Thursday, August 7
Mopti, Mali
The rumor is true: Getting out of Timbuktu is more difficult than getting in.
We considered taking the easy way out, hiring a vehicle just for the five of us, one that would provide a bit of comfort on the long dirt road back to Mopti.
But it was too expensive for us budget travelers, we decided. Besides, traveling like toubabs misses the point; if we wanted the easy way out, we wouldn’t have come to Africa to begin with.
So we bought tickets to ride in the back of a public 4×4, which sit about 12 people squished African style.
Our car in the desert.
Our car happened to be full of all tourists, though the ones in the middle and the front had paid more than us to sit in actual seats. We squeezed into bench chairs that faced each other in the back of the car, right over the rear wheels.
That was thee most uncomfortable I’ve ever been in my life. I like to think I have a strong stomach, but I had to keep a plastic bag nearby because I was nauseated from the car’s heavy fumes and bouncing over holes in the road. I could barely move, yet every time we hit a bump — every few seconds or so — my bones would jam into a hard part of the seat or the person next to me. I could feel my body bruising and my legs cramped from being in the same position for several hours.
It would have been worse, though, if I had been crammed in there with strangers. Don’t we look like we’re having a good time?
Lexi, Cedric and Ed traveling ever-so comfortably.
Cedric's foot hanging off the top of the car
We were a bit more comfortable for an hour or so when Cedric climbed up onto the roof of the car to ride with two Malians already sitting amongst our baggage. It created more room for us, as well as some fun for him, until we hit a police checkpoint. Apparently white folk aren’t allowed to ride on the roof. Cedric got a shake-down for that one.
And yet, it was perfectly permissible for our driver to race another 4×4, one also filled with tourists who I imagine were as scared as we were when the two drivers sped alongside one another in the dust. Here’s the view when our car was ahead:
Drag racing in the desert.
The trip, including a ferry crossing and a bus transfer, took nearly 12 hours, which is pretty impressive. We had no flat tires, we weren’t forced to spent the night on the road and the pool at what had become my favorite Mali hotel awaited us upon our return to Mopti.
Inkslinging in Africa 
August 14, 2008 at 11:54 am
haaahahahahaha
Well at least you were squished with … um, whom you were squished with. 😉
Your stories are incredible — no white people on the roof? Why!?
It’s so hard to understand the reasoning behind half of the stuff you write.
I bet if you took a group of Africans and a group of Americans and asked them to describe the world — Earth, culture, what’s important, what’s not — you could assume from the answers that they didn’t share a planet.
August 14, 2008 at 12:13 pm
I just caught up on your blog after neglecting to read it for a couple of weeks. The stories just keep getting better — sandstorms, camel rides, disgusting meals, wild rides in the desert — what’s next? Lexi gets caught up in the middle of a revolution?
Bravo. I can’t compete. I could fill you in on the new computer system we’re getting, but I won’t bore you. Thanks for giving this aging dude a dose of vicarious adventure.
August 14, 2008 at 4:37 pm
AJ — That’s because there’s often no logic behind the reasoning here!
The police told Cedric that they’d face consequences if a white guy was killed in a wreck after riding on the roof. Guess it wouldn’t matter to them so much if it was a native.
Mike — Thanks! Even during these adventures, I miss y’all in the newsroom…
August 15, 2008 at 7:18 pm
But maybe sometimes there is a logic that doesn’t seem logical to us?
Like, there was that story in the NYTimes that said that people in Ghana had sense of what was icky and what was not — but they considered toilets not icky.
That, to me, seemed illogical. Touching a toilet, using a toilet, flushing a toilet were not occasions to wash one’s hands.
But then the article says that because toilets replaced holes in the ground, toilets were considered sanitary!
So that makes sense…I just never would’ve comprehended that without help.
Then, I’m sure in other cases, there is simply no logic. =)
(I still can’t get over the fact that they put goats on the roof. How do they not fall off? What if they pee?)
April 19, 2010 at 9:09 am
[…] my hostel at night. But the truth is, I was most scared when packed into overcrowded bush taxis on dangerous roads. Every time I got into one, I thought about how I’d get out if we were in a wreck. Author and […]