We stood for no less than 10 minutes when a big 18 wheeler truck pulled up. That first day in Kaffrine things were looking tough for us but now it was happening fast!
We ran over to the truck and the driver was more than pleased to give us a lift. In fact he wanted to buy us breakfast as well. We couldn't believe it. A lift and food- truly a miracle. We sat at a roadside café enjoying a traditional African breakfast: very sweet tea and some white bread with butter.
Of course a truck is not the fastest transport around but we didn't care. We were just happy that the next 190km's to the border of Mali was covered.
From Dakar, the more we travelled inland away from the ocean the more hot and dry it became until it was almost completely unbearable. Arriving in Kidira, the border between Senegal and Mali, it was probably around 40 degrees. Here our journey with the truck driver parted ways and we had to start walking.
First we walked 2km's to the Senegalese immigration office, which was not on the border but in town. After getting our passports stamped we had to walk the same route back and then probably another 2km's of no-man's land to the Mali border. All in the searing heat with our backpacks on. I remember resting beside the road and watching the sweat carve out little tracks on my dust plastered legs.
By the time we got to Mali we were thirsty and very hungry. The immigration officers probably recognised our plight and offered us some refreshing water. At a little run down shed right across the border we bought ourselves some unknown grub that we quickly devoured.
Now we were in Mali and needed a another lift. Low and behold a few minutes later a small truck with cement bags on the back pulled up. We threw our bags on the back and jumped into the cabin with the driver. Another one and a half hours later we were Kayes. The first big town in Mali.
The driver just randomly dropped us off at an intersection in town. We looked across the road and who would have guessed: a mission station! We quickly walked over.
“You did what?!” The missionarie's wife exclaimed when she heard our story. We said “hiked” instead of “hitch-hiked” which caused a few moments of confusion. She thought we literally walked from Dakar. Still they were pretty amazed at our story.
A few hours later our tents were pitched in their yard and we were enjoying a cooked meal in their kitchen.
The next morning it was time for action again. Scarcely had we left the property or an army officer of some kind picked us up and dropped us of at the first check point right outside of town on the way to Bamako, the capital.
“You're going to stand hours before you get a lift from here,” the guards told us. By this time our faith was bolstered and we said: “Watch us.” The words barely crossed our lips when three vehicles pulled up. Two Land Cruisers and one Hilux. All three of them French couples working in Bamako that were on holiday on the Senegalese coast. At their beckoning we threw our bags on the back of the Hilux and jumped into the one Cruiser with the back seats still open. We were on our way to Bamako!
“Where are your bags?”our French driver asked a few minutes later. “On the back of the Hilux.” “But the Hilux is not with us,” he said. We almost got a heart attack until we realised, to his great enjoyment, that he was pulling our legs.
Kayes is over 600km's from Bamako so we had a long day in front of us.
Lunch the three vehicles pulled off next to the road and they laid out a delicious French pick nick with French loaves, spreads and all sorts of French looking stuff. Once again a meal was provided!
The rest of the journey went with without a hitch and early evening we pulled into Bamako- eternally great full to our French friends.
Now we had to look for the team, who as we heard later, had a pretty rough time travelling by train to Bamako.