01/01/2024 Bikepacking Guinea Day 146 : Tourist Time

I woke in a sweaty paralysis. My face was tingling and lips were numb. In the evening, my blood sugar had been 187, and even after a mega dose of insulin, 90 minutes later, it was higher. I dosed again and went to sleep. Luckily, I had put candies in my pockets because it seemed like an eternity just getting the sugar out of the wrappers. Time gets very slow for me when I’m hypo. After 3 candies and some recovery time, I measured 41. I’m lucky I woke up.

After this incident, I went out of my way into the town pf Pita - determined to get food other than bread, oranges, and bananas. My diabetes control has been awful since arriving in Guinea. I spent over an hour visiting many stalls.. and managed to get a jar of olives. I finally gave up and bought bread and oranges… but then as I was leaving town, the gas station had canned veggies!! I paid $5 each per can for two veggies and one fruit. Together, that is almost half the price of a hotel with electricity and a flushing toilet. There were also fried dough balls, potatoes, onions, fish, and rice at the market, but I have no stove, and sardines + bread is nutritionally equivalent to the fish and rice everyone here eats.

Today’s agenda had some exciting places to see; Doucki, the home of “the Grand Canyon of Guinea” and a large waterfall called Kambadaga Fals. I was excited. In the afternoon, as soon as I got to the last section of double track leading to the vista, a pack of kids came running. “c’est ici!” (It’s here!) They yelled over and over as they drew near. When they got to me, they jumped up on me and the bike like monkeys on a ladder. In an instant, one kid was sitting on my seat pack, dropping it to the tire, another on my seat, me straddling the bike, a girl in front of me on the top tube, holding both grips as if she were the driver. Another kid climbing up my bottle cages on the fork. Other kids were scrambling around us as the “passengers” shouted, “Allons! Allonz !” (Let’s go!). I kept telling them “no” as more scrambled to dogpile us. No adult was around to help me, I finally had to peel them off like cockroaches, two kids falling down in the process. They laughed, luckily, because after the “Emperor’s New Clothes,” I could imagine a tab accruing.

Mindlessly, I bolted down a nearby narrow trail. It was slightly downhill, so I could make distance as they chased.

And then it dead ended in brambles.

They came running, and I was trapped. Like a cornered animal, I turned to face them and roared, “NOOOOO!” It even echoed, I think. The kids went running, and I took a side trail to try and get back to the road and avoid them. But then more kids came from another side. They grabbed the bike too. I sprinted as best I could on the rocks, only able to finally escape thanks to downhill.

Alone, and on borrowed time at the viewpoint, I snapped a photo of the haze. You couldn’t see anything. I checked the satellite view for an alternative escape. I found one, but had used up too much time. The kids arrived and grabbed my bike, trying to take it back to the road. I wrestled it from their grasp and sprinted. Again. Up a rocky hill. I’m getting lots of VO2 workouts here. Although everyone here is a natural athlete, so far, I haven’t found anyone with exceptional endurance. So if I pedal hard enough for long enough… and don’t come to too many rocks, I can eventually escape these mobs. There is always one boy who lasts longer than the rest. If I took notes, I could become a “hidden talent” advisor for the Olympics.

When I got back to the intersection, I immediately had my answer to this behavior that I hadn’t seen in a long time: Two white people walking with their guide. I haven’t seen white people since Atar in Mauritania - 2 countries back.

The couple was Max and Leticia, and it was exciting to meet them! Just to be clear, I’m not blaming them or anyone else for the attack; it’s just that I constantly see this miscreant behavior around touristic areas in some developing countries.

Max is from the UK and works for UNICEF and Leticia does aid research; they both live in Dakar, Senegal (the big city in the West that I avoided due to traffic). They have been working there for a year now. Leticia spoke good French.

They told me that Dakar is the “hub” for all of the aid workers and journalists in West Africa. They emphasized that there were a lot of journalists. I think it makes sense, as Dakar has amenities that the rest of West Africa lacks. It was the one place in all of West Africa where I thought I could maybe get parts for my modern bike.

I asked them if they made lots of friends having been there for a year. “No, it is difficult with the Senegalese; they aren’t very friendly,” she said. Max rolled a joint and began smoking as she continued, “There is a lot of segregation there. We like to go to bars to socialize, and they like to socialize in their homes.”

I warned them about the kids ahead and asked if they experienced this on their travels. “No.. but we’re always with a guide.” I think that “child protection” is what you’re paying for when you get a guide here. And I don’t mean you’re paying to protect the children. The local guide here, Hassan, charges 50 euro to walk with you to the viewpoint that I rode to. Max and Leticia are on a circuit where the guide takes them many places. She acknowledged that they never met the person they paid… and the actual guide certainly receives only a fraction of what they paid. She paid attention to inequities, given her line of work.

The other day, I wrote to Vicki Carroll from Senegal, “it kind of feels like paradise here.” I meant that when I said it… but as you can see from Leticia’s comment, it’s not an accurate representation of “Senegal,” but instead a reflection of this cherry-picked route designed to avoid certain areas that are “also Africa”

Unfortunately, I blew it today on the route. As I headed towards Kambadaga Falls, some people would say, “give me money.” I told you that didn’t happen much in Guinea, but I guess it’s only because I had been to non-touristic places up until now. At the river, I saw women dressed up like models. Their makeup was perfect, and you really would have said they were beautiful. How did they get here? So clean and fancy on this mountain bike trail?

There was a rope across the road. I was told 20,000 admission to the party that was going on at the river I needed to ford. One guy walked up and accidentally told me the real price (10,000), and the other guys got upset because they were going to get double from me. I had already pulled out my wallet just to get past them, when I got irritated that the 20k guy was trying to scam me. A drunk guy with a ski mask over everything but his eyes walked up, and grabbed my bike and jerked it around roughly saying he would guide me for 20k. I said, “I am not lost, I just need to cross the river. It is not fair for you to charge me for a party that I’m just trying to go past.” The guy who mentioned the 10k real price (probably the only person not stoned or drunk) talked the others into letting me go, and I finally crossed the river with people everywhere. I had been half considering paying and going to the party to “experience Africa,” but when I saw all the alcohol and smelled the marijuana, the decision to carry on was the right one for me. Then I saw two forlorn looking white people at the party! 4 foreigners in one day! I just said “hi” as I pushed the bike past. The girl coaxed a smile.

Two ~15 year old boys found me on the trail leading away from the party. They were dressed up nicely in hip clothes. The one who was smoking said, “donne moi argent.” (Give me money). I said “pourqoi?” (Why?). He repeated, “donne moi argent.”

I’d had it. So many people today being rude. I let go, “Tout le monde me dit donne-moi de l'argent donne-moi de l'argent donne-moi de l'argent donne-moi de l'argent.” (Everyone says to me ‘give me money, give me money……’). They stared at me like I was some crazy old man, which I’m probably becoming. When I ended my tirade, the kid who hadn’t asked for money smiled and said, “ça va bien?” (Usually I interpret that to mean “it’s going well?” But I just typed it into my phone and it translated to “Are you alright?”). These kids really were dealing with a lunatic.

I’m not proud of how I acted there, but it’s just part of my long list of confessions. Littering - indirectly by handing it back to shop owners… and even directly some times when no other option exists. I’ve corrupted some kids by giving them candy… perpetuating begging by giving money to some people. Stiffing other beggars because they don’t say “please.” It’s just a sloppy inconsistent mess.

I looked forward to the peace of night and continued up the trail. Party-goers descending with 3-4 well dressed adolescents per motorcycle. And then a big Land Cruiser was stopped filling its tanks from jerry-cans. 4 Germans! The count is now 8 foreigners seen today. No wonder all the demands for money! Again, these Germans were great to talk to - and two of them were super experienced Africa travelers. I half considered returning with them to the waterfall viewpoint. Oh, right… with all the chaos, I didn’t even tell you about the waterfall! It might not look like much in the photos, but it was amazing! Like Saala falls yesterday, one you can only appreciate its magnitude in real life.

Thanks for reading all of that!