Let the Games Begin!!

Wednesday, September 21, 2011 at 6:15pm

1st day of school Fall 2011

It all started with a jump. Literally! My alarm went off and I jumped. Not one of those little ones that you kind of twitch a little. Nope. I jumped nearly out of my sheets when it went off. Now, its not loud or obnoxious or anything, just a beep on my cell phone most days so there’s really no reason for the exaggerated reaction. I mean, it’s the kind that people would have gotten a long and hearty laugh out of had they seen me jump like that for any reason, not to mention a familiar beep I hear everyday numerous times. LOL!! I think I was not fully asleep and was perhaps unconsciously bracing for it so when it went off I wasn’t ready for it. I laughed a little to my sleepy self and then went downstairs to get a shower and get on with the day.

Showered. Dressed. Breakfasted. . . is that a word??? Huh. You’d think I’d know such things since I do go to college, after all … alas, I am unsure but I’m going to use it anyway, though I really have a sneaking suspicion I just wordified that Bucky-style. Grabbed my purse, my really cute one my Mom made for me, stuffed a small notebook, schedule, a couple snacks and of course my phone and Ipod into and drove to the parking lot where I desert my car, leaving it to its fate, while I stand in a line of strangers, all waiting in the chilly morning, me wishing I’d tracked down my mittens or at the very least some gloves, for the bus to come and shuttle us out to Cheney.

Let the cuddle lottery begin!! Haha!! For those of you who might be new to the term, allow me to explain. Every day I get on the bus I think of it as a great big cuddle lottery. You never know who you are going to sit by, unless you bring a friend with you all the time and even then its not guaranteed that you will get 2 seats together, and very often people get awful close to you, even on more than one disturbing occasion very nearly falling asleep on your very uncomfortable shoulder while you sit there petrified as to how to avert such an awkward encounter. I suppose a pointed elbow to the ribs might do the trick or even a smack upside the sleeping head or a flick of those ears. .. there are options, I’m just saying. Though often, in such a situation, I have been far too surprised and, depending on my mood and the perpetrator, thoroughly amused or infuriated. I mean, I’m very prone to sleeping lightly on the bus but I make sure that my head does not wander onto a strangers shoulder when at all possible. That would be enough to cure me of sleeping on the bus I’d imagine.

Today, there was no cuddling, mercifully, though the young man sitting next to me on this beautiful day, seemed nice enough, didn’t smell strongly in a negative way or even in any way that I noticed. I’m just saying, there has been and will be many more bus rides with more unpleasant lottery contestants. So instead of being entirely mortified at riding the bus and sometimes the people riding them, I choose to find my amusement where I can and sometimes share it with you. So I made it to Cheney without any mishaps. Whew!

As I mentioned, it was a pretty chilly morning, cooler than I had anticipated, and I was fairly cooled off by the time I got to campus. The buses are warmer but I was still cold from standing in line waiting for the bus so the short walk to my first class was welcome as I hoped it would get my temperature up. Besides, I love to walk on campus, as long as its not a huge trek or anything. It is a beautiful campus with tree-lined sidewalks that are soon to be stunning in their autumn splendor, skwirls everywhere (little shout-out to Amanda Kiehn there-hehe), which I don’t love but I tolerate (the skwirls, not Amanda! I love Amanda!), inviting benches and tables scattered across the campus, and the lovely brick buildings that I find to be beautiful. I ran into the professor for my first class, Dr. Jerry Galm, who I will refer to as Jerry in any future conversations, posts, etc. He is the man nearly single-handedly responsible for making my trip to Ghana a reality and a success. He works in the anthropology dept and my first class is with him this quarter. Cultural Ecology. Now, I don’t really know what that means or what the class will entail but I think its going to be great! Besides, I’ve got a great in with the prof! ha! I was early and had time to kill so we chatted briefly before I headed to the classroom and he headed to his office to grab his stuff for class.

As I was walking, I began to notice something strange. Not a single person greeted me, asked me if I was married or where I lived! Shock! Dismay! Confusion! What is this distant, don’t-talk-to-anyone-unless-you-know-them-and-only-then-if-you-know-them-well culture?? In Ghana at UCC I wouldn’t have made it out of the hall before someone said something to me and I’d have met several friendly people on the 20 minute walk to campus who would have inquired about my living address, my marital status, what my phone number was and sometimes even my name! LOL!! Its true and if you don’t believe me I can give you names of some fellow obrunis who could verify this.

I found the classroom without any mishaps. I was the 3rd person to arrive as it was more than half an hour before class started. Now, normally I wouldn’t be there that early but it was the first day and with all the construction between here and Cheney I wasn’t sure how long the bus ride might take. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any delays today. I hope that remains the case (that wording sounds strange but I’m gonna keep it). It’s a small classroom that probly holds around 40 maybe. There are tables with 3 chairs at each of them. These chairs are pretty snug in their positioning and leave little room for sprawling out or stretching without smacking the person next to you. Now, in my pre-Ghana days, I can tell you that those tight quarters would be most uncomfortable and somewhat stressful for me.

However, Ghana has somewhat cured me of that pesky personal space bubble I have lived in for so long. Oh how I miss that bubble!! You see, in the same classroom, were it in Ghana, I’m sure at least 3 more people per table would be squeezed in if not more. There is little room in many classrooms there to accommodate the large class sizes so tight quarters are a given. Also, the lack of personal space is a cultural thing, one which I have long treasured and one which was mostly ignored for 5 months in Ghana. I daresay, this personal space thing seems to be a European convention or invention (?) that certainly has a firm grasp on American culture, too. I have noticed this lack of space in Indonesia as well so its not just Africa and I’m sure many of you have stories from your travels where you might have noticed this as well.

As I sat there waiting for the class to fill up, watching to see where people sat, it was amusing to see that before anyone sat at a table where someone was already sitting, there was at least one person at each table throughout the room. I wondered what someone would do if I, being the second person to enter a room, came and sat next to them….and then sat there silently… Oh the laughter that would erupt in my mind!! LOL!! Just imagine it. That’d be funny. Once. Twice… it might just be weird and overkill. It was fun to watch. Just saying. But I started thinking about all the things that go on in classrooms in Ghana that would certainly be seen as umm . . . well rude I suppose here.

Until the prof showed up the room was mostly quiet with only a few people chatting quietly. In Ghana, upon entering a classroom with any number of students in it, you would be confronted with a dull roar that would ebb and flow but would always be there. Talking, laughing, hollering, etc. There was no silence. Even when the teacher would arrive, usually late, the talking would continue through the whole class period. Now, I found this to be particularly frustrating as it was hard enough to try and understand the prof through a usually strong accent. I know, Americans are seen as loud and obnoxious by many, myself included and also not excluded from that stereotype, but there does seem to be a large cultural difference in the way most students behave in classes here compared to Ghana. Such laughter and constant talking would not be tolerated here. Uproarious laughter anytime the white person or anyone of any minority spoke would also not be tolerated. Never mind that the majority of students and profs are white here. That is not the point. Any hint at discrimination for any reason and you would face immediate consequences. Unless it is a comedy course or someone is in fact making a joke, ridiculing your fellow students in such a public display is unacceptable and that I am thankful. For some of us, speaking up in class isn’t the most fun we’ve ever had so if you feel that you are going to be laughed at when you do contribute it is not likely that you will. So that’s one major difference.

I also contemplated reminding the person sitting next to me that he/she needed to be taking notes and writing everything down, regardless of what was being said by the teacher. It is not for you to decide what is important!! No, no, no!! Just write it all down and don’t ask questions!! I thought that would probly get me some new and fun friends.

So many things kept coming to mind about the differences in the 2 school systems. It actually made me a little homesick for Ghana. I know, crazy, right?? I don’t think many of these things I mentioned are things people would care to experience for themselves. If you were living vicariously through me on that trip, you’re welcome, for allowing you to experience it in your mind and not physically. Again, you’re welcome! But its true. As crazy as some of these things sound, and to my mind they are, they became ‘normal’ and we got used to it. I made some great friends on those cramped benches in those loud classrooms.

There are many more things which I noticed throughout my day, too. I loved the way the prof showed up on time, class was started on time, and that there was no negotiating for a different class time or location. It is comforting to know where you will be meeting for class at what time on which days. Its nice. I have my books and only spent $120 on 6 books, including shipping. Its nice to have books assigned for a class though I’d much rather photocopy them than buy them new or used, but alas, our copyright laws are much more stringent. *sigh*

All in all it was a pretty great day. I love being on campus, going to classes, learning stuff, meeting people, all that. The weather was beautiful, too, after it warmed up a little.

This quarter I’m taking Cultural Ecology with Jerry from 9-10am, m-f; Myth, Magic, and Ritual with Dr. Zukosky from 10-11am, m-th with a podcast on Fri; Cultures of Sound and Silence with Dr. Zukosky from 1-3p t, th; and then a fast fitness course I can do whenever I have time. I’m really excited for this quarter and I’m looking forward to immersing myself back into this education system. Sure, it has its faults, but they are ones I’m familiar with. Knowing what is expected of you in a class is something you might not have realized was important until you took classes where you had no idea what was expected of you so you did what you were used to and then got bad grades for it. Oh, and no, I still have not received my transcripts from UCC. I am relieved to know that one of the international students has received hers after much pestering and reminding. My campaign Get Cat her Grades began this week. We will see how it works out. I’ll keep you posted as I’m sure you are on the edge of your seat awaiting the results, as am I.

Well, thanks for joining me on this first day of college recap. Stay tuned. More absurdness and comparisons are sure to follow. Or you can tune out if you like. That is an option too.

Sidenote. I have an intense dislike for my downstairs neighbor who very often loudly sings, watches his tv, and plays video games - all very loudly; smokes a great deal which I detest as my house gets all smokey and gross; and has a dog after which he does not clean up after. Prayers are welcome. :)

An Post-Africa Update

Hello Friends,

Its been awhile since I've sent an update and this will be a short one. I meant to do it sooner but I've been busy and haven't gotten to it before now. Obviously I made it safely back from Ghana and thankfully, without any hassle, back in June. The flights back were uneventful and my layovers were short, mercifully. I was greeted at the airport by my sister, Jenn, and my friends, Erica and Amanda. It was so great to see them!! It was nice to be back in a familiar place, too. Being home has brought many challenges but many more points of appreciation and thankfulness.

It's been about 3 months since I got back and I've had time to readjust and try and get back into my life here. As with all my trips, though moreso with this one, my life is forever changed and in more ways than I'm sure I'm even aware of. My time in Ghana has brought so many experiences and blessings into my life and I am so entirely thankful for that opportunity. My first month back was probably the hardest so far. My body did not seem to like the food I was once again putting into it and that lasted most of the month. I never had any issues with food in Ghana and that alone is a miracle and a blessing. I think the biggest problem or difference is that here all our food, no matter how it is grown or raised, has so many hormones, chemicals, preservatives, etc. in them whereas in Ghana, they don't have those things in their food and most of it is fresh of the tree or from the farm. I'm no scientist but I think that had a lot to do with my physical reaction to the food upon being back here. Also, the variety of food here is much different and that was part of it. I've gotten through that unpleasant reaction and am back to my previous level of tolerance to these foods and everything.

Many people go through a 'reverse culture shock' upon returning from a trip like I had. I can't speak for others but some of those feelings come from being so overwhelmed by all that we have access to, from overly abundant grocery and department stores, clean running water at our disposal whenever we need it, public sanitation that isn't generally a real health hazard regardless of how disgusted you might be by public restrooms, a vehicle to drive that you own or are in the process of owning that allows you to avoid using public transportation that sometimes seems to cause your life to pass before your eyes, to friends and family who really have no idea of what you have experienced despite your efforts to share it with them, a disgust and frustration with American attitudes that include a sense of entitlement and superiority and not to mention how loud, rude and obnoxious Americans are, and on and on. These are just a few things I have experienced and there are many more things but I can't list them all. It is really hard to go from having literally only the things you brought with you and having to make that work for a variety of situations to returning the land of too much. We have so much, SO VERY MUCH here and very often, I think, we never realize it until we step out of our regular lives and experience something entirely different. We take it for granted and we get complacent. That's just life I guess, though it disgusts me and frustrates me more than many things. These are all things I have dealt with and I knew there'd be this sort of reaction upon my return as I've been through it before, plus I think I'm more prone to being aware of these things in my life in general than some people. That isn't meant to be an "I'm better than you because . . ." statement or anything so I hope you don't take it that way.

I have been blessed to be able to spend the summer in Yakima, staying with my Mom, and working 2 jobs!! Two jobs, in this economy??? Yep. God has been so good. I first got a part time job at  little Christian bookstore down here and worked about 20 hrs/week. Then I got a job working at City Hall in the utilities office, answering phones, filing paperwork and that sort of thing. I have been working there about 40 hrs/week and then working the other job in the evenings and some weekends so I've been staying busy. haha!! I'm sure not used to working 2 jobs like that but I am thankful that I've had that opportunity this summer for a few months. I wasn't sure what would happen when I got back and the prospect of looking for a job in Spokane upon my return was not thrilling. I have had a great time staying with Mom, getting spoiled by her really, and getting to see my family more. It has sure helped with my transition and I am so so thankful for the time I've had here.

Course, I'm sure missing my Spokane friends and my house. By the time I return to Spokane next week I will have only been there for maybe 2 1/2 weeks this whole year. I've been gone nearly 9 months with 5 of them being in Ghana. Yakima isn't Ghana though it does often feel like another world. haha!! I'm looking forward to going back to Spokane, though I'll miss hanging out with Mom watchin NCIS or something and I'll certainly miss her cooking for me. :)

I start school Sept. 21 and I hope this will be my last year. I've been working on my Anthropology degree and I'd like to be done by next June. We'll see how that goes. I do hope to go back to Ghana next year though I haven't any idea what these next several months will bring. Only God knows and that's enough for me.

If I haven't said thank you enough to all of you who supported me on this trip with your friendship, encouragement, prayers and thoughts, again, THANK YOU!! Medaase!! Graci! Merci! Terima Kasih!! Gracias!! Akpe!! If you have any questions or anything about my trip or whatever, I hope you feel free to msg me, call me, fb me, or come over and visit. I'd love to hear from you and what you have been up to these past 9 months. This next year is going to be a tough one for me with a lot of things going on. I'd sure appreciate your intention prayers as there are many things for me to figure out.

I am also doing a photo promo through December that I wanted to share with you. Starting in Sept, I started something new. We'll see how it goes. If you would like to purchase any prints, cards, notepads, calendars, etc., for every $5.00 you spend, your name will go in a drawing for a free 11x14 print of your choice that I will frame! The drawing will be done the Dec. 10, just in time for Christmas. So if you need some gift ideas or just want a beautiful photograph for yourself, let me know!! Any of my photographs can be printed any size you like, color or black & white, and they can also be made into note card sets which are one of my favorite things to make. The cards come in packs of 6 and can be 5x7 or 4.25x5x5.  The packs are of one image and are not assorted at this point. If you have any questions, just ask. :) My prices are listed in my notes section on fb which I can get you if you don't have access to facebook. The proceeds will to help finance a future trip to Ghana or perhaps another country should that be an option and for every $100 raised, $25 will be donated to Kiva.org, a microloan organization I'm involved with. The loans are a minimum of $25 and they really are changing lives all over the world. You can get more info about them at www.kiva.org. I encourage you to take a look regardless of your interest in my photos. I'll be putting more photos up as I go through them but there are some available to see on FB for now.

For now, that's all I have to share. You all mean so much to me and I thank God for your presence in my life and for your allowance of me in yours. God bless!!

Sincerely,

Cat

link to my fb albums: https://www.facebook.com/media/albums/?id=132034340167321
link to my Africa fb album: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.238725076164913.50729.132034340167321&type=1

Adinkra Symbols

Thursday, September 1, 2011 at 9:40pm

Hey there,

For anyone wondering about any of the symbols you might see or might have seen on some things from Ghana, I thought I'd attach this link. It has a lot of them though not all and I can never remember them all or their meanings so now you can take a look if you're curious. :)

http://www.adinkra.org/htmls/adinkra_index.htm

Africa - Final Leg of an Amazing Adventure

Tuesday, May 31, 2011 at 5:39am

Dear Friends,

Thanks so much for your patience in hearing about my Timbuktu experience. This will probly be my last update from Ghana though I may try and do one after I’m back to fill in on this last week. I leave one week from today and my heart is heavy at the thought though it is also excited to see so many of you that I have missed so much these past several months. This has been the most incredible, moving, inspiring and life-changing 5 months. I can’t even begin to process all that I have been through and how I have changed. Let me try and catch you up on what I’ve been up to since my last update.

After getting back from Mali I was so happy to be back in Ghana and back to more familiar things. We had exams to study for and that took up a lot of my time. My first one was on May 5th and was for my slave trade and colonialism class. We wrote it in the large lecture theater there. They don’t let you bring anything into the exam other than your id, which we never even got after all, pens and maybe water and a handkerchief/sweat rag. They frisked us at the door which I thought to be absolutely absurd and mildly amusing. It wasn’t intensive or anything. I went in and sat down at a desk and waited for it to start. After a few minutes someone came up and moved me to another seat. I didn’t know why but whatever. Then as I sat in my new desk I saw that my id number had been written on it in chalk. Ahh!! I see. They assign seats it seems. I just figured the writing on the desk was normal as they scribble all over the desks and chairs or benches here and carve things in them. I didn’t take any notice of the writing on mine before they moved me. The exam was slotted for 2 hrs as they all are it seems. I finished after half an hour and that included rechecking my work. I have no idea when everyone else finished but I got up, turned in my paper, and left. I can’t for the life of me figure out how they fill the entire time slot for these exams and what they might possibly be writing to fill that time. It baffles me as it never takes me very long. Course, the fact that English is my first language might have something to do with it. Still, the test packets usually come with about 10-12 sheets of lined paper for you to write on and then the exam questions on a separate sheet and the closest I came to filling that packet was one I wrote that filled up about 8 pages. Sometimes people ask for more sheets. Hmm. Who knows?? I certainly don’t. Being the first one to leave the exam is always a little bit concerning, especially since I’m white. There’s no being inconspicuous here in any context or situation. Just doesn’t happen. Oh well.

I was glad to be done with one out of the five though I have no idea how I did on it or what kind of grade I will get. I still don’t understand their grading system or find it to be a good one. In fact, it is most maddening and frustrating, but I’m done and there’s nothing to be done about any of it now. I won’t know my grades till whenever CIE decides to send the transcripts which I have little faith they will do in a timely manner. The earliest would probly be in the fall but again, I have no idea when I’ll know. It kinda sucks not getting to see our final papers or get them back. Bah!!

Next exam was the 6th. It was originally scheduled for the 27th but I asked to take it early as I’d be traveling and Coleen was taking it early too so they let me. I was so happy about that since it meant I’d be able to leave campus after my last exams and have time to travel some more before leaving. This exam consisted of 5 questions out of which you had to choose 3 and write a full length essay. They gave us 8-9 possible questions to study before the exam and out of those they picked 5 that we had then choose 3 to write. Ughh!! I don’t like that way of doing exams. But I wrote my 3 essays in an hour and a half. My hand hurt so bad after writing so much in that amount of time. This one was for my Ghanaian culture class. I really enjoyed that class and think the professor is really good. I learned a lot about their culture. So much more to learn though.

So 2 exams done. Three more to go but didn’t have to write them until the 16th, 17th, and 19th. I much prefer having all my exams in 1 week and not spread out over the whole month. I understand they do that partly because of a lack of space for giving the exams as some of the classes are really large and are split into groups for lectures but have to all take the exam at the same time. Still.

The rainy season started. There were some days where it would downpour for maybe half hour to an hour and then it’d be finished but it was still pretty hot. I look forward to the rains as it usually cools down some. Course the mud and swarms of bugs are an unpleasant but unavoidable effect. You gotta take the good with the bad.

I had a week before my next exam so I enjoyed relaxing and not studying as much as I could have. On wed. of that week I went to Kumasi with Patrick for some shopping and such. He hadn’t been yet so we went and had a good trip. I mainly wanted to go to the cultural center for some things and he wanted to look there to as well as trying to find some bookshops. We found some of the shops but they didn’t have much and what they did have was not what he was looking for. Kumasi is so busy in the downtown area. Trying to walk anywhere you are surrounded by hordes of people all wanting you to buy something from them that you neither want nor need and sometimes don’t even know what it is or why we’d want it. We snaked our way through the crowds, being forceful when we had to and eventually made it to the CNC. Whew!! I dislike being in thick crowds like that. Makes me feel somewhat unsafe though I’ve never had any problem of feeling threatened or in any real danger at any time during my stay. You just never know what could happen and its best to keep moving, always acting like you know exactly where you are going, trying not to gawk at it all.

Sometimes you just want to try and take it all in but once you stop to do that then you will be surrounded by vendors, beggars, children and any variety of people and products you would rather not be surrounded with. I just want to look!!! Back off!! Sheesh!! Such pushy people. Mempasa!!! Plus the sun is scorching hot adding to the discomfort of such a situation and also to the umm . . . aromas shall we say? I don’t know how but you seem to learn how to not breathe in deeply. The gutters that line all the streets here are used for garbage, human and animal waste, dirty water and who knows what else and boy do they give off a potent stench especially on a hot day. It is a common thing to see men peeing in the gutters right there in the middle of town. Children do it a lot, too, and I’ve seen some women squat and relieve themselves but not so much. They are a little more discreet. The signs that you see that say ‘Don’t urinate here’ are practical and necessary and yet they still amuse me. Can’t say I’ve seen that sort of thing at home anywhere or in any of my other travels to my recollection.

We made it to the Centre for National Culture. Ahhhh!! Such a relief. There are not many people there and after those thick crowds this was so nice. It’s a walled complex with several buildings that have a variety of shops in. There are several with artwork like paintings and such and then you have some that have the trinkets and woodcrafts and such. We wandered through and found some things. I was looking for some paintings and enjoyed looking at all the different styles. I love the artwork!! It’s so colorful and vibrant. Just beautiful!! One of the shops has artwork done by some people who have handicaps. I ended up getting a couple paintings there. The artist was there and he was in a wheelchair painting with his mouth. His paintings are so beautiful and I’m happy to pay for things that I know are going to good causes. Next to that shop was another one where I found my big painting I’d been looking for. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted but I knew I wanted a large one for me and hoped I’d know it when I saw it. And I did. It is stunning and so beautiful!! I couldn’t pass it up. It was 55Ghc which is really good considering you could pay hundreds of dollars for such a piece at home. It was actually a demo one that was framed on the wall but since they didn’t have a duplicate they took it off the wall and off the wooden frame it was nailed to and gave it to me. I was so happy to have found it!!

We ate at a restaurant there before heading back to CC. Food was good and when it rained and cooled down I wished I’d have brought a sweater or something. I got quite cool which is always a nice change here. It didn’t rain for long but felt so nice to sit there with good food, good company and a light rain. We ended up on a trotro for the ride back, much to our irritation and resignation. Sitting on a trotro for 3-4 hrs can be rather miserable experience and this was no exception. The ride seemed to take forever but we made it back safely and that’s always a relief. You wouldn’t believe the amount of road accidents they have here. Its really bad and many result in deaths. Patrick and Abby were in a car accident here and they were riding with a professor. Their car got rear-ended after they stopped suddenly for a huge pothole. No one was seriously hurt but that’ll scare you pretty good.

On May 14, Saturday, Patrick, David and I went to tour Cape Coast Castle. We hadn’t been yet and it was something we wanted to do before we left. I’m glad we got to see it. These places have such a powerful history. Just to be clear these castles aren’t ones for princesses and knights in shining armor. They were used by colonial masters for slaves. There is nothing fairy tale about that. Frankly, I am more interested in these castles than any castles in England that actually have royalty living in them. Those bear little interest for me though they are beautiful.

Shortly after we started our tour it started raining and the wind kicked up. We were in the male slave dungeon when it started so we waited a little while hoping the rain would pass but it didn’t so we had to walk out in the rain so another group could go through that area. The rain must have lasted for an hour or so with the wind. I found it to be beautiful. It’s not like it got that cold really. David got cold but that’s cuz he’s used to the heat here and doesn‘t like the rain and cold, which is a constant source of amusement to me. We finished the tour and it was still pouring rain. Patrick and I decided to try and get some photos despite the rain cuz you never know when it will stop. So we went out on the wall where we hadn’t gone previously and took more photos. It was kinda fun out there in the storm but thankfully it stopped after another 20 minutes or so. We were soaked but having fun. We were able to finish exploring the castle without more rain and our clothes were dried by the time we got back to campus.

I had my next 3 exams on the 16th, 17th, and 19th. With the finishing of each exam I felt that much more relieved and excited to be almost done with the school part of being here. Taking classes here has been probly the biggest challenge of this trip. It’s not the content of the classes that has been the challenging part but trying to figure out what is expected from us in a system that is entirely foreign in its expectations and style of teaching. I still  have no idea if I’ve passed my classes or not. I’ve never gotten so many low grades in my life and that is a humbling, frustrating and confusing thing as I feel certain if I had taken the same classes at home and done the same work my grades would be much higher and more like what I am used to getting. But I suppose that is part of the experience after all. I’m happy to be done with that anyway and I feel like when I go back to school in the fall for hopefully my last year, it will all seem so much easier and manageable after this experience.

Finally, I was finished with my exams!!! Hooray!!! What a relief that was! Ahhh . ..  Now to relax and enjoy the rest of my time without that whole pesky school thing. LOL!! On Sat., May 21, our friend and classmate Richard took us to a cocoa farm that was about 2 hrs away. We thought we were going to his farm but since his was much farther away, we went to one at Atobiase where he has an aunt and uncle who have a farm there. The farm we went to see was near this small town and was a fairly small farm.

The cocoa trees are smallish with the fruit growing off the trunk. The fruit consists of a tough shell, not as tough as coconut but tougher than a watermelon if I had to try and categorize it, with seeds the size of maybe a quarter that are covered in a slimy sort of flesh and are sweet to suck on though very slimy and the seeds are attached to a spine thing in the middle. The cocoa comes from the seeds which are dried in the sun on large drying mats. The seeds are dried and then sent somewhere where they are ground up, producing the cocoa powder used to make chocolate, which is then exported. Most of the cocoa farmed in Ghana is exported. One bag of cocoa beans about the size of a gunny sack (sp?) can sell for 1500Ghc I think Richard said which is about $1000 US. There are several fruits that grow on one tree and are low on the tree and fairly easy to pick. One tree can produce for 3-5 years before it stops producing and they will cut it down and replant. Not sure what else I asked him about all of it but it was really interesting. There are children who work in the farms but at least in this area it seems the kids are part of the family that the farm belongs to and as much as I dislike even that kind of work for children, these aren’t children who are enslaved and forced to work on these farms like in other places or perhaps on other farms.

While we were touring the farm, we were being trailed by lots of kids who would laugh and talk to us, at least the bold ones would. The adults would try to shoo them away but they gave up that after awhile and we had quite a train of people, children and adults behind us as we walked back to the village. We took some photos with the children who kept wanting ‘just one more’ and ‘just one more’ and ‘just one more’ photo. I’m not sure they really knew what that meant, haha!! It was fun playing with them for a bit before we had to go. We tried getting a trotro back to CC with all 4 of us but it wasn’t working so Jess and Abby took the first one that they could force their way into as people here don’t know how to queue and just force their way to the front of whatever line there might be. I dislike that as I’m not one to jump in front of other people. I’m more than happy to let others go first but in doing so you might end up waiting a long time before you run out of people to let cut in front of you so you have to try and be un-American somehow and just force your way in. That’s hard for me to do but I can do it.

So Jess and Abby boarded one first and Richard and I waited for another. It took a while but we finally got one and crammed in with more passengers than these are designed to carry already. At that point, I didn’t care and was glad to be headed back to CC, regardless of how many people I was squished up against. It was cool getting to see a farm and learn about how it all works.

As I mentioned in my last update, I was planning on spending the last few days in Ghana traveling with David. Just a little about him for anyone who might be curious. He is a student at UCC studying something akin to sports medicine and just finished his first year at UCC with 3 more to go. Before coming to UCC he taught English for 5 years in Denu which is in the Volta region and where I am currently. He has a certificate for teaching. He is also a national table tennis/ping pong player and is really good. He placed 3 at some university games in April, I think, and also got a bronze medal recently in a West Africa games competition in Nigeria. He has an opportunity to travel and play abroad in August which will be a great opportunity for him and I pray it goes well. He’s a Christian and one of the best people I’ve ever met. He has 1 younger sister, a younger brother and an older brother. There is much more I could say about him but those are some of the basics.

Tuesday evening, we went to Oasis, a local hotspot that is often frequented by obrunis, and has some western food that is pretty good. Abby, Jess, Patrick, David, Elvis, and Richard came and we had a good time hanging out and eating good food. I was the first one to actually be leaving CC even though I’ll be the last one to leave Ghana. I’m glad we got to hang out as a group one more time before I left. That night after we got back, Abby and I hung out all night. We stayed up talking, listening to music and just having fun. We went up on the roof and threw some Frisbees off and took some photos. I had decided to stay up all night cuz by the time I was finished packing and stuff it was 1:30am and I was planning on getting up at 4:30am so we could leave campus to catch a ride to Accra. I’m so glad Abby and I got to hang out this one last time before I left. I have been so blessed to have her as a roommate and friend. I couldn’t have picked a better roommate had I been given the choice. She is such a fun, unique, hilarious and beautiful person who I have become good friends with. I have missed her so much after leaving. I wasn’t looking forward to saying goodbye. So far, I’d done ok saying goodbye to people and not crying like I wanted to. I cried when Selorm left as she has become a dear friend and my closest African female friend. Finally 5:30am came and we took my bags out front where we had a taxi driver who was going to take us the short distance down the road to the bus station. David and I loaded mostly my bags into the trunk and then I had to say goodbye to Abby. I had been forcing the tears away up until this point but couldn’t stop them now. And of course, if I start crying, I can’t talk for the emotion in my throat that prevents me from not only looking like a faulty sprinkler system with a red face but also being mute. Not my most favorite state to be in but one I find myself in from time to time. I gave her a hug with both of us crying. Sheesh!! Women and their tears!! LOL!! I intensely dislike goodbyes even though there is a strong possibility that I’ll be seeing people again. Its not about that. Its about missing people and knowing its going to be awhile before you see them again, if you are blessed to do so. I can’t tell if these moments are getting easier or harder for me the more often I have to do them. I think the older I get and the more open I am with my emotions the harder they get. Anyways, enough about that. Haha.

Wed, nearly a week ago, David and I left UCC, after a few days of saying goodbye to dear friends and traveled to Denu, his hometown which is near the Togo border in the south. He has family here and people who are more family than some of his biological family. I was excited to meet some of the people who have been such a big part of his life and to see where he has lived. It’s a decent sized town built on sand. Not sure how it works as I’m no construction worker or anything but the town is in the sand. I haven’t been to the beach yet but everywhere you walk is in sand. It seems odd to be walking through town and to be walking on sand. Dirt is one thing, but the sand feels foreign somehow.

He has a small 2 room apt that he rents and stays when he is here. Its inside a walled compound and the building has numerous other apts in it. It is run by a 99 yr old woman who has a pet monkey in a cage cuz it bites. This old woman does any of the work on the place unless it is a big job and then she will hire someone. Can you imagine?? I can’t. Wow!! There is a well in the courtyard area where you can draw water for whatever you need it for. There is a building in that courtyard with several small rooms that people use for kitchens. The kitchens are often not in the houses or apts here. Of course, you can cook or whatever in your room but it’s likely to be inconvenient due to the smoke from the stove and messy too. Not sure of other reasons for having it separate but I imagine you can come up with some. There is a ‘toilet’ around the back but still in the compound which consists of a walled in area where you take care of your business and then use water to wash it out a small hole. Hmm… I’m constantly thankful for toilets, especially ones that flush regularly.

One of David’s fathers, Tom, has a hotel here where I have been staying. Upon asking about the cost of the room which is pretty fancy and has a tv, closet, mini-fridge, fan, a/c, large bed and bathroom with sink, toilet, and shower all with running water, he said not to worry about it as he sees me as a daughter-in-law! Wow!! I was so touched by that. This is a room that would be 45Ghc regularly which is fairly cheap by US standards but really nice here and he is letting me stay here free of charge, with breakfast included!! Wow!! I am constantly surprised and truly blessed by the generosity and hospitality of people here.

Over the past week we have gone to visit people who have been a huge part of David’s life, some of them blood relatives, many of them close friends who are like family. He hadn’t told some of them, namely his Aunty, that he was bringing a white ‘friend’ with him. They knew he had a friend he was bringing but not that I was white. He likes to surprise people it would seem as my presence is surprising to some though it seems to be a good thing which they are happy about and enjoy teasing David about. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m sure, it seems that many people here have a great deal of reverence and awe toward white people and it feels like some somehow feel we are better than them and are people worthy of their looking up to, if that makes sense. I sure don’t feel special or deserving of this attitude or behavior and it embarrasses me more than it makes me feel good. I mean, I’m glad that people are not threatening or antagonistic but to be made to feel as if I’m better than them because of my skin color is an entirely uncomfortable position to be in. Hard to explain if you’ve never experienced such a thing. Nonetheless, the people I have met have been so welcoming and friendly and seem genuinely happy for David and I. “You’ve done well,” is a common phrase said to David and also to me. LOL!! It happens.

We had hoped to cross the border to Togo for a few hours since it is less than 20 minutes from here but upon getting there it would have cost too much just to try and cross and then come back so we decided to save that for the next time I’m here. It would have been a cool bonus but it was no biggie not getting to go. It poured rain Sunday night and in the morning and the roads were a red muddy mess that was difficult to traverse without getting covered in the red mud here. I think I did pretty good, though. I didn’t slip and fall and my legs were pretty mud-free by the end of the day. It stopped raining halfway through the day and some started to dry but it takes a while.

We will be going to Accra tomorrow morning, Wed., where we will be until I leave Friday evening. We hope to go to Aburi Botanical Gardens and Boti Falls a couple hrs north of Accra on Thursday as one last little trip before I leave. I’ll meet David’s mother and siblings in Accra possibly Wed. Then, barring any complications, I’ll be leaving Fri night and get home sometime Sat afternoon. To any of you hoping to see me right away, I ask for your patience as I attempt to readjust to being in Spokane. I would love to see you and I hope to but I need to do that when I’m ready. I hope you understand. I can’t pretend leaving here and mainly leaving David won’t be the hardest thing I’ve had to do or that I won’t be a mess when I get home. The hope and the plan to see him again in about a year will be my light at then end of the tunnel. Still, its going to be a hard thing to do. But, don’t worry, I plan on seeing you as soon as I can. I’ve got school stuff to do when I get back though I don’t have any idea what it might entail and then I plan on going to Yakima the following week for a week or more. I don’t know how any of this will work out but these are tentative plans. I should have my phone back on Sat morning once I get to DC, hopefully. I’ll be needing to find a job so if anyone knows of places that are hiring, I haven’t been able to do much looking here and I’d appreciate any input.

I can’t believe I’ll be home in 4 days, Lord willing!! What an adventure this has been!! Thank you so much for coming with me on this journey. Your prayers, thoughts, messages, packages and calls have been unforgettable and deeply appreciated. I’ll keep you posted on my future travels if you like but for now, I’m signing off. I hope to send a final update once I’m home but I have no idea if I actually will or when it might be. It’s going to take some time to process things and I make no promises of passing on those thoughts but I hope I get to it. If you have questions, comments, jokes, your own travel stories to share or anything, I’m always happy to hear them. If I haven’t responded to all your emails and messages, I hope you can forgive me and give me the chance perhaps when I’m back on that side of the ocean. Thanks again for your love and support.

All my love and gratitude,
Cat - Kakra - Kate - Elorm . . .

Africa - Timbuktu - Part 4 - Leaving Timbuktu and Getting Back to CC

Sunday, May 22, 2011 at 8:12am

Timbuktu Part 4 - Coming home

When we got to the port, which is a small area where there are several fishing boats and the ferry with some small shops on the bank of the muddy river, we put our water and other small things for the day in the canoe and soon set off. The canoe was very long, don’t ask me how many feet, with a motor on the back and it had a reed covered area, thankfully. There was no way I’d have been able to make a boat ride in the middle of the day in that scorching sun without shade. It was hot enough with the shade. There were mats on the bottom of the canoe for us to sit on so we were sitting low in the water. I sat on the support bars that ran across the boat when I got tired of sitting in the bottom of the boat. There was a nice breeze as we went up the river.

It is a wide river and looks muddier than it is. There aren’t many trees along the shore but some of the acacia ones here and there. We saw several small communities along the way as they were on the banks of the river. Sometimes there were people at the rivers edge, kids playing, people doing laundry or fishing. We saw some other boats on the river, too. Aziz came with us along with a different Tuareg man, whose name I didn’t catch and don’t have any idea what it may have been. He spoke some English and we talked about different things as we rode. He was an older gentleman and he smoked his pipe like I drank water . . . Only more so. Every so often he would get out his hand carved pipe made from gazelle bone, pack it with some tobacco and smoke it. He didn’t smoke it for long as the pipe did not have a bowl and is more of just the pipe part. . . As if I have any idea about pipe terminology but anyway. Not the most pleasant of smells but I’ve smelled worse, especially here.

We rode for a couple hours and then they pulled over near some scraggly trees and we climbed out onto the river bank to stretch our legs. By now the sun was directly overhead and really punishing us. They put down a mat under the trees where there was small small shade and guess what???? It was tea time!!! Oh I know how excited you are!! Just imagine how excited we were to be forced to drink this wretched boiling hot concoction as we sat there with sweat dripping off us even in the minimal shade. Then they made some rice which we ate. As we were waiting for them to prepare the tea and then rice with some fresh fish they had bought from a fisherman along the way and were still alive flopping around in the dish when we got them, the Tuareg man had some jewelry he wanted to show us. We had been warned that he might try this and had been advised to be straightforward if we were not interested and that would be no problem. The jewelry was beautiful and we looked at several necklaces, bracelets and rings along with some other various items for a while before deciding on a couple items that we wanted. After some negotiating I ended up with 2 necklaces and a bracelet and Abby got a necklace, ring and that gazelle bone pipe with tobacco. The jewelry is mainly from what I’d call Tuareg metal as I’m not sure what it is. I thought it was silver but now looking at it it is looking more like gold. Hmmm. My pieces are the Tuareg metal shaped into a design that has fine detailed markings on it that all symbolize something, some of which I remember, most of which I do not, on a string. They are really beautiful and I’m glad to have them even though they were fairly spendy in my opinion. But because I’m not like to ever return there and the other available items in town were limited to mainly cheap imported junk from China, I’m happy to have these.

After we finished ‘shopping’ and eating, we got back in the boat, slightly irritated because of the heat, tea and sitting there for over an hour I’d say, and set off up the river again. It took us about 3-4 hours to get up to where the hippos live. Not sure why they live in that particular spot but I suppose they know and that matters more than my knowing. It didn’t seem to be a terribly impressive place but maybe the plant life and location allowed for some privacy and  happiness on their part. Who can tell??? They’re hippos, after all. When we were getting close the place we slowed down and kept our eyes peeled, which has always been a strange term to me . . . How do you peel your eyes??? Not sure I’ve ever understood that term. Maybe I’ll Google it . . . I have no idea but we were watching closely to see if we could spot them. Soon we saw what we were told were hippos. Sure enough!! As we slowed down I saw one climbing into the water from the shore which was sort of like a small low-lying island in the middle of the very wide river. We were far away and couldn’t see them very well which is likely for the best as I hear they can be very dangerous with more deaths by hippo in Africa than deaths by lions. How funny!! Or not. . . Again, who knew hippos, of all creatures, could be so violent???? Makes one wonder what would drive a hippo to kill?? What could possibly anger them so?? Perhaps a feeling of being threatened I suppose, especially if they have babies. Feel free to come up with your own belief on the matter. I wonder if people hunt hippos and eat them or use them for something??? Can’t say that is an appetizing or pleasant thought but wanted to share it anyway. LOL!!

We soon shut of the motor as it was scaring them further away. We could barely see them across the river. They kept quite a distance from us and would only poke their heads out with their ears sticking up. Sometimes we would see ones’ back too as they seem to enjoy just floating there far away from us. I’d guess the herd or whatever you might call it had about 10 hippos in it but it was hard to know as they didn’t all climb out of the water and show themselves but rather kept surfacing and diving and making it impossible to know how many there might be. Sneaky buggers the size of . . . well hippos. We docked the canoe and sat there for a while. Then Abby along with Aziz, the Tuareg, and the boat driver decided to get out and walk down along the grassy and muddy shore to see if they could get a little closer and get some better photos. They were so far away it was hard to zoom in close enough to see them very well. They walked a little ways down the coast and I stayed in the canoe. I had no desire to do that, mainly due to the heat probably, so I sat in the canoe and waited for them to come back, which they did after a short while. We left shortly after that and headed back down the river. It was kinda cool seeing parts of hippos. Abby wanted to make the trip to see them but I could have passed on it, especially after the next part.

On the way back, the motor on the canoe kept dying. I don’t know what the problem was but it died repeatedly, causing me to wonder if we’d ever make it back to the port which seemed like days away. If we were left to let the current take us back, well, we might never have gotten back. The current was not strong even when we were in the middle of the river. It seems the Niger is fairly lazy river at times. This was one of those times. The captain would get the motor going and we’d go a short distance and then it’d die and we’d sit there, with no breeze, tired and uncomfortable. This went on for maybe an hour or 2 until it finally stayed on. I was praying so hard that it would work and get us back to the port. After it started and stayed on it took us another 3 hrs maybe to get back. The trip back was so much longer and miserable. Going was ok, pleasant and relaxing even. Returning seemed to take forever and ever. Somehow, we finally made it back and I was so relieved to see that muddy port area. Just to be able to get out and stretch my legs was a relief. The trip made for a long day and we were wiped out. We got a hold of Miranda and Shindouk and waited maybe ½ hr to an hr for them to come pick us up and take us back to the hotel.

They did come get us and took us back. We were so tired and didn’t want to do anything else that day. We showered and rested, I think, and just hung out at the hotel talking until dinner. That night we slept on the roof of the hotel which was an open flat area with a maybe 2foot wall around the whole roof. They put down thin mats and sleeping bags with pillows. It was beautiful getting to sleep under the stars again in the fresh air that cooled quickly. Sleeping under the stars in that place and in the desert will be some of my most favorite things I’ve done on this entire trip to Ghana. It was so beautiful, peaceful, surreal and wonderful. I slept soundly that night and woke up feeling refreshed.

We didn’t feel like doing too much Monday. We had some Milo and bread for breakfast. After that, we went into town to try and get money from an atm or a bank or somewhere. Nothing was working for us. The atms didn’t work for either of our cards. I had a horrible sinking feeling we weren’t going to be able to pay for all the things we had just done because we couldn’t get money out and hadn’t had the time or opportunity to get any out in Bamako. That is a horrible feeling, knowing people have been planning excursions, sending us on them, feeding and housing us and taking us around town and you are unable to pay them. Just awful. We both had people send us $ via Western Union which we were unsure we would be able to even get due to Monday being Easter Monday and a holiday with banks and some other shops closed.

Miranda and Shindouk were so nice about it, though. They were not worried about, knowing we felt badly and knew we would do everything we could to get the money to them, even if it meant getting all the way back to Bamako or even Ghana before getting it to them. That was a relief. When we went into town, we found a Western Union place that was open and we were able to get the money. Praise God for that!! Such a huge relief. I would have felt completely wretched and awful if we would not have been able to do that before we left. After getting our money, we went back to the hotel, figured out our payment stuff, took care of that and decided we would head back later that day after some time in the markets.

We packed up our dirty sandy clothes, purchased some postcards from Miranda who had some she has done and because we weren’t likely to find any in town, and went into town. We said goodbyes to Miranda and Shindouk who had been so helpful and without whose help would have had a much more difficult and miserable trip to Timbuktu. Our driver from our trip in took us into town, filled up on gas and then waited for us to finish ‘shopping’ before taking us back to Doenza. We went to the Grand Marche, big market, first. There wasn’t much there and its only called that because the building that has some vendors in it is 3 stories high. The market had mainly necessities like food and some fabrics. We got some fabric and then walked maybe 5 minutes to the Petit Marche which I had heard had more artisan crafts and such. Sadly, that was not the case. It was actually bigger than the other one, with more stalls of various things so we wandered down through it. Aziz and another guy was with us so they helped us when we found things we wanted to buy. There sure wasn’t much in the way of touristy things to buy, disappointingly enough. We didn’t have much money but we wanted to find some things, even small trinkets like key chains or something. Nope. No such luck. I know it wasn’t tourist season but I thought there’d be some things. We found some beads and little things but that was about it. So we walked back to the other market where our driver was waiting. I bought some other fabric and we loaded into the jeep. I’ll call it a jeep even though I know that’s not really what it was. Its just easier, ok??!! Haha!!

I sat up front this time with Abby in the back seat and our stuff in the very back. We knew more what to expect for the trip back so we were more prepared for the dust and suffocating heat this time. We set off, hoping to make the 8pm bus in Douenza that would take us to Bamako. It was about 2:30pm when we left Timbuktu. We rode through the desert, climbing sand dunes, traversing dangerous roads and dodging stubborn donkeys. Then there was a problem. I don’t know what it was but the driver had stopped a couple times because it seemed he had heard something wrong. He would get out and look at things on the jeep and then get back in. We did this a couple times before we ended up stopping in some tiny village in the middle of nowhere. This did not look good. There couldn’t have been more than maybe a couple hundred people who lived in this area/village. I had no idea what the problem was and couldn’t really communicate with the driver about it so we just waited. We waited and waited and waited some more. It ended up being 6 hrs we were there. There was a small ‘mechanic’ shop there and an older man who seemed to be the mechanic. He, along with several other residents, worked on the vehicle for hours. We had no idea how long it was going to take, if were going to have to sleep there, if we were going to have to live there. All kinds of absurd and humorous things go through your mind when you are stuck in a tiny village in a desert in a country you don’t know with people you can’t talk to and there is nothing to do but wait and wait.

From what I could tell, there was a flat tire or a leaky tire on the rear drivers side. There also seemed to be possibly a brake problem as they were doing some work that looked like what Michael was doing when he was doing the brakes on his VW Thing and made me help by pumping the brakes while he adjusted things. Not sure though, and then there seemed to be a bolt or nut or something on the drivers side axle that must have cracked or something as they had another one they were filing down to get on there with the tire and other parts off that axle. I’m no expert and I’m sure I don’t know what the problems really were but I’m so thankful to that mechanic and his ability to get us back on the road. So after 6 hrs of sitting there, praying I wouldn’t have to marry a stranger and live in the desert there, we were on our way again, but with little hope of making it to the bus station for a bus that night. We got there just at midnight and made inquiries about a bus. We had missed them all and couldn’t catch the next on until 7am the next day. Bummer!! We would have much rather been able to keep going on this journey and get to Bamako sooner but we didn’t have a choice. We had to find somewhere to sleep. That was a bit of an issue as there were few options, especially for 2 white women who didn’t have much money between them.

We tried one place that Shindouk said we should try, and would have been ok if we’d have had a little bit more money. It wasn’t expensive at all but we simply didn’t have the money for it. Yes, the white women/walking dollar signs could not readily afford even a cheap room at a cheap hotel. Oh the fun we had on this trip!! Haha. We ended up walking across the street to another hotel, where the man spoke some English and we were able to communicate our needs a little bit more clearly. We ended up sleeping there on one of those wooden frames that have the thin mattresses on top. They strung up mosquito nets, gave us sheets and left us. The ‘beds’ were in the garden/courtyard of the hotel and we were thankful for them. The driver went to find somewhere to stay as I think he knew people there. There was an outdoor shower/toilet there which we were happy to use to rinse of some of the dirt. The hole-in-one toilet, as Abby fondly refers to it, was in the middle of the open cubicle area where the shower was. It was an egg-shaped small area that was maybe 6 inches high off the floor and the floor sloped slightly down. There was a hole at the higher end and space on either side to squat. Hmmm. Are you getting the hole-in-one reference yet? If she has here photos up I’ll get that one and show you. Kinda hard to explain. Hey, at least there was a toilet at all!! There was a high stone wall with a metal door on it where the shower and toilet was. No ceiling.

We slept for a few hours and I slept pretty good. We got up the next morning around 6-6:30am and went to the station at 7am. We got our tickets, with the help of our driver, and soon loaded ourselves onto another one of those miserable buses. As relieved as I was to have made it this far, knowing what was still ahead of us was a depressing thought. Another 11 hours on a suffocating, dirty bus was a daunting notion but we had no choice and had to go. At least it was still early and wasn’t too very hot just yet. We said goodbye as best we could to our driver and thanked him and off we went.

It was about 2hrs into this bus ride when we stopped in a large city, don’t know which one. The bus made some stops previous to this one and I figured this was the same thing. Picking people up or dropping them off. We should have known something was up when everyone else got off and the bus drove down the road a short distance. We didn’t know what was going on but it didn’t look good. Why didn’t they say something to us to let us know if we needed to get off? Why would we need to get off the bus?? We didn’t know and maybe were afraid to find out. Haha! It turns out the bus needed some tire repair on one of the tires. Well, sure, why not?? My camel was clumsy. The canoe had motor problems. The jeep had multiple problems, too. Why did I not think this bus might also seek to prolong our stay in that desert for as long as it could?? I do not know but I didn’t.
We sat on that bus for 2 hours while they fixed it. Not knowing what to do on the empty bus, we just hung out and watched people out the front of the bus. It was a bigger city with lots of people around, vehicles, businesses, things like that. So we sat there talking and photographing unsuspecting people out the front of the bus. It was great because by the time they spotted us, I had already photographed them and they didn’t know. Ahah!! Ok, I know that sounds bad but it really isn’t that bad. We provided them with some entertainment merely by being white and I repaid the kindness by photographing them. Take it how you will. I’m glad I got some photos of people there.

After 2 hrs it seems the problem was fixed so we went back and picked everyone up and were on our way. I daresay that ride back was more miserable than the first one, though, thankfully our driver kept the stops short and minimal. This wasn‘t a tour bus. It could be because I knew what was coming or because I had not gotten much sleep at all over the past several days and was exhausted but likely it was a combination of all of it and a desire to get back to Cape Coast and things more familiar. I sat there wondering if this hell would ever end, if we were ever going to make it back to Bamako and the airport and then CC. I wondered how I could feel so close to suffocation and still not be suffocating entirely; how I could be so uncomfortable for so long and not be able to change anything about the situation. I wondered how long it would until I’d be able to laugh about the absurdities of this trip and have it be out of humor and fond memories rather than delirium. I wondered how I could live on bread, rice, tea, water and biscuits/cookies for 5 days and still have had any energy to do all those things we did. I feel like we hardly ate anything on that trip. Not sure how that happened. And I prayed. A lot. Oh, and Abby and I came up with an alternative version to Craig Morgan’s, “That’s what I love about Sunday’s,” called something like, “What I hate/love about Mali.” Perhaps we will share our version with you someday. Haha!

Somehow, we made it back to Bamako where Gorel was waiting at the bus station to pick us up. It was about 10:30pm when we got there. It was so good to see him, knowing we were so close to ending this trip. He drove us back to his place where we had some food, took showers and went to bed. We had asked to sleep in the courtyard which they were more than happy to accommodate us on. There was no way we could have slept in that bedroom again. The showers felt so nice!! There was so much water coming out of the shower!! It may have been the best shower I’ve had in Africa. It was delightful and I didn’t want to get but didn’t want to waste more water so I eventually did. I was so exhausted and I fell asleep fairly quickly and slept so heavily. Absolute exhaustion can do that it seems.

The next morning he drove us to the airport around 5am for our 7am flight. We just wanted to be at the airport. We waited for our flight and were soon on our way back to CC!!! Yay!! We were so excited to be going back. We stopped in Abijan, Cote d’Ivoire, which we didn’t know we were doing, and picked up some people and some people got off the plane. The man who sat next to me was finally leaving the city after having been there through all the problem from the election that started in November. He’d had enough as a group of military men had recently attacked where he was staying and stole anything of value and beat up another guy. He was a teacher and had gotten his PHD from the US so we talked and had a good conversation. It was so interesting talking with him and hearing about how it was there and what had been going on. Ironic thing was he was going back to Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of Congo which is one of the most dangerous places in the world, because Cote d‘Ivoire was more dangerous. Kinshasa might not be so bad, he seemed to say, but DRC is very dangerous right now. Anyways it was really fun talking with him. We stopped again in Lome, Togo before getting to Accra. Once in Accra we took a taxi to Keneshie station where we got on an STC bus that would take us back to CC.

I was so happy and relieved to be back in Ghana!! It was a whirlwind trip to Timbuktu and I am glad I went but I have no desire to ever go back. Deserts are not for me. But the fact that I’ve been somewhere that only a few people ever get to go or even know exists is pretty cool. Riding a camel in the Sahara and sleeping on the dunes was an incredible and memorable experience and the highlight of that trip. It was amazing and I’m glad Abby was with me to keep my laughing and trying to enjoy the insanity of it all. But there is nothing quite like getting back home to CC after such an adventure.

So there you have it as best as I can remember. Sorry it has taken so long to share it all with you. We had to study for exams when we got back and that was a priority over this. I have now finished exams and will be leaving UCC and CC on Wed to do some traveling with David, my boyfriend. If you didn’t know before, now you do. I’ve been dating him for 4 months now and he is the most incredible man whose life I thank and praise God for. More on him later perhaps. Haha! Anyways, we will be going to the Volta region where he is from and do some sightseeing before I head home. I’ll fill you in the past couple weeks later. For now, I’m ending this Timbuktu adventure. I hope you have enjoyed it.

Love to you all. Talk to you soon or maybe even see you soon. God bless.

Africa - Timbuktu - Part 3 - Made it!!!!

Tuesday, May 17, 2011 at 12:43pm

Part 3: Arrival in Timbuktu!!

We got to Timbuktu about 8:20am after a long trip getting there. We were so relieved to be there after 19hrs traveling. All we wanted was a shower and rest when we got to the hotel. However, that didn’t exactly happen how we had hoped. Our driver took us through town and to the hotel on the back side of town on the outskirts. The town, as I’ll now refer to it since I don’t like typing out Timbuktu every time, was, understandably, dusty and sandy with almost everything the color of sand - roads, buildings, us. The houses and buildings are all constructed out of some mud/sand/cement or something mixture and are all about the same color with little variation. Some are 2 stories but most are just ground level structures. The roads were mainly unpaved except for some of the main ones in the central part of town and were not very crowded with vendors, people, or too much garbage, though there was some of all of that.

Mali is Muslim country with mostly French-speaking citizens, though most people speak more than one language, Arabic being one of the other big ones. Many of the people were dressed in Muslim style clothing with head coverings and long smocks on the guys, turbans and long pants. But I saw plenty of women dressed in the typical African style with perhaps a head scarf wrapped around their head but not covering their face so much. Many of the people who are native to the area are the Tuaregs who have lived in the desert areas successfully for I don’t know how many centuries. They are often wearing long blue smock type things with a darker blue turban wrapped around their head and face. I suppose that’s practical in this dusty place where you get lots of stuff in your eyes and mouth no matter how careful you try and be.

When we got to the Sahara Passion Hotel, we were so happy!! Finally!! A place to stop and rest and try and absorb our journey so far while planning for the rest of our stay there. As I said, we just wanted to shower and rest. That was not to be, at least not as quickly as we wanted. The hotel is inside a mud/cement walled compound with a red metal gate out front. Part of the building could be considered 2 story where you go up on the roof and there is another private room to rent I guess. The main area consists of an entryway with a large thick red Persian style carpet on the dirt floor and is a smallish sort of room. There was a small twin or double bed on one side of the room and a door leading into the next room at the back of the entryway. There’s a curtain for a door between the 2 rooms. The next room is a larger one that had 5 or so low couch-type constructions on 3 of the 4 walls. I think they were just small mattresses on top of frames with a cover over them where you could lie down or sit somewhat comfortably. There was a blue rug in this room that covered most of the floor. On one wall was a small table and chairs. At the back of the room was the bathroom with brightly blue painted walls, a toilet, a shower pipe and head and a sink all in the same small space. There wasn’t a light in there but the toward the ceiling it was open by about a foot or less all the way around to allow for light and ventilation. This also allowed for birds and other critters/bugs I’m sure to come in or to perch up there and leave little presents in the room for unsuspecting visitors. The bathroom has a tile floor of sorts with a drain at the bottom and you step down into it about 4-6 inches I’d guess when you enter the room. I’m not genius but I’d say that’s to prevent flooding when you shower and makes the whole room like a very shallow tub area. You get the idea though.

Miranda and Shindouk, the couple who run the hotel, greeted us warmly. Miranda is from Nova Scotia and Shindouk is a local Tuareg man and the head of a village, if I remember correctly. I’d guess she is about 35-40yrs old and he might be 50 or so though I’m not good at guessing and I imagine the desert lifestyle has perhaps made him to look older than he might be. I’m just guessing at ages here. They have a 3yr old son, Najim, who was pretty cute and nice though somewhat shy at first. He didn’t much care for wearing pants or clothes at all really. Haha!

Miranda speaks English and worked as a translator for Shindouk who didn’t speak much English and not very well so we were grateful for the translating. Instead of resting, they brought us tea and wanted to talk some. They did, however, let us relieve ourselves and I took the opportunity to rinse of my arms and wash my face. At that moment I didn’t want tea, boiling hot tea, and I certainly didn’t feel like sitting down and talking on and on. However, we had tea and chatted for a while before they gave  us time to shower and rest. The tea is awful!! At least in my opinion. First of all its boiling hot and I do not enjoy eating hot soups and drinking hot tea when I’m in the desert .. . Which is really hot!!!!!!!!!!! Not sure if you’ve ever noticed that. I certainly have. The tea, once its cooled enough to drink, tastes sweet at first and then is really bitter and strong. Yick!! Not a fan but somehow seemed to consume more of it than I’d ever thought possible during our short time there.

Its interesting to watch them make it though. They have these little metal stove things where they heat up charcoal that’s sitting in the top bowl thing with a small fire underneath, almost like those oil burners you buy and put a tea light underneath and put the oil in the top part and it heats it. I don’t know what you call either device but I hope you know what I’m talking about. There might be one in a photo somewhere. They heat up the water in a small little teapot that might make 1 cup of tea. Once it is boiling, they add the tea to it and swish it around a bit. Then they pour some into a shot glass size cup and than pour it back into the teapot, mixing it up some more. They do this pouring and back about 3-5 times before they serve you a shot glass of tea. Thank goodness its not a full size teacup they use!! I’d never be able to finish it. At least with a shot glass, once its cooled you can take it in one drink if you like and get it over with. I wonder now if this tea is possibly addictive as they seemed to want to prepare it and drink it at every opportunity. Just a random thought that probably has no foundation whatsoever.

Finally, after what seemed like a long time, they let us rest and shower. That shower, from a bucket, was a wonderful thing. The water wasn’t running at the moment so the actual shower wasn’t working. No complaints there. Just let me have some water to rinse all the dirt of with. I’m used to showering from a bucket since that’s what I do in CC so it was no big deal. We can scrub ourselves and wash our hair in about 4 ½ liters of water or 3 large water bottles here. Surprising to me that we‘ve got that efficient at it but that‘s how it goes. It felt so good to be clean after that dusty sweaty trip. And then we laid down on those narrow bench/bed things and took a nap for a few hours.

Have I mentioned how dry the desert is??? LOL!! Of course it is but I was ill prepared for it after being in humid Ghana. I didn’t bring lotion and I sure wanted some. My skin felt so dry and uncomfortable!! Both Abby and I felt like we got a little bit of a cold from the climate change. Such a difference from one place to the other. Well, duh, of course, but when you actually do it it is somewhat surprising somehow at how different it is. I found it hard to breathe sometimes because of the dry heat and the dust and all.

When we got up we discussed our itinerary with Miranda and Shindouk over lunch which consisted of a large bowl of rice with sauce and meat on it set on the floor with all of us sitting around it . .. oh, and tea of course. The rice with the sauce was really good and had their special ingredient in it that we discovered in nearly everything we ate there . . . sand. Doesn’t add much flavor but adds some unwanted texture. You kinda learn to not bite down all the way on some of the stuff if you don’t want to notice the sand as much. It’s not like they added it or anything, just a natural and unavoidable addition to any meal or any other undertaking there. And its not like there was lots of it in there, just enough to notice but not enough for you to do anything about. We ate with our hands which we aren’t so experienced at here but more so than before we came. Of course, you don’t use your left hand here either and I imagine that is a cultural thing throughout Africa as well as many other places. In attempting to make our eating of rice and sauce an easier experience they tried showing us how to sort of make a ball out of the rice by smashing it a little on the plate into a ball sort of shape and then popping that into your mouth. I never quite got it down but enjoyed the food nonetheless. Those things take time we didn’t have.

While we were sitting around the noon-ish meal, Shindouk, with the help of Miranda translating, told us some history of Timbuktu and some other stories. I wished I’d have brought my recorder so as to record what he was saying. It didn’t occur to me as we were packing for this trip. The art of oral story-telling is, I think, a dying art and when it is no longer a part of someone’s cultural, a great deal of history and tradition will be lost. As we were discussing possible options for the next 2 days he was telling us some interesting stories. If I had a better memory, I’d share them with you. I do not.

We decided to do a short tour in town then take a camel ride out to the dunes to sleep there overnight, head back in the morning and then do a boat ride up the Niger River to see some hippos the following day, Sunday.

We got ready, wearing our long pants or skirts, shirts with sleeves, and our head covering, and they drove us into town. We probly would have been fine not wearing the scarves but out of respect for the people we were staying with and the culture there, we chose to wear them. Considering I saw plenty of locals dressed in African style wear without the head coverings, I think it would have been fine, even though we are white. I don’t think Timbuktu is the kind of place where they would seek to harm you or single you out in a negative way for not having your head covered if you are a woman. I never felt threatened in anyway. The roads, for the most part, are just sand and dirt, more like alleys at home for all their bumps and everything. Garbage is everywhere, like in Ghana. Animals are everywhere, too. Donkeys that just stand in your way not caring a bit about you, goats that will run away from you, mangy looking dogs that are skittish and unfriendly, and other various critters. They actually had some of the livestock in pens rather than letting them run free as in Ghana. Some were hobbled, too. We stopped at one of the main mosques and walked around. We didn’t go in. There are 4 main ones with lots of smaller ones, too. The mosques and other buildings seem to be constructed of sand, dirt and some sort of concrete mix. Not entirely sure really but that’s what it looks like. The sticks/boards you see sticking out of the sides of the mosques in particular and some other buildings are used for scaffolding on the outside whenever construction or repair is necessary and then as support beams inside. I found that interesting. They work just like a ladder that is built into the side of the building. Plus it adds some more visual interest. The mosques in Ghana, at least in southern Ghana, look pretty standard. There might be some in the north where it is more desert like and there are more Muslims that have a similar design.

The town wasn’t busy and we didn’t see too many people around. There were some sitting in whatever shade they could find, next to a building or under a tree, but mostly pretty quiet. I’m not sure if the first mosque we looked at is the famous Sankore Mosque that has historically been a world renowned center of learning in Timbuktu or not. It was one that we saw from the outside though. It is possibly the first university and has been famous for its extensive library and writing tradition. Look it up for more specific info. Its pretty fascinating. We walked through town, which isn’t very big, at least from my experience of it, and saw another of the mosques. While we were walking we passed a shop of a calligrapher so we stepped inside to take a look. The man was there working on something but stopped to show us some of his work. It was mainly in Arabic, the work available for sale and very intricate and beautiful. There were also a lot of older pieces of writing showing different styles, too. It was really interesting. After having left and later discovering there wasn’t much to buy there in the way of souvenirs I wished I’d have picked up a couple postcards with calligraphy on them. Oh well.

There were a couple places we came across where they pointed out that what we were looking at was in fact a headstone where someone of importance had been buried. Some of these places had a small mud wall sticking out from the building marking the spot with the headstone/marker set into the wall of the building. There weren’t many of these around that we saw but a couple. I couldn’t read the inscriptions on the markers.

We walked to the Grand Marche, one of the markets, named because some of it is in a 3-story building and some is outside. It wasn’t very big at all and it was mostly food and necessities for sale. Seeing as how it wasn’t tourist season, I’m not surprised though I was a little disappointed at how little they had.

After walking around town for a short while, we headed back to the hotel to get ready for our camel ride. We put on pants as that’s more appropriate and manageable when riding a camel we figured. Outside of the hotel walls were 2 camels waiting for us. One was white mainly and the other one was light tan/brown with darker highlights or whatever you might call it on a camel. The white one was the larger of the 2. They were kneeling down or umm . . . Not sure what to call it but they were down, not lying on their sides or anything, but low enough for us to climb on with the help of our Tuareg guide and Aziz, a young man who spoke fairly good English and a local man. I don’t know the Tuareg guide’s name, regrettably, so I’ll refer to him as the Tuareg if that’s ok with you. The saddles are wooden with a backboard and a board in front with the seat in the middle and the seat on mine was covered in animal hide of some sort that I didn’t want to ask about. Leather seats on a camel! Nice!! Haha! So Abby got on hers first as I watched and laughed. Not sure there is a graceful way to get on a camel though there is probly a more experienced way to do it. The camels had halters on with a lead rope where they could be lead around and made to obey better should they not want to.

Once Abby boarded . . . ? What do you call climbing awkwardly aboard a camel? Anyways, she was on the camel and they made it stand up. You tend to rock forward as it unfolds its hind legs then back as it unfolds its front legs and then you sort of balance out…sort of. it’s a good thing there was that front board on the saddles or we would have slid right off into the sand. These camels are very tall!! They may not seem like it but when you are standing next to one and then riding on you have a much better appreciation for their height. Then it was my turn. I stretched my short right leg up over the saddle oh so gracefully and pulled myself up into the saddle. Did I mention how gracefully this is done?? LOL!!! Well, I managed to get up there anyway. They placed our feet so they were resting on the camels’ neck, one foot in front of the other with the toes pointing out on each foot. Not terribly comfortable but I’m sure there was a reason for doing it. I wasn’t going to question it!! Then, once I was in the saddle with my feet in their proper position and my hands on the front board, my camel stood up. At first it feels like you are going to fall right off over the front of the saddle for the angle that you are tipping but then you tip back and if you haven’t fallen off - hooray!! We didn’t fall off. Did I mention that camels are tall?? They are.

They had loaded some baggage on the camels before they had them stand up. Some of it was our overnight minor necessities as we planned to sleep in what we were wearing and just brought some water and little things. They brought some straw for the camels to eat and a matt for us to sleep on once we got to wherever they were taking us. They could have taken us anywhere. We sure are a trusting couple of ladies!! :P

With my camel tied loosely to Abby’s and Abby’s being lead by the Tuareg man and Aziz walking beside him, we set off across the desert. It was cooling off some as it was later in the day now. It is scorching during the day but cools off a great deal at night in the desert. The sand doesn’t hold the heat like bricks, pavement, cement and all that does. Such a strange thing it seems. We weren’t too hot as we headed out. Riding a camel is kind of relaxing. You kind of get used to the slightly awkward rocking and its pretty cool. I think my camel, I forget his name as I never really understood what Aziz said it was, was new at walking or being in the desert or having someone on its back as it tripped several times and nearly rolled me off at least once. Abby named him Clumsy McTripsalot. I found that hilarious and fitting. Not sure what his problem was but it seemed to be the sand he was walking on. Haha! A clumsy camel. Maybe I’ll write a kids book with that as a title . . . Anyways, we walked out of town and into the desert. I couldn’t tell you where we went, obviously, even if I had a map. We walked for about an hour over the dunes and past straw huts. I didn’t know how long we were gonna be riding but it wasn’t too long.

We got a place that I figured seemed suitable to our guides and dismounted our camels. We walked up the closest sand dune and they laid down a matt for us to sit on. It was dark by this time and they had used some flashlights to light the path. It was so quiet out there. Somehow it felt deafening and heavy, the silence. After the noise of Ghana and even in Timbuktu this was so strange. Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed it but it was kinda eerie. Occasionally we would hear a donkey braying which sounded more like it was being tortured and maybe they were or maybe they were just donkeys with pain to express through making a highly irritating sound. Hard to say. Camels don’t seem to make much noise other than the occasional snorting and grunting and such. I think there is more going on in their heads than in the donkeys’ though. Donkeys just look unintelligent and stubborn. Camels, well, they’ve got attitude and seem to just be biding their time before they spit on you or kick you or bite you should you anger them past the point of control for them. Or maybe not. Just a thought with no actual scientific or practical evidence. I digress.

The sand is so fine, like a finely ground powder. We sat on the edge of our matt with our feet in the sand hoping their weren’t snakes or sand bugs to be concerned about. Aziz said we didn’t have anything to worry about. Hmm… Not sure I believed him but I chose not to worry about it much. He was more experienced with this sort of thing than we were and would surely know what to do in a situation that involved snakes or something else. Surely. We could see some small fires here and there across the desert too far away to distinguish as anything else and the lights of Timbuktu further off in the distance. There were shrubs and small trees in this part of the desert as it is just the edge of the Sahara and not out in the middle or further in where its pure sand dunes. The stars were out in force and absolutely stunning. It would have been a perfect place to watch a meteor shower. Wrong day for it I guess. Maybe another time.

They made us tea, of course, and we choked some down, of course. They also brought some bread and rice, with the extra ingredient, of course. We weren’t terribly hungry but ate some and drank some and sat around talking for awhile. The temperature continued to drop and it felt so nice. That was the coolest I had felt since being in Africa and it felt great. I don’t know that I’ll ever find anything as peaceful as lying on a matt on a sand dune in the desert watching the stars enjoying the cool air surrounded by silence. It was an incredible experience and the one thing that made the nightmare of trip worth all the hassle of getting there and then back. We talked for a few hours, asking Aziz questions sometimes and then discussing. Nice young man. They had brought a blanket for us, too, which we would be thankful for when we were falling asleep and shivering slightly. Before long Abby and I were wrapped up in the blanket trying to keep warm and get some sleep. I can’t say I slept very well but I got some sleep. Not sure why but it felt like that night took an exorbitant amount of time to pass. I kept waking up. Not sure why, maybe the cold had something to do with it.

The sun comes up slowly and the sunrise was not spectacular, sadly. I had hoped it would be one of those that takes your breath away. It was not. It just sorta came up slowly like it didn’t want to get up and certainly wasn’t going to make a fuss about it. The cool air felt good and we enjoyed it as much as we could, knowing the sun would soon be punishing us.

They brought us bread and Milo, which is a powder almost protein type drink that they drink here once you’ve added some sugar, powdered milk and boiling water. Kinda like hot chocolate. . . Kinda. They also had some fresh cow milk they offered us and we tried. I’m not really a fan of that but it was ok. I hadn’t noticed the night before but there was a hut nearby with a brush fence around it. I’m baffled as to how I missed it the night before but I did and was entirely surprised to see it there in the morning and I wondered if they had set up camp there during the night and I just hadn’t noticed. Nope. That is where the Tuareg man lives. There were some goats in a pen nearby as well. The hut seems to be constructed of some wooden poles with woven reed mats over it serving as walls, ceilings and doors to the structure. We didn’t go in or anything though if we had asked I’m sure they would have let us. There were kids around, 4-6 of them I’d guess, and a woman I think was probly his wife, too.

After we ate, the Tuareg man wanted us to come watch him give some medicine to Abby’s camel. I have no idea what was wrong with it and I didn’t understand after asking. They had the camel kneel down which they do with some commands and with the use of the rope and halter. They had some sort of liquid mixed up in a large teapot looking thing  that they scooped from a pail to fill up. Aziz had one hand on the camel’s nose area and the other hand under its chin holding its mouth open while the other man poured lots of the liquid into its mouth. The camel didn’t seem too bothered by it and didn’t struggle much or anything. They poured several doses down its throat and that was it. The kids came out and watched with us. They were fairly skinny and varied in ages. They were curious about us but didn’t really try and talk to us much. Shortly after that we climbed back on our camels and headed back to town. When we were closer to town and there were more huts and outlying buildings we had the misfortune or privilege, take it how you will, to pass a group of men skinning a camel. It was dead and they were in the process of skinning it. I was not excited to see that and didn’t look closely. Things like that tend to make me want to throw up. I don’t know about you. They will sell the meat in the market and probly use the skin for something. They don’t strike me as wasteful people here.

Many of the building and structures we passed were either mud huts or grass huts or the ones with reed mats on them. There were people around and some stared at us but that was about it. Some of the kids would wave and laugh. This is a very poor area, obviously.

When we got back to the hotel which is on the edge of town we thanked our guide, took a few photos, and were relieved to get a shower. The water was running this time and it felt great!! It was even warm, too, course that was because its so blasted hot there and the cistern heats up nicely. I think that may have been the first hot shower I’ve had in Africa and I really enjoyed it.

It was Easter Sunday and I didn’t even realize it until the day was mostly over. While it is a national holiday, along with Christmas, Mali is a predominately Muslim country and they don’t actually celebrate these Christian holidays other than having some businesses closed as far as I could tell. We ate some bread at the hotel and then they drove us to the port where we were going to take a canoe with a motor up the river to see some hippos.

Africa - Timbuktu - Part 2

Saturday, May 7, 2011 at 7:08am

Dear Friends,

Hello again. Its been a long time and there is a lot to tell you about so find a comfortable place to sit, grab some popcorn or drinks or whatever and lets take a trip to Timbuktu, or, as the French call it, Tombouctou. (I decided to do a couple parts to break it up some. Next one will be up shortly.)

Wed. morning around 6am Abby and I grabbed our bags and left campus for the bus station/gas station/night club that is about a 15min walk away from the hall. It was still somewhat cool at 6am. When we got there we found out the bus was full so we took a taxi to the Ford station which is a little further in town where we figured we could find a ride fairly quickly. The Ford station is just in the parking lot of another gas station. They are vans that are in good condition and have a/c for a good price. We got in line and left around 7:15 am when the next one came. Not too bad. We headed into Accra to get our passports from the Malian Embassy where we had taken them to get our visas. It was great to get there and just walk in, get the passports and head to the airport. One never knows when or if there will be a delay on anything here so it was a huge relief that it was ready to go. From there we took a taxi to the airport and got there in plenty of time for our flight. Again, we were very happy to have gotten this far without too much trouble. The airports have a/c so that is always a welcome relief from the heat. I actually got quite cold before the plane came for us to board. Still, no complaints about that. We had some fries while we were waiting for our flight which didn’t leave till close to 4pm. I thought it was scheduled for 2pm but things are always subject to change and delays or cancellations here. We ended up having plenty of time before the flight so we just hung out enjoying the a/c.

When we went to board the plane they loaded us on a shuttle bus and drove us about 100 yds to the plane where we got off and climbed the stairs to the plane. We thought that was pretty funny. We could have walked to the stairway by the time it took them to load us up and drive us that short distance. Ah well, it was no big deal, just amusing. It was a smaller plane holding maybe 100 people. We lifted off and flew straight out over the ocean, making me wonder where exactly we were going until they turned to the right and flew along the coast. We stopped in Liberia and then went on to Bamako, Mali. Out my window to the East there was a huge lightning storm as we were flying from Liberia. It was incredible to watch and slightly concerning. I’ve never seen the sky lit up so much from lightning. It filled the sky as far as I could see to the left and right out my little window and lasted about an hour until it either subsided or we passed it. The sunset at the same time out Abby’s window on the other side of the plane was incredible, too. Beautiful deep oranges and pinks!! Just beautiful!! I haven’t seen too many sunsets like we get at home since I’ve been here. I miss seeing those. The sun sets pretty quickly without much fuss, sadly.

Bamako is the capital of Mali and large city with several million residents I believe. We got there around 8 or 9pm, can’t remember, maybe later. It felt pretty late. We were met at the airport by Gorel, our contact, who drove us about 15-20mins in his Land Rover type vehicle to his place in town. He is a Malian, maybe in his 40’s, married with I think 4 children. It was dark out, of course, but seeing a little of the city was interesting. It looked a lot like Ghana but somehow felt more modern or developed or something. The streets weren’t crowded with vendors and garbage and stalls as much and traffic was light. There were functioning street lights lighting up the nicely paved roads. Course, some of that could have been due to the time of day. Still, it felt a bit different and it was a nice change. Gorel’s home is down a narrow dusty uneven dirt road and is enclosed inside a wall with a large metal gate. Many of the nicer places here are walled-in compounds which is nice and gives you a good sense of security, though I‘ve never felt in danger from someone here. There was a paved courtyard with octagon-shaped stones for the pavement. The kitchen was in a small building off the main building that was under some construction. They are apparently adding another apartment area above the kitchen and out over part of the courtyard so future guests have their own space. Pretty cool. The houses are built of stone and cement bricks and they don’t have much color other than various shades of tan. The windows often consist of some sort of metal bars in nice designs over them and certainly don’t have glass on them. They usually will have curtains hanging inside though. The metal grates over the windows come in lots of designs, as you might see in some of the photos, and this is similar to Ghanaian windows, too.

When we got there they had supper ready for us. It was spaghetti and then rice and sauce with French bread. The spaghetti was really good and a nice change. We were really tired but the night wasn’t over yet. Gorel goes salsa dancing Thursday nights from about 9pm to midnight apparently and he asked if we wanted to go. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to sleep!! But we decided to go with him. Not to dance, just to see a little of the night life. He drove us for about ½ hr through town to the night club where he goes dancing. It was a really cool place and it was packed. There was a bar in the middle of the place with all kinds of seating around and then a smallish dance floor on the other end of the bar area. There were several people out dancing and he grabbed a partner and was on the floor soon after introducing us to a couple friends. We sat and watched trying not to fall asleep. The people were a variety of nationalities and ages. It was fun watching the people and seeing them dancing. I was more focused on trying adjust to the stifling dry heat of Mali and not falling asleep to care much after awhile. I certainly haven’t seen anyone salsa dancing here, though I admit I’m not one for the nightlife here. The people were very friendly but not pushy and were just doing their thing, not minding us much. Kind of a nice change. Gorel got Abby out on the dance floor once. Abby likes to dance but doesn’t know how to salsa but had fun anyway. There was no way I was going out there!! These people know how to salsa!! And I don’t. We were so tired and wanted to leave. We went out with him on the condition we would leave at 11:30pm. Should have known that wasn’t gonna happen. It was around midnight before we left, slightly irritated that we had to ask to leave, and didn’t get back to the house for another ½ hr. Then trying to sleep was another challenge. They put us in a room in the house which was entirely too hot for sleeping. The fan barely ran and there was no ventilation to move the hot air around. We tried sleeping on the queen size bed without touching anything. It was a very difficult thing, trying to sleep when you are that hot and uncomfortable. I got some sleep but not much.

The next morning we got up around 7am, had some breakfast of bread with honey or cheese if you wanted. They often drink this Milo drink which is kind of like a powder you mix with hot water, powdered milk and sugar as you like. Its supposed to have some protein and such in it. I find it odd to drink for breakfast as I’m not in the habit of drinking hot chocolate type drinks for breakfast. Still, you take what you are offered here cuz you never know when you might get something else. We were planning on doing some sightseeing after getting our flight taken care of and finding an atm that might work. We found an atm and Abby was able to get some money but my stupid MasterCard rarely works here, even in Ghana. Thankfully, there is one bank in Ghana that has a branch right by our dorm where it works. No such luck in Mali. What a frustrating thing since I hadn’t brought too much money with me and the money I brought was in Ghana cedis. We got that exchanged but it wasn’t much. We thought we’d have more time that day to find more banks to try so we weren’t too worried about it.

We went to the travel agency where they had made flight reservations for us to get to Timbuktu from Bamako but, of course, when we got there, the reservations were not . . .  well . . . reserved or something. Not sure why they hadn’t kept the reservations for us but they hadn’t. Not a hopeful start to the day. They weren’t able to get us on the flight but said we could go to the airport when the flight was scheduled and see if anyone didn’t show up. Hmm. Not exactly a good plan in my mind since we weren’t likely to get on the flight and would have wasted time waiting for it when we could have been doing something productive. So we decided we would take the bus that day, Friday, and not bother with trying to get on the flight. That left us with only a couple hours rather than the whole day we had tentatively planned. If we hadn’t left until Sat. morning we were going to take a short tour around Bamako and see some sights, maybe do some shopping, go to a museum and see the Niger river which runs through Bamako. I can’t say I was disappointed to miss the museum but it would have been nice to some of Bamako. However, we were glad to be on our way to Timbuktu, at least until we got on the bus.

We sat at the ‘station’/parking lot waiting for the bus for an hour or more and we were only ½ hr late heading out. It took a great deal of maneuvering to get everyone’s luggage and such loaded onto the bus. Not sure how they got it all on or if they did but we finally left. The bus was similar to an STC bus that we are used to riding, like what I imagine a shabby Greyhound bus might be like, though I’ve never been on a Greyhound bus before. They are nicer than the deathtraps that are the trotros usually. This one was nicer, too, but there was no a/c and hardly any ventilation or windows that could be opened. This was not looking good. It was at least a 13 hr ride and the thought of sitting on this suffocating bus with 50+/- other people was less than unpleasant. We had no idea how bad it would be until the end of the trip. Mali is much hotter than Ghana and is a dry heat which seems to make us much thirstier than we usually are. It can get up to 110degrees F in Mali and I think it was in the hundreds when we were there. At least, it sure felt like it. Complete misery for me. Made me question why on earth I thought this was a good idea. I think I’m still pondering that . . .

So we set off, oblivious to our impending misery. We soon realized why it takes 13hrs to get to Douenza, the stop we needed where we would meet a driver to take us the rest of the way to Timbuktu. They were stopping at least 1x every half hour and sometimes more often to pick people up, drop them off, and who knows what else. Ok. Fine. If you have to then whatever. But the problem was they seemed to think every stop was an opportunity to get off and buy food or ‘visit the bush,’ which can also be called ‘sending a fax’ or just to stretch. Ok. I get that. I got some water and snacks on one or two occasions but NOT EVERY TIME THEY STOPPED!!!! No one needs to be eating that much food!!! Every time they stopped it would be for 10 minutes or more. Oh the madness of it all!! I wish I had counted how many times we stopped on that wretched journey. Actually, its probly best I didn’t. We couldn’t have known how it would go so we just dealt with it by trying not to go completely insane.

The vendors were selling many things from water and drinks to fruit like papaya and apples and such to varieties of breads, ‘biscuits’ or cookies to yams and sometimes souvenirs like fans. If it was a shorter stop they would come on the bus and sell their stuff. Of course, when they saw us with our white skin they thought we needed at least 12 of everything when in reality we didn’t want any most of the time. Water was a necessity and we stocked up on that when we needed to.

The people on the bus were fairly friendly, with a few exceptions. Did I mention they speak French in Mali?? Oh yes. Not many English speakers, we found. I knew it was going in but I thought there’d  be more people who spoke English at least passably. Nope. I got to use my poorly remembered French which was actually kind of fun at times, trying to see how much I could understand and how much I could speak. I did ok. Abby doesn’t know any French so it was on me to try and communicate with our contacts who didn’t know English. It was quite a challenge but part of the trip I actually enjoyed some. On the way there we talked some with a few of the people on the bus, just small conversations as that was all we could manage between my limited French and their limited English. We were the only white people not surprisingly. Tourist season seems to be when its cooler there which is from November to January I think. Many of the people were dressed in head scarves or wraps and traditional clothing like long smocks on some of the men, what you picture for Muslim people I guess. But there were also people dressed in Western style clothing. Not all the women wore scarves like Muslims do but more in the African style which is quite common even in Ghana.

Side note. I have discovered that here they refer to white people as anyone who is not African which includes Asians, Native Americans, Italians, Arabs, and anyone else that we might categorize differently, basically anyone with lighter skin than Africans. I was surprised by that. Just an interesting side note.

On and on the bus ride went. We tried sleeping which was generally an exercise in futility due to our discomfort and on my part, due to the kid/teenager who kept poking me. Let me tell you how happy that made me. This guy, a young Arab man, was at the bus stop with us and we knew he was talking with his friends about us as they were not very subtle about it. Subtlety here is not a concept many people grasp. Anyways, we weren’t too bothered by it until I was sitting on the aisle seat trying to sleep and this kid who was sitting a row back to my left would poke me. Oohh I got mad!! I told him to stop more than once but obviously he didn’t understand me or didn’t care enough to stop. How rude!! I mean seriously, who does that??? You aren’t a 5 year old child!! He must have finally fell asleep himself because it stopped. I didn’t get sleep after though. Too uncomfortable. On the bus, people just through garbage of all kinds on the floor - bottles, banana peals, biscuit wrappers, eggshells, spit. You name it, it was on that floor. And you thought the floors in movie theaters were bad. Wow!! So gross. Plus, because there was no room for our backpacks, we had them either on the floor in front of us leaving us little leg room or in the aisle for people to trip over or use as a footrest. I didn’t even think about having them cram my bag in the luggage bay at the bottom of the bus. No way!!

We left at 1:30pm from Bamako and got to Douenza at 2:30am. One of the guys we talked small small with, Mustaf, was very nice and helpful. At one point during the heat of the day, one of the vendors was selling these fans made from maybe palm leaves or something, not sure what its called or made from really, we wanted to know how much it was and he ended up buying 4! Two for us, one for him and one for the guy sitting next to him. That was so nice!! It couldn’t have been very much but it was a nice gesture. When we got to Douenza and met our driver, he made sure to check and see that we were ok and this was the right guy. I certainly appreciated that. Don’t worry, Mom, we knew the whole time what the plan was. Our driver was a young guy, MC, and he called the hotel where we were going just to verify that he was in fact the guy who was going to take us to Timbuktu. How would we have known who this guy was and where he was going to take us? Even after talking to Shindouk and him reassuring us in broken English and French that this was the guy and it was ok to go with him. Hmmmm…. At 2:30am I was just glad to be off that awful bus for a while and be able to have some ventilation for a while. Goodbye miserable bus and rude kid poking me half the time!!

We climbed into the land rover type vehicle and set off over the sand dunes toward Timbuktu. I was so tired and just wanted to sleep finally. The ‘road’, if you can call it that, was rather . . . umm . . . well . . . more of a part time road I’d say. Part of the way it looked like a road that was kind of like a paved road and part of the time, the larger part, it was more like a pothole or multiple potholes and lack of pavement. When the road was impassable we drove off road through the sand which was nicer actually as the sand is much less jarring than torn up roads. I figured my brothers who like to go Jeeping would have had a grand time on such a trip. Somehow I was able to sleep some between the jarring and jostling and the suffocating heat and dust. Abby sat up front for part of the trip. By the time the sun was coming up or it was just getting light I gave up fighting for sleep. It was another useless attempt at this point. The dust was so thick and suffocating. I tried using my scarf to cover my mouth and nose as much as possible to keep out some of the dust. That helped a little. The car and everything in it including each of us were covered in a not thin layer of reddish dirt/sand mix by the time we arrived. I don’t recall ever being that dirty in any recent memory.

It was mesmerizing watching the driver navigate the ‘roads’/dunes. He would drive really fast when he could and then slowed way down when we came to potholes or missing parts of the road. He’d make split-second decisions about which way to go to avoid a huge impact with the hole in the road. Left or right? Quick! And he’d choose and we’d climb the sand dunes on whichever side he chose. There were usually paths through the sand and brush where others had made a path but not always. I was very impressed with the driver and how he managed that vehicle and the trip. I suppose he is used to it so its nothing but still, its impressive. There were shrubs and trees and baobab trees which I find particularly creepy and disturbing and ugly and yet fascinating somehow. They remind me of a creepy tree in the movie “Fern Gully,” and I don’t like them. They are rather strange if you’ve never seen them. There were goats and sheep, taller and skinnier than the ones I’m used to in Ghana, eating leaves from shrubs and lower trees. Being taller they were able to almost stand on their hind legs to reach higher branches with leaves on them. Interesting. There were camels, too, and cattle and donkeys. Oh, the donkeys are so funny. They couldn’t care less how large of a vehicle you are driving nor how fast you are going, they just stand there in the road, not moving, not looking directly at you, just sort of spaced out it seems. So funny. Why are they inclined to risk their lives in such a way. They were all along the trip and the same in Timbuktu. They just crack me up, they way they stand or lay directly in the middle of the road and aren’t bothered by anything. I’m pretty sure I’d get out of the way if I saw a large object barreling toward me at a high speed. In fact, I do that regularly in Ghana. They have no regard for pedestrians and will run you down right quick.

So we drove on, going around donkeys and potholes, slowing down for cattle crossing the road, watching the sun come up slowly. The sunrise was not spectacular in display, sadly. It just sorta came up and it just got warmer and pretty soon hot. When we were getting close to Timbuktu we had to take a small ferry, kinda like the one at Keller Ferry, to cross the Niger River. It is really low right now and only took about 5-10 minutes to cross. I guess it can take a really long time when the river level is up. This is not tourist season so we were certainly noticeable.

Despite our inability to be inconspicuous because of our skin and hair color, people here in Mali seemed to be less intrusive and offensive with their attention for the most part. They didn’t mind staring and probly talking and pointing but that was about it. In Ghana, they do that and then try talking to you and are very pushy about stuff. Here, they just seemed to be like, “Hmmm. White people. Ok. Cool/Nice/Blast it (or any number of other reactions)!! Meh . . I’ve got groceries to buy,” and then went on their way. We were nothing special and not worth their time to bother it seemed which was a welcome change and a relief. In Ghana, its more like, “OBRUNIS!!!! Come! COME!!! Give me all your money and let me cheat you out of any that I can and then ask for more!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE NOT RELATED TO BILL GATES???? Are you or are you not a walking dollar sign?? Yes, we think you are,” and they don’t let up until you walk away and even then sometimes they keep at it. Well, that’s what it feels like anyway. They are much more pushy in your face here. So in that respect, Mali was a nice change. Even the kids who were begging in Mali didn’t put much effort into bothering you. If you said no or shooed them away they would go. That is not the way it is in Ghana. Even shopping in Mali was more relaxed as prices seemed to be more set and not so much up for negotion for every little thing. Such a relief!! I still am not a fan of having to bargain for everything from souvenirs to food to toilet paper. Just give me a fair price please.