Niger River to Djenne, Day 208

Christi and I sleep remarkably well on the banks of the Niger River, but packing up the campsite in preparation for onward travel to our destination for the evening, Djenne, is problematic. Our tour group is acting more like toddlers at a daycare center – no one wants to give up their new toy. In this case the cool, refreshing (but not necessarily safe) waters of the Niger River. Sheldon Cooper, Stan Laurel, and Joan Rivers are the worst culprits.

Speeding up river creates a wonderful breeze that helps dissipate the heat – at least until the propeller hits underwater rocks with a resounding thud and we suddenly can’t navigate effectively. Somehow the crew steer our pinasse ashore and then set about the task of banging the bent rudder back into shape. For a brief moment I’m reminded of our painful journey up river to Angel Falls in Venezuela (Why don’t boats carry a spare rudder, I want to ask, but dare not!). This time, however, the crew fixes the equipment in double-quick time and we’re soon back to being voyeurs on the Niger River: fishing boats, villages on the move, laundry day.

We also stop at a second Bozo village, and much like yesterday we are greeted with kindness and curiosity. We reciprocate with respect and interest and again both groups appear to enjoy the exchanges. Agatha Christie goes above and beyond in this respect by discreetly handing over the bra she is wearing to a heavily pregnant Bozo lady.

Our lunch stop and jumping off point is the village of Kouakourou. In theory we are going to explore this community as well, but Adonis bounces into town amid a huge mushroom cloud of dust to inform us that the famous market in Djenne has been brought forward a day. Tomorrow the President of Mali is visiting Djenne and the market has been cancelled for security reasons. A much smaller maket has been hastily arranged by the locals for today, but we are at least 2 hours away from Djenne. The ride proves to be one of the dirtiest, dustiest, and bumpiest of the whole trip; we are caked in sand by the time we reach Djenne. Amazingly Buddha has a box of face masks, which at least stops prevents the excesses of the Malian Sahel from entering our lungs.

Djenne is packed with tourists and government officials sent there to pave the way for the President’s visit. For this reason we are relegated to the roof of the Campement Hotel Djenne. It’s like being in Dogon Country all over again, only this time we are using tents. And once the tents are up, Christi and I dash off to catch the last fading glow of the famous market. Once at the market we find the locals are dressed in some seriously stylish, brightly colored costumes which are dazzling on the eye. Our eyes are not the only sesnes we engage at the market, however. There is an over-powering aroma of fish paste balls, which stick in my throat and make me want to wretch.

In addition to the market Djenne is famous the world over for being home to the largest mud mosque in the world. The Grand Mosque at Djenne is the photographic highlight of the entire trip…but the news is dire. We’ve arrived during a periodic refacing of the structure. Consequently, scaffolding is scarring much of the Grand Mosque. I’m so disappointed. Christi allows me a brief moment of maudlin self-pity before tongue-lashing me back into shape. “Just get on with it!” she yells. I walk around the mosque, studying angles, and isolating elements. I realize that with a little creativity it might be possible to avoid most of the ugly scars. I should probably thank Christi, but I don’t. I mean it was still a tongue-lashing.

We’re dragged away from the market far too quickly (the organized tour effect again) to embark upon a tour of Djenne. Our guide, who goes by the bizarre name of ‘Sorry’, shows us around the dusty streets and alleyways of Djenne explaining about the Islamic schools, secular schools, a new library and the fact that many ethnic groupings including the Fulani, Bozo, and Bambara (all Moslems) live in perfect harmony.

Dinner is off the truck again so Christi and I wander back into the town center. We quickly find a food-stall where a lamb is being roasted and we eat several delicious slices. Finally at the end of a long, exhausting day we step into deliciously cool showers and watch the dirt and dust roll off our bodies. Exploring West Africa is damned hard work!