Have you ever wondered what hell would be like? Well, Sonef Transport is the best in the biz. For under $50 you’ll get the all-inclusive package, giving you a firsthand look at every level of the fiery inferno. This isn’t just a sneak-peek either. They want you to get your money’s worth, so come prepared to hand over 40 precious hours. Yes, that’s four-zero, as in FORTY. This is the real deal, folks.
In the weeks leading up to this joyride, we received an earful regarding safety concerns. For the most part, everyone we talked to was adamantly against it, but every once in a while we received a thumbs-up. After looking into flights and private transportation, we decided to take our chances with the bus. It turns out that the local airlines have a crash-and-burn record, and driving in a private vehicle would make us a moving target, both literally and figuratively.
Our day started long before sunrise. We arrived at the bus station around 4:30am for our 5:30am departure. Like usual, we played hurry up and wait: my favorite game. Upon arrival, it was obvious we could have pushed snooze a few times. We were first on the lot, so we dropped our bags and made ourselves comfortable, while we waited for the remaining passengers to shuffle in, and the sun to shine upon us.
With the bus filled to the brim, we rolled off the lot shortly after 7am. We took two seats in the back near a small vent on the rooftop. We had hoped to catch the drift seeping in, but that was short lived, as the hatch was no match for the wind and came slamming down within a few hours. With no ventilation or opening windows, we were trapped in an oven as the temperatures soared.
I sat there in silence, drifting in and out of consciousness, as the sweat poured out of my body, hour after hour. The air was thick, muggy, and stagnant, with a stench to match. After 18 very long hours we were woken up and forced off the bus around 1am. Apparently we had reached the border, but it was closed. Instead of letting us sleep on the bus like civilized people, we were told to sleep in the dirt, and that’s exactly what we did.
Our main packs were locked underneath the bus along with Rich’s sleeping bag and liner. Is all we had in our possession was our small bags containing valuables, and the clothes on our backs. By this time it was freezing out. We huddled together trying to keep warm, but it was no use. An older gentleman noticed me shivering and draped a towel around me; I was beyond appreciative.
A few of the men gathered around a small fire and invited us to join. It didn’t provide warmth, but the light was useful. The hours painfully passed as we lay in the dirt beneath the towel. I might have gotten 15 minutes of sleep at best. We were told the border would open around 6am, but it was at least 9am before we could cross.
We had a slew of interesting encounters while waiting. The most notable with a man wearing a red scarf and blood stained draw. His face was covered in black charcoal dust, which only added to his creepiness. He appeared from beyond the border with a pack of dogs, carrying a bowl of puppies – yes, PUPPIES. They were tiny, squiggly little things, no more than 2 or 3 weeks old. He dumped them on the side of the road and I can only imagine what he intended to do with them later. Puppy stew perhaps? I tried not to think about it.
We got stamped out of Mauritania, made the 2km stretch to the Malian border, and then waited to board the bus again. It was almost noon by the time we departed for Bamako, and day two provided more of the same suffocating, coma-inducing, miserable heat.
As we approached another evening, one of the tires on the bus practically disintegrated: the cherry on top of my Sunday. While they swapped it out, most passengers used this time to pray. We found a spot in the bushes, pulled out my laptop, and watched an episode of Dexter. I know, I know… you don’t need to tell me how that sounds.
Sitting there, getting sucked into the plot, a man approached us with a “gift.” He extended his hand to reveal a baby bird. We’re not sure where the bird came from or why he wanted us to have it, but we obviously couldn’t keep it. As soon as he walked away, we let the little bugger hop off into the great unknown. I’d like to think he found his way back to the nest, but I seriously doubt it. It was sad and strange all at the same time.
We finally landed in Bamako around 10pm. We quickly found a place to stay, drank an ice-cold beer and crashed. What a day… actually, make that two.
