Africa – the Black Land , Sahara, tropical climate – this is what most of you associate this continent with. Nobody, however, connects Africa with Cinquecento… until you come across this report. .

A transit throughout Europe 3500 km. The ride through the motorways of Germany, mountainous France, crowded Spain to Algerciras. Now all you need is a ferry to Ceuta, and Africa is just ahead of you. 

Morocco

Morocco welcomed us whole-heartedly with all its richness, culture and the plan of hosting ten million tourists a year, introduced by the young king. Fez, Meknes, Rabat, Casablanca, and here where the journey came to an end. It was because of the problems with issuing visa, caused by the consul of Mauritania. After eight days it came out that the citizens of middle-east Europe ought to apply for the visa to Mauritania in Moscow. A few months ago a revolution took place in Mauritania, and the government was changed. What follows, laws were modified… After a number of attempts we finally received the stamps allowing us to enter Mauritania and to stay there for thirty days. In the meantime, we crossed the Little Atlas and the Middle Atlas Mountains, giving out all sweets on our way. Imiltshil in the Middle Atlas is the village with the marriage festival, organised in August. This was where we met two English girls fascinated with Morocco, returning there every year.

The Western Sahara

It is said that Harmatan in the Western Sahara blows only in winter- according to us it blows all year long. Despite the fact that it was summer we could not have made it without our fleeces. And in Morocco the temperatures do not go below 30 degrees! The Western Sahara is a 1244-km-long desert. The king, lowered the prices of fuel ( almost 50 per cent) and reduced taxes in order to encourage the Moroccans to settling the infertile areas. Tarfaya (the gate to Sahara), Laayoune, Dakhla are the cities constructed from the cornerstones. Right after crossing the Mauritian border we no longer find the unleaded petrol and tasty food. Here, all the story with the goat begins. A goat with shred, a goat with fur, the intestines of a goat, to put it in a nutshell a whole goat is eaten up. Between the Western Sahara and Mauritania there is an eight-kilometre-long stripe of a no-man’s land. This is one of the greatest minefields in the world, full of destroyed cars. You cross it going along the ways that have been set here by other cars. They are easy to find. Taking any less attended route may finish with your being stuck with your machine in the sand. After reaching the police station we completed all the formalities quickly, and in high spirits we set off to conquer Mauritania. A picturesque crossing over a sand dune which entered the road, and later on the perfectly smooth asphalt to Nouadhibou. Here, on Abba camping, we spent the night. The owner helped us find somebody who sells car insurances. The insurance for ten days costs us 3100 MRO. We also exchanged some money: the rate of the exchange was 320 MRO for 1€. The citizens of Nouadhibou have a friendly attitude to strangers. The town, like most of the Mauritanian cities, is full of not very high buildings. It is devoid of any sings.

The way to Atar… …. is 850 km across the sands of desert. A number of times we came across the sand storms which made driving even more difficult. Against popular belief they are a quite often phenomenon. What made it even worse, the temperature was reaching 45 degrees. From Atar we stroke to Chinguetti, which is situated at the gate to the proper Sahara. On our way we crossed the Passe d’Amogiar valley. The road itself was not specially tiring. However, the tar parts of it made us go mad and the cars - go into pieces. Chinguetti brings relief from the frantic havoc of Atar and Nouakchott. We are free to make some photos, and go for a short walk along the desert. There is no trace left of the old atmospheric pressure tower destroyed by a grenade. There is a new one, contstructed with funds of the EU.

“The scalp route”

There was no road for cars ahead, so we were forced to go back to Nouakchott. We spent the night in the comfort of the Sahara Tavern. From the capital we moved to Mali. What is surprising, all the main roads of Mauritania have perfectly smooth asphalt surface. The places we passed, Aleg Chogal, Magta Lakyar , were much poorer when compared with Atar, the capital, or Nouadhibou located near the border. Hundreds of animal corpses we passed were the sign of hard living conditions. The heat, and the lack of water make the weaker animals die, or go under the wheels of cars. Coming across a camel in the night might be dangerous not only for him , but for you as well. We named this route “the scalp route”. We checked some hotels in Ayoun el’Atrous, but for fear of lice we finished in our tents. In the morning we hunted a great spider who tried to creep into our car. There is no border as such between Mauritania and Mali, and in the vicinity of Cobenia there is no border at all. You need to show up in the customs office 18km from the border. When you hear them asking 10€ fee , you need to strongly refuse, as they attempt to abuse you. After a short quarrel our car sets off, our passports are stamped, and our 10€ remains in our pockets. After that the police station, and again: a quarrel, our loud saying “no” once again, our passports stamped, and 10€ still in our pockets. After Mauritania we crossed 2529 km.

Mali

We set off to Mali. The smooth asphalt road. All the formalities connected with crossing the border need to be done in Nioro du Sahel. First, the customs on our car. The customs office is located in the centre of the city. This “pleasure” costs us 9400 CFA. We can exchange our money in the pharmacy near the central market. The exchange rate is 640 CFA for 1€. A lazy police officer in Nioro stamped papers allowing us to enter Mali. According to him, the cost of this formality, which was no more that writing our data into a notebook, was 2000CFA. After we came out of Nioro, we discovered that there was no more asphalt. A fight with mud has begun. It was the beginning of the rain season there. The overworked radiator fan was burnt off for good. From this moment on, we were to go without it. The road becomes more and more tiring.. potholes, stones, protruding roots.. the car was all covered with mud. We had to check puddles with out feet, as we could not see anything through the mud. What was worse, we lacked the proper cooling. We had to drive as fast as possible, i.e. 50-60 km per hour, with the heating on. The excessive speed on a bumpy road covered with tar made the right engine bag fall off. This made all the acceleration system go stiff and resulted in loud vibrations. But no surprise, the car resisted three previous excursions and 335000 km of road. Unfortunately, the local workshops did not provide the highest quality of service. The car could not have been repaired.

The way, which in fact does not exist, stretches along 300km up to Didieni. The attitude of people of Diema and Didieni to us was rather negative. Everybody expected to be paid for the photos etc. Not to mention the fact that asking for a present is an everyday thing. To go further, Barmako, is a cradle of cunning, smart people who lack any respect for strangers. If you can’t pay for filming, you’d better leave it.

More freedom

All the tourist attractions of Mali begin from Djenne. The attitude of people is completely different. At least you can make photos freely. To reach Djenne there is a tax to be paid: 1000 CFA. After that you pay for the ferry: 3000CFA. However, there is a problem. The ferry can’t set off as the level of water is too low. On the other hand, it is high enough to go over the hood of CC. There are 25 metres of water route to be crossed. The ferry is a sort of a pay toll.

In the picturesque Djenne it is difficult to pass without noticing a giant mosque constructed in the central point of the city. The entrance fee is said to be 5000CFA, but when you try to haggle with them you may enter for as much as 1000CFA. It is better to ignore the guides – they will not go away anyway.. The mosque itself has a very interesting ventilation system, consisting of slanted ventilation shafts in the roof. The thickest wall reaches 2metres, and it is all made of mud. There is a similar mosque in Moptia, and several smaller ones in the villages nearby. In Moptia there is also a picturesque little harbour with boats reaching the villages in the neighbourhood. Not to be missed.

In the Djenne area we got a puncture twice, a day after another. The second time it did not seem an accident. It appeared to us that the spike was impaled in our tyre on purpose. We managed to cross 1500 km with no spare tyre. Only when we saw a Goodyear workshop we decided to fix the wheel. It lasted as much as 10minutes, and cost us 5000CFA.

The charm of a clay hotel

The place we liked most was the distant Hombori. WE spent the night in a clay hotel in a Spartan conditions. But it was worth it. It had its charm and atmosphere. Hombori is an old picturesque part of the old town on a mountain, with the view to nearby peeks and the desert, and to a more modern part with the market downwards. In a hotel in Sevare we would be served a breakfast: 2 barely boiled eggs, a baguette, and some marmalade. There would not be anything particular about it, apart from the fact that it would cost us 10€. We decided to refuse.. the breakfast was supposed to be included in the price. After a short quarrel with the manager we went away with our blood pressure somewhat raised..

The plateau of Bandiagara is inhabited by the Dogons, the ancient tribes. We found out that they are quite civilised: they wear trousers, watches and T-shirts. They chose the normal, ordinary life. But after they are paid, they can transform again into the ancient tribes from a postcard..

The trace of the snake

From Bamako we took the yellow track to Kayes. At the beginning it was covered with a smooth rubble. After some time, however, it was a pure off-road. The locals were to be blamed for it. They advised us to take the roundabout route across the national park, that is attended only by donkeys. Just “a trace of the snake”, as we called it.. It is a track going through a forest, as wide as a donkey cart, between the trees, and cut by numerous ravines made by old rivers. The cunning rangers told us this was the only way to Kayes, and for what- for getting mere 1000 CFA from us. Later we were to find out this was not true. But what could we do. We went on and on, getting stuck in mud all the time. The chassis was graved. The support of the right engine bag was broken: we were so nervous about it. But at that point we could not even think about welding it. In a town called Mahina the road comes to an end. There is a bridge ahead. IT is something like 200metres long. It would not be anything surprising about it, if it would not be a railway bridge. We were fortunate that CC was narrow enough to cross it. It was not an easy task though. Right after that another passage. This time it was a ferry crossing. And fun again. We had to search for a road, or something that would resemble it. The road here means a track for off-road cars. Our poor little CC hardly passed all the puddles and potholes. As a reward we arrived at a waterfall, just before Kayes, on the worst – stony - part of the route. We could rest here and have a bath. The car seemed as if it had crossed safari. The engine was attached only in two places, instead of normal three. The radiator was all covered with mud. In order to clean the chassis and the bodywork we had to use a hammer and a screwdriver. We also had a puncture in the back, but fortunately the spike was impaled in such a way that the air did not go away.

Senegal

From Kayes up to Senegal there is an asphalt road. I think the best route to Mali. After two days of resting at the river we set off to Senegal. We crossed the border late at night. Without any problems. It was thanks to the World Football Championships. The customs officers were captivated by the Italy – Germany match, and they did not make any problems. They stamped our passports with their eyes stuck in a tv screen. Before departing to Dakar we decided to weld the support of the bag of the engine. For the price of 2000 CFA a young boy decided to do it. He managed to do it quite precisely: it resisted until our coming back to Poland. You may spare yourself going to the beaches near Dakar. If you decide to refute a tourist enclave, the beach would be as smelly as a city dump. We organized a two-hour safari through the Bandiaga Park. How many of you have had the pleasure of strolling along with rhinos, giraffes, antelopes, and tortoises.. the rhinos are short-sighted so you can come close, go out of your car, and make some photos. They surely had not seen a Cinquecento before.. WE decided to spare ourselves the swim with the crocodiles. Entering the park costs 30€ for two, you get a guide and a car.

Dakar and Rosso horror

The aim of our excursion was to reach Dakar, and the annual off-road car race. From Cracow to Dakar with Cinquecento. This is what we were aiming at. This is what we did. Dakar resembles the European capitals. Skyscrapers, restaurants, numerous hotels.. lots of French-speaking tourists. The only thing that differs it from Warsaw, Berlin or Barcelona is the lack of.. MacDonald. We crossed a number of borders during our journeys. However, crossing the border in Rosso, between Senegal and Mauritania, will always remain in our memory. The corruption and chaos. It is the border on the river Senegal. A ferry. Having had our papers stamped, ready to leave the territory of Senegal.. the only thing left is crossing the river with a ferry.. well.. not quite.. At 17.52 everyone had boarded the ferry, only we were to go. An officer demanded 20€, or we were to wait until the following day. IT was the last ferry that day. Finally Dominik boarded the ferry, while I was completing the formalities. The ferry, however, started to depart. I tried to swim across to it, with no effect. But then, I noticed a canoe. I asked if the owner could take me the other side of the river. As we reached it, another customs officer took away Dominik’s driving licence, the green card, and went away. After that he denied having taken any documents but offered his help in finding them – cost of 10€. What is more, he demanded money for the ferry and the canoe! If somebody lacks some adrenaline, I strongly recommend crossing the border in Rosso. From this moment on it was just a way back home.. The expedition to Kazakhstan in 2004 was technically more difficult; the one the following year – to Iraq, Pakistan, Kashmir was heavier as far as the climate is concerned. This year’s excursion was a combination of the two. There was a lot of unbeaten tracks, a desert, high temperatures deteriorated by the tropical climate. But as we like tormenting ourselves, we had some good fun.

Tlumaczenie: Agnieszka Suszalska

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