Kati, Mali, Day 213

The engine in the Dragoman truck is revving and about to pull out of the Sleeping Camel when a dusty, dirty Jeep Group arrives from Timbuktu. I learn from Agatha Christie that they had about the same amount of time as Christi and I in the desert metropolis and the cost of the trip ended up being about the same as flying, so Christi and I are feeling rather smug. Christi actually pleads to continue our trip to Dakar by air, having no wish to bush camp. She snorts at the idea that camping in the baking hot bush and with no facilities whatsoever could be considered fun. An hour out of Bamako we come to our one and only stop for the day: the Kati animal market.

For Western sensibilities, the market is rather too authentic. The animals certainly do not have rights and supporters of PETA would probably be having a conniption as brightly colored herders occasionally break away from their conversations to whack their livestock (mostly cows and goats) or throw some seriously chunky rocks at them. There’s no sentiment here as mothers and babies are sold and separated. The Dragoman truck and passengers certainly look out-of-place at the Kati market. It’s hot, dusty, and dirty, yet the herders seem to be enjoying the social aspect of the event as much as the business transactions. While the cattle market dominates the scene there is also a separate goat market, while firewood is also in demand (surely not for heating). Animal transportation to and from the Kati animal market verges on the cruel. The locals think nothing of strapping goats onto the top of a mini-van, while I also watch a cow being tied up and forced into the rear section of a station wagon.

The rest of an unbearably hot day is spent on an increasingly hot truck. At one point, I rest my hands on my trousers and within a minute large sweat patches appear. If we close the flimsy curtains to shade us from the brutal heat we can see nothing of the West African Sahel we came to explore. At lunch John Malkovich places his thermometer in the sun and the temperature reaches 52^oC, which is 124^oF (and need I remind you that we have no air-conditioning or even a fan). John is not the only one feeling a little frazzled.

We bush camp about 90 minutes to the east of the town of Kayes and not far from the border with Mauritania. Which reminds me, while we were in Bamako Adonis contacted the Dragoman fixer in this unknown African country. The fixer, who goes by the wonderful name of Ahmed the Finger, is another Tuareg. The Tuareg are famed for their guiding skills, and Ahmed the Finger is willing to lead a non-Dragoman trip through Mauritanian Sahara. Several of our group have expressed an interest in continuing to travel through West Africa overland, notably Sheldon Cooper. Time will tell how many step up to the plate.