Lucky bastard

check Emmanuel eye clinic at east legon ghana they are very good or korle bu also in ghana is a general hospital but they have some good opticians there

sorry guys for the delay i was having problem with thread.it keep removing my update..

Dear readers,

The narration of my journey across West Africa continues.

This episode is in memory of the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that lost their lives in the most brutal manner in The Gambia less than a decade ago.

Journal entry – start

Date: 23/11/11
Time: 4:15PM
Location: Barra, The Gambia

You stood among the living on this riverfront
You took this path, with hope
Crossed this river, with uncertainty
This country you came, to the end of your road
This world you left, in cold-blooded
Your time in this world, very brief
When you cried, no one heard
This world you remain, hardly forgotten
You are free
Sleep well, brothers.

Journal entry – end

Commentary
I wrote the piece above to pay respect to my fallen brothers, whose fate was sealed at the very same waterfront. Sorry I'm terrible at writing poems. I wrote a copy of it on a piece of paper, and buried it under Gambia River in the most discreet manner, whilst waiting to cross into Banjul.

This stretch of Gambia River changed everything for the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that got murdered brutally under the orders of President Yayah Jammeh. In all of the different accounts of the incident, there is evidence to support that the victims were ferried across Gambia River before being massacred.

I do not know the number of the Gold Coast Regiment members that died during World War II, but in my lifetime so far, it is the first time Ghanaians in that number have lost their lives on a foreign soil in that manner.

I ask myself this: why are we too violent? In a way, we are all violent. It is our nature to be violent, selfish and greedy. We destroy what we hate, and sometimes in the process, we become what we hate. Too bad isn't it?

Incidence like the Brufut & Kanilai massacre has occurred throughout history, as I understand, but it only becomes real and true when it happens to someone closer to you.

I left Dakar on the morning of 23/11/11 and came through Mbour, Kaolack, Sokone, Tabakouta, and finally to Karang around 3:00PM. Karang is the last town before the frontiers of Senegal and The Gambia. It was always smooth crossing Senegalese borders in spite of the hefty CFA franc I had to pay at all time. The Gambian immigration officials were friendly.

“What are you doing in Gambia on the eve of our presidential elections, Ghana man?” One of the officials inquired.

I did not know I was in Gambia on the eve of their presidential elections. Yes, on the eve of presidential elections in Yahya Jammeh's Gambia.

“Oh no!” I responded in shock, “I did not know tomorrow is your presidential elections. I'm transiting through Gambia to Ziguinchor, in an effort to reach Guinea Bissau.”

“Well…,” he responded, “if your plans are to get to Ziguinchor, then you better hurry because the borders would be closed tomorrow morning and I do not know when it will be opened.”

I had planned to spend few days in Gambia before going south. I had wanted to visit Brufut, a western district of the country and then continue to Ghana Town. Some of the murdered Ghanaians were dumped in Brufut, which happened to be near a town called Ghana Town. I do not know whether this was a coincidence or part of the orchestration, but it did have my interest. I wanted to conduct a tour of the area since it was within easy reach from the capital.

My plans had to change due to the situation at hand. Lots of foreigners were crossing into Senegal. Whilst others were trying to escape the situation, I was heading right into it. The immigration official advised me to try to get to the southern border that evening and wait to cross into southern Senegal in the morning before it is closed. Gambia is a country inside Senegal so the geographic description can be a little confusing.

I changed a minibus to Barra, where I'm supposed to cross Gambia River into Banjul, and then continue south to Seleti; the border town. It's less than 30km from Amdalai border area to Barra so we made it there in about 30 minutes. I met a cynic Gambian in the minibus. He was fascinated to learn I'm a Ghanaian.

“Do you anticipate change of atmosphere in the country tomorrow??” I queried him.

“I don't know,” he responded, “I'm not going out to cue to vote. It is all nonsense.”

“Why do you say that?” I further inquired.

“Why go out to waste my time when I know what the outcome will be?” He responded, “Do you hang out with the beautiful women in the Ghana movies?”

His attention was somewhere else. He was more interested in Ghanaian women.

“No, I do not hang out with them,” I responded, “in fact, I do not even know any of the people you mentioned. Ghana is bigger so it is not likely to stumble upon people like that always.

The fellow was right; Yahya Jammeh makes a mockery of democracy. There was no point voting at all since Yahya Jammeh has the upper hand. Yahya Jammeh has ruled over Gambia for over 17 years ruthlessly and brutal. He doesn't hesitate to gun down his opponents in broad daylight. I do not know whether the man personally is a brutal person, but I do know that he has done brutal things. It is sad Gambians are unable to get rid of him.

It was such a chaos at the Barra waterfront. It takes over an hour for the vessel to travel from the other side to the Barra terminal. However, there were motorized canoes crossing passengers into Banjul. It would be difficult to find transportation to the border in the evening so waiting at Barra for the ferry meant less chance of making it to the southern border that evening. There was no option but to join a motorized canoe. It wasn't the safest way to cross the river, but it was the only way to avoid being caught up at the terminal. In any case, the life jacket aboard the canoe could be helpful. I could also swim ashore.

It took about 45 minutes to cross the river on the motorized canoe. You can see from the photos we came close to the ferry which was on its way to Barra. Could it be the same vessel that transported the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals from Barra to Banjul under the escort of the police? I kept wondering to myself. I was not sure the same vessel could still be in operation after all these years. There was no way to confirm this. It was not necessary. I went ahead to dub it 'the Ferry of Doom'.

I finally made it to Banjul around 6:00PM and continued to find minibus to Birkama. It's such a crowd during rush hour in Banjul. Minibus and taxis were difficult to find.

There were Christmas lights and billboards with the message: Happy Birthday Professor, Doctor…what what President Yahya Jammeh, around the city. Also, were billboards of the President with the slogan: A VOTE FOR HIM IN 2011 IS A SACRED DUTY FOR ALL GAMBIANS. The Christmas lights, I understood were put up for his birthday which was some months back, but they were still up as at that time.

To get to Seleti, I have to go through Birkama, a city south of Banjul. It's about 40km from Banjul to Birkama. I arrived there around 9:00PM. There was no car to take me to Seleti, not even a taxi to hire. I decided to find a place to sleep in Birkama, and then head out to the border early in the morning.

The owner of the guest house was kind. His favorite lecturers at college were Ghanaians so he was excited to accommodate me. He warmed it might not be possible at all to cross the border in the morning due to the elections. He made calls to find more information about the situation at the border, but there were no response. We decided to call again early in the morning before I head out there.

It is less than 25km from Birkama to Seleti. We made calls to the border in the morning to be informed that the border has already been closed, and crossing is impossible. This presented me with a challenge. In any case, I wasn't ready to stay in Gambia during the election. The presidential elections coincided with the upsurge in global uprising. I am sure Yahya Jammeh was ready to crush any protest or uprising that might arise during or after the elections.

Why is the president having all the borders closed? What is he up to? I kept wondering to myself. I couldn't make it pass the border in south so I had to abandon the attempt. To stay in Gambia few more days was also not part of the option.

I decided to return to North Bank, and cross back into Senegal, that is, if the border is still opened.

I came back to Banjul to the ferry terminal. I was not alone. A lot of people were also trying to get to the border. Only one ferry was operating. The ferry was few minutes out into the river when I got to the gate. I got there late. “oh-ho!” I cried loudly. What do I do now? I wasn't ready to use the canoe, again. To my surprise, the ferry returned back, after setting out few minutes ago. It was called back. I didn't know why but it was obviously to my advantage. I got a ticket so I quickly boarded.

I joined everyone else on the Ferry of Doom, to escape the unknown fate of Gambia. Yes, I was finally on the Ferry of Doom. There still was no way to verify whether it is the same vessel that carried the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals across the river some years back. It didn't matter to me. I remained quiet throughout the journey to Barra. You could guess why I was quiet and what I could be thinking or imagining.

Since most people aboard the ferry were also trying to cross the border, then chances are the border is still opened, and I may be able to make it into Senegal.

We arrived at the Barra terminal after nearly two hours on the river. There was a police post at the Barra waterfront. The UN investigations revealed that, it was the police at this post that intercepted and mistook the 44 Ghanaians, and other nationals as mercenaries on a mission to assassinate Yahya Jammeh. The same police post mounted a barrier and randomly intercepting people they considered to have questionable appearance. Two of the police officers pointed at me at the same time. “I hope they do not think I'm in the country on the Election Day to ferment political riots,” I was saying to myself.

Together with two Caucasian guys, they searched through my backpack thoroughly and groped me afterward. After few silly questions, they gave me a pass. They were getting ready to close the border when I got to Amdalai.

“I understand you couldn't wait to get out of Gambia,” the immigration official I met up with the previous day comforted me, “don't worry, I know why you are anxious. Sorry about that. Gambians are friends to Ghanaians. Hope to see you again soon.”

He was making reference to the Brufut and Kanilai massacre.

It was a relief to come into Senegal. Senegal has offered me relief on few occasions, of course, not without having to pay a hefty amount at the borders. I could not blame them. Ghana immigration officials do the same thing. They do not only extort money from non Ghanaians, but from Ghanaians, as well.

Next Episode

Dear readers,

The narration of my journey across West Africa continues.

This episode is in memory of the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that lost their lives in the most brutal manner in The Gambia less than a decade ago.

Journal entry – start

Date: 23/11/11
Time: 4:15PM
Location: Barra, The Gambia

You stood among the living on this riverfront
You took this path, with hope
Crossed this river, with uncertainty
This country you came, to the end of your road
This world you left, in cold-blooded
Your time in this world, very brief
When you cried, no one heard
This world you remain, hardly forgotten
You are free
Sleep well, brothers.

Journal entry – end

Commentary
I wrote the piece above to pay respect to my fallen brothers, whose fate was sealed at the very same waterfront. Sorry I'm terrible at writing poems. I wrote a copy of it on a piece of paper, and buried it under Gambia River in the most discreet manner, whilst waiting to cross into Banjul.

This stretch of Gambia River changed everything for the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that got murdered brutally under the orders of President Yayah Jammeh. In all of the different accounts of the incident, there is evidence to support that the victims were ferried across Gambia River before being massacred.

I do not know the number of the Gold Coast Regiment members that died during World War II, but in my lifetime so far, it is the first time Ghanaians in that number have lost their lives on a foreign soil in that manner.

I ask myself this: why are we too violent? In a way, we are all violent. It is our nature to be violent, selfish and greedy. We destroy what we hate, and sometimes in the process, we become what we hate. Too bad isn't it?

Incidence like the Brufut & Kanilai massacre has occurred throughout history, as I understand, but it only becomes real and true when it happens to someone closer to you.

I left Dakar on the morning of 23/11/11 and came through Mbour, Kaolack, Sokone, Tabakouta, and finally to Karang around 3:00PM. Karang is the last town before the frontiers of Senegal and The Gambia. It was always smooth crossing Senegalese borders in spite of the hefty CFA franc I had to pay at all time. The Gambian immigration officials were friendly.

“What are you doing in Gambia on the eve of our presidential elections, Ghana man?” One of the officials inquired.

I did not know I was in Gambia on the eve of their presidential elections. Yes, on the eve of presidential elections in Yahya Jammeh's Gambia.

“Oh no!” I responded in shock, “I did not know tomorrow is your presidential elections. I'm transiting through Gambia to Ziguinchor, in an effort to reach Guinea Bissau.”

“Well…,” he responded, “if your plans are to get to Ziguinchor, then you better hurry because the borders would be closed tomorrow morning and I do not know when it will be opened.”

I had planned to spend few days in Gambia before going south. I had wanted to visit Brufut, a western district of the country and then continue to Ghana Town. Some of the murdered Ghanaians were dumped in Brufut, which happened to be near a town called Ghana Town. I do not know whether this was a coincidence or part of the orchestration, but it did have my interest. I wanted to conduct a tour of the area since it was within easy reach from the capital.

My plans had to change due to the situation at hand. Lots of foreigners were crossing into Senegal. Whilst others were trying to escape the situation, I was heading right into it. The immigration official advised me to try to get to the southern border that evening and wait to cross into southern Senegal in the morning before it is closed. Gambia is a country inside Senegal so the geographic description can be a little confusing.

I changed a minibus to Barra, where I'm supposed to cross Gambia River into Banjul, and then continue south to Seleti; the border town. It's less than 30km from Amdalai border area to Barra so we made it there in about 30 minutes. I met a cynic Gambian in the minibus. He was fascinated to learn I'm a Ghanaian.

“Do you anticipate change of atmosphere in the country tomorrow??” I queried him.

“I don't know,” he responded, “I'm not going out to cue to vote. It is all nonsense.”

“Why do you say that?” I further inquired.

“Why go out to waste my time when I know what the outcome will be?” He responded, “Do you hang out with the beautiful women in the Ghana movies?”

His attention was somewhere else. He was more interested in Ghanaian women.

“No, I do not hang out with them,” I responded, “in fact, I do not even know any of the people you mentioned. Ghana is bigger so it is not likely to stumble upon people like that always.

The fellow was right; Yahya Jammeh makes a mockery of democracy. There was no point voting at all since Yahya Jammeh has the upper hand. Yahya Jammeh has ruled over Gambia for over 17 years ruthlessly and brutal. He doesn't hesitate to gun down his opponents in broad daylight. I do not know whether the man personally is a brutal person, but I do know that he has done brutal things. It is sad Gambians are unable to get rid of him.

It was such a chaos at the Barra waterfront. It takes over an hour for the vessel to travel from the other side to the Barra terminal. However, there were motorized canoes crossing passengers into Banjul. It would be difficult to find transportation to the border in the evening so waiting at Barra for the ferry meant less chance of making it to the southern border that evening. There was no option but to join a motorized canoe. It wasn't the safest way to cross the river, but it was the only way to avoid being caught up at the terminal. In any case, the life jacket aboard the canoe could be helpful. I could also swim ashore.

It took about 45 minutes to cross the river on the motorized canoe. You can see from the photos we came close to the ferry which was on its way to Barra. Could it be the same vessel that transported the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals from Barra to Banjul under the escort of the police? I kept wondering to myself. I was not sure the same vessel could still be in operation after all these years. There was no way to confirm this. It was not necessary. I went ahead to dub it 'the Ferry of Doom'.

I finally made it to Banjul around 6:00PM and continued to find minibus to Birkama. It's such a crowd during rush hour in Banjul. Minibus and taxis were difficult to find.

There were Christmas lights and billboards with the message: Happy Birthday Professor, Doctor…what what President Yahya Jammeh, around the city. Also, were billboards of the President with the slogan: A VOTE FOR HIM IN 2011 IS A SACRED DUTY FOR ALL GAMBIANS. The Christmas lights, I understood were put up for his birthday which was some months back, but they were still up as at that time.

To get to Seleti, I have to go through Birkama, a city south of Banjul. It's about 40km from Banjul to Birkama. I arrived there around 9:00PM. There was no car to take me to Seleti, not even a taxi to hire. I decided to find a place to sleep in Birkama, and then head out to the border early in the morning.

The owner of the guest house was kind. His favorite lecturers at college were Ghanaians so he was excited to accommodate me. He warmed it might not be possible at all to cross the border in the morning due to the elections. He made calls to find more information about the situation at the border, but there were no response. We decided to call again early in the morning before I head out there.

It is less than 25km from Birkama to Seleti. We made calls to the border in the morning to be informed that the border has already been closed, and crossing is impossible. This presented me with a challenge. In any case, I wasn't ready to stay in Gambia during the election. The presidential elections coincided with the upsurge in global uprising. I am sure Yahya Jammeh was ready to crush any protest or uprising that might arise during or after the elections.

Why is the president having all the borders closed? What is he up to? I kept wondering to myself. I couldn't make it pass the border in south so I had to abandon the attempt. To stay in Gambia few more days was also not part of the option.

I decided to return to North Bank, and cross back into Senegal, that is, if the border is still opened.

I came back to Banjul to the ferry terminal. I was not alone. A lot of people were also trying to get to the border. Only one ferry was operating. The ferry was few minutes out into the river when I got to the gate. I got there late. “oh-ho!” I cried loudly. What do I do now? I wasn't ready to use the canoe, again. To my surprise, the ferry returned back, after setting out few minutes ago. It was called back. I didn't know why but it was obviously to my advantage. I got a ticket so I quickly boarded.

I joined everyone else on the Ferry of Doom, to escape the unknown fate of Gambia. Yes, I was finally on the Ferry of Doom. There still was no way to verify whether it is the same vessel that carried the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals across the river some years back. It didn't matter to me. I remained quiet throughout the journey to Barra. You could guess why I was quiet and what I could be thinking or imagining.

Since most people aboard the ferry were also trying to cross the border, then chances are the border is still opened, and I may be able to make it into Senegal.

We arrived at the Barra terminal after nearly two hours on the river. There was a police post at the Barra waterfront. The UN investigations revealed that, it was the police at this post that intercepted and mistook the 44 Ghanaians, and other nationals as mercenaries on a mission to assassinate Yahya Jammeh. The same police post mounted a barrier and randomly intercepting people they considered to have questionable appearance. Two of the police officers pointed at me at the same time. “I hope they do not think I'm in the country on the Election Day to ferment political riots,” I was saying to myself.

Together with two Caucasian guys, they searched through my backpack thoroughly and groped me afterward. After few silly questions, they gave me a pass. They were getting ready to close the border when I got to Amdalai.

“I understand you couldn't wait to get out of Gambia,” the immigration official I met up with the previous day comforted me, “don't worry, I know why you are anxious. Sorry about that. Gambians are friends to Ghanaians. Hope to see you again soon.”

He was making reference to the Brufut and Kanilai massacre.

It was a relief to come into Senegal. Senegal has offered me relief on few occasions, of course, not without having to pay a hefty amount at the borders. I could not blame them. Ghana immigration officials do the same thing. They do not only extort money from non Ghanaians, but from Ghanaians, as well.

Next Episode
The journey continues .

Dear readers,

The narration of my journey across West Africa continues.

This episode is in memory of the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that lost their lives in the most brutal manner in The Gambia less than a decade ago.

Journal entry – start

Date: 23/11/11
Time: 4:15PM
Location: Barra, The Gambia

You stood among the living on this riverfront
You took this path, with hope
Crossed this river, with uncertainty
This country you came, to the end of your road
This world you left, in cold-blooded
Your time in this world, very brief
When you cried, no one heard
This world you remain, hardly forgotten
You are free
Sleep well, brothers.

Journal entry – end

Commentary
I wrote the piece above to pay respect to my fallen brothers, whose fate was sealed at the very same waterfront. Sorry I'm terrible at writing poems. I wrote a copy of it on a piece of paper, and buried it under Gambia River in the most discreet manner, whilst waiting to cross into Banjul.

This stretch of Gambia River changed everything for the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that got murdered brutally under the orders of President Yayah Jammeh. In all of the different accounts of the incident, there is evidence to support that the victims were ferried across Gambia River before being massacred.

I do not know the number of the Gold Coast Regiment members that died during World War II, but in my lifetime so far, it is the first time Ghanaians in that number have lost their lives on a foreign soil in that manner.

I ask myself this: why are we too violent? In a way, we are all violent. It is our nature to be violent, selfish and greedy. We destroy what we hate, and sometimes in the process, we become what we hate. Too bad isn't it?

Incidence like the Brufut & Kanilai massacre has occurred throughout history, as I understand, but it only becomes real and true when it happens to someone closer to you.

I left Dakar on the morning of 23/11/11 and came through Mbour, Kaolack, Sokone, Tabakouta, and finally to Karang around 3:00PM. Karang is the last town before the frontiers of Senegal and The Gambia. It was always smooth crossing Senegalese borders in spite of the hefty CFA franc I had to pay at all time. The Gambian immigration officials were friendly.

“What are you doing in Gambia on the eve of our presidential elections, Ghana man?” One of the officials inquired.

I did not know I was in Gambia on the eve of their presidential elections. Yes, on the eve of presidential elections in Yahya Jammeh's Gambia.

“Oh no!” I responded in shock, “I did not know tomorrow is your presidential elections. I'm transiting through Gambia to Ziguinchor, in an effort to reach Guinea Bissau.”

“Well…,” he responded, “if your plans are to get to Ziguinchor, then you better hurry because the borders would be closed tomorrow morning and I do not know when it will be opened.”

I had planned to spend few days in Gambia before going south. I had wanted to visit Brufut, a western district of the country and then continue to Ghana Town. Some of the murdered Ghanaians were dumped in Brufut, which happened to be near a town called Ghana Town. I do not know whether this was a coincidence or part of the orchestration, but it did have my interest. I wanted to conduct a tour of the area since it was within easy reach from the capital.

My plans had to change due to the situation at hand. Lots of foreigners were crossing into Senegal. Whilst others were trying to escape the situation, I was heading right into it. The immigration official advised me to try to get to the southern border that evening and wait to cross into southern Senegal in the morning before it is closed. Gambia is a country inside Senegal so the geographic description can be a little confusing.

I changed a minibus to Barra, where I'm supposed to cross Gambia River into Banjul, and then continue south to Seleti; the border town. It's less than 30km from Amdalai border area to Barra so we made it there in about 30 minutes. I met a cynic Gambian in the minibus. He was fascinated to learn I'm a Ghanaian.

“Do you anticipate change of atmosphere in the country tomorrow??” I queried him.

“I don't know,” he responded, “I'm not going out to cue to vote. It is all nonsense.”

“Why do you say that?” I further inquired.

“Why go out to waste my time when I know what the outcome will be?” He responded, “Do you hang out with the beautiful women in the Ghana movies?”

His attention was somewhere else. He was more interested in Ghanaian women.

“No, I do not hang out with them,” I responded, “in fact, I do not even know any of the people you mentioned. Ghana is bigger so it is not likely to stumble upon people like that always.

The fellow was right; Yahya Jammeh makes a mockery of democracy. There was no point voting at all since Yahya Jammeh has the upper hand. Yahya Jammeh has ruled over Gambia for over 17 years ruthlessly and brutal. He doesn't hesitate to gun down his opponents in broad daylight. I do not know whether the man personally is a brutal person, but I do know that he has done brutal things. It is sad Gambians are unable to get rid of him.

It was such a chaos at the Barra waterfront. It takes over an hour for the vessel to travel from the other side to the Barra terminal. However, there were motorized canoes crossing passengers into Banjul. It would be difficult to find transportation to the border in the evening so waiting at Barra for the ferry meant less chance of making it to the southern border that evening. There was no option but to join a motorized canoe. It wasn't the safest way to cross the river, but it was the only way to avoid being caught up at the terminal. In any case, the life jacket aboard the canoe could be helpful. I could also swim ashore.

It took about 45 minutes to cross the river on the motorized canoe. You can see from the photos we came close to the ferry which was on its way to Barra. Could it be the same vessel that transported the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals from Barra to Banjul under the escort of the police? I kept wondering to myself. I was not sure the same vessel could still be in operation after all these years. There was no way to confirm this. It was not necessary. I went ahead to dub it 'the Ferry of Doom'.

I finally made it to Banjul around 6:00PM and continued to find minibus to Birkama. It's such a crowd during rush hour in Banjul. Minibus and taxis were difficult to find.

There were Christmas lights and billboards with the message: Happy Birthday Professor, Doctor…what what President Yahya Jammeh, around the city. Also, were billboards of the President with the slogan: A VOTE FOR HIM IN 2011 IS A SACRED DUTY FOR ALL GAMBIANS. The Christmas lights, I understood were put up for his birthday which was some months back, but they were still up as at that time.

To get to Seleti, I have to go through Birkama, a city south of Banjul. It's about 40km from Banjul to Birkama. I arrived there around 9:00PM. There was no car to take me to Seleti, not even a taxi to hire. I decided to find a place to sleep in Birkama, and then head out to the border early in the morning.

The owner of the guest house was kind. His favorite lecturers at college were Ghanaians so he was excited to accommodate me. He warmed it might not be possible at all to cross the border in the morning due to the elections. He made calls to find more information about the situation at the border, but there were no response. We decided to call again early in the morning before I head out there.

It is less than 25km from Birkama to Seleti. We made calls to the border in the morning to be informed that the border has already been closed, and crossing is impossible. This presented me with a challenge. In any case, I wasn't ready to stay in Gambia during the election. The presidential elections coincided with the upsurge in global uprising. I am sure Yahya Jammeh was ready to crush any protest or uprising that might arise during or after the elections.

Why is the president having all the borders closed? What is he up to? I kept wondering to myself. I couldn't make it pass the border in south so I had to abandon the attempt. To stay in Gambia few more days was also not part of the option.

I decided to return to North Bank, and cross back into Senegal, that is, if the border is still opened.

I came back to Banjul to the ferry terminal. I was not alone. A lot of people were also trying to get to the border. Only one ferry was operating. The ferry was few minutes out into the river when I got to the gate. I got there late. “oh-ho!” I cried loudly. What do I do now? I wasn't ready to use the canoe, again. To my surprise, the ferry returned back, after setting out few minutes ago. It was called back. I didn't know why but it was obviously to my advantage. I got a ticket so I quickly boarded.

I joined everyone else on the Ferry of Doom, to escape the unknown fate of Gambia. Yes, I was finally on the Ferry of Doom. There still was no way to verify whether it is the same vessel that carried the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals across the river some years back. It didn't matter to me. I remained quiet throughout the journey to Barra. You could guess why I was quiet and what I could be thinking or imagining.

Since most people aboard the ferry were also trying to cross the border, then chances are the border is still opened, and I may be able to make it into Senegal.

We arrived at the Barra terminal after nearly two hours on the river. There was a police post at the Barra waterfront. The UN investigations revealed that, it was the police at this post that intercepted and mistook the 44 Ghanaians, and other nationals as mercenaries on a mission to assassinate Yahya Jammeh. The same police post mounted a barrier and randomly intercepting people they considered to have questionable appearance. Two of the police officers pointed at me at the same time. “I hope they do not think I'm in the country on the Election Day to ferment political riots,” I was saying to myself.

Together with two Caucasian guys, they searched through my backpack thoroughly and groped me afterward. After few silly questions, they gave me a pass. They were getting ready to close the border when I got to Amdalai.

“I understand you couldn't wait to get out of Gambia,” the immigration official I met up with the previous day comforted me, “don't worry, I know why you are anxious. Sorry about that. Gambians are friends to Ghanaians. Hope to see you again soon.”

He was making reference to the Brufut and Kanilai massacre.

It was a relief to come into Senegal. Senegal has offered me relief on few occasions, of course, not without having to pay a hefty amount at the borders. I could not blame them. Ghana immigration officials do the same thing. They do not only extort money from non Ghanaians, but from Ghanaians, as well.

Next Episode
The journey continues same day next week.

Dear readers,

The narration of my journey across West Africa continues.

This episode is in memory of the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that lost their lives in the most brutal manner in The Gambia less than a decade ago.

Journal entry – start

Date: 23/11/11
Time: 4:15PM
Location: Barra, The Gambia

You stood among the living on this riverfront
You took this path, with hope
Crossed this river, with uncertainty
This country you came, to the end of your road
This world you left, in cold-blooded
Your time in this world, very brief
When you cried, no one heard
This world you remain, hardly forgotten
You are free
Sleep well, brothers.

Journal entry – end

Commentary
I wrote the piece above to pay respect to my fallen brothers, whose fate was sealed at the very same waterfront. Sorry I'm terrible at writing poems. I wrote a copy of it on a piece of paper, and buried it under Gambia River in the most discreet manner, whilst waiting to cross into Banjul.

This stretch of Gambia River changed everything for the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals that got murdered brutally under the orders of President Yayah Jammeh. In all of the different accounts of the incident, there is evidence to support that the victims were ferried across Gambia River before being massacred.

I do not know the number of the Gold Coast Regiment members that died during World War II, but in my lifetime so far, it is the first time Ghanaians in that number have lost their lives on a foreign soil in that manner.

I ask myself this: why are we too violent? In a way, we are all violent. It is our nature to be violent, selfish and greedy. We destroy what we hate, and sometimes in the process, we become what we hate. Too bad isn't it?

Incidence like the Brufut & Kanilai massacre has occurred throughout history, as I understand, but it only becomes real and true when it happens to someone closer to you.

I left Dakar on the morning of 23/11/11 and came through Mbour, Kaolack, Sokone, Tabakouta, and finally to Karang around 3:00PM. Karang is the last town before the frontiers of Senegal and The Gambia. It was always smooth crossing Senegalese borders in spite of the hefty CFA franc I had to pay at all time. The Gambian immigration officials were friendly.

“What are you doing in Gambia on the eve of our presidential elections, Ghana man?” One of the officials inquired.

I did not know I was in Gambia on the eve of their presidential elections. Yes, on the eve of presidential elections in Yahya Jammeh's Gambia.

“Oh no!” I responded in shock, “I did not know tomorrow is your presidential elections. I'm transiting through Gambia to Ziguinchor, in an effort to reach Guinea Bissau.”

“Well…,” he responded, “if your plans are to get to Ziguinchor, then you better hurry because the borders would be closed tomorrow morning and I do not know when it will be opened.”

I had planned to spend few days in Gambia before going south. I had wanted to visit Brufut, a western district of the country and then continue to Ghana Town. Some of the murdered Ghanaians were dumped in Brufut, which happened to be near a town called Ghana Town. I do not know whether this was a coincidence or part of the orchestration, but it did have my interest. I wanted to conduct a tour of the area since it was within easy reach from the capital.

My plans had to change due to the situation at hand. Lots of foreigners were crossing into Senegal. Whilst others were trying to escape the situation, I was heading right into it. The immigration official advised me to try to get to the southern border that evening and wait to cross into southern Senegal in the morning before it is closed. Gambia is a country inside Senegal so the geographic description can be a little confusing.

I changed a minibus to Barra, where I'm supposed to cross Gambia River into Banjul, and then continue south to Seleti; the border town. It's less than 30km from Amdalai border area to Barra so we made it there in about 30 minutes. I met a cynic Gambian in the minibus. He was fascinated to learn I'm a Ghanaian.

“Do you anticipate change of atmosphere in the country tomorrow??” I queried him.

“I don't know,” he responded, “I'm not going out to cue to vote. It is all nonsense.”

“Why do you say that?” I further inquired.

“Why go out to waste my time when I know what the outcome will be?” He responded, “Do you hang out with the beautiful women in the Ghana movies?”

His attention was somewhere else. He was more interested in Ghanaian women.

“No, I do not hang out with them,” I responded, “in fact, I do not even know any of the people you mentioned. Ghana is bigger so it is not likely to stumble upon people like that always.

The fellow was right; Yahya Jammeh makes a mockery of democracy. There was no point voting at all since Yahya Jammeh has the upper hand. Yahya Jammeh has ruled over Gambia for over 17 years ruthlessly and brutal. He doesn't hesitate to gun down his opponents in broad daylight. I do not know whether the man personally is a brutal person, but I do know that he has done brutal things. It is sad Gambians are unable to get rid of him.

It was such a chaos at the Barra waterfront. It takes over an hour for the vessel to travel from the other side to the Barra terminal. However, there were motorized canoes crossing passengers into Banjul. It would be difficult to find transportation to the border in the evening so waiting at Barra for the ferry meant less chance of making it to the southern border that evening. There was no option but to join a motorized canoe. It wasn't the safest way to cross the river, but it was the only way to avoid being caught up at the terminal. In any case, the life jacket aboard the canoe could be helpful. I could also swim ashore.

It took about 45 minutes to cross the river on the motorized canoe. You can see from the photos we came close to the ferry which was on its way to Barra. Could it be the same vessel that transported the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals from Barra to Banjul under the escort of the police? I kept wondering to myself. I was not sure the same vessel could still be in operation after all these years. There was no way to confirm this. It was not necessary. I went ahead to dub it 'the Ferry of Doom'.

I finally made it to Banjul around 6:00PM and continued to find minibus to Birkama. It's such a crowd during rush hour in Banjul. Minibus and taxis were difficult to find.

There were Christmas lights and billboards with the message: Happy Birthday Professor, Doctor…what what President Yahya Jammeh, around the city. Also, were billboards of the President with the slogan: A VOTE FOR HIM IN 2011 IS A SACRED DUTY FOR ALL GAMBIANS. The Christmas lights, I understood were put up for his birthday which was some months back, but they were still up as at that time.

To get to Seleti, I have to go through Birkama, a city south of Banjul. It's about 40km from Banjul to Birkama. I arrived there around 9:00PM. There was no car to take me to Seleti, not even a taxi to hire. I decided to find a place to sleep in Birkama, and then head out to the border early in the morning.

The owner of the guest house was kind. His favorite lecturers at college were Ghanaians so he was excited to accommodate me. He warmed it might not be possible at all to cross the border in the morning due to the elections. He made calls to find more information about the situation at the border, but there were no response. We decided to call again early in the morning before I head out there.

It is less than 25km from Birkama to Seleti. We made calls to the border in the morning to be informed that the border has already been closed, and crossing is impossible. This presented me with a challenge. In any case, I wasn't ready to stay in Gambia during the election. The presidential elections coincided with the upsurge in global uprising. I am sure Yahya Jammeh was ready to crush any protest or uprising that might arise during or after the elections.

Why is the president having all the borders closed? What is he up to? I kept wondering to myself. I couldn't make it pass the border in south so I had to abandon the attempt. To stay in Gambia few more days was also not part of the option.

I decided to return to North Bank, and cross back into Senegal, that is, if the border is still opened.

I came back to Banjul to the ferry terminal. I was not alone. A lot of people were also trying to get to the border. Only one ferry was operating. The ferry was few minutes out into the river when I got to the gate. I got there late. “oh-ho!” I cried loudly. What do I do now? I wasn't ready to use the canoe, again. To my surprise, the ferry returned back, after setting out few minutes ago. It was called back. I didn't know why but it was obviously to my advantage. I got a ticket so I quickly boarded.

I joined everyone else on the Ferry of Doom, to escape the unknown fate of Gambia. Yes, I was finally on the Ferry of Doom. There still was no way to verify whether it is the same vessel that carried the 44 Ghanaians and 10 other nationals across the river some years back. It didn't matter to me. I remained quiet throughout the journey to Barra. You could guess why I was quiet and what I could be thinking or imagining.

Since most people aboard the ferry were also trying to cross the border, then chances are the border is still opened, and I may be able to make it into Senegal.

We arrived at the Barra terminal after nearly two hours on the river. There was a police post at the Barra waterfront. The UN investigations revealed that, it was the police at this post that intercepted and mistook the 44 Ghanaians, and other nationals as mercenaries on a mission to assassinate Yahya Jammeh. The same police post mounted a barrier and randomly intercepting people they considered to have questionable appearance. Two of the police officers pointed at me at the same time. “I hope they do not think I'm in the country on the Election Day to ferment political riots,” I was saying to myself.

Together with two Caucasian guys, they searched through my backpack thoroughly and groped me afterward. After few silly questions, they gave me a pass. They were getting ready to close the border when I got to Amdalai.

“I understand you couldn't wait to get out of Gambia,” the immigration official I met up with the previous day comforted me, “don't worry, I know why you are anxious. Sorry about that. Gambians are friends to Ghanaians. Hope to see you again soon.”

He was making reference to the Brufut and Kanilai massacre.

It was a relief to come into Senegal. Senegal has offered me relief on few occasions, of course, not without having to pay a hefty amount at the borders. I could not blame them. Ghana immigration officials do the same thing. They do not only extort money from non Ghanaians, but from Ghanaians, as well.

Next Episode
The journey continues.

nice work Africalust

keep your comment coming
you can also add your travel experience in any west Africa country

the first picture African Renaissance Monument

second picture African Renaissance Monument from afar

third picture Inscription at the entry gate into the African Renaissance Monument

fourth picture View of Dakar from the Mamelles Hills

fifth picture View of Dakar from the Mamelles Hills

some pictures of Senegal

“I'm impressed by the manner in which you put your argument,” I responded to her argument, “…but let me ask you this…are you in any form of relationship right now?”

“Take a guess,” she responded in a funny way, “let me also ask you this…not that I'm saying I am a pretty woman but, why do men find it difficult to approach pretty women?”

“I can't really guess,” I answered, “now to your question. I can't speak for everyone but I think it's the notion that your chance of succeeding with a pretty woman is slim because she's likely to reject you, or she's already taken. It seems also that some people are nervous around pretty women, and might avoid asking you out because they are afraid you will object to it. Another point also is that they are afraid they might not meet your high expectations. All of these reasons are likely.”

“That is an interesting perspective,” she reacted, “we can talk more about that after dinner.”

She realized I was starving so we attended to our stomach.

The conversation diverted into a different topic.

“Is tribalism common in Ghana?” She inquired.

“Yes it is,” I answered, “let me see. In Ghana, some people are likely to ask which tribe you belong to first before asking your name. Is it a burden here in Senegal, as well?”

“Yes it is,” she responded, with a smirk, “we are all in the same boat”

“Yes we are it seems,” I chipped in, “too bad isn't it?”

“What do you think about it?” She questioned.
“I hold the opinion that, people should be judged based on the content of their character,” I started the interaction, “very few people are capable of doing this, unfortunately. Most people's judgment, it seems to me are clouded by tribalistic sentiments no matter how hard they try to hide it. It's what drives their ego. They are bigots. They feel they are better than the other person and must express it one way or the other. They feel like the world revolves around them. It's too shortsighted. I try to avoid people like that.

It's like everything else. It is quiet difficult for some people to understand why you aren't one of them and why you don't think like they do. They would understand why you refuse to think like one of them only when they get around the reason why they also refuse to think like one of you.”

“You are correct,” she joined, “you have just described the problem here.”

Whilst venting out our frustration at these issues, she suggested whether I would love to walk on the beach that evening. I consented to it so we conducted ourselves to the beach area after the super. Her home is just by the beach.

She objected to me paying for the dinning so she paid for it.

It was calm on the beach, especially walking with Fatou. I remembered a certain detail I wanted to put down in my notepad before it deletes from my memory. There was a sitting area close by so she suggested we sit there so I could use the illumination. Whilst flipping through my notepad, she noticed some illustrations and wondered what they were. She asked if she could see them.

“What is that?” She inquired, “Did you sketch that yourself?”

“Yes I did,” I responded, pointing at the illustrations at the same time, “that is our solar system, and that is the Milky Way Galaxy.”

I have an obsessive interest in Astronomy. Everything about astronomy fascinates me so I spend a lot of time reading more about our Solar System and the Milky Way Galaxy. In fascination of the stars in the sky whilst sleeping under the shed in the isolated village in Central Guinea, I made rough illustrations of the Milky Way Galaxy and our Solar System, depicting the relative position of the sun, earth, the moon and the rest of the planets in the ecliptic plane. It was an effort to predict the current location of Voyager 1 as it explores the edge of our solar system.

“I have seen things like these on the TV and magazines,” she wondered, pointing at the Solar System illustration, “I remember learning a bit about them whilst in school. What are they can you explain them to me?”

“Yes sure why not,” I responded.
But where do I begin? I was thinking to myself. She pointed to the sun because it stood out due to its size.

Facing the Atlantic Ocean, I began my demonstration.

“That is the Sun,” I began.
“Wow!” she quickly interrupted, “but it appears very big here.”

“Yes, it is actually very big,” I responded, pointing at a tiny illustration at the same time, “that is planet earth. The sun is over 100 times the size of earth. In order words, about 1,000,000 planets the size of earth can fit into the sun.”

“Wow!” she interrupted again with surprise, “I never knew that. But it appears very small in the sky.”

“That is because it is far away from earth,” I responded, “It is about 93 million miles away from earth. It takes about 8 minutes 20 seconds for light to travel from the sun to earth. In other words, the sunlight that brightens over Dakar during the day travels 8 minutes 20 seconds from the sun before hitting the surface of earth. And this line…it illustrates the orbit path of earth. We go around almost on that path around the sun for 365 days to complete one full revolution. Earth travels around it over 67,000 miles per hour. That is about 1000 times the speed you travel on a highway in your car, and yet it takes us 365 days to revolve around it. That is how big it is.”

“I never knew all about this,” she interrupted, “that is very interesting, but wouldn't earth crash into the sun at that speed?”

She was starting to show signs of intelligence already. She was following keenly with extreme interest and asking relevant questions, as a starter.

“No it wouldn't,” I responded, “earth is gravitationally bound to the sun. That is why we have remained on the same path for 4.5 billion years.”

“Okay but wouldn't the sun also move a bit forward and crash into earth?” She inquired with further curiosity.

“It will,” I answered her, “the sun's fuel, largely made of hydrogen, will run out, and it will turn into a red giant. It would then swell and swallow Mercury, Venus, Earth and possibly Mars. It will shrink into a white dwarf star, cool off for few billion years more and then fades away. That is one possible future of our planet.”

This bit of the demonstration distressed her greatly. I held her shoulders, look into her yes and said, “don't worry this wouldn't happen anytime soon. I'm talking of over 5 billion years from now.”

This assurance cheered her up a bit. I used almost every piece of item I could locate around to continue my demonstration. She pointed at a tiny illustration closer to earth and wondered what it was.

I demonstrated in the simplest form I could think of and with very little detail.

“That is the moon,” I responded, pointing at the moon in the sky at the same time, “look, that one over there. It revolves around earth in about 28 days to complete full revolution. Our planet revolves around the sun together with the moon.”

“I don't understand,” she was confused, “the moon goes around the earth, and the earth goes around the sun at the same time? Wouldn't the moon fall in earth in the process?”

“Gravity,” I responded, with further demonstration, “the moon is gravitationally bound to earth. Both earth and the moon are gravitationally bound to the sun, but the force of attraction between earth and the moon is much stronger due to the closeness in distance. The distance between earth and the moon is almost about 239,000 miles. Our planet together with the moon revolves around the sun at a very high speed.”

Her attention immediately shifted to the other illustration. “What is that?” She inquired, pointing at the Milky Way illustration.

“Milky Way Galaxy,” I responded, pointing at the stars in the sky at the same time, “up there, yes those stars. That is a very tiny portion of the Milky Way you are looking at. The Milky Way contains more than 200 billion stars and over 10 billion planets. The closest star to our planet is the sun. Each star in the sky right now could have planets revolving around it just as our planet revolves around the sun.”

“The sun is a star?” She quickly questioned, “I didn't know that”

“Yes it is,” I continued the demonstration, pointing at the sky, after pointing to the position of our Solar System in the Milky Way, “the second closest star to our planet is called Proxima Centauri. It is about 4.2 light years away. It takes light over 4 years to travel from Proxima Centauri to the surface of earth. Look, we are around here in the Milky Way. When you zoom in, we are trapped and unable to escape in this tiny region called the Solar System. Look at the stars in the sky. You look at them now as they were years ago. It takes 4.2 years for the light of the second closest star to our planet to travel to the surface of earth for you to see. They are so far away. With the current spacecraft technology available, it will take us over 40,000 years to travel to the second closest star to our solar system.”

“Wow! Wow!!” surprised, she continued inquiring, whilst pointing at the stars, “That is very interest. It takes over 4 years for the bright thing to reach here for me to see? Oowwww earth is very small, look!”

“Yes, very small and extremely insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe,” I responded, and continued the demonstration with the grain of sand I could collect from the beach, “look at our planet in the Solar System…very small, as you put it yourself. Ultimately, earth is like a grain of sand in this vast beach. We are stuck at a very tiny spot called the Solar System in the midst of billions of stars of which we happened to revolve only around one. When you continue zooming out into the Local Group, to the Superclusters, our Galaxy, which contains over 200 billion stars, also start to appear insignificant. At that point, the grain of sand I just made analogy looks as if it doesn't even exist at all.

And yes, it takes over 4 years for the light of the second closest star to reach earth. Some of the stars you look at right now are tens of light years away so they appear as they were decades ago.”

Fascinated by the demonstration, she continued looking through the illustrations. “What is the thing you have colored?” She wondered.

“That is a rough illustration of the current location of Voyager 1,” I answered, “it is probably somewhere on the edge of the solar system. It is the most distant spacecraft in space. It was launched into orbit in 1977 and has traveled over 10 billion miles from earth so far. It takes more than 16 hours for it to send radio signals to earth. It has flown pass Jupiter and Saturn and now on its way to the very edge of our solar system.”

“Wow!” She interrupted in amazement, “interesting”
“Yes so cool isn't it?” I joked, “There is a visual and audio disc placed aboard the spacecraft in the event that it is found by intelligent life from other planets. It contains music, photos, sound of a baby crying and other important information. I have one of the songs aboard the spacecraft, 'Johnny B Goody by Chuck Berry' on my iPod. I will play it to you in a moment. '”

Whilst looking straight into her eyes in the course of this bit of the demonstration, our lips met and glued together for a moment. I tilted my head about 65 degrees, and started to run my left hand through her short hair. Feeling the intensity of her juicy and glittering lips, I slowly and gently started to kiss her. It went on for a moment before coming down to her neck. I continued rubbing my hands around her neck and all over her face. Her lips were as sweet as I imagined; soft and warm. And then the most unexpected thing happened; her phone rang. It was her mother who needed her presence for a moment. She whispered into my ears and asked if it is possible I could stay in Dakar few more days. It turned out to be the wrong week of the month, if you know what I mean, so nothing happened.

She invited me into her home. To my surprise, her mother has prepared a special dish for me. I was full because of the dinner we had, but as custom demands, I attended to it the best I can. The mother was very kind and friendly.

To want me to stay few more days, Fatou thought would be too selfish of her. I was going to stay for her. She was worth it. I should get on with my plans she pleaded, for we have the rest of our lives to see each other again, if time permit. She walked me back to the hotel where we exchanged gifts. She gave me a leather bracelet she was wearing. She had worn it for years, and it was her favorite. I did not have bracelet or anything worthy on me to give to her except my mini hourglass. I also gave her my favorite piece, to which we kissed and said farewell to each other.

Next Episode
It would feature the experience in The Gambia.

Dear readers,

The narration of my journey across West Africa continues.

Journal entry – start

Date: 22/11/11
Time: 9:12PM
Location: Dakar, Senegal

What an eventful evening. Fatou is so pretty that she took my breath away.

She would like me to stay for a week more.

Time: 9:18PM

What would Hemingway think of me if I refuse to stay few more days?

Entry conclusion

Indecision – I'm getting caught up in one.

Journal entry – end

Commentary
I often wonder to myself why the most agreeable situations always present themselves at the wrong time.

One of my fears in life is indecision. I understood many years ago I'm responsible for the consequences of the decisions I make, and the only way not to look back with regrets is to avoid decisions not based on rationality. Being unable to reach reasonable resolution can tear me apart, sometimes.

You would think I'd have loved to stay in Cape Verde few more days, but Dakar turned out to be my favorite city. I met a pretty woman in Dakar called Fatou. I cannot describe how I felt about her. She fits perfectly into my category of a great woman. The following briefly describes her.

She loved knowledge
Her beauty was natural and rare
She was an independent thinker
She had the concerns of others at heart
She carried herself in a respectful manner

The culmination of events to follow would determine whether I would remain in Dakar for few more days or continue south.

The circumstances that lead to the above entry will follow shortly.

I arrived back in Dakar around 12:30PM on a bright, sunny day on 22/11/11. I decided to visit the African Renaissance Monument which is on one of the Mamelles hills. The monument is touted as the tallest statue in Africa. It was a beautiful sight and marvelous piece of work. The statue signifies a new era in African Renaissance, according to Former President Abdoulaye Wade. There is an inscription at the entry to the monument indicating the African countries that gave their nod to the $27m statue. Ghana is not on the list probably because our President did not attend the inauguration.

First, I decided to try to get some cash from any nearest ECOBANK, find me some accommodation and then head to downtown Dakar to hang out. The woman that served me in the bank will turn out to be one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. Her name was Fatou. She was so pretty and adorable. She was chocolate in complexion. Her eyes were deep and hazel in color. Her hips were about 42 inch and waist; 28, if I'm not mistaken. She had pretty lips, long nose and long natural eyelashes. Her hair was short like how Masai women wear their hair in Kenya. She was natural and looked gorgeous. She was simply classy. I just came back from Cape Verde, where the women are of surprising beauty, but Fatou's beauty was rare. The following conversation ensued.

“What are you doing in Senegal?” She inquired, whilst trying to pull up my transaction.

“Uhmm tourism,” I answered.
“Do you like Senegal so far?” She further inquired.

“Baal ma…naka nga tudd?” I asked her name in Wolof. Translates in English almost as, “I'm Sorry…what is your name?”

“Maa ngi tudd Fatou,” she responded with a smile and in amazement. Translates in English almost as, “My name is Fatou”

“Don't mention your name,” with a smile she said, “I have it here on my screen.”

“Do you know more Wolof?” She inquired in further amazement.

“No, just some few words,” I responded.
“Yes, I like your country, Fatou,” I answered her initial question, “everyone is welcoming.”

“Which part of Dakar did you visit?” She continued inquiring with keen interest.

“I visited only few areas,” I responded in the friendliest manner, “I arrived back from Cape Verde this afternoon, and plan to find accommodation and then tour the downtown area.”

“I bet you had fun in Cape Verde,” she joked, “I don't understand. How did you end up in Cape Verde from Ghana before coming to Dakar?”

“I came through northwest of Guinea into Senegal few days ago and continued to Cape Verde,” I answered.

“Can I flip through your passport?” Fatou requested, “You have traveled a lot.”

“Sure go ahead,” I authorized her.
“Ooowww lots of stamps!” exclaimed Fatou, “you have traveled a lot. Why?”

“To experience new things and meet gorgeous women like you,” I responded in a flirty way.

“Thank you,” she responded, “just for the experience? That is interesting.”

She finished processing my transaction at this point, and asked me to hold on for a moment.

“Sorry for that,” said she, offering to assist me in finding accommodation, “you want a hotel, correct? There is a decent and affordable one in my area, which is not very far from here. It is easy to locate I will give you the direction in a moment.”

“Thank you,” I responded, with a goofy smile, “that's very kind of you.”

She continued conversing whilst writing on a piece of paper.

“Would you like to meet me around 7:00PM for dinner?” Fatou requested, “There is a restaurant about five blocks down the road from the hotel. I would love to learn about your travels. I live right at the beach in that area.”

“Yes, that would be wonderful,” I accepted the invitation in the most cherish manner.

“That is my phone number,” she pointed to the phone number, handing the piece of paper to me at the same time, “Call me if anything okay?”

“Thank you,” I ended the conversation with cheers and smile, “I will be there before 7:00PM. See you soon Fatou.”

Fatou was in her late 20s, but she commanded so much respect, even among her elderly co-workers. To say she was a beautiful woman is gross understatement.

The hotel was just as decent as she described. I was on the last floor and could see the sea and hear the waves from my window. I had a breathtaking view of the shoreline.

In anticipation of my dinner with Fatou, I canceled the plan to go hang out around the downtown area. What if I don't make it back on time to meet up with her? I spent the rest of the afternoon watching movies in my room because I did not want to miss the opportunity of meeting up with her.

The restaurant was few blocks away from my hotel so I arrived there around 6:30PM, in anticipation of her appearance.

I carried with me my pocket size hourglass, camera, iPod, notepad, pen and a pencil, as I always do. I always place the mini hourglass on the table in front of me. I hardly go anywhere without it. It was my favorite object.

She arrived around 6:50PM, and to her surprise, I was already there. I pulled the seat for her and made sure she sat comfortably before reaching for my seat.

“You are a gentleman,” Fatou said, with a smile, “thank you.”

“You are welcome,” I responded, “I have been anticipating your appearance. You look beautiful.”

“Oh no!” She said, in a flattering manner, “Stop flattering me!”

“Oh yes, you are!” I continued complimenting her, “Everyone's attention was on you when you walked inside, and you didn't notice that? You are so pretty.”

She looked so gorgeous in her casual dress.

“Have you ordered anything yet?” She inquired
“No, I didn't plan to do that until you arrive,” I answered.

“Then I recommend this, that and that,” she suggested, pointing the dishes in the Manu, “they are Senegalese dishes, hopefully you will enjoy them.”

Fatou speaks excellent English so I had no problem understanding her.

“I have seen it in several movies, what does it stand for?” she lifted the mini hourglass, in curiosity.

“It's my favorite object,” I said, “it symbolizes the passage of time and serves as a continual reminder that everything, no matter how long it takes will come to an end. In order words, make meaningful use of your life whilst it dwindles to the end. I have it with me wherever I go.”

“That is interesting,” she stated, “you are interesting.”

“Are you sure about that?” I questioned.
“Yes, I am sure,” she responded, “are you married?”

“Not yet, how about you? I answered, posing the same question at her.

“Like you, I'm not ready for it yet,” she responded, “do you think we should do it because it is the only way to conform into society?”

“No, I don't think so,” I responded with great curiosity, “I suspect you have an argument for this, however. Would you like to express it out?”

Here, I have finally met the Emma Goldman of West Africa. Emma Goldman was a writer and a political activist who was very influential in the development of Anarchist political philosophy in the early twentieth century. Though I do not share her political philosophy, I amuse myself with some of her work sometimes. My favorites of her essays are Minorities versus Majorities, Marriage and Love, Militarism, Woman Suffrage and Prisons. She carried much of her cynicism into her writings.

In her Marriage and Love essay, she argues that, whilst the average girl is thought from infancy that her ultimate goal is marriage, she is thought less about her function as a wife and mother, and in an attempt to appeal to virtues extolled by the Church, she is kept completely ignorance of the most natural and healthy instinct; sex. She started by dismissing the notion that, marriage and love have something in common, and that the former is the cause of the later. She furthered her argument by acknowledging that though it is true that some marriages have been the result of love, it is not true that love could only assert itself in marriage. She pointed out that whilst some marriages are based on love, and in most cases continues in marriage life, it is not true that it does so because of marriage. Large number of men and women, she argues, are forced to submit to this phenomenon for the sake of public opinion.

Fatou formulated her argument almost in parallel to that of Goldman, and articulated it in a very rational and intelligent manner, to which she won my admiration instantly. It is rare for me to come across a West African woman with such views on marriage. However, Fatou proved exception. She thought differently and independently. I admire people who think independently, no matter what their views are. She understood the idea that she is an adult, and must not permit other people do the thinking for her. It takes some character to be able to think for you and not permit yourself to be influenced by social pressures. Adults should be left alone to make their own choices. All you can do is to support and encourage them.

more

Dear Readers,

The narration of my journey across West Africa continues.

Journal entry – start

Date: 20/11/11
Time: 8:13 AM.
Location: Praia, Cape Verde

I was right. Cape Verde is the only place to find agreeable things!

There is some pleasure to be experienced here.

This is a different world. It's colorful and refreshing here. The beaches are beautiful, the condition; a little better, the women; surprising beauty, the atmosphere; wonderful.

Entry conclusion

The climate, people, environment and most things are of different disposition here.

Journal entry – end

Commentary
It seems as if I have been traveling all this while just to come to Cape Verde. I have rambled and walked the mainland continent, and in relief, Cape Verde offers me its breeze and exotic women to gaze upon. It was truly a different world under my circumstances. The atmosphere was peaceful, and the beaches; quiet. I have traveled about 4500km through Ivory Coast, Mali, Sierra Leone, Guinea, to the coasts of Senegal, and finally into the Atlantic Ocean

I did not renounce my optimism in spite of the difficult conditions existing on the mainland continent.

I will continue from where the narration ended in the previous episode.

I arrived in Kalifourou around 4:00PM on 17/11/11 after the never-ending journey in a bush taxi from Conakry to the northwestern border with Senegal. It took over 24h to cover this distance

I changed bus from Kalifourou to Dakar around 4:30PM. It's about 600km from Kalifourou to Dakar but, as usual, it is always twice the estimated average amount of time required to cover the distance. Distance estimations on maps are not always true at this part of the world. We left Kalifourou around 4:30PM and arrived in Dakar around 5:00AM the following day. We came through Medina Gonasse, Tambacounda, Maleme, Koussanar, Kaffrine, Kaolack, Mbour to Dakar.
Something interesting occurred when we came through the immigration checkpoint at Medina Gonasse that evening. There was a mandatory exercise where everyone is supposed to show their passport or ID and Yellow Vaccination Card. There were different nationalities in the bus so it was quite a crowd in the cue. As soon as I handed over my Yellow Vaccination Card which bears 'Ministry of Health – Ghana' on the cover, the attending immigration officer looked at it and said to me, “Oh! Former President Kufour”…go go go!! He did not flip through the card and did not check my passport either. It had no 'Former President Kufour' written on it either. Why did he do that? Does he know something I don't? I was the only person that got through the checkpoint easy with no hassle and not having my identification checked at all. I don't understand why he allowed me an easy pass without any scrutiny, but to have used the word 'Former' indicates he's not politically ignorant. He ought to have related the 'Ministry of Health - Ghana' inscription to something at that moment. The incident caught my attention so I speculated on it for a while whilst en route to Dakar.

I will write less and allow the photos do much of the talking today.


According to a trip report on Lonelyplanet, it is possible to get a lift aboard yachts or pay a fee to catch boat from the CVD area in Dakar to Cape Verde. It was a game of luck, and I happened not to be lucky. The only yacht that could have offered me a lift to the islands left the previous day. I spent the rest of the morning in downtown Dakar looking for a good deal on flights to the island. TACV was the only airline operating from Dakar to the island at that time and happened to have a flight leaving at 11:00AM the same morning. It was around 9:30AM so I headed to the airport quickly. To my surprise the flight was canceled and rescheduled to the following day before I arrived. The travel agent probably knew and still sold me the ticket. The airline refused to provide me with accommodation because I wasn't transiting in Dakar, and as they claimed, I bought my ticket after they officially canceled the flight so it was up to me to find my own accommodation. I couldn't challenge this decision because TACV didn't look like a well organized airline.

The level of development in Dakar is astounding. The downtown is filled with high rise buildings and nice streets. I lodged in a hotel about 2km from the airport and spent almost the entire day resting and watching the Senegalese wrestling (laamb) on television. It's such an amusing sport. It was a relief to enjoy the luxury of television watching obese men wearing charms trying to wrestle each other to the ground.

You find all manner of people at Yoff Airport. “Do you have 1000 Euro cash in your pocket?" they normally questions, "if you don't them go deport you oo…I go rent you some if you want…,” you would normally hear these rants from the crowd of money changers at Yoff Airport if you are a mainlander heading to Cape Verde. It was funny. To curb the influx of immigrants from the mainland, Cape Verde immigration demands travelers mostly from the mainland continent to have nothing less than 1000 Euro cash on them to indicate they are true holiday makers and not migrating. That is a lot of money to have in your pocket, and I expect every immigration official to understand that. This didn't bother me at all.

I arrived at the airport early. Two Cape Verdean women pleaded if I could do them favor and deliver their load, which were three sealed boxes, to someone at the Praia Airport since I seem to have less weight. "Are you kidding me?" I questioned, whilst brushing them off at the same time, "check-in three boxes in my name to a foreign airport for you? Yes, how does that sound? You are so silly.”

It was a smooth flight. It was about 1h 45m to Praia. I wasn't questioned about any 1000 Euro or anything at the checkpoints. They only flipped through my passport, looked into my face and handed it over to me after stamping. It was smooth and easy. The guys at the airport were friendly and welcoming. No one used the Kotoka mantra 'give me something' on me.

Praia is the southern and the largest city of the island Santiago. It's also the capital of Cape Verde. The sight of the city was breathtaking. The smell of Atlantic Ocean was refreshing, and the sound; peaceful. The breeze blows through your hair, penetrates your lips to fill your mouth to full and widens your cheeks for a smile. I suspect cheeks were made for this purpose. I felt so alive and forgot all my worries.

Don't spend too much time and money crossing the Atlantic to Europe or North America to holiday. If you are a guy with classy taste and enjoys gazing upon exotic women, Cape Verde is your ultimate holiday spot. All you have to do is get to Dakar and connect to the islands.

I arrived in Praia around 1:00PM and spent the rest of the day walking around the city and markets. Something was lacking, however; I could only form few words in Portuguese. How do I communicate with the exotic women? The fruit venders? The people were so lovely, especially the women.

I arrived on the island on Saturday. My plans were to join boat from Praia to Sal, or Boa Vista, but the boats were already gone before I arrived. The boats move few times in a week so I had no choice but to remain on Santiago. I was on a tight budget so I couldn't afford to fly to the other islands. I spent three days in Cape Verde. I stayed at Albuquerque Square and spent most of my time in Praia. I also visited Santa Cruz municipality and few towns in between.

My favorite activity was walking along the volcanic beaches in Praia. I spent the second day having fun with the locals on the beach and walking to the Lighthouse at the southernmost part of Santiago. It seems tourist do not visit them much so they were surprised to see me around. You might as well just stay home if your plan is to avoid the locals when you travel abroad. I visited almost every spot in Praia and made my own memories.

I also visited Pedro Badejo in the Santa Cruz municipality. It was a beautiful town. The mountains and countryside were peaceful and breathtaking.

After some hardware problems with the TACV airplane, I finally made it back on the mainland continent after the third day. Returning from Cape Verde felt just like when I was heading out of the Elubo border; very active.

Next Episode
It features a surprise experience in Dakar and the push to south.

Dear readers,

The narration of my journey across West Africa continues.

Journal Entry – Start
Date: 15/11/11
Time: 4:44PM

I am heading back north to the Guinea border en route to Conakry.

Freetown was a wonderful experience. Kind people.
Entry conclusion

The level of progress in Sierra Leone indicates how fast they are recovering from the traumatic events.

Journal entry – end

Commentary
To have come this far to Freetown was something to me and the desire to go further was something even more.

I have seen much of Freetown already and must retreat back north. I have to head back to Kambia border, cross into Guinea and continue to the capital; Conakry. I would continue the push to Guinea Bissau from the capital.

I thought whether it was possible to enter Liberia through the northern border, but it still was not safe. Traveling overland was not advisable due to the rising political tension in the country at that time.

I left Freetown around 3:15PM came through Waterloo, Konno Town, Port Loko and to the Kambia border by 6:00PM when it was just about to be closed. I came with five Sierra Leonean female traders heading to Conakry to trade.

I visited with the Sierra Leone immigration officer who will not believe a Ghanaian would come to Sierra Leone for tourism. He was surprised to see me going out so soon.

“Well…what did I tell you?” I joked.

“Can I have my 20,000 Leones back….or maybe 10,000?” I continued.

“Ghanaians…you have money," He joked, "Ghanaians and Nigerians you have money. You must give me more money”

We left Kambia and came to Pamelap where we had to spend the night. Criminal gangs in the area normally target Sierra Leonean traders traveling to Conakry at night so it made sense spending the night in Pamelap for this reason. Conakry itself did not look like a city travelers' safety is guaranteed at night.

Pamelap is a small community and would be difficult to find accommodation. The Sierra Leonean women became protective of me. I became immensely affected by all the acts of kindness. There are kind people almost everywhere, especially women. Majority of Westerners who visit Ghana would affirm that Ghanaians are hospitable and generous people. Most West Africans would, however, disagree with that observation. I bow my head in shame conceding this truth. Nigerians, Sierra Leoneans, Liberians and many other West African nationals are cast in a certain light on the mind of the typical Ghanaian - uncultured and prone to immoral behavior. Nigeriophobia is an example. This is the irrational fear that almost every Nigerian is prone to criminal behavior and that one must avoid coming in contact with them at every possible opportunity. This unfounded fear is widespread not only in Ghana but around the continent and beyond. There is no truth to this, however. Nigeria is the most populous country in Africa and the 7th populous in the world and has over six times the population of Ghana. In terms of land mass, Nigeria is about four times the size of Ghana. I can put it in this form - in every square mile of random world population, a Nigerian has about 1.9-2.0% chance of appearing than a Ghanaian. The Ghanaian population is about 15% of the Nigerian. One and half (1.5) percent of the Nigerian population is about 2.4million. That is the population of Accra and Cape Coast combined. Imagine criminals the size of both Accra and Cape Coast' populations combined, unleashed on the world from a single country. Well that is one and half percent of the Nigerian population. By these mathematical considerations, it makes lots of sense to dismiss the notion that almost every Nigerian is prone to criminal behavior. The intelligent approach to this is to consider every criminal or immoral behavior on individual basis. Every Ghanaian is only credit to Ghana but personally responsible for their actions. If this principle is true, we can agree that it applies to every country.

We can easily deduce that, the prejudice towards other West Africans in Ghana is borne out of the cultural differences. It is true for instance that there exist vast cultural differences between say Liberia and Ghana. Taking Liberia for instance, the country was founded only in the mid nineteenth century by black colonialists who migrated from the United States. They were the freed black slaves who settled and colonized the indigenous in that area. In addition, freed slaves from captured slave ships were also sent there. The area was saturated with racial supremacy as the Americans thought of themselves as being more superior over the indigenous and other slaves. Unlike us, large portion of the population did not have any deep-seated cultural heritage to guide them. It was a whole new beginning for them. Whilst most Ghanaian ethnicities and its' heritage have been in existence in this area for hundreds of years, Liberia and most of its ethnicities have only been around for less than 200 years. Majority of them lacks distant cultural background. Under this basis, you should understand why a Liberian may behave in a manner which may be misconstrued by the Ghanaian as uncultured. One can make the case that their cultural refinement is taking its own pace. Is that not a characteristic of a young society?

There was an inn at the entry to the Pamelap community purposely to serve the traders that get caught up there. It was such a crowd. You pay 5000 Guinean franc for night. There was no electricity in most part of the area so it was almost entirely dark. The room was so hot and stuffy. About forty people were combined in one large room. I remained outside with my backpack the entire night.

The distance from Pamelap to Conakry is about 120km so it wasn't very much of a distance to cover. We left very early around 4:00AM and arrived in Conakry at 5:50AM. There were military checkpoints every few kilometers. Each of us in the bush taxi contributed about 25,000 Guinean franc in total to pay at every checkpoint. The road was paved but with lots of portholes.

Journal Entry – start
Date: 16/11/11
Time: 12:05 PM

What has befallen French Guinea?

Who promotes the law?

Is this the cost of ultimate freedom?

How do things work here?

Are there underground train tracks linking Conakry to Bamako directly?

Entry conclusion
This is true human tragedy.
How is lawlessness promoted? When society refuses to punish law breakers duly.

Whoever breaks the law deserves to be punished

Commentary
I entered the above entry sitting quietly on a bench about a kilometer away from Conakry Int'l Airport, observing the conditions in Conakry. Conakry represents the case where a society ultimately breaks down when law and order are not observed. It seems as though law and order were never established there at all. I did not see any sign indicating otherwise. Almost everyone tilted the law to fit their personal needs. They broke the law whenever convenient.

A society that doesn't punish the lawless does itself more harm than good. This condition creates comfortable environment for lawlessness to foster. Chaos and social breakdown are among some of the results of this. This is the case with many third world countries, which Ghana and Guinea form part. Successful societies are, however, run in contrast to this attitude.

We have similar attitude in Ghana. Law breakers use poverty as an excuse to break the law and we refuse to punish them.

For the first time it seems as though I was about to walk away from a challenge. To stay further in Conakry was a challenge to me. I have never seen anything like that. Conakry presents the entire state of Guinea on a very thin sheet at glance. After wandering around the capital for about six hours, I was ready to continue to Guinea Bissau already.

Almost every corner of the capital was littered with garbage. Road traffic was not observed. Traffic lights did not work and the once that did were completely ignored by road users. The drivers would run into pedestrians in the quest to find shortcut to the end of the road. I witnessed a taxi drove into the bamboo crafted shop of an orange seller destroyed it and continued without stopping to neither sympathize nor compensate her. It was total chaos. There was total disregard for human life. Conakry to me was a human tragedy.

I hasten to locate the Guinea Bissau car park. The entire bush taxis heading to Bissau, the capital of Guinea Bissau in this car park will have to go through Senegal. That would take about three days if I was not mistaken. I wanted to go directly to Bissau. There is indeed a mini bus heading directly to Bissau but I have to travel to another car park in the Marche Medina area. A fellow volunteered to lead me to the car park. The world is never short of kind people, not even in the tragedy Conakry represented. His name was Ahmed. That is what travel does to travelers; you befriend and trust strangers. It is not bad sometimes, at least not to me, because I do not buy into the mindset that the world is a dangerous place and that everyone is plotting to harm me. Ahmed later narrated to me the story of how Ghana Immigration Officials robbed him of his entire savings when he tried to escape the hardship of Guinea to Ghana in search of a better life in the mid 90s.

First, I wanted to print something off my email, and the only location Ahmed thought would suit my need very well was an internet café inside the premises of Conakry Int'l Airport. The internet speed was very slow that I couldn't even access the msn login homepage after 45 minutes. At that point, I thought I was wasting too much time that the mini bus to Guinea Bissau must be getting ready to leave without me. We arrived at the car park only to be informed that the bus to Bissau directly would only be leaving the following day. This presented me with a challenge. An adventure without such challenges is not an adventure at all. In any event, I did not intend to stay in Conakry. I consulted my map and reached a resolution. I resolved to head up north, cross into southeast of Senegal and continue to Dakar en route to the archipelago islands of Cape Verde in the central Atlantic ocean. I would come down south to Guinea Bissau when I come to Gambia later on. The choice to head any direction is another privilege of the human species. I forged my own path. I could go any direction I want as long as it is legal and the course leads to somewhere. In addition, there must be food, water and some scenic views. It was my choice to do whatever I wanted.

The overland distance from Conakry to the Senegalese capital is about 1300km. This should take at least three days to cover. The tires of the bush taxi to Senegal looks as if it were about to shred itself into pieces. The reliable thing about bush taxis is that they cannot be relied upon. They would lengthen short distance with overheating, flat tire and all sorts of problems.

We have to go through Boffa, Koussaya, Boke, Gaoul to Koundara and cross the northwestern border and continue to Kalifourou to change bus/taxi to Dakar.

We left Conakry around 1:30PM through Bogaya to Correra. There were military checkpoints and barriers every few kilometers. This effort will turn out to be my ride through hell. I was constantly harassed and coerced into paying money at almost every military checkpoint. I will be threatened to pay 10,000 or 5000 franc at every checkpoint. They wouldn't permit the car through the barrier if I did not pay. I couldn't negotiate because it was pay or no crossing. I was the only one harassed and forced to pay because I was the only foreigner in the car. They would wonder if I knew where I have come to and where I am heading. I often thought they were crazy. I guess they thought the same about me.

We shared the road with other bush taxis. Some of the taxis carried with them heavy loads, over speeding and overtaking each other in the portholes. Scroungers would sit comfortably on the peak of the loads smiling and conversing. The portholes would sway the taxis together with the loads to the other side as if they were about to roll over. Compared to other bush taxis, our Peugeot didn't have any load at all. The road would get soggy when it rains and the shredded tires would lift the dirt and showers it all over the car. The countryside was very quiet. The towns and villages had no electricity. The only light that brightened over the stretch of roads came from the sun in the day and the low intensity of the moon and fires that were dotted in the forests at night. It sometimes seems as if there was a war and the entire population of the towns and villages were evacuated to the other side of the deep forest.

We traveled the entire night through Boke, to Gouba en route to the footsteps of Gaoual. Our car broke down around midnight in the middle of the forest. We had no option but to continue with the busted tire to the next village which was about 30 miles into distance. My sense of safety was lost. The affair and its consequences didn't seem to bother me because I have become a Guinean and must endure the conditions. Anything could come out from the forest and attack us if we decided to stop to change the tire, so we continued slowly through the woods on the unpaved roads to the village around 2:00AM. The village was calm; cold with the tree leaves beating each other and owls singing. I slept under a shed with my backpack serving as the pillow for the rest of the night. I woke up around 7:00AM and took a walk around the village. I drunk water and ate some hot sweet potatoes that morning to replenish my dissipating strength. Sweet potatoes with salt were the common food in the village. I really needed all the nutrients the sweet potatoes could offer. I perked up after this fare and was ready to attend to my journals. I ate more potatoes, fruits and some raw vegetables most times throughout my travel to maintain some balance.

After over 24 hours of traveling through the unpaved narrow woods of central and northern Guinea, we finally arrived at Koundara, a northern town. There was a big customs checkpoint here. I was supposed to pay some 10,000 or 5000 franc as usual, but the gracious custom official pitied me upon the look at my state of appearance and gave me a free pass. He could understand what I have gone through and the total amount I was forced to pay since the previous day. I have covered about 700km of distance with much of the road being unpaved and dusty in a bush taxi. I was so tired, stressed out and looked dirty. I haven't showered since I left Freetown so just imagine how I was looking. I was singled out by the custom officials for thorough search. They all busted into laughter when they found pack of Durex condoms in my backpack. Why would they laugh at something like that? The pack was part of my survival kit. The custom guy got hysterical after he found fish hook and Swiss knife in my backpack. He didn't know what the fish hook was at first. He thought it was some sort of weapon. He started theorizing I could possibly be some sort of foreign spy agent because he didn't understand why I would have some of the stuffs I had in my backpack. Where am I heading to? What could I possibly be up to? He took me to his superior who was able to decipher that the strange looking bended thing is a fish hook. But why would I have that with me? My explanation didn't sit well with them. It's a survivalist mindset. You have to be prepared at most times in case of anything. I could go to fishing in the case for instance, our bush taxi break down and there was no food and there happened to be fish habitat nearby. They took my iPod, scrolled through the photos and realized I'm not a foreign spy agent after all. They finally permitted our bush taxi a pass after about an hour and half of the impasse.

We finally crossed the border into Senegal and continued to Kalifourou where I changed bus to Dakar around 4:30PM on 17/11/11. I was so relieved to come into Senegal. The road was better and the atmosphere was different.

Next Episode
This would feature the complete Cape Verde experience accompanied with photos.

PS: This is my first attempt writing such long articles so forgive me for all the grammatical and spelling errors you may stumble upon. I am not a good writer at all.

good4all:
Pls next week is too long for the continuation of this lovely story pls continue Today

tomorrow n will also post some pictures

Dear readers,

This is continuation of the account of my journey across West Africa. I hope you enjoy the read.

Journal entry – Start
Date: 13/11/11
Location: Bamako, Mali

Time: 1:03PM
The minivan to Conakry is full after waiting for hours.
I'm heading to Coyah, western Guinea.
Sharing the single front passenger seat with a middle aged woman.

Entry conclusion

The existing social arrangements in Mali have tremendously impacted my impression about the human condition

Journal entry – End

Commentary

I did not really know the direction we were heading but I did know that in any case we have to eventually end up at Kouremale, the border between Mali and Guinea. This effort should bring me to the north and through the very heart of Guinea. I expected to come through cities like Siguiri, Kankan, Mamou, Kindia and eventually to Coyah, where I would continue west to Pamalap, the Guinea-Sierra Leone border town.

I have condemned myself to freedom and must face the consequences. I started to miss my family, friends and most especially my bed. I thought of making myself some jollof in my kitchen at home. It is true that I was missing some familiar companionship but there are very few with whom I could relate to even if I were home. Most people I know are consumed by things and do not really understand the essence of genuine human relationship. I see beauty in the way people around me cannot understand. There is an innate and strong desire in all of us to seek happiness in any form we can. To go away for a while to me was an expression of this desire. Though it is true we need food, clothing, shelter and some material things in order to survive, it's my belief that a life devoid of genuine and sincere human relationship is meaningless.

I wasn't really surprised by the condition that two of us have to occupy the single front passenger seat because this phenomenon is practiced around rural areas in Ghana, but to be crammed in a single seat with another person plus 11 passengers in a minivan for about 1000km journey wasn't something I was looking forward to. To be comfortable, I'd have to pay twice to enjoy the luxury of one seat but that was beyond my budget. I wasn't out there looking for comfort so it turned out as it were to be the least of my concerns at that moment.

We used the Kalabanbougou route. The geologic formation of this area is breathtaking. We crossed both Kouremale and the Guinean side of the border by 4:50PM and continued to the northeastern region of Guinea. We came through Simba, Tomboko, Biramfero, Banankora and finally to Siguiri, a city situated on the Niger River around 5:30PM. We continued south and drove over River Tinkisso. The sunset on the river was amazing. About 3km further south was the location where River Tinkisso runs into River Niger. It was a marvelous sight to behold. Tembakunda, River Niger's main source is about 70km further south from this area. River Niger is the longest running river in West Africa and the only third in Africa after the Nile and Congo River. It runs from central Guinea through Mali, Niger, Nigeria and empties into the Gulf of Guinea through Niger Delta. I have already seen the trail of the river in Bamako and will see it again in Niger and Nigeria in the coming weeks.

We continued south through Karakoro following the snaky trail of River Niger, to Kankan, the second populous city in Guinea around 7:15PM. To our surprise, the driver decided to abandon us here to find different means to our various destinations since he's missing two passengers. Two passengers came along whilst we were protesting the decision so we continued south throughout the night through Dabola to Mamou. The driver will run over different kinds of animals on the unpaved and dusty roads and will stop and pack them into the trunk. We drove slowly when we came through the thick forests. This was a precaution to avoid running into wild animals. I drew the driver's attention to parade of elephants we nearly run into. Crammed in, I remained awake throughout the night navigating the unpaved roads with him. It was amazing to do this. I have always imagined myself in the middle of thick forest doing exactly what I was doing.

Journal entry – start

Date: 14/11/11

Time: 2:35PM

At Coyah township. The long distance taxi is about half full. Hopefully the road to Pamalap is paved.

Had little sleep. Was up all night. Tired and exhausted.

Entry conclusion

So far one thing is becoming clear to me. Ghana, Ivory Coast, Mali, and Guinea – we seem to share common problems. We seem to apply very little effort into solving the problems around us.

Journal entry – end

Commentary

We came through Marga, Sugeta, Fofota, and finally to Kindia where we had to stop for a while to service the car. The junction to Coyah was finally at sight after over 24 hours of constant journey. I made it to the Junction around 1:30PM and took a motorcycle to the Township to join transportation to Pamalap, the Guinea-Sierra Leone border town. We left Coyah around 3:30PM in a long distance taxi and came through Laforedaka, Yoreya, Forecaria to Pamalap around 6PM. There was another Peugeot long distance taxi heading to Freetown, the capital of Sierra Leone from this area so I quickly joined. The Guinean side of the border was an easy cross, unlike the Sierra Leonean.

“What is your purpose of visit to Sierra Leone?” The Sierra Leone immigration official inquired.

“Just to see uhmm your country…nothing else,” I responded.

“Tourism?” He further inquired.

“Yes that's right,” I responded.

“A Ghanaian coming to Sierra Leone for tourism?” He continued interrogating me, "No way…that's not possible."

“Are you sure you are Ghanaian…not Nigerian?” He continued the interrogation, as he took my passport.

“…but why did you come through Guinea?" He questioned, trying to flip through my passport at the same time, "It doesn't make sense…no I will not allow you into Sierra Leone because I find it hard to believe you are here just to see Sierra Leone”

“Well…because that's where I came from," I responded, "you should know Mr uhmm...what is your name please?”

“You don't have to know my name my friend,” he responded.

The exchanged went on for few minutes and my final response was like this,

“Sorry officer I don't think you have any basis to refuse me entry into Sierra Leone," I argued, "the fact that I came through Guinea is not good enough. I have every right under the ECOWAS treaty to access your country and to refuse me under no basis would be a violation of the treaty.”

“What…what…what treaty?” He toned his voice as he inquired.

“Article 3 uhm and 34 of the ECOWAS treaty which your country is a member,” I answered.

“I see…you came prepared…you know all of that,” he continued.

To which he continued as follows,

“Okay then you must pay 30,000 Leones,” he demanded.

“I don't have much I will pay 20,000,” I quickly bargained.

“Okay bring it…how long should I permit you to stay in Sierra Leone?” As he got ready to stamp my passport.

“May be two days….three days,” I answered.

“One month…or?” He inquired.

“I will give you 72 hours then and make sure you let me see you before existing because I find it hard to believe you are here just to see Sierra Leone…hmm,” he continued.

I gave him the 20,000 Leones and immediately whisked it into his pocket and at that point, he looked right into my eyes and winked. 'No hard feelings…just business' I thought was what the wink implied.

Twenty thousand Leones was about 7-8 Cedis then. I realized this was a lot of money as it read into thousands. It was a good bargain for me. The Sierra Leonean passengers in the long distance taxi were getting impatient with the impasse so I had to get him off my back as quickly as possible so I don't become the obstacle because everyone was in a hurry to make it to Freetown before midnight.

“Oh..oh..ohh…ooohhh…uh you paid 20,000 Leones?” My fellow passengers shouted as we continued our journey.

I actually brought with me copy of the ECOWAS treaty in the case I run into such scenarios. I know it can be difficult sometimes but at least it helped. Always make sure you know the rules and regulations of the country you are visiting.

We left Kambia and continued south through Maifa, Magbema, Makali, Port Loko to Konno Town. Kono is the diamond rich area of Sierra Leone. This area perhaps was the most chaotic and devastated area during the civil war. This area featured the plot in the Blood Diamond film featuring Leonardo DiCaprio. Further forward were Waterloo and the Small Boys Unit area. These were the famous areas children were recruited and trained by the militants during the civil war. The child soldiers would be unleashed from this area to cut the limbs, mutilate and freely shoot the civilian population. The sight of the area was depressing.

The young couple I sat next to started to curse each other very loud in the car. Something was not right. They spoke Creole…sounded similar to the Nigerian Pidgin. They continued cursing each other in the car. There was a woman breast feeding her baby in front of me so it reminded me of an Irish joke I once heard so I decided to break the fight and tell them the joke. Sierra Leone is an English speaking country so I didn't have any communication issues. Well the joke worked. I told the joke.

A young beautiful woman sat in the bus with Murphy, and started to breast feeding her baby. “Eat it or I will give it to the man over there,” she pointed to Murphy as she played with the baby.

About twenty minutes later, she again repeated it and said, “Eat it or I will give it to the man over there,” Murphy continued reading his magazine.

Another twenty minutes goes by and the woman picks the baby up once again. “For f**k's sake,” Murphy said, “Make your f***king mind up. I was supposed to have got off four stops ago.”

The whole taxi lighted up into laughter. The couple laughed and laughed. The young bride nearly chocked from laughter. They ended up holding and kissing each other in the car after the laugh. It was such a romantic scene.

We came through Hastings and finally to Freetown around 10PM. The road from Kambia to Freetown was very good so we arrived on time. The reunited couple assisted me in finding accommodation in the middle of the city. They were very kind.

I finally settled in my hotel which was at the center of downtown Freetown. I was at the center of Freetown and the nightlife was at my very door steps. An old fella occupying the room next to mine seemed excited about the atmosphere so he came with me downstairs to have a feel of the nightlife. He was probably in his 60s if I'm not mistaken. He works for the local government in the eastern part of the country and stays at the hotel whenever he's in Freetown. It was like the Singapore's Geylang streets; broads stood at almost every corner, whistling and winking at us. The cafés and inns were almost like the depictions in the Blood Diamond film; busy, noisy, beer on almost every table and broads walking about. I couldn't stay up long so retired back to my room and had a sound sleep.

I woke up in the middle of a very busy city center, checked-out and started my day. The 'Cotton Tree' was the first thing I wanted to see. Legend has it that the first African American slaves who settled on the African continent after gaining their independence first landed around this site in the late 18th century. After landing on the shoreline, they walked up to this giant tree, held a thanksgiving service and thanked God for their deliverance to a free land. This giant tree is held as an historic symbol in Freetown. I navigated myself to the tree which is near the Supreme Court, sat opposite it and attended to my eyes for a while.

I decided to hop-on any coming public transportation to any end at all.
“Lumley! Lumley!! Lumley!!,” a taxi driver called. I jumped in quickly as there was throng of people looking for transportation. “Where are you going?” The taxi driver inquired. “Anywhere...to the last stop” I responded. I ended up at a beach area where I spent few hours walking to the other side of the shoreline.

Next Episode

The push to north continues. Make a time same day next week.

This is continuation of the last episode 'My journey Across West Africa Pt. 1'.

Dear readers,
You must be curious as to where the wind blew me from Abidjan. I hope you find the entries and experience bellow most enjoying.

Journal entry – Start

Date: 11/11/11

Time: 2:44PM

Currently at about 40km north of Yamoussoukro. We have come through Tiasale and Toumodi.

I am in the very middle belt of Lake Kossou, the largest lake in Ivory Coast. Bouake is our next stop.

Durable roads. Impressive attitude towards road safety.

Yamoussoukro - clean, decent, quiet. Loved it.

Cocoa revenue?

Entry conclusion

I will be a new person at all the places I'm heading to. No one would judge me because I don't have any past there; only the future.

This is rewarding and I have to experience it in the best way I can.

Journal entry – end

Commentary

I arrived at the Adjame area by 7:30AM to catch up with the bus. It was a long distance bus; about 50-60 passenger seats. No, this was not a Yotong or KIA; it was a very large and long old Mercedes bus. The seats were metal covered in rubber leather.

As courtesy demands, I gave my two hosts some CFA franc as my form of appreciation and gratitude for the accommodation and kindness. This excited them greatly. I especially wished them well in their search for job.

Wish I could have stayed more in Ivory Coast but that was not possible. This was much of a window backpacking for me. It was my motive but not a firm plan that I would try to spend no more than 3 days in a country. Two or three days weren't really enough to have great experience of a country. I wanted to do this as quickly as possible so I can return home and start planning and training for my Mt. Kilimanjaro climb bid, India and Southeast Asia travel.

To do this was a great eye opener for me. Most Ghanaians I know actually think that most of West Africa and large portion of the continent is drowned in political violence, poverty and extreme backwardness. It was my attempt to corroborate this perception. When I informed one of my friends about my plans to travel across West Africa, his response I recall was something like, “you can go anywhere else but not those areas. They would not only steal from you but would also harm you.” How did he know that when he has never stepped outside the borders of Ghana in his entire life? My guess is probably from what he has heard or read. But is everything we have heard or read true?

St. Augustine was right. The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.

I intend to offer my objective experience of each country and the people as I saw them and not to try to demean them in anyway

We left Abidjan by 10AM and headed up north. The bus was packed and over-loaded. There were 4 seats in every roll with passageway in between like the conventional bus seating arrangement. They used gallons to block the passageway making it 5 seats in every roll. This obstructed the passageway. They didn't do this from the bus terminal so my guess was that the behavior wasn't sanctioned. They picked extra passengers as we journeyed. I was in the second roll on the second seat from left so the gallon was right next to me. The passenger sitting on the gallon would sleep and fall right on me every now and then. Though I was uncomfortable, I thought that it was funny.

We continued through Sikinssi, Toumodi to Yamoussoukro in about 4 hours or so. We covered about 240km of distance. Yamoussoukro was a decent city; clean, quiet and refreshing. We stopped over for about an hour so I was able to take a quick leisurely walk and returned back right on time before the horn was blown for re-boarding.

The Ivorian roads were durable. I was most especially impressed with their attitude towards road safety. They would indicate with both tree branches and warning hazard reflectors more than 1km away from broken vehicles. This was contrast to the attitude in Ghana. In Ghana, you would only find the warning hazard reflectors about 50-100ft from the broken vehicle. The Ivorian attitude provides approaching vehicles with all angles of opportunity to avoid collision with a broken vehicle ahead. I suspect every car carries with it not less than 5 road hazard reflectors for this purpose.

We came across several French Military command cars on the road. It seems as though they were coming from some sort of drill because they came our way very often and in numbers. By this time I had began to understand what Michelle, Sherif and my two hosts lamented about the strong French Military presence in Ivory Coast.

My books and iPod provided me with so much entertainment and distraction as my co-passenger slept and fell on me often. I brought with me some of my favorite books; The Old Man and the Sea; Ernest Hemingway, Revised Edition- The Clash of Civilizations; Samuel Huntington and The Greatest Show On Earth; Richard Dawkins. My iPod was most enjoying. I made three long playlist of random tracks; one of rock and alternative, another of movie soundtracks and the last of world music. The following were the 15 most played tracks on my iPod in order at that time:

#1 Bed of Roses – Bon Jovi
#2 We weren't Born to Follow – Bon Jovi
#3 Love's the Only Rule – Bon Jovi
#4 I'm Forrest…Forest Gump – Soundtrack (Forrest Gump)
#5 The Living Years – Mike & The Mechanics
#6 Makoma Mo Toffee – Daddy Lumba
#7 Himalaya Trekking Song – Rosamm Phiriry
#8 Fix You – Coldplay
#9 Kro Kro Me – Amakye Dede
#10 In the Spider's Web – Himalayan Folk tune
#11 You're No Different – Soundtrack (Forrest Gump)
#12 This Afternoon - Nickelback
#13 Imagine – John Lennon
#14 Johnny B. Goode – Chuck Berry
#15 Bird On a Wire – Soundtrack (SOA)

Also on my iPod were my 5 favorite movies of all time.

Casablanca
Forrest Gump
The Shawshank Redemption
The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.
City of God

I can recite almost every line of dialogue involving Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca. I can watch the movies above forever and never get tired of them.

All of the above were my source of entertainment and distraction as I traveled along.

I didn't have to be very much prepared for everything. All I needed to do was to adapt.

In the midst of all of this, I became very excited that I'm headed to Mali, one of the earliest African civilizations. Timbuktou for instance has always held my curiosity. It is one of those rare areas that still stand unaffected by any form of progress for thousands of years. Mansa Musa, Mari Djata, Sumanguru and Sundiata spring to mind. These are some names almost every Ghanaian student should be able to spill out about the ancient Mali Empire. I planned to go further up north to Timbuktou when I come through Mali later in my travel to see the ruins of our ancestral origin. Some musical legends such as Ali Farka, Boubacar Traore and Rokia Traore also sprung to mind. Would I chance upon any concert? I kept wondering to myself. I don't understand any of the word in Ali Farka's 'Savane' Album which was released after his death in 2006 for example, but it is so soothing and beautiful to listen to that I don't even want to know whatever it is he sings about. That's the beauty of good music.

Journal Entry – start

Date: 13/11/11

Time: 10:59AM
Location: Bamako, Mali

I feel so intense.

I have seen much. I find it so hard to sum up my feelings about Mali so far. Poverty is everywhere. Women and children seem to bear the responsibilities here. The men smoke all day, eat meat and drink sugar-filled soda in larger size. Oh to what end?

Entry conclusion

I'm the stranger in Mali but Mali itself is not strange it seems.

It is rare opportunity to experience any form of adversity because it cannot be reclaimed from you.

Journal entry – end

Commentary

My last entry was on the afternoon of 11/11/11 somewhere around Tiebiessou in Central Ivory Coast. I was too tired, sleepy and stressed to put down anything.

We came through Tiebiessou to Bouake from Yamoussoukro. We stopped in Bouake for a little while and continued towards Niakaramandougou through Katiola onwards to Korhogo. Korhogo is where Laurent Gbagbo was being held before his transfer to The Hague. It's one of Alhassan Outtara's strongholds. I suspect he was being held there to prevent his supporters from making attempt to break him away. We continued to Ferkessedougou where we had to spend the night for security reasons. By then we were about 150km away from Zegoua; the Ivory Coast - Mali border.

We arrived at Ferkessedougou around 8PM. At first I thought we were going to be transferred to a local hotel. A local hotel? I soon realized that was not the case. We weren't even permitted to sleep on the bus. You have to come outside either to hang around or rent a mat to sleep in the open until when it is around 5AM when we are supposed to re-board. You sleep in the open throughout the night.

I wandered around and thought if it were possible to find my way back to Korhogo that evening, perhaps walk around a bit and then return back to the bus terminal at Ferkessedougou. This was not really possible. What if I could not find my way back to Ferkessedougou on time and the bus is forced to leave with my backpack? I abandoned this idea and continued touring Ferkessedougou most of the evening. I chanced upon a local traditional wear boutique where I bought a piece. Most people think I'm weird and crazy when I wear it in my area.

A fella saw me sat quiet at a tea seller's joint and invited me to join him on his rented mat. He was called Armend. He could notice I'm a traveler; one full of curiosity. He's a French citizen of Ivorian origin. He's headed to some part of Southern Mali to repatriate his family back to Abidjan. His family fled to Mali during the war so he flew all the way from France to attend to them. He thought my adventure was interesting and that he wished he could do the same. We spent the night chatting and sharing experiences. In the end he concluded that I have made him realized all this while he had developed some sense of false security whilst living in Lion, France. He began to feel he is much safer and best suited to live his life going about the same routine all year long. He came back to Ivory Coast because he thought his family needed him most. He thought that our conversation made him realize how monotonous and boring his life has been. We ordered us some boiled eggs as we continued communing. Why why why? He blared in a humorous way. He concluded that he is going to make some radical changes to his life and unwind a bit to have more fun and try some adventures. It seems I have woken up the spirit of adventure in Armend. To know I have sparked the spirit of adventure in another person offered me great pleasure. He decided he'd come with me if he didn't have to attend to his family but I reminded him perhaps going to Mali itself is an adventure since he has never come that far up North before.

The night went so fast and soon we had to re-board to continue towards the border. We came through Wangolodougou and finally to the border around 11AM on 12/11/11. To my surprise, the posts at the Ivorian side have been abandoned. There were no customs and immigration officers. This I found out was because of the war. The customs and immigration officers abandoned their post and formed part of the Outtara militia that fought against Laurant Gbagbo. But Gbagbo has been captured and the war has ended…why aren't they at post? I exited the Northern border without the exit stamp in my passport.

We went through the border crossing formalities on the Mali side and continued north to Sikasso. These formalities always include paying certain amount at different desks and barriers. I will be changing bus in Sikasso and Armend would also be changing to elsewhere. He was the only person I encountered who could speak English but he would be leaving me soon and I would not have any friend.

We made it to Sikasso later in the afternoon. I had to go for a transit ticket from the counter but the place was too crowded and jumbled up. To my surprise, a very beautiful young Ivorian lady in her mid twenties approached and asked in a very difficult to understand accent almost in these same words…”I help you to go for ticket for Bamako okay? ” It seems as though we are never lost in this world. Yvonne is young, attractive, fair and sweet looking. I had traveled with her from Abidjan. She sat about two rolls behind me. She might have heard me speak with Armend and thought that I might need further assistance with the language since Armend couldn't any further. She was also headed to Bamako. Yvonne is so attractive that she seems to wield lots of influence around. You know how attractive women can easily wield influence on the opposite gender. It was quite a crowd but everyone paved the way for her to get the transit tickets for both of us. She came back and whisked me away into the new bus. She had become protective already. Women can be very kind. To have a new companion, and for it to be Yvonne was so refreshing. Though it was difficult, she could at least express herself in English. I didn't mind just looking at her whilst she struggles to utter another word in English. She was smart and very funny.

By this time, I started to become sincerely intense about my new environment already. The level of poverty and adversity I witnessed in that area of Mali was difficult to bear. Children as young as 4 years would surround you with bowl begging for penny whilst grown up men sit on the tire eating meat and observing with great amazement. The women would be carrying heavy load going up and down and the teenage boys would be pulling donkeys with heavy loads. This was in direct contrast to the situation at everywhere else I have been to. That was my first real encounter with those conditions. It was truly difficult for me to watch.

Sitting next to Yvonne was a comfort. She was headed to Bamako to visit her sister for about a week or so. She offered to assist me to find accommodation when we get to Bamako. She found what I was doing interesting. She seems to have similar thoughts with Michelle and Sherif about the French establishment in Ivory Coast. The only Ivorian who seems indifferent to the French presence in Ivory Coast was Armend. Why would he? Armend himself is an Ivorian turned French. Technically he was also a foreigner in Ivory Coast.

The Malian forest and isolated villages were quiet and beautiful. The indigenous at the isolated villages would smile and wave at every passing car from their mud huts. They seemed very happy to me. So much quality of life can be obtained at isolated locations especially villages and countryside. We arrived in Bamako around 6PM finally. Yvonne called and asked if her sister knew any decent hotel around her area she could recommend to me. All the sister's recommendations were beyond my budget. Where do I find a hostel in Bamako? There were no backpackers' hostels in Bamako. Even when I considered her sister's recommendations, all the inns were occupied. Places of accommodation were limited. It was already my idea that whenever I 'm unable to find accommodation, I would go for my bus ticket and hang around the terminal until departure. Almost every taxi I sat inside was filled with smoke. Taxi drivers in Bamako take little notice of their passengers when they indulge in smoking in the car. I experienced this on several occasions. The sister suggested I stay with her and the family for the night and pay 10,000 CFA franc. She convinced me it was the most comfortable place I could stay at that moment since I couldn't find any accommodation. I gave this thought and decided that it was a good deal for me. Yvonne has been very kind and extremely helpful and I would love to stay closer.

Yvonne suggested we take a walk and have a feel of the Bamako nightlife. There were limited things to do. There was nothing agreeable to eat that evening except fruits and snacks. Yvonne was the center of attention with her imposing appearance everywhere we went. She wore shorts and loose t-shirt. It seems like the Malians were not used to such views so she was able to light almost everywhere up with her curvy and athletic features. I would walk behind sometimes to gaze at her stylish way of walking. She was gorgeous and alluring even in her casual attire. I had thought the capital would be littered with live band stages with amateur singers but that was not the case. Yvonne provided me with laughter so it was equally an entertaining evening.

I will be heading to Kouremale; the Mali-Guinea border in the South-Western region in the following morning so it was time for me to try to get some sleep. I slept soundly that evening.

Yvonne came with me to the bus station in the morning to wish me farewell. She was sad I had to leave soon. She gave me a warm hug and warned me to be careful out there and return back to Mali safe. She told me she might try to extend her stay in Bamako to wait for my approach from West in the coming weeks. It seems we enjoyed each other's company and would love to continue from where we left since I will be coming through Mali again. Yvonne was very kind and generous. My heart was heavy I had to leave her so soon but the thought of seeing her again would provide me with fond memories and thoughts about her in the coming days.

Next Episode

This would feature the experience from Mali-Guinea-Sierra Leone with photos.

ojeota:
Nice One op. First time viewing africa through the eyes of a ghanian. Good writing skills. Keep it coming.

more to come

this took place in 2011.......
Dear readers,

My friends insist I post my travel journals online because they offer some great travel insights. I am not sure if there is any truth to that, but I will leave that to your judgment.

I will try to post the journal entries on this particular adventure and add little commentary in the coming weeks. This may not interest you, but I'm sure it may be of interest to others and also serve as a guide to travelers who may stumble upon it.

The journal entries contain time, dates and details of the time I was writing them. They also contain dialogues I had with some of the people I met, my endless thoughts and the questions I often pose to myself whenever I am faced with any contingency. You should expect more questions and few answers as you read them.

This is the Pilot of the episodes.

I always thought it would be a great adventure to venture into the wilds of West Africa, to explore the deep isolated communities, cultures, people, cities, food, music and country in general. I finally made up my mind November of 2011.

My backpack weighed about five pounds. The contents were: hiking boots, casual clothing, towels, sandals, Survival kit, books, notepads, socks, first aid kit, travel documents and some other miscellaneous.

I didn't put very much plan into this adventure not because I was careless but because I didn't want to. I actually didn't feel like heading out until the morning of 09/11/11. I suddenly became so tired of Accra that I just wanted to go away. Spontaneity; it's my leap in the dark. It reveals my spirit and the ability to survive in my new environment. True adventure comes from spontaneity. What is the point of life if we have to plan everything to the last detail without leaving any room for wonder and curiosity?

It was nothing but curiosity that led me to venture into the remotest parts of West Africa. What is it like out there? How does the food taste? The music? The people?

Journal entry - Start

Date: 09/11/11

Time: 1:35PM

I am currently sitting on a minibus at Kaneshie(suburb of accra) soon to head out to Elubo; the Ghana – Ivory Coast boarder town. The bus is half full.

Time: 2:13PM

I just learned from the driver it's too late I wouldn't be able to make it pass the border today. It is about 280km to the border and it should be closed before we make it to Elubo.

Why are our borders closed early when this is not the practice at other parts of the world? Why should traders and travelers wait all night to access the border?

Reason for travel: Curiosity. Nothing else.

Hopefully I would meet some good natured people and make some good friends. I'm optimistic.

Entry conclusion

How is freedom achieved? Continuous struggle. Is this my struggle for freedom? I was born free. No chains and shackles. I will roam as much as I can, make as many friends as I can and laugh as much as I can.

Journal entry - end

Commentary

The first entry above reveals how unprepared I was. I arrived at the bus station late. I gave less thought to the time I could make it pass the border. My iPod, map and books were my consolation. I could entertain myself with them at anytime and anywhere so it did not concern me very much about the delays at the border.

My plan was to head West towards Ivory Coast and then continue towards the border with Liberia, Sierra Leone, Guinea, Guinea Bissau, Senegal and through to Gambia. I would then try to catch a yacht or any means possible to The Cape Verde Islands in the Atlantic Ocean. I would then return back to the mainland to Senegal and continue east through Kayes to Bamako. I would continue further east to Burkina Faso and then onwards to Niger. I would then come South through Northern Nigeria all the way South and then head out west to Benin, Togo and then finally back home. But this isn't as easy and accessible as I had thought. But as it turned out, this rather gave birth to more fun and adventure as I traveled along.

Journal Entry – Start

Date: 11/11/11

Time: 9:08AM

Currently on a bus in Abidjan, headed out to Bamako, Mali.

11/11/11. Interesting date. I don't know what it means but my guess is that a religious fundamentalist somewhere must be capitalizing on it as an indication of the end of the world. I don't have access to the internet.I will spend the entire day contemplating as to why there's so much poverty in Abidjan despite the often touted economic and social achievements of the city.

Entry conclusion

What lies ahead? Should I be afraid?

If we let things terrify us, life will not be worth living. – Lucius Seneca

Journal entry – end

Commentary

I didn't write any entry the previous day because I was too exhausted and had a lot going on.

I arrived in Abidjan around 11:30AM on 10/11/11 after about three hours of travel in a packed saloon car from the border.

It was a frustrating night at the Elubo border waiting to cross into Ivory Coast the following morning. The sanitation at our side of the border was very bad. The border posts were dirty so was the entire area. Shouldn't border towns be as clean and well kept as the capital? Border towns are your first impression of a country. The sanitation around the area is disgraceful. Hopefully the area has been demarcated and all the structures leveled down as they did in Aflao.

A Ghanaian Gestapo immigration officer prevented me from taking photos of the Tano River as I make my final walk out of Ghana. He was very aggressive and threatened to confiscate my camera if I go ahead. I complied as I didn't want any brouhaha with those guys. I obliged to his orders because I was ignorant of the regulations of the area. He didn't offer any explanation; neither did I bother to seek one. His manners were not welcoming at all. They normally would round up non-Ghanaians and extort money from them. We shouldn't treat other ECOWAS citizens in that manner if we don't expect their side to reciprocate. We must respect and observe the ECOWAS regulations. The harassment by GIS must stop. At least we can lead the way by treating others in a more civilized manner.

I arrived in Elubo around 10:00PM after about six hours on the road. I met three Ivorians on the bus from Kaneshie who were also traveling to Abidjan. Sherif is an interesting fellow in his early thirties, Michelle and Maggie, siblings, attractive, in their mid twenties. They turned out to be very helpful.

Sherif could not understand one word in English, Michelle however is articulate in English so she served as the interpreter. Michelle is of middle height, fair, attractive and blossom. She speaks calmly but with intense expression. She was smart and articulate. We conversed very often whilst en route to Elubo. They were all interested in my adventure, especially Sherif. Sherif became more interested after he learned I have traveled through the Middle East as he has. We were both familiar with some unique landmarks and areas. Our friendship began on the basis of our interests.

We spent the entire night after arriving in Elubo talking about politics and the situation in Ivory Coast, especially the recent electoral violence. We occupied a tea seller's joint that was happy to join our interactions only if we spoke quietly to avoid being heard by any spies or sort in the area. But we are on the Ghana's side of the divide aren't we? Well. One thing was clear – all of them were not in favor of Gbagbo neither were they in support of the French intervention into the crisis. They seem not to understand why the French still plays critical role in their politics and economy. This seems to frustrate both Michelle and Sherif. “Sarkozy is the devil” Michelle retorted in one of her responses. I however continued reminding them that the French intervention was necessary to bring stop to the carnage that was being perpetuated by both factions. Gbagbo was the subject of contention and forcefully removing him was the only option. It was a coordinated international effort. The French forces that engineered the operations are second commanded to the United Nations' UNOCI peacekeeping operation so they could as well voice their disagreement towards the United Nations. Gbagbo lost the elections but refused to relinquish power to the winner so he got what he deserves.

“We have told them to leave Cote Divoire alone and go back to France but they don't want to go. Why eh why? Why Sarkozy why?” Michelle continued to lament as she indicates her frustration of the French presence in Ivory Coast.

They both argued I am a Sarkozy henchman and a Western apologist. This gave way for more discourse as the night grew. Both agreed that they have never met an interesting character like me – out in the unknown just because I am curious and especially for espousing ideals they thought were too Western and Sarkozy-like.

The bus driver we came with offered us to sleep in the bus until the border is opened for passage in the morning. It was a sleepless night for me because the area was too smelly and unhygienic.

Both Sherif and Michelle demanded I stay with one of them whilst in Abidjan to facilitate easy transit to my next destination. They were very kind. I refused but they insisted. You know it is a backpacking rule; to accept accommodation or any form of assistance from whilst on the road, first you must ensure you don't become burden on them. You must be responsible for yourself. They insisted and I had no option but to give it a thought.

“That is their base...hmmm!" Michelle pointed at the French Military Base, situated near the Abidjan airport, as we entered Abidjan.

I continued to resist the offer but they continued to insist. Michelle insisted I stay with her male friends who happens to live in the middle of the city so I can have access to everything I need. Sherif also demanded I come with him to his plushy apartment. I gave it much thought and made a choice. I had wished to go with Sherif but don't forget Sherif cannot understand a word in English, whilst I also cannot express myself in French. Michelle's male friends were fluent in English, however. The drawback with going with Sherif was that, communication would be difficult with him. I was forced to take Michelle's offer. Sherif insisted however he would have to come with me and Michelle's friends to see where they live. He took their phone numbers and called throughout the day to check on me. He was looking out for me. A wonderful fellow! You would be shocked to know that the world is actually filled with people like Sherif and Michelle. Nice people.

The plan was to make preparation to continue west to the Liberia border as soon as I arrive in Abidjan. I realized this was not possible. The war in Ivory Coast has just ended and the rebels that fought for both factions were holed up in that region. Rebellion was still ongoing. In addition to that, there were warning alert for travelers trying to reach Liberia. This was due to the electoral contentions. It was intense in both countries so rebel activities at the border between them were rife. It would be dangerous for me to use that route. This situation was confirmed by Sherif's friend who just returned from Liberia with his Liberian wife through the route. They warned it is dangerous to go that way. Michelle also called with similar information. What do I do then?

That is the fun of adventures. I pulled out my map and started to look out for new route. I decided to skip Liberia for the moment and try to find my way to the country north of Liberia which is Sierra Leone. But how do I do that when I couldn't come through Liberia? I decided to go up north to Mali and then try to find my way to southeastern Guinea and continue to the Sierra Leone border. That would be about 2100km distance to cover. The thought of this new idea started to excite me. There would be a lot to do and see. Northern Ivory Coast? I have read about Korhogo, where Gbagbo was being held. Perhaps I could have a peak into where he's being held. Of course not!

I had wondered if it would be possible to find a bus from Sikasso, the southernmost city of Mali straight heading to Southern Guinea. This was not really possible. I could only find minibus to Conakry in Bamako. I would change bus/bush taxi from Coyah to the Sierra Leone border. So in the end, the only way for me to reach Sierra Leone was to go up North and then come down South on the other side. One of my traveling codes is to always choose the safer route no matter how long it takes.

I reached a new plan so I spent the rest of the day walking about in Abidjan. I visited various areas and landmarks around the city, most notably the Plateau area. Plateau is the reflection of modern Ivory Coast or perhaps the whole of West Africa, I thought. It is filled with skyscrapers and nice streets. I also visited Adjame, one of the slums of Abidjan. I bought my Bamako bus ticket from this area. You could easily see the effects of the violence that shook the country recently. Their Zoomlion was not up and doing. There was littering all over the city. But one thing was very clear about Abidjan; - the infrastructure was superior over that in Accra. I couldn't find any yardstick of measurement. My opinion is that Abidjan is well built and organized than Accra.

Another thing was clear in Abidjan; poverty and unemployment was rife. The Michelle's friends I stayed with were actually University graduates with no job. I really pitied them. They lamented the same frustration Sherif and Michelle did about the Ivorian society and the French dominance in every aspect of it.

It was a wonderful experience walking on the streets of Abidjan and observing hawkers' activities. It can get very busy at some parts and very quiet at another.

If you ever end up in Ivory Coast, don't forget to try the popular local food “Acheke”. It is a soaked 'gari' with hot green pepper and fish. It was very tasty.

I met with Sherif and his returnee friend from Liberia at the Plateau bus station for chat in the evening. His friend is fluent in English so we hanged out for a while and took a walk. I felt so home and comfortable. We went to Sherif's apartment and enjoyed some tea. He was so happy to see me inside his home. I wasn't wrong…there are good natured and kind people everywhere. It is not monopoly of one country or people. I thanked him for all the kindness and finally parted.

The nightfall arrived and I had to try to get some sleep. I will be leaving to the bus station to Mali very early so I said goodbye to Michelle over the phone. She lives far away from the center of the city so we couldn't meet up again since we parted when we arrived in Abidjan. She sounded very sad that I had to leave the following day. She wished I could extend my stay and she could perhaps take me out to see the Abidjan nightlife. It was a kind gesture, but I am a backpacker and my goal is to get on the road. You can easily get attached to people and end up losing yourself. I thanked her for all the kindness and support before getting some sleep.

Next episode

It would feature the experience from Abidjan to Mali and beyond with photos.

Men: If you marry this type of woman: love her to the end
If you marry a wife that knows how to cook please love her to the end.
If you marry a wife that knows how to economise money with less expenses, please love her to the end.
If you marry a woman that has not been loved by any man before please love her to the end.
If your wife is the only daughter for her parents. Please take good care of her.
If you marry a woman from poor family, love her to the end.
Finally if you marry a vi*rgin please take good care of her and love her to the end.

your typical girl

Dude is onething throwing insult.but posting those gore pic i find it very very teaseless and childish pls show some maturity here.i use to enjoy e way u defend ghana but offlate your over the top respond to anything said here abt ghana is so unghanaian ,.......this coming from a fellow ghanaian.

PetroDolla3: welcome to the paradise called shitnigeria, hell on earth! hahahahahaha death is cheap in this cursed country how much is a nigerian life worth? NOTHING!

www.nairaland.com/attachments/1141025_Burnt_Corpse__jpg9845e6d5a1944077c29b4a612eb67baf

GH^KWAME:




Juju fails Nigerian Army General at the war front

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A Nigerian Army General has recounted how the juju his father gave him for his
protection failed him at the war front.
Major-General Abel Obi Umahi
was among Nigerian soldiers who......

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Nigeria Police arrest goat accused of armed
robbery



Police in Nigeria are holding a goat on
suspicion of attempted armed robbery.
Vigilantes seized the black and white
goat, saying it was an armed robber who
had used black magic to transform
himself into an animal to escape after
trying to steal a Mazda 323.
'The group of vigilante men came to
report that while they were on patrol
they saw some hoodlums attempting to
rob a car. They pursued them.......

hahahhaha this is hilarious,what man no go hear from nigeria ,civilization never reach neiga

Dude did you also checkout the ever increasing number of nigerian protituted scattered all over ghana accra kumasi,takoradi

agadez007: you ghanaians may try to deny it but its every ghana girls dream to have a nigerian boyfriend then take her to nigeria maybe then marry her,they know we naijas are wise and hardworking and thats why they(ghana girls) are always ever ready to open their legs for naija boys
true tori,no wonder yvonne ugly nelson wanted to commit suicide when iyanya chopped her ugly ghanaian plantain and dumped her and nadia bleaching is following our own jim iyke bumper to bumper chaiiiii
check out,tufia,ghana

[url=vibeghana.com/2011/10/31/shocking-whites-only-restaurant-in-ghana/]WHITE ONLY RESTAURANTS IN GHANA[/url] dumb white worshippers

Hahahahhaahha.....Nana u make i laff aaa i fall down sef.

otumfour:

You post this




then being the pig and pit latrine drinking nigerian monkey that u are, u add this ^^^^, how dumb can 1 person be? abi ur fada's nyansh u go take power those things up there


poor boko pig

Where in ghana can u go dress like this.i don't know what e OP want to achive here attaching ghana to e post

nora544: All the churches must show how much money they have.
All the pastors must show what they have in there bankacount and not only in nigeria.
I will sell the jets from the pastors.
Christian Universities have to give schoolarship to the poor and it must be written on there homepage.
Churches have to show what they make with the money they get from there followers.
All politicans have to give back the money they take from the goverment for doing noting.
Away with this praying and fasting, Pastors have to preach work and live a christian life and you will have a good life.
Prosperity Gospel, every Pastor who preach this has to live like his poor followers and if he didnot want this he can spend some month in jail.
Every Pastor who tell about seed sowing has to work as a farmer that he see what it means to sow seed.

i love this lady u make dee most sensible contribtion so far.esp the last part abt e seed sowing

I love big butt and i can't lie



love what im seeing

PeeDaVinci: I have had this argument with several people in the past couple of days. I told a colleague that Mandela is undoubtedly great, but he is not the greatest African or as great as the press is playing it out, and when he asked me who is then the greatest african, my exact response was that "i dont know but i will rate the likes of Nkrumah above Mandela".
IMO, mandela has not really done anything extra-ordinarily great. Someone said, he was imprisoned for 27 years, and I asked what about the pple who laid down their lives for the same cause. And another said, he led SA out of Apatheid, and I was like, that is exactly ahmadu bello, awolowo, shagari, enahoro . . . did. Another said also, he forgave the pple who imprisoned him, and i said, that is exactly the reason why they released him - to reconcile the blacks and whites, the whites were tired of the lack of peace during the apartheid, and they chose Mandela to bridge the divide in SA. An another said, he chose to be the President for just one term, and I replied, that is a rare virtue among african leaders, but that doesnt make him extra-ordinary and there are countries whose leaders resigned voluntarily before the end of a single term presidency.

Dont get me wrong, Mandela is great not because of who he is or what he has done, but what he represents - "freedom", and Africans gave him that "representation" during his incarceration because they wanted to see the end of the apartheid regime. He is just like the Queen who is a great woman not because of who she really is as a person, but what she represents.

I ask over and over, what has Mandela actually done for Africa, the western press eulogizes mandela because of influence of south african press in the western world. and these western media are the same ones who vilified him during apartheid, and now, suprisingly, on bbc journalist even likened him to Jesus.

to sum up, Mandela is a very very great man, but not as great as the press made it to be.

true talk ..........can i kiss u