cooler. We reached the main bridge and found a hive of activity beneath it along a dam structure. People were swimming, fishing, socialising and cleaning vehicles. All were there to escape the severe heat. We had been warned by Kim and Tanya, a German couple we had met at the Zebrabar, that it was very hot in Mali, but we didn’t expect it would be this hot. Even sitting in the shade doing nothing you sweat profusely and need to drink copious amounts of liquid to quench your thirst and prevent dehydration. Apparently, we were quite lucky as things had cooled down from the 50 degree heat the area had endured a couple of weeks before. We should be thankful for small mercies.

We left early the following morning to avoid as much of the heat as possible, heading eastwards on the 600 km journey to Bamako, the capital of Mali. Our reasons for going to Bamako were two fold; firstly, to enquire about visas for Ghana and Burkino Faso, and secondly, to pick up my sister Jane from the airport.

The road for the first 150 km was patchy in places, but after that it was fine and we made it to Bamako at 4.30pm. We had been told of a small campment on the south side of the river called Hermankono, so we decided to check it out. Bamako is awash with motor bikes and they appear from every direction, overtaking from both sides of the car. We crossed the new bridge (avoid the old one as it is very busy) and arrived at Hermankono. Seeing a swimming pool we decided to give it a go for a night. The place was a bit run down but was convenient for the airport and for access to the road to Segou, which was our next destination.

The following day we called our friend Raphael, a French teacher working in Bamako whom we had met at the Zebrabar in Senegal where he was holidaying with his lovely wife and children. Raphael, being the super friendly guy he is, told us of a nice small hotel called Tamana in the Hippodrome area of Bamako, which was nearer the music venues etc. To avoid driving in the manic Bamako traffic, we decided to take a taxi to check Hotel Tamana out and also the embassies. We took an instant liking to Hotel Tamana (which had a lovely swimming pool and WIFI) and decided to stay there the following day when Jane arrived.

We were informed by the Burkino Faso embassy that you can get 7 day transit visas on the border and by the Ghana embassy that you could get Ghana visas in Ouagadougou, Burkino Faso. This suited us fine, as we did not want to hang around Bamako any longer than we had to as it is a big sprawling busy dirty city. Not my cup of tea at all. All I hope is that the information given by the embassies is accurate. If it turns out not to be, then we would have to come back to Bamako for visas.....arghhhh.

One thing that is good about Bamako is the music scene. We were told that Toumani Diabate, the best Kora player in Bamako, sometimes plays at Le Diplomat so we decided to go there the following evening. Later that day we caught up with Raphael who took us to a few African style back street bars where the beers were really cheap.

The following evening we picked Jane up from the airport and moved into Hotel Tamana. During the day we were stopped by a policeman, the first time so far in Mali. He had no reason to stop us and asked for our driving licenses, insurance etc. He declared that the International Driving License we showed him was not valid. He was technically correct so we showed him our other license (the one that is not valid for Nigeria) and he admitted it was fine. He then declared that the back windows of Proper Job were too dark, saying that this was not allowed in Mali. After explaining that this was to keep the heat out I suggested we go to the police station to discuss it further with his boss. At this point he became friendly and welcomed us as tourist to Mali. It is worth remembering to stress the fact that you are a tourist, as many governments are actively encouraging it as an industry.

That evening we headed to Savanna Restaurant where a live band was playing (although not traditional music) and then went to Le Diplomat to experience some truly great live Mali music. Toumani Diabate was playing and lived up to his great reputation.

The following day we decided to visit the artisanal market and the fetish market and, if we had time, the National Museum. Both these markets were very interesting. At the artisanal market you could watch them make jewellery, djembe drums and an assortment of leather goods and carvings. One thing I wasn’t enamoured with was the numerous leopards, python and other banned skins that were for sale. When offered them I told the sellers that they were banned from everywhere in the world so were not worth anything. I hope anyone with a sense of decency would not even contemplate buying such things. This is surely the only way to stop this senseless trade.

The fetish market was another shameful sight, and its array of animal and bird parts fuels a strong ‘black magic’ belief that exists in Western Africa. The smell on a hot day becomes almost unbearable and so after a brief wonder around we headed back to the hotel, deciding to skip the National Museum in favour of a plunge into the swimming pool. Whilst hanging around the pool we were approached by Boubacary Ouologuem (better known as Kaou) who offered to be our guide in the Dogon country. I would highly recommend him to fellow travellers and he can be contacted on Kaou12@yahoo.fr or mobile/cell 00 223 79104290. Anyone that has been here knows that every man and his dog claims to be a Dogon guide so you need to be careful choosing the right one. After some discussion with Kaou, he turned out to have some important attributes; he was from Dogon country, what he told us matched with what we had gleaned from others, he had a great sense of humour, he was very experienced and he spoke excellent English. We decided he was the one for us, so we wrote up a contract, paid him a third of the trip cost up front and agreed to meet him in three days time 500km away in Bandiagara (the gateway to Dogon country)

Later that day, Raphael and his wife dropped into Hotel Tamana for a cold bottle of Castel Beer. We wished them all the best with their new posting to the exotic island of Mayotte (somewhere between Madagascar and Africa) and bid them a fond farewell. That evening we watched the Bayern v Inter final on the hotel television. Sorry Rene, when you read this, but Mourino is too smart a manager for his Bayern counterpart.....by the way did you make it yet to South Africa on your motorbike ?

The following day we left early to get out of Bamako and headed eastwards towards the riverside town of Segou, which is about 300kn away. The landscape became greener the further east we went as the rainy season had started early this year. We reached Segou after a 5 hour drive and decided to stay at Hotel l’Auberge, which is close to the river, has a lovely shaded garden and, more importantly, a swimming pool. We had pre-arranged to meet a guide called Ibrahim who would take us by boat to the old village of Segou called Segoukoro, which is approximately 10km downstream. As we left the river bank it started to rain lightly which was an utter pleasure. The visit to Segoukoro is well worth it and Ibrahim, who is known to his friends as Jigibombom, proved to have an excellent history background. He keenly retold the story of the English explorer Mungo Parks who was the first white person to reach the River Niger here at Segou. Mungo met his demise further down the river after his party were attacked by another tribe and they drowned in a set of rapids....or so the story goes. When we got back to Segou, Jigibombom decided to show us how to drum. I accompanied him but was soon told I was much too slow and a local boy grabbed the drum and the session kicked off. Soon a crowd of people gathered around and the dancing started, building to a beat that only happens in Africa. It was great fun, and when it finished we enjoyed a couple of cold beers in the hotel garden. We really enjoyed our time in Segou, but the following day it was time to continue eastwards again towards the famous mud city of Djenne.

The road to Djenne is scenic and you pass through some very picturesque villages constructed of mud. The further eastwards we get in Mali the prettier the landscape becomes. Now I understand why all the Africa travel blogs I have read are all about the east of the country ! To get to Djenne you have to cross a river on a small ferry. I say small, as it only fits three vehicles on at a time. Once across, it is a few kilometres to the city itself. Today was Monday, and it is market day in Djenne which is a major event with people coming from many kilometres away to buy and sell goods. We drove around the edge of the market to Hotel Mafir and met up with a Djoli, a local guide who was a friend of Jigibombom (from Segou). First we visited the market, which was an explosion of colour and activity. The ladies, from many different tribes, were dressed in an array of traditional dresses. It was also a photographer’s dream, with so many interesting aspects to observe. There were many sections to the market, each one having its own speciality. We snapped as many pictures as we could before heading back to the hotel for a mid afternoon rest, picking up some of the best mangoes we have eaten so far.

Later that afternoon, when the heat of the day had gone (relatively speaking) we went on a tour through the city. We first stopped at the tomb of a young girl called Tapana Diekepo who sacrificed herself to chase off the evil spirits so that the new city of Djenne could be built. Apparently, before her sacrifice all attempts to build structures in the present day city site were unsuccessful. On further questioning it became evident that the poor girl had tried to resist but had eventually been talked into being covered in a mud tomb by her parents for the good of all the people of Djenne. Today, she is fondly remembered......and so she should be.

The back streets of the city are fascinating and the myriad of dirt alleyways offer great photo opportunities, especially with the very friendly children that are always willing to oblige.

The mosque is also a great site and is the tallest mud structure in the world. There is currently another minaret being built and wood scaffolding has been erected to assist with the task. Djenne has so far been one of our favourite places and it truly deserves its UNESCO World Heritage status.

The following day we opted not to stop at Mopti for a day but to go straight to Bandiagara and prepare for our 60 kilometre 4 day trek into the northern region of Dogon country, better known as the Trois Yougas. We stayed at Hotel Falais which had been recommended by a number of travellers. It is a very comfortable place with a nice shady garden and is well maintained. They are even building a swimming pool, but alas it will be a few weeks before it is complete. We telephoned Boubacary, who we had hired in Bamako to be our guide, and we met later that afternoon to go through an itinerary of items to take on the trek. We were keen to not take too much gear as it was extremely hot and carrying any extra weight would be unwise. The plan was to set off at 8.30am to Sangha and head down the escarpment into the valley.

The drive to Sangha was along a rough dirt road and in the end took about 2 hours. Upon arrival, we hired a porter, loaded up with water and headed by foot down the escarpment to the first village called Banini where we had lunch and cold drinks (which were to become a rare luxury over the days to come). The landscape is barren and on the edge of the desert, hence very dry and very hot. That afternoon we moved on to Pe Ni village where we were to spend our first night. During this time of year everyone sleeps outside beneath the starry heavens. During this time of year though, it is never cool as a constant warm wind blows along the valley. The food is tasty but simple, but the heat means that you rarely build up an appetite. What you are always consuming a lot of is water, and there are numerous wells along the valley and many of the rest houses have bottled water. Lying under a starry sky listening to the sounds of a remote Dogon village is an experience that is getting harder and harder to find in this world.

The following morning we set off at 7am for the trek towards Youga Na, the first of the Trois Yougas which are reportedly three of the most spectacular villages in Dogon country. Early starts were to become the norm in order to get to your destination before it became too hot. Typically, we would walk for 3 or 4 hours before stopping for lunch in a village followed by a long siesta prior to heading off again at 3.30pm to a village we would spend the night at.

Youga Na is a gorgeous village perched half way up the escarpment, known as the Falais. The architecture of Dogon villages is unique and fabulous. The construction material is mainly mud, and the villages blend into the escarpment is such a way that you would hardly know they were there. Occasionally you see amazing structures high up in the escarpment which are the graves of the Tellom people, who were the first inhabitants of this region. What happened to these people nobody knows, but they clearly had no fear of heights as some of the sheer cliff faces they ascended to build these structures beggars belief.

On the way to Youga Na we climbed to see one of the most sacred places in the Dogon’s animist culture, the Hogan Arou. The animists have not converted to Islam or Christianity and follow ancient spiritual beliefs. Around animist villages you see fetish structures which are sacred to them....be warned don’t touch ! The Hogan himself can neither leave his abode and temple or be touched (even by his wife). By the way, if any one reading this is going to visit the Hogan Arou near Youga Na then you could take an ostrich egg as a gift as they are short of two for the temple. This would be very much appreciated by the Hogan and the entire Dogon animist.....who could be useful friends. There are four senior Hogans of which the Arou is the highest authority. Hogans are selected from certain families and are the spiritual and cultural leaders of the animists, and are important to the Dogon community as a whole.

We spent a wonderful evening at Youga Na, and the Hogan Arou must have liked us as a nice cool wind appeared which cooled the place down. That night was a full moon and the sky was full of swifts swirling around in the moonlight.

The following day we visited a local market, which was termed a ‘social market’. As usual with African markets, there was much activity and colour. We soon found out why it was called social as there was a lot of millet beer for sale and some of the locals had really got stuck into it. It was quite funny to watch and we ended up trying some. It was warm and tasted like flat cider....certainly could never replace a nice pint of Cornish Tribute.

The following day we ascended the Youga ‘island’ escarpment, visiting Youga Dogorou and then descended on the other side to Youga Piri. Both of these villages, which make up the remaining two villages of the Trois Youga’s, were stunning. We then walked for a couple of hours across a desert back to the main escarpment, where we would spend our final night at a village called Yenndouma.....where we were told a refrigerator existed. Upon arrival we found the refrigerator, but it was not on and it took until the next morning to cool the water. At least we would have cold water for the following days five hour hike along the escarpment back to Sangha. Not to be deterred, we headed down to the market, which happened to be on that day, and secured two dozen juicy mangoes. The afternoon we gorged ourselves on them and I am finally addicted to something......yes mangoes !!

That afternoon, and evening, we watched from the rooftop the ‘comings and goings’ of the village. Hordes of people and animals going to and from the market and the never ending stream of children filing up water containers at the local well. On these hot days the best job to have here is a water bucket filler-up-er as you always have time to splash about and cool down.

After another good night on the rooftop we departed the following morning along the Sangha market walk. Markets are an important part of the Dogon culture and each day of the week there is one. Today it was Sangha’s turn and there were many groups of brightly dressed ladies coming from directions carrying their goods to Sangha.

The Dogon are an interesting people, and their history and culture are much too intricate to attempt to cover in just a few paragraphs. What I will say is that they are a very isolated people who have chosen to be so in order to protect their rich culture. Their way of life is quite simple and living on the edge of a desert as they do is very tough.

There are not many tourists around during the hot season and we didn’t see another tourist during our whole trip. I guess this is because of the mid 40’s heat which from 11.00 to 15.30 makes it almost impossible to walk in. We felt sorry for Jane as she had arrived just three days earlier from a Cornish summer into this raging heat. She even had a nightmare where she had to deliver post to the fetish animist villages...ha ha.

Our time in Mali is at an end and we leave tomorrow for Burkino Faso, via Bankass and to the Koro border. We hope the temperature will be lower.....even if only by a few degrees. Inshalah.