Tour de Senegal/Niokolo Koba: Wildlife

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Photos (top to bottom): photo1: one of three leopards orphaned when their mother was killed by a toubab hunter, which led to much tighter regulations on visitor access, and a shoot-to-kill order by park security for those caught poaching; photos 2&3: monkeys hanging out at the Hotel Simenti; photo4: cover shot of Almamy for Glamor Magazine; photos 5&6, 9: on the boat tour, a must (not just a cheesy tourist thing; it's a way to get good access and game viewing); photo7: baboons in the top of a palm; photo8: the boat passes a group of three hippos, including a new born.

For video, see clip1.

Tour de Senegal/Niokolo Koba: Arrival

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We spent only two days in Niokolo Koba National Park, in part due to general weariness from two intense weeks of travel, and because with the required park guide we were carrying five in our vehicle, with three of us uncomfortably wedged in the back seat.

A. became our park guide, and even lodged in Campement de Lion with us in a hut beside ours. He grew up in the local village, and possessed an uncanny ability to pick out game, which might otherwise remain hidden from our view. I was intrigued with Ansu's gentle manner, and quiet, patient eyes, which clearly could see through trees. With him we observed baboons, wart hogs, antelope, jackel, and birds galore. He pointed out the tracks of buffalo, leopard, hippo, and crocodiles.

A. spoke candidly of the politics associated with the park -- the lack of funding and corrupt management. Still, in recent years, the problem of poaching has been all but stopped, with a proactive security policy. According to A., the animals are on the rebound.

Niokolo Koba is a national treasure, and deserves to be treated as such. In a way, it's more a park for animals than visitors, with access tightly restricted and regulated, always in the company of a designated park guide. By example, driving after 6 PM is forbidden. I asked if I could swim across a croc-free section of the river to explore the opposite bank. A. said no, it was not possible without a guide, and he could not swim.

We learned this about visiting Niokolo Koba: bring a 4-wheel drive, go directly to Simenti, stay at Campement de Lion, do the games drives, but don't miss the 90 minute Gambe River boat tour, which offers close-up views of hippos and crocs. As A. explained, you don't need to work hard to see monkeys and baboons, they will come to you in the campement.

The Simenti Hotel may have nice accommodations, but the campement is more our style, relaxed and informal, more like camping out with furniture.

A. has offered to guide us by trail into the range of a group of chimpanzees on a future visit. This is a must opportunity for our spring vacation in late March.

Photos (top to bottom): photos 1&2: troops of baboons, taken en route from Mako to the park entrance in Dar Salam; photos 3, 7&8: along the Gambe River, which runs alongside each of the lodges in the park; photos 4&5: monkeys in the campement; photo7: accommodations in Campement de Lion; photo 9: Almamy in candlelight in the campement.

For video, see clip1.

Tour de Senegal/Kedougou: Celebration of Christmas With the Bassari in Salamata

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Photos (top to bottom): photo1: hand-pumping fuel in Kedougou; photo2: Samba-the-Lion posing with a traditional Bassari Inititiation Ceremony mask; photo3: the village mosque; photo4: sacred drums used in the Initiation Ceremony; photo5: dinner of cornmeal and peanut butter.

This was a charmed day, and it nearly ended before it began. It was Sunday morning, and we were in Kedougou, en route to the Bassari village of Salamata.

Our driver, Samba, announced that we were low on fuel, but on early Sunday morning Kedougou was sleeping-in and the petrol stations were closed. What's more, there was a power outage, and so we wouldn't be able to fill-up even if fuel were available. Almamy asked me what I wanted to do. I thought, well, what can be done, the trip would have to be postponed, an unfortunate surprise.

Ah, but this is Africa! Where there's a will . . .

Samba drove through town, and stopped to talk with the first passerby we met. Yes, fuel was in fact available. Such and such a station could hand pump it if necessary. We headed there, but the station was closed up tight, windows barred. What to do? Of course, wake up the attendants who were, naturally, sleeping inside! So it happened that two guys were roused, stumbled outside half-dressed, one carrying a 12-volt battery, an emergency power source in the event of an outage, but, of course, that battery was dead, so a fuel pump was opened, a crank handle detached, and our tank was filled in short order.

Did I mention that Samba is a former truck driver/Dakar taxi driver?

We were on our way.

It was a very, very long, bumpy three-hour drive to Salamata. There we met, by happenstance, Ibrahima, who explained that the Bassari were celebrating Christmas that very evening, and that we might be able to attend. Ibrahima guided us up a steep, narrow track to what we later learned was the center of Bassari culture, where we were introduced to the village chief, Labatake Bangar.

Let's backtrack a step: We began the day with an empty fuel tank, scrounging for gas, only to end up three hours later in the center of the Bassari community, meeting the chief, who guided us to the local mosque, a grass hut located not far down a trail. We were welcome to stay in the village and attend the evening's celebration, which would begin at eight in the evening, and run until about one in the morning.

So we hung out, napped, took a walk, and wandered past the compound of Urban Bindia, who invited us in for a sit and a visit. Serendipity strikes again. Urban works with the young initiates during the annual Initiation Ceremony, and his role has been to interpret cultural events for visitors. He seemed to much appreciate our interest in Bassari culture, and recommended that we return in March to attend the Initiation Ceremony. That evening Urban brought dinner for us, including chicken, a very generous expression of welcome.

There was no program for the celebration. Perhaps it began in the early afternoon, when testosterone-saturated teens arrived with bundles of bound straw, roofing material, traditional gifts for the chief, wearing simple palm-frond headdresses in the Bassari-style, singing in recitation, jeering each other.

I gently prodded for permission to video the celebration, or to audiotape, but dropped it immediately when it evoked complications, a change of mood, away from the light, convivial feeling of mutual regard. Note the following Bassari-related clips from You Tube clip1, clip2.

At around 11 in the evening, as the festival was ramping-up, we were summoned to a hut for a meeting with the chief. There we sat in the round, on elevated tree limbs, and the chief expressed his appreciation for our coming and staying for the celebration. Locally-produced wines of various kinds, stored in large plastic containers, as those used for carrying fuel, were stored in the hut, and, as a gesture of appreciation, the chief offered us a sampling of whatever we preferred. For me, the whole thing was absolutely surreal.

Samba, the driver, who would have to make the effort to get us home in one piece along three hours of rough road pulled the plug at 12:30 AM, announcing that he was ready to go. No argument. In other circumstances, I would have pitched my tent in a field and spent the night, but we were a group, and traveling with city kids.

It was an excruciatingly long ride home, three of us in the back seat, my head banging against the hard plastic door molding whenever we bounced across a pothole, which was often enough to make sleep difficult.

Oh, the longing for a bed, and the sheer ecstatic pleasure of stepping away from the vehicle, onto solid ground. Sleep, only sleep.

It was an absolutely charmed day. Now, how to get the time away from school to attend the Initiation Ceremony in March . . .

For media, see clip1.

Tour de Senegal/Kedougou: Visit to the Bedick Village of Ingel

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The landscape surrounding the Bedick village of Ingel is familiar, similar to the foothills of the California Sierra Nevada, or the Coast Mountains, with scrub brush and rounded granite boulders.

The hike to the village took us up an inconspicuous trail through the granite outcrop. There was little indication of the village from the bottom (photo 2).

We found Ingel enchanting, a living museum of prehistoric ceramics, simple clay-walled structures, fetishes, and flag stones polished smooth from long continuous use, as one might see in the Old City of Jerusalem (photo 3).

There was a feeling of calm and good-will there. I didn't want to leave. It was a feeling I think we all shared.

We hiked above the village, enjoyed the expansive view, and chatted with our guide and local health aide, Emil (photos 4&5). While Randi asked Emil about immunization and his access to training, I roamed, looking at stones, taken by how so many looked like artifacts, worked and polished.

We visited the village school, a simple straw hut (photo 6).

I decided that were I a Peace Corps volunteer, I would be very content to live and work in Bedick. I asked about backpacking: Would I be able to pass between villages, camping along the way? Would there be a local guy available to guide such a trip? What kinds of animals might eat, bite, or sting me?

A group of women and kids sold crafts at the entry to the village. I decided to buy something from everyone, however small (photos 7&8).

Several days later, an invitation to attend the celebration of Christmas in Bedick came through Douda. Sadly, we were en route out of the area. Our loss, but then there's next year.

For video, see clip1.

Tour de Senegal/Kedougou: Gold!

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Douda guided us to two village-owned and operated gold mines in the Kedougou area. In the first area (photos 1-5, 10), groups own specific tracts of land, and set about tunneling up to 30 meters through layers of sand to potential gold-bearing deposits. It looks to be very hazardous work, and accidents/collapses do happen, though apparently not often. Below ground, the sand is moist, so inhaling aerosols is not a problem, neither is upper respiratory disease. It is surely dirty work (photo 10), but they do find gold, sold directly to buyers from Mali and elsewhere. If anything, the miners need assistance in assuring a fair market price.

Douda explained that the abundance of motorcycles in Kedougou are attributable to the relatively wealthy village gold miners.

The second operation, in a different location, was abuzz with activity, the landscape potholed with shafts running both vertically into the ground, and horizontally, tracking the gold-bearing layers. A sudden burst of excitement revealed that gold ore had been discovered. There was a rush to the area. Empty rice sacks were quickly gathered, used to bag the ore for crushing and careful sluicing back at the village (photo 8).

We hung out with a group of girls, in their early teens, who were charged with crushing and sluicing samples on site, checking for the presence of gold (photos 6&7).

See media for video.

Tour de Senegal/Kedougou: Drive to Mako, Wildfire, & Sparky-the-Mouse

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Christmas Eve, and we didn't see one red Santa hat or Christmas tree on the ten-hour drive from Seleky to Mako, in southeast Senegal. We did pass many villages, bumping along dusty roads, frequented by bicyclists, walkers, and an abundance of livestock. The route took us east through Kolda, north past Tambacounda, then turning back to the southeast through Niokolo Koba National Park, to a campement in the village of Mako. While we missed Rudolph and his pals, we did see an assortment of monkeys, including baboons, which more than made up for the loss. (See photos 1&2.)

Fires and smoke were evident everywhere, a common site for us over the next week in the Kedougou region. Unlike the wildfires that create great alarm in California, these fires burn freely, charring the tall grass and fallen trees, seemingly not hot enough to more than warm the mature trees, with exception. (See photos 4-6.)

Our campement in Mako was arranged by our driver, Samba, and was an immediate disappointment, a low point on the trip for me, with rough facilities, and locals drinking wine to excess. It was a severe step down from our lodgings in Seleky, and, as we later learned, in comparison to the other campements in the area. Still, we chose to stay, and over the week came to settle in nicely. It's manager, Douda, become our guide. While he lived in Mako, located along the main road north of Kedougou, Douda was raised in a rural village adjacent to the Bedick village of Ingel. His contacts, access, and local knowledge proved exceptional.

We shared our hut with a mouse we named Sparky. Sparky would emerge every evening, searching for entry points into our food sacks hung from a support pole, scurrying across the roof beams. Photo7 shows Sparky entering a can of Pringle's Hot & Spicy potato chips which we left open for him. It was the least we could do. (Yesterday, while reviewing the videotape, that I discovered that there was in fact at least two Sparky's.)

A French couple from Paris, Jean Claude and his wife Roland, arrived in their camping car (what we know as an RV), on their yearly pilgrimage through West Africa -- Senegal, Mali, and Benin -- having passed through Morocco and Mauritania. They'd made this trip a dozen times or more, so they were seasoned travelers, and welcomed the nightly conversations over whisky and ice, dinner, and a campfire. (See photo8.)

For video, see clip1, clip2, clip3, clip4, clip5

Tour de Senegal/Casamance: Culture & Landscape

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Sites and scenes of the Casamance: photo1: Almamy with ceremonial drums outside Oussouye; photo2: a fetish used by local animists; photo3: the bois sacre for the village of Enamper; photo4: Randi with binoculars and bird book, on the road from Seleky to the main road in Brin; photos 5&6: along the road to and through Oussouye; photo7: Randi on a piroque en route to lunch at an isolated island campement; photo8: Almamy's uncle digs up a manioc/cassava root from his garden to share with Randi; photo9: bottles collecting palm wine; photo10: cashews being cleaned and sorted/graded; photo11: solar panels for sale at a store front in Zingunchor.

For media, see clip1, clip2, clip3, clip4.