The Dakar-Bamako Express
In my guidebook, the train between Dakar and Bamako was billed as one of Africa’s last great train journeys. The Malian train takes about three days to complete the 1225 kilometre journey. There is no defined schedule - a new departure time is set once the train arrives in a city.
I was on my way to the station for the scheduled departure time of 13.00 when we discovered that the Express had been delayed until 16.00 - not an unusual development. I returned to the flat, and went to the station at 15.00. After waiting for about an hour and a half I was told that the train was again delayed for repairs until 19.00.
A few minutes before the new scheduled departure time, the faded green and yellow cars of the Express inched into the station. Hundreds of passengers crowded on. Many were traders, mostly in the free-for-all seating of 2nd class, with their sacks of onions and rice and fabrics. First class seating has assigned seats, although admittedly with the same torn cushions and dirt as second class.
I had opted to splurge on my ticket, and had purchased couchette, which entitled me to one bed in a cabin of four. Each bed is comprised of a piece of hole-filled foam, about 7 cm thick, and an extremely diry cover sheet (everyone had brought their own linens). Ostensibly there is a restaurant car, but it was closed for this trip.
We had boarded the train by about 19.30, by which time the sun had set. There are no lights on the train until it starts moving, so we were in complete darkness, with only the malaria carrying mosquitoes and dozens of cockroaches for company (my compartment mate kindly pointed out all the creepy crawlies to me with her flashlight). As we were stationary, the heat continued to rise, the air was stifling, and I was a sweaty mess.
And we waited to depart.
And we waited….
And we waited….
At 23.30, after fours hours onboard the stifling dark train, and after several very pleasant conversations with the other incredibly tolerant passengers, I took a stroll along the platform to casually inquire (I say casually because there was no point in getting upset about anything; it was just as interesting to have a chat with someone) about what might be causing the delay. I was told by friendly officials (who first wanted to know where my husband was) that the train would leave once all the traders’ bags were loaded onto the train, and was assured this would happen before midnight. Inside the main terminal building, there were literally hundreds of sacks left to load, and a handful of men standing around them not doing much of anything.
And that, dear readers, was the end of my experience on the Dakar-Bamako Express. For in fact, I am a quitter.
I headed straight to the nearest telecentre and called Arona and Miriama and said that I wanted to take the plane to Bamako since the departure was not in sight.
I returned to the train to pack up my things and bid farewell to my brief travel companions. As I endured a walk of shame along the full length of the train, my hands full of water and food for the journey (which I gave away to the other passengers), many people who had set up rugs outside on the ground to lie and wait called to me: “Madame, are you leaving the train? Why?” I felt lazy and guilty as I had to explain that I didn’t have much time in Mali and the train probably wouldn’t arrive until very late Friday at the earliest (this was Tuesday). What a spoiled rich Westerner.
But once I got back to the flat, I felt much happier with my decision. I’ve taken long train journeys before, and I’ve met lots of local people on this trip so far, so I wasn’t missing my only chance to do such things. And, quite frankly, although I am taking this trip to some extent to be independent and adventurous, this just wasn’t any fun.
So first the eggs (see my first blog entry), and now the Express train - but I’m happy with the decision.
I took the Air Sénégal flight to Bamako yesterday. (The friendly people at the station even fully refunded my train fare!)
