If I was a poet I would write this to the tune of "Comin' Round the Mountain", but we all know that I'm an engineer not a poet. So this will be a dry technical description of my bike trip in Dogon country. First to explain the title. In most, if not all, the local languages the word for bike literally translates as wire horse. So Rabayah and I took our wire horses and put them on top of a bashee, along with about a ton of fresh fish, and went to Bandiagara. There we met 2 other volunteers, toured the traditional medicine center, and did a little grocery shopping. So I guess we were actually only riding 4 wire horses. But anyway.. We started the trip with a nice 5 km ride to the other 2 volunteers' site (which the government prefers I don't name). Here we met the chief, gave him the traditional gift of kola nuts, and spent the next day working on building a concrete cistern. To built this cistern we needed sand, and a lot of it. To aquire this said sand we enlisted the help of the local donkey cart, and a boy about 10 years old to help us. This boy (I think his name was Surlyman, or that's what it sounded like anyway) harnessed up the donkeys, took us to the dry creek bed where he found the best sand, loaded it up and drove it back up into town before I could correctly pronounce his name. But I got to ride a donkey cart, and that makes me happy. As a side note we were passed by a very pregnant woman carrying a load of wood on her head. Donkey carts are a novel form of transport, but not very fast. And Malian women are tough. But enough about concrete cistern making.
The next day we started out on the bike trip after a nice hearty breakfast of rice and onion sauce. Dogons are known for their onion farming. When we passed a large field of them Joe
and Rabayah went to take pictures. Ashley started laughing when she overheard Joe accidently tell the women working the fields that Rabayah was his child. He meant to say friend, but and e became an i or something along those lines and friend was turned into child. Ah, fun with language. Since this was a casual trip we had a nice long lunch and napped under a tree. After that it was back to biking into the breeze as Joe called. It was closer to a minor hurricane or at least a Wyoming style breeze. We did make it the 30 km to another volunteers site where we spent the night. Of course we had to meet the chief and I think every other man in the village too. Not complaining, just saying, it was a lot of fun, and included seeing the man running the local loom. The loom is simple (made of twigs) and makes a strip of cloth about 4 inches wide. These strips are then sewn together and dyed with indigo to make Dogon fabric. On our village tour we also passed by the mud mosque (3 or 4 times) which was complete with an ostrich egg on each minerette.
Day 2 of the trip was not as casual as the first since we had 50 km to cover and straight into the 'breeze' the whole way. The thermometer on Ashley's backpack said it was 100 degrees. More then once Rabayah ask to be left on the side of road. Needless to say, it was not an easy ride, but it was interesting and we saw some great sites. We also managed to make it to Borko just minutes before it got dark. Borko is an oasis complete with springs (somewhere between 2 and 30). The first person we meet offered to let us stay at his house and fed us 3 great meals. In the morning we saw the sacred crocidiles, fed them a chicken and even touched them; visited one of the many springs and wandered in the expansive gardens made possible by all the springs.
Before I paint too rosie a picture of the serene time we had in this beautiful town here are two pictures of us at the sign in town. This one is where we have literally beat the children off with a stick so they aren't in the picture.
Don't worry, we didn't hit them hard, as always just having a stick works well, and is standard Malian discipline. I promise no one was harmed or even really scared in taking this picture. Here we let the kids do what they want, and be the midget mob scene they are; overwhelming us and the Borko sign.
Since our work as Peace Corps volunteers was obvisouly done, we once again loaded our wire horses onto a bashee, this time full of onion and garlic, and went home. If you are not yet in a coma from my great engineering style story telling all the pictures from the trip can be seen here: http://picasaweb.google.com/saprilrain/BorkoBikeTrip#
