12/26/2023 Bikepacking Senegal Day 140 : Who Wants to be a Millionaire?

Leaving the hotel, the air was fresh and cool. It was a good morning, seeing the Senegalese of Kedougou cycling to work. People were friendly here and by the looks of it, have invested well in their community. Each city seems to have a different standard of living, making it impossible to write generalizations about the country.

I did a “pre-stamp-out” here. Again, it was easy, though the guy lingered; I think he enjoyed having a visitor. Upon finding I was from “États-Unis,” he announced that he was going to sneak into the USA via Honduras.

Do you think it is a bit ironic that so many people who are in charge of protecting their borders are so willing to tell me that they are going to sneak into the USA? I’ve heard this dozens of times now!

I went to the Dindefelo Nature reserve next. You know that I’m always cautious visiting tourist locations, but this one was very well organized, and made for a superb visit! A local guide is required to visit the cascade. The falls used to be used as the place for local boys to recover after being circumcised (returning as “men”.). Now that this is a park, they go somewhere else to get their foreskin chopped off.

My guide, Djibril, looked like an aged Denzel Washington, he spoke some English and hiked quickly in his flip flops.

I spoke with his guide friend Ibra, who told me, “I learn about the United States in school. We study the US more than any other country, so I do not know much about Senegal; I have nothing to give.” Both guides were intelligent and relaxed; I appreciated Ibra’s introspection and how he said he had “Nothing to give,” with regard to information about Senegal. I told him why I loved his country, citing a bit about the sections I rode last week. He smiled with pride, “Senegal is easy,” he concluded.

As we were walking on the trail to the waterfall, women and children were washing clothes in the stream. A little girl saw me and said, “cadeaux”. The guide said something to her, and I asked him what the words meant.

“I told her not to do that. It is forbidden to ask for gifts.”

This is a topic I deal with every day, I confessed my inner turmoil on this. He replied:

“If they do not ask you for a gift, it is OK to give something. If they ask, it is forbidden.”

Wow. This is kind of what I have been doing instinctively. When someone yells out “give me gift!” or just “gift,” it seems selfish. But if kids are sweet and friendly, I really want to give them something (and have been doing that some recently). My only fear is that my acts might convert them to annoying pests. But maybe not. I’ve seen kids run away when adults come on the scene - they know they are not supposed to do this.

Further along, I met a guy who said he was a soldier. He had been to Sudan and Mail for fighting; he claimed the US had given Senegal M-46 weapons. Doing my best at fact-checking, I saw that these are old Soviet weapons… so maybe don’t believe everything you hear.

The stamp out of Senegal was quick. I asked the guy, “That is it? This is so easy.” He said, “why should it be difficult? We have a good life here! We must make it easy!” After reading so many horror stories about corruption at Senegal borders (requesting bribes and wasting your time), it’s a real joy to cross at this tiny border. That pretty much sums up the Senegalese way in my view: easy-going, relaxed, and unabashed.

The police guy nearby spoke French very slowly and clearly so I could understand; he explained everything, and found me a woman to exchange money with. Only problem was that she only had $9.00 USD worth, and I had to get rid of $234 worth!

The trail to Guinea was steep so I pushed. It IS possible for a 4WD vehicle to do this road (I saw one, and only one). It was an isolated stretch, so when an 18 year old ran up to me and started pushing on my bag, I was a little startled. He said he was here to help me. I told him “Je peux le faire!” (I can do it!). He grabbed the handlebar on one end and continued to walk with me. I told him I could do it… and then the wrestled the handlebar away from me completely! This wasn’t good. He seemed well intentioned. He kept saying in French, “This is difficult; I help you”. He was muscular, and this section was remote, but I forcefully grabbed the bike back. We had just come to a section that I thought was rideable - and I hopped on and powered it up.

If humans were animals, I’d definitely belong to the “run away” variety and not the “stand and fight” class. I saw in my mirror that my effort had distanced us. When I came to more rocks, I leapt off like a cyclocross racer and pushed, only to get back on to increase the gap. In my mirror, I saw him running - and faltering. He called out, “l’eau! L’eau!” (Water, water!) He looked fatigued, so I stopped. When he arrived, he was drenched in sweat. That surprised me, because I was dry. Guess living in Atascadero has some benefits!

I gave him a water bottle, and he drank… and drank… but then poured the rest of the precious liquid over his head! C’mon, buddy! By now, he was weakened so much, he no longer appear to be a threat. He was probably well intentioned, but way too aggressive.

The trail widened and came to a tiny village. I was already in Guinea for a while, but I could check in here. This is where I met with Morpheus from the Matrix. Not the real guy, but a serious looking officer who had the visage. He reviewed my papers silently. Then he asked, “did they charge you for this exit slip?” I told him no… wondering if he was looking for any possible corruption on the Senegal side. The next thing he said was,

“is 1976 really your birth year?”

“Yes.”

He peered into my face, “But you are not an old man,” he said.

I laughed.

He stamped.

“Welcome to Guinea,” he said.

And that was it! Until he later found me in the street and recommended taking the shorter route to Maliville. “For you, more good,” he said with a smile. He had kind of a mysterious way about him, but I trusted his recommendation.

Money changing was available! A police officer took me to a little hut and I gave the changer my 130,000 XOF from Senegal. That is about $202 USD. He was in the dark corner with a flashlight for a long time… counting… counting. I assumed that with the bills being of so little value, they would have big numbers. Well, when you’re trying to get to 1.8 million, 10,000 is NOT a big number! He came out with a scary thick stack of cash. I wondered, “that can’t all be for me..”. He handed me the pound of paper and said, “count it to make sure it is correct.”

Ok guys, being a millionaire is not for the arithmetically challenged. I have big hands, and they could not handle all of these bills. That was OK, because a couple onlookers and the police all grabbed some handfuls of the cash and started counting their piles respectively, confirming the original count. They handed their bundles to me, and that is how I became a millionaire.

I shoved the huge wad into my backpack and then had to retrieve confusing amounts for a cellphone card, then water, then a cellphone charge. It was a big day. A lot more happened, but I gotta get to bed!