Visa - Blogabond

We got to the bus station at 8am the next morning, not far from the abandoned Texaco station where I had left Nassirou. I met two young girls dressed alike in pink checked dresses, one blind and the other leading her from passenger to passenger pleaded for money. A woman in immaculate green satin with matching head dress studiously ignored them, oppressed obviously to be there in the dirty station at all. I offered meager change, and we got our tickets before crossing the street for a glass of hot “Lipton” with plenty of sugar from a street vendor.

The Africa Express minibus left 20 minutes later, full of passengers. The seats were just a little to close together for adequate knee space and the busses are designed with collapsible seats in the aisles, an idea I hope the airlines ignore or pay me obscene royalties to implement.

The taste

We drove through a sandy countryside dashed and dotted with trees and anthills, huts and houses. Signs announced the reserve near Niamey protecting the last giraffes in Niger, but I saw no giraffes. We passed the airport, then a vast expanse seemingly dedicated to black and white and clear plastic bags, and then a street pressed at the edges with people and street stands before pulling into the dirt lot of the Africa Express “gare” after a two hour ride. A taxi brought us quickly to the Embassy of Benin, and there I discovered that processing would take 24 hours. Guetto and I would have to spend the night in Niamey.

Giraffes

Guetto had been complaining about a tooth that was slowly discoloring and causing him great pain, and he told me he wanted to go to the Hopital National to have it looked at. We again took a taxi, bought bags of sweetened yoghurt at the hospital entrance from a street vendor, and were told to go to the emergency room since we didn’t have an appointment. Guetto went in and I waited outside. When he reappeared twenty minutes later it was to tell me that he had to pay 1200 CFA ($2.50) for the visit…which it turned out meant that I would be paying it. Guetto had come along without any money at all. He got an injection into his gum filled with antibiotics and pain killers, and a prescription that I paid 3500 CFA ($7.00) for, with the very good news that the tooth could probably be saved.

Guetto

He took me to his sister’s house in the huitieme chateau, the city apparently divided into 10 “chateaux” as well as other “quartiers”. The streets were wide and unpaved, the house a walled plot, and a forecourt for the car and the well, and then a living room draped in sheer pink fabric. Beyond that was private. Two bare wires were connected by hand to start the overhead fan. I played with the kids and took portraits of everyone while Guetto and his sister chatted, and then a girl brought us couscous, and then we left to visit relatives further down the street.

Guetto and Niece

Guetto

There the house was more formidable, birdcages and an expensive car in a very large courtyard and a very large and comfortable living room. I met two older ladies, and a guy just back from 7 years in Pennsylvania: Lauren. Lauren spoke French with an American accent and English as if he was born in Pennsylvania, and he was on the phone with his American wife now in England with their son, visiting her mother. He was overseeing the completion of his new house, a ten year project left unfinished while he was gone, so that he could move his family back to Niger. I told him the change was pretty drastic and he agreed, but writing this now I think things might be all right for them. His house shares a quartier with the American embassy, Americans live nearby, his family is obviously wealthy and well-connected, and though he is only 33, Lauren seems to have a head for business.

Guetto's sister

Guetto's sister and her daughters

We took a long nap, went to the Cyber Café for some quick email, got another cup of “Lipton” on the street and then went back to Guetto’s sister’s house, to hang out on the street as if it were a beach until it got dark. The dust was thick from all the passing cars, and the headlights cut wide arcs of light as they passed. Guetto and his friends washed and then prayed in a small prayer stand that I now recognize as ubiquitous, and then we had cassava and sauce for dinner before walking to Lauren’s house to spend the night.

Huitieme Chateau, 8pm

8pm, Huitieme Chateau

Tracy Chapman was on the cassette player when we arrived and she was still singing the next afternoon when I finally left. The only interruption was to listen to a curious cassette of some military hearings concerning the execution without trial of thirteen suspected terrorists. I could not understand when the incident occurred, but several guys in the group seemed to know every word of the proceedings by heart, and the importance of the event was obvious. I surmised that it related to the civil war and Tuareg rebellion of not too many years ago.

Huitieme Chateau, 8pm

8pm, Huitieme Chateau

I went to bed after a shower: a mattress on the floor of the unfinished house. It brought back warm and fuzzy feelings of renovating a certain condo for two miserable years in Boston. The mosquitoes were intolerable and malaria was on my mind. The others continued chatting late into the night, enjoying the cooler air and Guetto’s unexpected visit and of course, Tracy Chapman. I slept pretty well, considering.

written by

roel krabbendam on February 18, 2007 from Niamey, Niger

from the travel blog: Harmattan

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2 miserable years sounds right, Warm And Fuzzy doesn't. Was it only 2 years? It seams like it was longer. It pains me to think you spent even a moment on the topic of the condo amidst this experience.

By the way, after I finished with my painful laugh regarding your back tire I decided I couldn't comment. Anything I would have written would be far to predictable and would expose my relationship to your father.

To date it appears the bike has been invaluable currency to propagate the adventure but not much for transportation. It seams to have filled in some spaces but otherwise has really just woven these colorful experiences into a single adventure.

I hope you get to finish up on it.

Carry on....

written by Victor on February 22, 2007

enough said about the condo...
the bike on the other hand has been great. This has obviously not been the bicycle trip of my dreams, but it got me through Tunisia, and gave me a taste of Niger and Benin I wouldn't have gotten from a car. Most importantly though, wherever I stopped it allowed me to really explore the place...this was especially cool in the MZab valley in Algeria...
Anyway, adventures start with a plan and then who knows...good stuff happens, even tire problems. Believe me, both you and D.O.D were on my mind when that little problem arose!

written by

roel krabbendam on March 1, 2007

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