I am on it

It took a while but finally I could embark at the long awaited train. I entered in second class and I was shocked by the state the material was in. Seats fell apart, hugh gaps underneath the exit doors, everything very (very) dirty. Sometimes half of the seat was missing. Fortunately I had booked first class, I disembarked and walked to the front of the train. To my dismay things were not much better here. Though the car was devided in compartments, those still had to be shared by 8. I could stow my little bagpack overhead, but all other free space was occupied with all sorts of luggage of my fellow travelers. They took enormous amounts of luggage with them, ranging from sacks of potato to presents for the family abroad. If their strongest relative could carry it, they would take it. We were with 5 in our compartment, 2 older women who ocupied the whole other side with the 2 of them; a young woman (very good looking) with her child, occupying 3 of the 4 seats at my side and me occupying only the seat next to the isle. This was not all bad as I now could leave without trouble and, more important, stretch my legs into to hallway a bit. I had been looking forward to enjoying the views on the land while travelling through it. This could not be done by sitting in my seat, because the windows were to dirty to look through. For a view outside I had to stand in the aisle and look through the open window. I expected to catch some fresh air while standing there, this proved to be an incorrect assumption as the wind from outside was even hotter then the air inside.

The promised departure was 13:50, of course this was not met, actual departure was 17:00, so all in all a delay of 4 days and 7 hours, not bad on a lifetime. Although we left the station with an amazing speed of about 5 km per hour, I was relieved that we were finally going, I was fearing we would not leave at all. Soon our speed increased to 8 km/h and we reached Rufisque, 7 km from Dakar after one hour. This did not stay this way as we managed to reach Thies all ready after 3 hours and it lies at least 80 km from Dakar.

I tried to sleep a bit in my seat but did not succeed, to hot and to uncomfortable to sleep. At five at we stopped, because a cargo train ahead of us was derailed. When I found out at 7 I left the train to visit 2 guys from Burkina Faso, I met earlier, while waiting for the train at the station. We hung around the train in the shade and once in a while we bought some food or drinks frpm people of a nearby village, who used the occasion to earn some extra money. This was by far the best part of the traintrip. It was cool, loads of space and food, fresh drinks and nice people to share it with. Too bad we were not moving. At 12 we left, which was sooner than expected.

Later that day I found out I was not the only white guy (toubab or toubabou) on the train. I met my first non French Canadian, Paul. He was heading for Bamako to play the famous Malinese music and become a professional musician in Canada. He had taken the wise decision to to travel first class with a sleeper. He had been able to sleep well last night and only one other person was in his compartment.

At 19:00 we arrived in Tambacounda. Here 4 toubabs entered the train. Two of them ended up in my compartment, Alex and Michelle. Austrians on a 2 year bicycle journey from the north cape to the south cape. This was the first time they did not cycle to cover a distance with the exception of the boat from Sweden to Denmark. They proved very good company, but made our already full room, even more full.Since then I did not spend any time there anymore, but to get to my lukewarm water. I mainly stayed in the restaurant car. Do not think this was a luxurious place. It served a rice meal 3 times a day and you could get some cold beer and soft drinks. However it was better to get the food and drinks (cold bissap), from the local people at the stations where we stopped.

In the evening I saw 6 carriages lying upside down beside the track. Apparantly derailed once. All of a sudden more understanding for the at times excruciating low speed. During the second night someone came to fetch our pasports and put them in a plastic bag. We would have to retrieve them at the Senegalese border. Though I was sceptic about the efficiency, everything worked out smoothly. When stamped, they would call your name for s far they could pronounce it and you could collect it. The Mali customs officers came on board and checked passports while we were riding. Westeners should get their passports stamped in Keyes, the first stop in Mali. Stamping the document did not take more than 5 minutes, finding the place to get it stamped turned out more difficult. Luckily we made it back to the train before it left. Later that day I was not that lucky. I had bought an ice cold bissap and was talking with a lot of people, finishing with the guys from Burkina. When I started to look for some food, the horn of the train blew and the train set it self in motion. Before I could make it to the door of the last carriage 20 people were already hanging there to get in. I decided to run along side the train to a free door, but that was only to be found 5 carriages ahead. In full sprint I made it easily and jumped , under a loud sheer of the locals, onto the train.
The rest of the day not much happened. Although still not travelling with the speed of light, we arrived at Bamako at 2 at night.