When Nature Calls…

…the tasteful perceptions on a first time overseas traveler
(and how awkward some situations can be!)

By Emelia Skye

Growing up on a dairy farm in rural South Australia, I am no stranger to roughing it at times; however, not having a lot of experience camping, I have always enjoyed what I would consider common necessities including a shower with hot and cold running water and a flushing toilet with paper and toilet seat inclusive…things I knew I would have to go without during the African Trails trip from London to Istanbul. I knew that I was going to have to prepare myself for several somewhat questionable bathroom situations! We are nearing the two month mark on our 10 month long trip and already I have been in some of the most unusual situations. As this is my first experience travelling overseas – just about everything is new, exciting and often unexpected.
One of my first memories of the trip is when Wilna and I tried to find the ladies loos in a small Gibraltar Café. The woman behind the counter, who spoke no English, pointed us in the direction of the toilets. However when we reached them, a lady shooed us away quite forcefully as they were being cleaned and pointed, without so much as a smile, across the building to where the other toilets were. I was quite busting at this point, saw the sign for ‘Femmes’ and hastily entered the room, only to find a man standing at the basin washing his hands who laughed at us and also shooed us out! Wilna and I, embarrassed, quickly left to check the sign on the door and sure enough we were right. The man came with us to check the sign…that’s when he realized his mistake, apologized in Spanish and left us to enter and do our thing in peace.
I have now learnt to always carry a small pack of tissues with me wherever I go, as I have now discovered that many of the countries we visit don’t believe that you need to wipe after you use the toilet…or they just believe that one should provide their own paper! Quite the shock when you aren’t prepared!
Another pleasant experience is what I like to call the ‘squatty potty’ – quite common in Morocco. These toilets are often uni-sex, of sub-hygenic conditions and quite often have roofs that make you feel as though you are Alice who just drank the mysterious liquid that makes you grow too big for the room, leaving your hunched over shoulders touching the roof before you even begin! Once you have finished your business, you must try to stand up (without knocking your head) to organize yourself, trying to touch as little of the place as you can, before filling the little plastic bucket under a small tap protruding from the side of the wall to delicately pour down the small hole in the floor, leaving the room in even more pristine condition than how you found it. What an experience.
Of my favourite experiences, is the ‘bush bathroom’. The situation changes of course depending on the scenery at the time, the time of day and the company we have! I have to say with all honesty that these are my favourite kind of bathroom when travelling around; you can walk for as long as necessary to find your perfect place to take a few mintues with nature. Unless of course we pulled the truck up along side of the road where there are absolutely no trees, no shrubs, and no rocks, nothing to conceal you or give you any privacy what-so-ever. In these situations, of which there have only been two, the girls call which side of the truck they prefer and behind the wheel of the truck is the prime pozzie!
Another memorable experience was all but 500 metres beyond the Mauritanian border crossing, where the truck pulled up amongst the piles of rubbish and rusting, burnt out old cars, next to a large mound of rocks and litter. Once again, I was absolutely busting and was the first to rush behind the mound to visit the ‘ladies room’. The other girls must have been just as needy for a stop, as I was stopped mid-stream by Suzanne and Elisa running behind the mound to join me. Wilna soon appeared and before we knew it, the four of us had let our inhibitions go and were peeing in unison, behind a pile of rocks, just inside the Mauritanian border. Who would have thought?!
There are times when some or all of the small shovels that live behind a bar on the door of the truck are AWOL, indicating that other Trail members are finding their own bush bathrooms. At times such as these, one definitely does not want to suddenly see themselves faced with the embarrassing situation of stumbling upon another person. For this reason, and to allow all African Trail members to ‘go in peace’, I have very discreetly decorated three long sticks that have affectionately been named ‘Dumpy 1, 2 and 3’. These can be taken out on early morning wanders and placed just before a spot of choice as a clear indication to steer well clear. This new process of using Dumpy has been absolutely flawless and proves to be an improvement to the bush bathroom situation…as long as the modestly decorated sticks endure life on the truck!
I am sure there will be many more interesting situations and experiences to come as we continue our travels…but however interesting the situations, I’m sure we can always look back on them with a smile and sometimes an appreciation that we will never have to go back there again!

Who? Emy Mitchell, the tall elegant Australian girl by Orm's (bearded) side - who does NOT appreciate flat geography.

What? This ethereal beauty of distant Sri Lankan descent, a tiny sparkle on her face (check the left profile), a gorgeous giggle, and the most amazing innocence in dealing with people. Our reminder on the trip of what life is without cynicism.

Where? Roxby Downs (It may, may - may just be on Google Earth, but if not, get a detailed map of South Australia, look for the driest place and the reddest sand

Tattoos? Too indecisive as to where, when, what and why...

Three Wishes? 1. For every meal on every trip to be her best.
2. To have Orm personally fan her every night on the trip.
3. For there to magically be a fresh water river around the corner every week or so.

Drifting Daisy writes on her blog

A small extract as a taster for you to go read more in Suzanne's blog:

...The next day we drove into Layounne to fill the trucks fuel tanks, all together just under 2,000 litres, and stock up on food for 3 days before heading across the desert.

A fresh trail of sweat rolls down my nose moments after wiping my face.

Feeling glued to the seat from the pool of sweat gathering under my bum I shuffle trying to get a breeze to dry out.

The tarp flaps noisily behind me as I stare out across the barren land flying past.

Its been the same for a good 30 minutes or more now; rocky with a scattering of sand and pitiful looking shrubs. I force down another gulp of the coldest water I can find. Mmm just like drinking bath water.

We’ve been driving across the Western Sahara for 2 days now. It seems like forever ago we’ve had a shower, we’re all a filthy sorry sight. My knotted mingy hair whips crazily in the wind, more sweat pours down my face and I smile. Its one of those smiles that you can feel in your stomach, deep and overwhelming. I’m constantly hit with that feeling of utter happy peace. I’m here, I’ve done it. Its been nearly 15 years since I knew I wanted to see Africa and no amount of a sweaty bum is going to ruin a single moment of this dream....

Who? Suzanne Miller, the creative, innovative, practical, joyous, raucous one who likes a good time, is caring, bold, outspoken, mischievous, dance-floor dominator
What? The cleaner, the organiser, the housekeeper of the truck
Where? Squamish Canada, The Pink Palace Corfu, wherever there is fun and laughter and a place to realise her dreams
Tattoos? live love laugh, Truth, Strength
Dreams? She's living them...

Seydou Keïta -- and inspiration.

As I have always concentrated on taking photographs of people during my travels, (OK -- so I like taking photographs of cattle too...) and in particular close-up portraits of the people who cross my way, you can imagine my big frustration thus far into my journey through Africa has been the fact that the sight of a camera, no matter how surreptitious, is enough to elicit anger/protestations/verbal abuse/shaking heads and wagging fingers. I sometimes manage to get a sneak pic that is reasonable, albeit from a distance and at somewhat strange and questionable angles, but detailed and perfectly lit portraits are denied me. And believe me, a big frustration this most certainly is! I am finding myself in a world where every moment offers the perfect model for the most perfect shot. The bright colours of the clothing against the gleaming black skins of these beautiful people in this perfect clear light are crying out to be photographed. If only the people were happy for me to do so!

So you can imagine my delight when a good friend sent me a message earlier today to remind me to look out for the work of surely the greatest portrait photographer Africa has produced -- Seydou Keïta. He has had the privilege to have people come to him to be photographed -- willing and eager models, but he also had the unique gift to capture the essence of Africa -- the colour and the energy and the vibrancy of this continent's people, in black and white -- a true master of his craft.

The great African portraitist Seydou Keita lived in Bamako, Mali from 1921 to 2001. A self-taught photographer, he opened a studio in 1948 and specialized in portraiture. Seydou Keita soon photographed all of Bamako and his portraits gained a reputation for excellence throughout West Africa.

His numerous clients were drawn by the quality of his photos and his great sense of aesthetics. Many were young men, dressed in European style clothing. Some customers brought in items they wanted to be photographed with but Keita also had a choice of European clothing and accessories - watches, pens, radios, scooter, etc. - which he put at their disposal in his studio. The women came in flowing robes often covering their legs and their throats, only beginning to wear Western outfits in the late 60s.

Seydou Keita worked primarily with daylight and for economic reasons took only a single shot for each picture. No photoshopping. No wide angle lenses. No light filters. Just a single perfect shot to capture the soul of a person.

Seydou Keita was discovered in the West in the 1990s. His first solo exhibition took place in 1994 in Paris at the Fondation Cartier. This was followed by many others in various museums, galleries and foundations worldwide. He is now universally recognized as the father of African photography and considered one of the greatest photographers of the 20th century.

It’s easy to take a photo, but what really made a difference was that I always knew how to find the right position, and I never was wrong. Their head slightly turned, a serious face, the position of the hands... I was capable of making someone look really good. The photos were always very good. That’s why I always say that it’s a real art."

Seydou Keïta’s photographs eloquently portray Bamako society during its era of transition from a cosmopolitan French colony to an independent capital. Initially trained by his father to be a carpenter, Keïta’s career as a photographer was launched in 1935 by an uncle who gave him his first camera, a Kodak Brownie Flash, which he had purchased during a trip to Senegal. During his adolescence Keïta mastered the technical challenges of shooting and printing; he later purchased a large-format camera. The larger format not only offered an exceptional degree of resolution, it also made it possible for Keïta to make high quality contact prints without the aid of an enlarger. In 1948 he opened his own studio in Bamako and he quickly built up a successful business. Whether photographing single individuals, families, or professional associations, Keïta balanced a strict sense of formality with a remarkable level of intimacy with his subjects. Like many professional photographers, he furnished his studio with numerous props, from backdrops and costumes, to Vespas and luxury cars. He would renew these props every few years, which later allowed him to establish a chronology for his work. Keïta commented on his studio practice,

“It’s easy to take a photo, but what really made a difference was that I always knew how to find the right position, and I was never wrong. Their head slightly turned, a serious face, the position of the hands . . . I was capable of making someone look really good.”

Keïta went to exceptional lengths to bring out the beauty of his subjects and the brilliant patterns of his backdrops proved a particularly effective foil. He worked intuitively, reinventing portrait photography through his search for extreme precision.
In 1962 the newly installed Socialist government made Keïta its official photographer; shortly thereafter he closed down his studio, although he remained active until his retirement in 1977. His archive of over 10,000 negatives was gradually brought to light in the early 1990s; Keïta has since achieved international recognition. Inventive and highly modern, his emphasis on the essential components of portrait photography—light, subject, framing—firmly establishes Keïta among the twentieth-century masters of the genre.

Birthday Pantalon Party and Super Surprises!

My birthday was something quite unique -- I shared the day with a group of people whom I had never even met only seven weeks ago, in a place which is so alien to my 'normal' environment, at least 12 000 kilometres away from the nearest of my family and friends, everyone was dressed in their own favourite West African pair of pants, and yet it turned out to be one of the best birthdays of my entire life.

There was singing every hour or so (yes, what goes around, comes around... but I LOVED it!), there were the most generous gifts starting the night before at The Diplomate Club (thank you Andrew -- the sweetest gift), a mancala game, handcarved (!), gifts of Mali fabric (!!), a harmonica with microphone (!!!) -- a bottle of Sapphire Blue and enough tonic to last -- well -- a while , and then of course, there was the feast of the pig on the spit! Never before has there been a pig that tasted to good! Mark and Orm and Ben coddled it through the hours necessary to get the crackling crisp and melting in the mouth and the meat so tender that when it came to the carving, the meat just fell off the bones. Ben and Orm had also spent a few hot hours in the kitchen concocting a stuffing of gourmet quality -- Ben's Nana would be proud of him! Pork fat, bread, onions and herbs put through the meat grinder and resulting in a superb stuffing. Added to that the roast potatoes, the salad, the apple sauce and the honey and mustard gravy -- wow! fingerlickin gooooood!

(also see Kyle's photographs of the actual slaughtering of the sow)
And then came the cake -- a deliciously layered white and chocolate and cream cake with a birthday wish piped on top, three candles and -- the RED BUTTON! And yes! It most definitely was a red button moment to remember for all time!

And added to all that:

At the same place we are staying, are two young guys from Holland -- in a converted military vehicle, who are travelling almost exactly the same route as our intended route -- hence their hold-up here, like us, hoping to obtain passports to countries quite reluctant these days to issue visas of any kind to anyone.

Erik and Frits are charming, adventurous and innovative - true explorers of our time. They had spent 6 months preparing for this trip -- down to the minutest detail of their van's design and construction, their route and the possible and probably hiccups along their way. (Do have a look at their blog-- it is in Dutch, but beautifully written and makes for fascinating reading -- and if you have the time, also click on: http://www.feikesantbergen.nl/fotodl/AFRICA%20Project-H.264%20LAN.mov - a short film clip made of them and for them by a film-maker friend).

The first night I chatted to Erik, it turned out that he had done the same course in Holland that Kelly had done in Port Alfred, and as she had gone to Holland for her 6 month practicals, Erik had gone from Holland to Port Alfred for his -- what a small, small world! It also transpired that

Erik is a 'street artist' and of course I said that he would have to do a performance for us one evening here at the camp.

So, where is all this going?

On my birthday, as we sitting around enjoying the balloons and the aromas coming from the spit and drinking pre-dinner toasts to our good fortune -- as one does on a hot afternoon in beautiful Africa -- Erik came up and said:

'As a street artist, I have never performed in front of people. I usually work late at night when there is no one around, and my preparations I do in the privacy of my studio, but, as it is your birthday, Wilna, I will make a huge exception for you today and give you a birthday gift today by performing for you".

Need I say that I was overwhelmed?

Erik came with all sorts of interesting looking things -- a large piece of plywood to work against, a portfolio of various pre-prepared stencils, an aerosol can of black paint, latex gloves - and a wide smile. And he set to work.

First he prepared various pieces of artists' paper by sticking them together carefully and onto the plywood with masking tape. He then started spray painting, and, after quite a tense while, when he peeled off the top layers of paper, the result was two long-fingered very fine-detailed hands in an almost-pyramid shape at the bottom of the sheet. He offered this to me -- "I know you like to buy paintings from artists before they have finished them. Would you like to have this now, or do you wish me to finish the piece?"

I laughed. So true. I much prefer 'unfinished' paintings when the artist's vision is clear but before he adds too much and spoils it by over-painting the actual core of the piece.

"No -- this time I want it to be finished!" I said. I was far too inquisitive to see what else was going to be there with the interesting long fingers. I knew it would be worthwhile, this time, to have the artist finish. Also, I wanted him to continue the whole intricate process of his art form.

More layers of pre-prepared stencils, more very meticulously placed and taped pieces of paper, more spray painting, careful peeling and voila! The chef d'oeuvre at the end --

"You said Madiba was close to your heart..." -- a laughing and joyous Nelson Mandela!

What a very very special birthday gift!

What a very very special birthday!

Please give yourself a gift too and go look at some of Erik's work -- http://www.flickr.com/search/?w=all&q=ESFP&m=text

The Mali Easter Bunny visits our campsite

Amazing how, even in darkest Africa, the Easter Bunny knows where to go lay its eggs!
(Let's just hope everyone wakes up and find the little nests at the foot of their beds before the African sun melts the chocolate!)

The background of Mali and the Mandinka culture in a nutshell

Everybody loves a fool, but nobody wants him for a son.

- Malinke proverb

The Mali Empire or Mandingo Empire or Manden Kurufa was a West African empire of the Mandinka from c. 1230 to c. 1600. The empire was founded by Sundiata Keita and became renowned for the wealth of its rulers, especially Mansa Musa I. The Mali Empire had many profound cultural influences on West Africa, allowing the spread of its language, laws and customs along the Niger River. The Mali empire extended over a large area and consisted of numerous vassal kingdoms and provinces. The Mali Empire grew out of an area referred to by its contemporary inhabitants as Manden.

The empire was originally established as a federation of Mandinka tribes called the Manden Kurufa (literally Manden Federation), but it later became an empire ruling millions of people from nearly every ethnic group in West Africa.

The Mali Empire covered a larger area for a longer period of time than any other West African state before or since. What made this possible was the decentralized nature of administration throughout the state.

The Mali Empire reached its largest size under the Laye mansas. Al-Umari, who wrote down a description of Mali based on information given to him by Abu Sa’id ‘Otman ed Dukkali (who had lived 35 years in Niani), reported the realm as being square and an eight month journey from its coast at Tura (the mouth of the Senegal River) to Muli (also known as Tuhfat).

Umari also describes the empire as being south of Marrakesh and almost entirely inhabited except for few places. Mali's domain also extended into the desert. He describes it as being north of Mali but under its domination implying some sort of vassalage for the Antasar, Yantar'ras, Medussa and Lemtuna Berber tribes. The empire's total area included nearly all the land between the Sahara Desert and coastal forests. It spanned the modern-day countries of Senegal, southern Mauritania, Mali, northern Burkina Faso, western Niger, the Gambia, Guinea-Bissau, Guinea, the Ivory Coast and northern Ghana. By 1350, the empire covered approximately 439,400 square miles (1,138,000 km2). The empire also reached its highest population during the Laye period ruling over 400 cities, towns and villages of various religions and elasticities. During this period only the Mongol Empire was larger.


The Mandinka migrated west from the Niger River basin in search of better agricultural lands and more opportunities for conquest. During this expansion, they established their rule from modern-day The Gambia to Guinea. They were probably one of the original groups that inhabited the ancient city of Jenné-Jeno. The Mandés founded the empire of Kaabu, comprising twenty small kingdoms. Some upper-class or urban Mandinkas converted to Islam during the reign of the great Mansa Musa (1312–1337 AD).

The majority of the Mandinka were still animists at the beginning of the 18th century. Through a series of conflicts, primarily with the Fula-led Kingdom of Fouta Djallon and amongst sub-states of the Kaabu, about half of the Senegambian Mandinka were converted to Islam while as many as a third were sold into slavery to the Americas through capture in conflict. Today, the majority of Mandinka are Muslim. A significant portion of African-Americans in North America are descended from Mandinka people.

In eastern areas (northern Cote d'Ivoire, Burkina Faso and Southern Mali), Mandinka communities are often built around long distance trade routes. These people, often called Dyula after the Mandé word for “merchant”, built communities in trading centers, spaced along trade routes, and near mining and agricultural centers, beginning during the Mali Empire. These merchant networks formed the lynchpin of trade between the desert-side upper Niger River cities (Djenné and Timbuktu, for example), highland production areas (the goldfields of Bambouk or agricultural centre of Kankan), and the coast. This last link became more important with the advent of Portuguese and other European trading posts in the 17th century, and much of the overland trade connecting the coast and interior (including the African slave trade) was controlled by Dyula merchants.

An impressionist painting of my African birthday

And last night, after a delicious meal at the Baffi Bistro, we first attended a Dogon music concert at the cultural centre -- enough drumming to get the adrenaline going, and then went on to the Diplomate -- how perfectly planned is that? -- where the world-remowned kora player, Toumani Diabaté played for us and everyone danced and danced and allowed the music to carry them away.

Early this morning Ben and Kyle and Orm went off to the pig farmer who provided our pig for the roast. The spit roast we were to have the other night was postponed to today -- for my birthday celebrations -- lucky me!!, so the 50+kg sow was slaughtered this morning, brought to the campsite, where a hole had already been dug for the fire and the wood already chopped -- thanks to Jescoe. Our sand mats make up the framework of the spit - very clever. Mark secured the pig to a spit with wire, scored the skin, massaged in salt and oil (is there such a thing as Kobe Pork? -- well, there is now!) and set her up. The aromas are wafting this way and making my mouth water, as we speak!

More later...

The run-up to an African birthday!

Mali magic 3 : Discussing the price of leather -- in between prayers

Mali magic 2 : The local hair salon

Mali magic 1

A few more West African images : Markets, magic, music and the colour of joy