We set off on our Guinean adventure in the front of a 4x4
truck, packed to the brim with passengers. Not long after crossing the barge out of Kedougou, we got
our first of many flat tires.
While the tire was being changed, we hiked up to the top of a steep
mountain, where the rest of our car group waited at the top. The truck made it up the mountain, and
we continued on our way. Just as
dark clouds loomed overhead, another tire went flat. All of the passengers fled the car and started running down
the road to beat the rain. Kayla
and I were extremely confused about where they were running to but decided we
might as well follow the crowd.
Unfortunately we weren’t fast enough, because we got caught in a massive
rainstorm as we ran down the dirt road.
We took cover under a tree, trying desperately to protect our bags with
our cameras in them. Drenched in
rain, we eventually realized that the other passengers were headed to another
village, so we set out to find the village and wait there for the car to be
fixed. After a couple hours of
sitting in the village, the truck was ready to make it to the border crossing
as we finally entered Guinea.
By this point, it was 2pm, and we had hoped to make it to
the town of Labe by that evening.
If only we knew the journey that was to come. As we entered Guinea, the roads turned into the worst I’ve
ever seen. With our fearless
driver Harouna behind the wheel, we traversed rocky, mountainous terrain into
the night. The truck occasionally
stopped when we got to the base of a large mountain or a huge stream, and
everyone got out and forged ahead on foot. By midnight, we were hiking up a mountain in the rain,
wondering how much further we had to go.
Whenever we’d ask someone how far we had until Labe, they would always
respond with “very far”. By 2am,
we finally stopped in a village, and Kayla and I sprawled out in the truck to
sleep for a few hours, while the others found places in the back of the truck
or on a mat on the ground. Day 2
of the journey was not much better.
In total, we got 8 flat tires. It became almost comical as we continued to hear tires
popping on the road. Since we only
carried 2 spares on the truck, we frequently had to sit on the side of the
road, waiting for another truck to help us out.
By around 1am that night, we finally made it to Labe and
were invited to sleep at Harouna’s house.
48 hours without showering did not leave us smelling good, so thankfully
Harouna’s wife gave us a bucket of water in the morning.
Our time in Labe was uneventful, but the following day, we
traveled to the small village of Doucki.
The highlight of the trip was hiking through the mountains in Doucki
with our hilarious guide, Hassan.
He took us to some of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen in my
life. I sat on a rock, overlooking
and surrounded by a sea of flourishing, green trees.
A vibrant river passed through the mountains, giving my feet
a refreshing break from the heat.
On another hike, we entered “Indiana Jones World”, as Hassan refers to
it. We climbed up vines and stood
between boulders in what felt like another world. Hassan is quite the comedian and had us laughing the entire
time whether he was doing impressions, juggling rocks, or just being his goofy
self.
He put us up in one of the
huts on his compound and took good care of us. If you ever visit Guinea, I highly recommend hiking with
Hassan! With all the failures we
had on our trip, this was a shining success.
From Doucki, things seemed to go downhill. We had contacted the Peace Corps Guinea
Country Director to stay at the Peace Corps Regional House in Conakry. She told us to give her a call once we
got into Conakry, since the house was difficult to find. We left Doucki at 8am, hoping to get to
Conakry by late afternoon. Wrong
again. We squished into a 9-place,
which is a station wagon that has seats for 7, but they squeeze in 9. I was squashed up against the door as I
slowly lost feeling in my leg on the ride to Pita. From Pita, we got into another 9-place to traverse the
mountains and head to Conakry.
Kayla and I quickly realized that the driver did not know how to operate
a car. We held our breath as he
continually slammed on the brakes and hit the accelerator as the car made
hairpin turns down the steep mountain.
We had to stop for 2 hours to fix the brakes, and then we continued into
the night. As darkness and a rainstorm
set in, Kayla and I were terrified for our lives as our inexperienced driver
flew down the mountain. We made it
into Conakry at 1am, and felt extremely embarrassed about having to call and
wake up the Guinean Country Director.
Luckily, the director is an incredibly nice woman, and she and her
husband met us at the entrance to the house in the wee hours of the
morning. We felt horrible about
waking them up but so thankful to sleep in a real bed.
In Conakry, our dream was to take out money from an ATM, eat
good food, and go to the beach on one of the islands. Being in the country’s capital, we assumed taking out money
would not be difficult. Turns out
that ATM’s will either not accept Visa cards or will only let you take out the
equivalent of $30 a day, which was not going to get us very far. With attempts at multiple banks, we
finally accepted that we were going to have to be on a tight budget for the
rest of the trip, because we couldn’t get enough money out. That threw our food plans out the
door. We explored the market and
saved enough to eat at a nice, Vietnamese/Thai restaurant for dinner. After eating a delicious curry, my
stomach started feeling a little off.
Around 3am, it was clear that I had food poisoning and spent the rest of
the night on the floor of the bathroom.
The following day, Kayla was sick with a horrible sore throat and
headache, and the rain nixed our plan of going to the beach. We decided we might as well buy our
tickets to head back to Senegal since we were almost out of money.
The following morning, we left Conakry in a 9-place. Among the 9 passengers in the crammed
station wagon, 4 of them were obese women that we affectionately refer to as
“Cheb Mamas”. Counting the driver
and his apprentice, we had 11 people squeezed like sardines into the car for
our 2-day journey back to Senegal.
The apprentice lay in the trunk, and Kayla and I were so squished, we
could barely breathe. These Cheb
Mamas clearly should have bought more than 1 seat for themselves, but we were
still able to close the doors of the car with everyone inside. Of course, the Cheb Mamas had to
frequently chow down, and the one sitting to my left brought several fish in
her bag as a snack. These fish started smelling very questionable after being
in a hot car all day. She would
whip out her jar of mayonnaise and grab handfuls to spread all over her
fish. As she continually spit out
bones into her bag, I got sprayed.
The roads were once again less than ideal, so carsickness became an
issue, and one of the Cheb Mamas puked out the window as we drove, since the
driver wouldn’t stop. The driver
also wouldn’t stop harassing Kayla and I and asking where our husbands
were. During a rainstorm, something
wet was dripping onto my head, which I assumed was rain. When we got out of the car a few hours
later to eat, I realized that the gasoline canister that had been carelessly
tossed onto the roof had leaked into the car and onto my head. I not only had gasoline in my hair, but
I had been touching my hair and then wiping sweat off of my face, giving my
face a nice oily sheen. I was
pissed at this point since I smelled like a gas station. I asked if the driver could take my bag
down from the top of the car so I could get my shampoo out and try to wash some
of the gasoline out of my hair.
The bags were supposedly wrapped in plastic to protect them from the
rain, but when I got my bag off the roof, everything inside was sopping wet,
and my clothes smelled like mold.
Unable to get the gas smell out of my hair, I gave up and just got back
into the car, hoping this car ride would be over as soon as possible. Driving into the night along rocky, pot
holed roads, smelling like gasoline and being subjected to blaring Guinean
music, I could not wait to get back to Senegal. I felt like I was being tortured as we suffocated in this
car for 24 hours. It was a test of
how “zen” Kayla and I could stay when all we wanted to do was scream. Around 1am, we slept at the border and
crossed into Senegal once it got light again. That was by far the worst car ride I’ve ever had in my life,
and I couldn’t wait to get back to Kedougou.
My souvenirs from this trip are a bag of moldy clothes and
hair that still smells like gasoline.
I tried putting baby powder, baking soda, and an olive oil and honey
mixture into it with no success.
Hopefully the smell fades soon, because I’m repelling my friends.
Transport was the bane of this trip, but as we sat through
every breakdown, beautiful mountains and lush forests surrounded us. It was a trade off, but I enjoyed
exploring another country. That
being said, I’m content to stay put in Kedougou and not squeeze into another
car for a long time!
