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Published: August 15th 2007
Mutton sellers
A guy selling BBQed goat sets up his stall next to our bus Malaria is one of the biggest killers of sub-Saharan Africans, and in tropical, rainy season Ghana, the disease is endemic. We know, because Suze caught it a week ago, and is still convalescing in bed after a dramatic six days of fever, hospitalization, treatment, and recovery. But don't worry - she's fine now.
Just when you think you are cruising along quite well, avoiding all the potential pitfalls of African travel, the continent has a habit of creeping up on you and reminding you just how tough it can be on human beings.
Especially in the wet season, which is hitting the West with a vengeance (although probably not quite as hard as it's hitting the UK). We left Ouagadougou ten days ago, our destination the north of Burkina Faso, where we aimed to visit the traditional Gorom Gorom markets. On the route to Dori, the main city in the north, the highway was flooded in three places, each section worse than the previous one. Our small bus
Dori mosque
A couple of cows pose for a shot next to a mudbrick mosque in Dori, northern Burkina easily drove through the first; had some trouble negotiating the second; but the third was the real problem. The water was around knee-deep on a human, and the flooded section was about two hundred metres long. Worse, for both our chances of success, and our morale, was the overturned truck lying in the water to the edge of the road, which had tried - and failed - to venture through the fast-flowing waters. Our driver was something of a hero, and he gunned it through, without stalling the vehicle or flooding the engine. The view from the window was like that from a boat, water gushing along all around us, and you could feel the collective clenching of sphincters as we eased past the capsized truck.
But we got through, and the driver received a hearty round of applause for his effort.
Dori was our stopover point that night, and the following day, Thursday, we tried to arrange a lift to the markets, 50km away. Thanks to the rain, the usual convoy of bush taxis weren't running the route, so we were forced onto the only available vehicle - a truck, full of people and cargo, which looked
On the truck
Suze poses on top of our vehicle bound for the Gorom Gorom markets disconcertingly similar to the one we had seen in the flooded road the day before. We clambered onto the top of the truck, and braced ourselves for what promised to be an eventful journey.
Twenty kilometres out of Dori, we met our match. Another flooded section of road, but this time the water was chest-deep. Even our ballsy truckie wasn't game to risk life and market goods for this veritable torrent of water. So we turned back, defeated, and returned to Dori. Well, Suze and I did - the truck dropped us off, and continued on the alternate route, double the distance, with yet more floods to cross, and little chance of ever getting to the markets. We were disappointed, but no market is worth the hell journey we were about to put ourselves through, or the chance of being washed away in a Burkinabe flood.
So, back to Ouaga. The rains in the night had pushed the waters even higher, and the return journey was even worse. On reaching the worst part of the highway, we were rather worried to see that there were now two overturned trucks, not just one - and the water was now
275 kms to Ouaga...
A Burkina Faso milestone... waist-deep.
The last trip through had been touch and go, and this time it looked to be impossible. But the driver took a steely grip of the steering wheel, and drove in. We inched forward through the river, with the waters bursting thorugh the door and up into the bus. As we
edged past the first truck, the engine sputtered a few times, then stopped. We sat there in the raging flood, just a metre from where the road dropped off, as the driver tried to spark the drowning engine back to life. After a few tries, the vehicle sprang to life again, and forward we went. Twenty metres on, it happened again, and this time it took twice as long to get started again. Finally, just ten metres from safety, the bus conked a third time. It took the collective will of every passenger to energise the engine back, allowing us to drive up and out of the water.
This time there was no applause - just a huge sigh of relief.
We managed to make it back to Ouaga, and the next day we bussed it to the Ghanaian border, thankfully along a floodless highway.
On the way to Dori...
Our bus edges through the flood waters, just metres from an overturned truck The crossing from Burkina to Ghana was quite surreal, especially after several months in Francophone West Africa. Everything looked the same, the clothes, the shops, the houses, the people, the cars, the food, the landscape - except now, everyone spoke English, not French. No more coiffeurs, just barbers. For food, it was now chop houses instead of maquises. And the kids ran up to us screaming, 'Hello, how are you?' instead of 'Bonjour, ca va?'.
Our first stop in Ghana was the northern hub of Tamale, which seemed incredibly developed after Burkina and Mali, with well-paved roads, taxis with non-cracked windscreens, and buildings that weren't all constructed from mud or cheap concrete. We didn't get to see much of the city, except for the hospital and our hotels. On Saturday morning, just twelve hours into our time in Ghana, Suze took ill with fever and flu-like symptoms. We did what everyone here does when you feel fluey - got to a doctor. Within a few hours, a blood test had diagnosed our worst nightmare - malaria. Luckily, we had caught it early, and we got Suze straight onto the treatment. Unluckily, the parasite had been joined by an ugly
Onion sellers
A crowd of onion sellers gather outside our bus window on the way to Dori chest infection, and so Suze ended up being admitted into a Ghanaian public hospital for a course of IV antibiotics.
Now, Tamale Hospital did a lot of things well - the doctors were brilliant (although overworked), the needles were clean, the drugs available, and some of the nurses were awesome. It also did some things very badly - there were no working toilets, there was no running water, occasional blackouts, no bedsheets, no fans, mosquito-infested wards, and, sadly, some of the nurses seemed to think the best cure for a patient was to say, 'Don't wory, God is with you'. Suze endured two days in the hospital, but didn't improve as fast as she could have. Various dramas ensued, but, long story short, we ended up in Accra, the capital of Ghana, and now, as I say, the patient is doing great. The malaria has gone, the chest infection is almost dealt with, and bed-rest should sort everything out in the next few days. We are just lucky that we could get to medical care, pay for a doctor, purchase the necessary drugs, and sort it all out. A lot of poor Africans can't, and a lot of them
On the Gorom Gorom truck
The view from the top of our truck, on our abortive mission to Gorom Gorom markets - including a million infants each year - die from a disease which is easily treated.
So - Ghana. We haven't seen much in the way of sights yet, but we have met a lot of the people, and so far they are the most polite and friendly bunch of folks you could hope for. Every transaction is preceded by, 'Hullo sah, how are you?', to which the usual reply is 'Ahm fine'. All the usual elements of West Africa are in place, the women carting trays of fruit around on their heads, the beggar kids, the colourful clothes, the big smiles, the street food, the constant rain...but with an English flavour, rather than a French one. So now, the bread is crap and the tea is milky, and we can actually read the newspapers and understand them. One thing that really stands out here is the religion: Ghana is the first predominantly Christian nation we have seen on the African mainland, and churches and Christian paraphernalia are everywhere. The Ghanaians bring a passion to the religion similar to the passion brought to Islam by other Africans - so you see such bizarre sights as an electrical store called,
The impossible flood
The bit of road that we couldn't cross, on the way to Gorom Gorom 'Powerfull Jesus Enterprises'; and every taxi seems to have a preacher playing on the radio, rather than music.
Right now we are in Accra, which is the most developed city we have seen since Casablanca, Morocco. Despite all the fast food and fancy cars, it still has the odd shantytown on the outskirts, andthe Accra traffic jams are a fine market for the hordes of
poor people trying to scrape together a living by selling yams, torches, towels, biscuits or phonecards. We are taking full advantage of the pizza and smoothies for sale just near our hotel, as Suze shakes off her malady and we prepare for our last few weeks in West Africa, hopefully on the beautiful beaches to the west of here...
Tom and Suze's Top Five of Burkina Faso
1. The buses. After the crowded taxis, the rattletrap minibuses, and delapidated utes of Senegal and Mali, the transport here is a dream. The buses are often airconditioned, they leave dead on time, and stop only for lunch, not for every single person who happens to
thumb a lift. Hurray for STMB Transport, who get a special mention here...
2. Hippo watching at Lake
Floodwaters on the way to Dori
The flooded section of road close to Dori, Burkina Faso Tengrela, near Banfora. It's difficult to see large mammals up so close in West Africa, and this was one of the best moments of the trip so far.
3. The food and drink. After the shortage of fresh veggies in Mali, the food here was an absolute dream - thick steaks, delicious pasta, even burgers and pizzas. Once we had
overdosed on the fatty western food available, even the riz sauce - the West African staple of...yes, rice and sauce - was tasty and filling. And the beers - Brakina and So.b.bra - both tasted lovely; probably because they are exactly the same brew, made by the same company, just with different labels.
4. Le Zion Hotel in Bobo. Great meals, cool music, cosy little rooms, and munchkin kids running around causing trouble.
5. The Burkinabe themselves. A friendly, easygoing people, even by the high standards of West Africa.
Tom and Suze's Bottom Three of Burkina Faso
1. The 'Tranquil Pas de Probleme' guys. These are the Burkinabe dudes with dreadlocks and rasta caps, who pretend they are ultra-cool, easy-going, and just want to be your friends. 'No problem' they assure you, as they extend
Overturned truck
Passing the capsized truck on the flooded highway... their hand for you to shake it, 'bon arrivee, welcome to Burkina. What country are you from?'. Before you know it, they are trying to sell you something, and when you refuse to buy, they act all offended, like you
have rejected their friendship. The first few times you meet them, it really is 'pas de probleme' - the hundredth:beaucoup de probleme.
2. The rainy season. Not only does it get you very wet, and flood the highways, it also brings out the mozzies - and we all know what they can do to you...
3. Ouagadougou. Lovely name, ugly city.
***
Africa Country Count: 7
Burkina Faso Overland Kilometre Count: 1965km
Africa Overland Kilometre Count: 15,765km
Next Country: Ghana
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Dad/Kev
non-member comment
Happy
I am so happy Suze is recovering and relieved for you both. Keep on keeping on! Love ya.