Parc National de Niokola Koba: Saw a great many baboons, facocheres (warthogs), hippos, crocodiles, small antelopes, birds, and monkeys. But I do have to say that the greatly anticipated park was not a highpoint of the trip, and was, in all honesty, a bit depressing. 900,000 hectares of beautiful wilderness and hardly a soul present to enjoy it. Tourism has its many downsides, of course, but done well…the park holds infinite but untouched potential. We stayed in Simenti where the park’s only real accommodations, the Hotel Simenti, and the park station are located. Except for a Danish birding group, the hotel was nearly vacant. Even without an ecovillage to stay in, we were still trying to live by 2800 CFA a day and Boubacar spoke with the guards at the park station who offered to put us up there and fix us some meals for our going rate. When I stepped into the large room we would be sharing, my nostrils were filled with a distinct fragrant odor: piss des souris (mouse pee). We shared our space with the large mice or small rats (hard to tell, really) happily in some cases—us girls piled all mattresses into a small side room and locked the door—and not so happily in other cases—David awoke in the middle of the night with a rat on his face. But we survived through the night and woke to find our Alham surrounded by monkeys and Pap giddily feeding them peanuts. We continued our wildlife adventures with a boat ride down the Gambia. Just as we were leaving a car pulled into the hotel’s empty parking lot and out stepped a young Quebecois couple who had lived in Yoff for a couple of weeks back in February. Back in Yoff, I had had a bit of a crush on both of them, as a couple. Fascinating looking, they were both witty, intelligent and totally fearless. They had been backpacking around West Africa for eleven months. Just because. We marveled over our chance meeting, caught up briefly and readied to leave, voting not to eat lunch as to get a head start on the trip to Kedegou, a decision that ultimately proved quite stupid because…..

The Side of the Road 136 km Outside of Kedegou: The Alham may have endured the unkempt roads of the park, but about 20 km away from Dar Salam, the park’s entrance, we heard a huge THUD. I screamed. The Alham lost momentum. Pap steered off the road. It was 1 pm. The bus’ central axle had broken, fallen out, really. Victoria and Kendall had been dancing in their seats and the rest of us still blame them for breaking the Alham. Yeah, we were in the middle of nowhere with limited water, no lunch in our bellies, no shade except that of the bus and a few scraggily trees with plumes of black smoke rising from a nearby forest fire…but we made ourselves comfortable under a small tree and remained pretty nonchalant. Cars came by every twenty or so minutes. Though most ignored our frantic arm waving. (Another good one from Kendall: What is this? Isn’t Africa supposed to be the country of hospitality?) Pap, however, was picked up almost instantly by a UN vehicle when he waved the broken axle. He said he would go to Tamba, get a new part, and be back by six. Fat chance. But we tested our faith. We did see signs of life. A herd of cows passed us at one point. And then an old man with an ox. And then some young men on bicycles. We finally asked the bicyclists where we were and they said there was a small village with a boutique only 2km or so away. At this point, some of us (myself excluded) had started drinking water stored in an old gas container which, according to reports, may as well have been gas itself. On our way to the village, we passed a faded tombstone distance marker:

Tamba
91 km
Kedegou
136 km

As we approached the village, children literally poured out in droves, each attempting to make contact with each one of us either with a handshake or a “bonjour, toubab!” The boutique had no drinks. “Pas de boissons?” I must have repeated about twelve times both to the man behind the counter and the small crowd in the boutique. But the answer was a firm “non” every time. A kind man brought us to his home and let us lap at buckets of well water I still don’t care to dwell upon. Conscious of my susceptibility to stomach bugs, I had been determined to drink only bottled water to keep myself as healthy as possible for the trip. But with no bottled water left, I broke down for that nice bucket of fresh, yellow, murky, well water. Mmm mmm. We all did. And we all lived to tell the tale. We stocked up on mangos, bananas, miel sauvage (wild honey…I love the sound of that…savage honey) and well water before walking back to the bus. Pap had not returned. Seven o’clock and sunset was fast approaching. There was hope, however. The Car Mourride from Tamba to Kedegou would be passing soon. And sure enough, it came. And went. All full. I was not ready to spend the night on the side of a road with the black smoke of a forest fire still looming in the distance and thus resolved to stop the next car. Just as the sun set, we spotted the headlights of two Kedegou bound cars off in the distance. A shiny white jeep and a shiny white pickup truck. And as both vehicles slowed to stop for us, we spotted the Quebecois couple in the rear seats of the pickup. Between the two cars, they could accommodate seven of us. Perfect if Boubacar really wanted to stay with car as he had insisted. We traveled in style. I jumped into the back of the jeep and was amazed to find that the vehicle’s interior was cold. Air conditioning. Leather seats and a CD player that blasted Tupac and Nelly. Our savior rode shotgun. A Senegalese banker who had studied for three years in Salt Lake City, UT of all places, he was responsible for both truck and jeep and was heading to a meeting in Kedegou. As we neared Kedegou, he asked if we knew where we were staying. We felt confident that we would have no trouble finding lodging at one of the many campements there. He looked dubious. Apparently the hunting season was in full swing and he had had difficulty finding places with any vacancies. We rolled into the parking lot of the campement where our savior had reserved two rooms/huts. It was quite nice. We all made a beeline for the bar where I downed three sodas, giving my blood sugar a much-needed bounce. Apparently our savior was right—both of the campements listed in our Lonely Planet were booked solid. Enter Savior, again. He had reserved two rooms: one for himself and one for his “guys.” He gave us girls one of his rooms, negotiating it for 2500 CFA per person and welcomed David into the other room to join him and his guys. While the others went into Kedegou to forage for food, Shannon, Kendall, and I feasted on chicken yassa at the campement before crashing in our little hut.