New Photographs

Elephants at Mole NP and the Volta Lake Ferry. Click the link on the left.

Crossing to Yeji (Ghana)

Our large motorized, dugout canoe was drifting aimlessly through a forest of dead trees reaching limbs out the water in an attempt to snag the boat when the person in charge of directing the craft and poling in the event of engine failure decided to stop working. He sat down on the prow of the boat, crossed his arms and began pouting.

The problems started with the loading process of this shuttle across Volta Lake to the town where Patrick and I would catch the Yapei Queen, a ferry boat that runs the length of the lake. I have seen people rush buses with wild abandon in order to secure seats, but I thought that given the general fear of water people would calmly board the boat. I was wrong. The boat touched the concrete dock and a mad rush followed of people clambering on to get a seat. I tossed my bag on a bench, put one foot on the gunwale and the boat started to move away from the dock.

"Eh, Brunei," (the name for white people) was shouted at me until I swung my other leg onto the boat. Within minutes, the boat was jam packed with people sitting 3 - 4- 5 or more to a bench. Soon, some passengers began complaining loudly that the boat was overloaded.

A man on the dock shouted, "The boat can have 78 passengers, there are only 76." My quick count easily put the number of passengers over 100. More shouting ensued but the boat soon left, adding one more person instead of losing 30 or more.

Looking around me, I had a brief moment of panic. I was sitting on a boat with my small backpack on my knees, surrounded by a bunch of people who likely do not know how to swim. In this small backpack are all of my belongings in the world, unless Peace Corps manages to recover some of my things from Wonkifong, Guinea). Hoping that the boat would stay upright, I looked forward to the maze of tree branches sticking up ahead. Volta Lake was manmade and the land not cleared before being flooded so there are many trees remaining.

Just at this moment, the engine died. It is soon restarted but dies again. This process continues over and over. Tensions, fueled by overcrowded conditions and fear of water, begin to rise. The people around me begin yelling at the person steering, which leads to his eventual sitting down and refusal to work. As chaos develops, the boat fortunately restarts and makes it to the port of Yeji.

Yams, Yams, Yams (Yapei Queen, Ghana)

The first full day of the journey across Volta Lake in eastern Ghana was been marked by frequent stops at small towns along the lake. Some of the stops involved quick passenger exchanges but others were yam stops. These stops took a long, long time.

Due to water levels, the ferry would stop just offshore and then women would begin transporting yams from the shore to the boat in wide, metal basins. The basins were balanced on their heads as they waded through knee to waist deep water then climbed the loading platform onto the boat. Once on the boat, the yams would be tossed into crates (the same type that I slept in the night before).

Around 9:00 pm on the second night, we arrived at the last loading port. I was glad to be here as the ferry often moved "blind". The sun set a little after 6:00 pm and the boat does not run with bow/stern lights or other lights. Volta Lake is a manmade lake and trees are still sticking up. A path is charted through the lake with buoys but the ship rarely uses the large spotlight during the journey. At this last port, the wind was howling and white caps raced across the surface of the lake. Securing the ferry to the shore was a challenge as the winds and water fought the movement of this wide boat. On shore, crates were already full of yams waiting to be transported onto the boat. In addition to these crates, huge sacks of charcoal and other items and a truck filled with yams were waiting to board. I finally passed out, tired from doing nothing all day, and awoke the next morning to find that all the crates and the truck had been loaded.

The final day on Volta Lake was another long one though without stops. The boat finally made it to port around 10:30, over 48 hours after we began the journey.

1st Night on the Yapei Queen (Lake Volta, Ghana)

"Check out the bunk beds," I joked to Patrick as we looked at the crates stacked two high along the sides of the Yapei Queen, the ferry boat that runs the length of Lake Volta on the eastern side of Ghana. It was almost 9:00 pm and the ferry had pulled into the harbor, an unlit spit of land in Yeji, Ghana.

Passengers were waiting for the off-loading process to end so that they could board. Finally, the signal was given and a mad dash up the plank onto the boat to secure a place began. The boat would eventually leave at 4:00 am and take 48 hours, so people wanted to get "comfortable" seats.

Deciding that we wanted to avoid interior spaces due to the heat, Patrick and I found ourselves on the bottom deck staring at the crates I had joked about earlier. Measuring just a little over 5 feet in length, the crates were beginning to become the "homes" of passengers. We found a corner one, grabbed straw from the deck to provide some cushioning and threw a mat down.

We suspended our backpacks to the slats in the crate. My bag hovered inches over my head which provided extra darkness but caused disorientation when the ship's horn blew at 3 in the morning and I jumped, banging my head.

The loading process of the boat took time and I tried to get some sleep. An added benefit of lying down was that I dropped below the level of the bugs swirling in the air. Millions of bugs, attracted by the high-powered light shining on the deck, were flying around or clamped onto objects.

Finally, the horn blew and the ferry began to travel towards Akosonbo, which is on the southern point of Volta Lake and home of the dam which flooded the valley. The next morning we were told to move because yams would soon be taking our place. We upgraded to a third-deck floor.

Mole National Park

After a day of walking safaris where elephants, crocodiles, bush buck, antelope, guinea fowl, wart hogs and other animals were seen, Patrick and I were sharing dinner with several other travellers at Mole National Park in Ghana. It was the eve of Patrick's birthday and as 11:00 pm approached the idea of hiking out into the park reserve and onto an oberservation platform for the night was hatched.

Rule of the Park: Avoid going in the Park without an armed guide.

With Sam and Katie (two travellers from the UK), we returned to collect the items for the overnight in the park. Sneaking behind buildings to not be spotted, we soon gained the trail into the park. The lodge where visitors to Mole stay is located on top of a hill that provides stunning views of the landscape below and two watering holes that the animals of the park frequent during the current dry season. Keeping our voices down we used minimal light to descend down from the hilltop into the park. 100 meters later is the first, and larger, of the two water holes. At this time, my biggest concern was crocodiles. I was fairly confident that elephants would not be around because they seemed to arrive at the water hole in the early morning (maybe the way out the next day would be tricky), but where do crocs sleep at night? We gave a wide berth to the pond to avoid any potential run-ins. I think that we were each a bit on edge as we left the security of the hill and ranged further into the open grasslands.

Once in the open and past the first hole, we had to now skirt the second and find the observation platform that is located just behind the second pond. This would mean getting closer to the water of another croc-filled pond. The night was dark, with cloud cover blocking starlight and no moon visible but we managed to spot the water of the second pond. Walking quickly over the uneven landscape (elephant footprints make huge indentations in the ground) we began rounding the pond. With crocodiles still in our minds, we also began thinking about the enormous python spotted earlier in the day wrapped around a bush near the shelter. Seeing the shelter, our pace increased until we reached the stairs and rushed up. Hearts pounding, each of us gave a sigh of relief that we had reached the shelter without incident.

Falling asleep was difficult as I kept thinking about the python at the base of the shelter but I managed to rest a bit and slowly the night sky began giving way to dawn. We needed to leave early in the morning to get back up the hill before the morning safaris began and to avoid the return of elephants. We raced across the open areas looking for the early morning crocodile and then up the hill to join the group leaving for safari in the morning.

When not entering Mole during unauthorized times, I went on several walking safaris with an armed guide. It was great to see elephants in their natural habitat. Typically, the elephants would travel in pairs or two adults and several small ones. The watering holes were amazing to sit beside. Staying at a respectful yet close distance, I watched the elephants play and relax in the water. Photos coming eventually!

Hippos and other new photos

Photos from my trip into southwest Burkina Faso:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/guineaswerve/

Funeral Celebration (Bala, Burkina Faso)

Hands pounding on the djembés (drums) never slowed as women, packed tightly together, danced in a huge circle, slowly traveling in a counterclockwise direction. Just inside the circle, two men with drums under their arms walked clockwise as they beat their drums with a mallet-like stick. Rhythms began slowly with the dancers swaying and sometimes chanting and then the drummers increased intensity carrying the dancers into a full-bodied frenzy.
I had an amazing seat for this funeral celebration. Sitting under a mango tree heavily laden with ripening fruit, I was on a bench alongside the djembé players. Night had fallen and the dancing intensity was increasing. The villagers had gathered to celebrate the passing of a respected member of the community. This celebration took place approximately 100 days after his death and he was represented tonight by his brother who was dressed in the deceased clothes. Festivities, which appeared to include many liters of dolo (the local home-brewed millet beer), were rumored to continue for the following week.

Hippo Lake (Bala, Burkina Faso)

A line of bubbles surfacing on the lake was making a path directly towards our metal skiff. The four men poling in the back of the boat tried to quickly put us into reverse as the students in the boat regretted never learning how to swim. Suddenly, a large grey mass raced to the surface as the mother hippo emerged in an open-mouthed rage.
Well, that’s not exactly how my trip to the hippo lake in the southwestern Burkinabe town of Bala took place, but hippos are one of Africa’s biggest killers. Our visit found a group of calm and peaceful hippos enjoying their natural environment. Patrick and I, along with a few other volunteers, had arrived at the lake area earlier in the day. The morning was spent hiking in the nearby forest in an unsuccessful attempt to find monkeys. However, close to the lake’s edge we heard hippo sounds – great gasps and grunts – but did not see any until we rode out onto the lake.
The boatmen poled the aluminum skiff along the shoreline to where a group of hippos were spotted. We stopped behind a clump of tall grass growing out of the water approximately 40 feet from several hippos. Upon counting, we saw at least 20 in our vicinity. It was midday and their energy level was low and activity primarily included rising to the surface for a few gulps of air and then sinking back towards the bottom until the next breath was needed. Occasionally, one would swim out into the lake but a walking hippo was not spotted.

Sacred Catfish (Bobo-Dioulasso, Burkina Faso)

Feathers covered the rocks we walked across in our bare feet. Whites, grays and blacks were the primary colors of the chicken feathers from the chickens that had been sacrificed here for the sacred catfish.
The story is that once upon a time there was a drought with no end. Out of this small pool somewhat hidden in a narrow canyon came several catfish that walked around on the rocks for a bit before hopping back into the water. The rains followed…
Now, the scene is a bit of a shrine for locals and a trap for foreigners. Not wanting to sacrifice a chicken just to see big catfish, Patrick and I brought what we thought the acceptable offering. Bread.
After a bike ride and hike to the feather covered rocks, we began negotiating with a man about why we did not have a chicken. The two other men nearby grilling several chickens for their mid-morning snack did not look so pleased. I guess they wanted a larger feast.
Negotiations finished, we continued barefoot over rocks and descended to the pool. The guide then made an act of calling the fish that appeared instantly as bread touched the water. They apparently did not mind having bread to eat. The following scene resembled a frantic feeding frenzy by 3-4 foot long catfish as they fought each other to gain the bread. A piece of bread would be placed on a sloping rock and catfish grappled over top of each other to suck the piece with their wide, gaping mouths.

Transport

When traveling between cities in Guinea, I typically found myself crammed into a minivan or bush taxi. These experiences allow one to think of centimeters of personal space as a luxury and appreciated the bonding time of almost sitting on a stranger’s lap or holding onto someone else’s small child as curves are quickly taken. Recently, my long distance travels have been on large Greyhound-like buses. These travel mostly paved roads (a rarity in Guinea) at high speeds carrying a number of passengers appropriate for the number of seats. Moving in style!
Small distance travel has recently been done in bachets, or small trucks with a covered, open-air bed. Human passengers seem to be an afterthought as sacks of corn or rice, animals or whatever else are piled into and on top of the vehicle. One of my latest rides included 12 people, one large cow, a goat, 20+ chickens, two motobikes, three bicycles, sacks of something and lots of bags. One regret is that I did not see how they managed to get the cow into the bed of the truck, but check out this vehicle in my photos.

I managed to get photos of Dogon country and Djenne posted (there's a lot):

http://www.flickr.com/photos/guineaswerve/

In Ouagadougou

On March 1, we left Mali for Burkina Faso. The ride from the Malian border town of Koro to the Burkinabe town of Ouagiyah was long and dusty. The area is flat with little growth and as the wind howls, dust fills the air. Arriving in Ouagiyah, I was almost the dirtiest that I have ever been (mud-sliding at SES not included). From here, we used Burkina's great bus system to get to the capitol, Ouagadougou. At the moment, the big Burkinabe film festival that happens every two years is taking place. Last night, I saw Blood Diamonds which is quite intense as it discusses diamond tracking and events that took place in Sierra Leone. There are some clips dedicated to Forecariah, Guinea where I did my training for Peace Corps. Unfortunately, the filming was not done in Guinea.

From here, we plan to continue to the southwest corner of Burkina Faso for a few days.

Dogon Country, Mali (Feb 24 - March 1)

Before 7:00 in the morning, Patrick and I had packed our bags and left the campement for the market area of Douentza. It was here that we were told transport could be found for Bamba, the northern entry point into Dogon country. The ride from Bamako, Mali to Douentza had been classy compared to Guinea standards and part of me was excited to be piling into the back of a small cab pick-up with eleven other people. Wooden benches to sit on were bolted along the sides of the bed but the bed space was filled with many 25 kg bags of salt. We all squished in and folded our legs on top of the salt bags.
A passenger of note in the back with us was an old, smiley warrior. It was obvious that he was a warrior because of the sword present at his side and the piercing look he gave when staring at me. Fifteen minutes into the slippery sand and bumpy road we hit a bump that sent many of us flying. Patrick banged his head against the top of the roof which set the warrior laughing for a solid five minutes. Then, about halfway through the ride the truck stopped in the middle of absolutely nowhere and the warrior descended to walk alone through the barren, sandy environment.
As we continued to Bamba, the scenery changed to include massive, golden sand dunes forming the sides of what appeared to be an ancient river bed. Soon we reached Bamba, the entry point for Dogon Country.
It was market day in Bamba so there was lots of activity. Vendors, in small wooden stalls or out in the open, sold items ranging from produce to Goodwill clothing to traditional cloth and other items. We were pleasantly surprised to find plenty of mangoes for sale. In general, it is still a bit early for the massive harvests so it was a special treat to get a few.
After enjoying the market, we began our hike. Dogon Country is a strip of land along a massive escarpment running through southern Mali. Dogon villages are located on the sloping, rocky areas underneath the vertical walls of cliffs and sometimes extend into the plains at the base. At some points, Dogon villages are also located above the escarpment on the plateau. More interesting for me was the Tellem villages located high in the cliff walls. (I do have some good photos but unfortunately sent my camera cord back to the States so I can’t retrieve the photos at the moment.)
Back to the first night – we hiked until the sun had passed behind the cliffs. A young boy who had been tagging along for some time asked if we had a place to stay for the night. We did not, and he offered his father’s campement. We negotiated a price and slept on an open-aired rooftop. That night, the temperature must have dropped a bit below 70F and I froze, even though I was wearing pants, a sweater, a jacket, a toboggan, and was wrapped in a sheet and towel. My body has acclimated to the heat and anything under 85 feels cool!
The next morning, we toured the small Dogon village before continuing on. In most villages, there is a meeting hut that is centrally located and built low to the ground. Its lowness is by design so that if in the course of a disagreement one person angrily gets up, he will bump his head on the ceiling, reminding him to stay calm. Another part of the village includes a small open area used for ceremonial dancing. Throughout the remainder are low built houses and granaries with tops that greatly resemble witch’s hats.
This day’s hike was enjoyable as we decided to venture off trail and set across a vast, open expanse of sand sparsely covered with low shrubs towards a massive rock grouping in the plains. Our map indicated that three villages – the Yougas – should be located there. At the far side of the plain, there was no sign of a village but when asked a man guided us around a bend to where the Dogon village nestled against the cliffs could be seen. A Tellem village was located in the cliffs above the Dogon. The connection between the Tellem and Dogon is not completely known, but the Tellem arrived before the Dogon and eventually continued south towards Burkina Faso. When asked how people would reach their homes located in the middle of a massive cliff face, I received many answers beginning with the magical ability of people to make their hands stick to rock to climb up.
As was the case every day we trekked, a man met us on the way up and guided us to his campement for lunch and a rest during the heat of the day. That afternoon, we hiked one of the best trails I have ever been on. We began by climbing up to the plateau-like area on top of the cliffs. From here, incredible views of the endless stretching plain were provided before we dropped down through a crack in the rocks where a stairway had been constructed using stones. We continued through the cracks, passing water retention ponds to hold water during the rainy season. The exit from this “hidden” passageway was in the middle of a Tellem village. By now, the sun was low in the sky and was bathing the red rocks in a golden glow.
The next four days were somewhat similar and interesting. We woke early to hike before the heat was unbearable and rested during midday. At night, we slept on the roof tops of houses and were able to enjoy the stars without any light pollution. My biggest surprise was the variation in scenery from one day to another. From open plains to wooded areas to sand dunes, we crossed a variety of terrain. Each day, the hike would lead up to the top of the cliffs through a hidden and amazing path, cross the barren and windy plateau and then descend through another rock stairway.
Several nights, we were fortunate to arrive in village with a market, since many villages have markets only once every five days. These nights, the villages were animated as people conversed, sold wares and ate food. It was as if people waited on a five day cycle to have a big party.
At the end of the trek, we turned exited via the towns of Bankass and Koro before leaving for Burkina Faso. The trip to Koro was an adventure that included a motorcycle ride with one wipe out (the bike slipped out under me and my driver due to his lack of control on the soft sand), two flat tires and a long ride in the back of a dumptruck.

Moving Onwards (February 21, 2007)

As of today, I am officially no longer a Peace Corps volunteer. I am now embarking on a West African tour with my fellow volunteer, Patrick. We plan to start with visiting some of the sights in Mali before heading to Burkina Faso, Ghana, and other countries to be later determined.

I do not know what my computer access will be over the next few months but I will try to post stories of adventures and happenings as much as possible. For those who enjoy plotting locations on maps, I will also try to post (at the top of the page) an ongoing list of locations that we visit.

First major stop: Dogon Country, Mali