Departure from Mandiana
I depart from Mandiana customs checkpoint in the afternoon, leaving the now familiar surroundings behind. The road leads to Niani at the Malian frontier.
On the Road
To my astonishment, I find the road in much better condition than the ones I got used to since entering Guinea. At 40–50 mph, it seems easy to move on. A few checkpoints on the way, nothing spectacular; the usual 'pay 'n drive' method works well here.
The scenery has changed into savannah now. Grasslands and scrubs, a solitary baobab — no more the dense tropical jungle. Life in these areas is full of difficulties: no running water, no electricity, as in dark ages. People, though, can adapt to any condition forced upon them.
Arrival in Niani
We reach Niani at night close to 7:00 PM and my fuel is close to nil. Of course, Niani, the border town, must have fuel, I guess.
What I finally find is not the usual filling station. After crossing the town, which is not much of a settlement, I am directed to the 'station'.
I never can forget this scene — it is another milestone in a long road through Africa. In Niani, I find a petroleum-lit grass hut, a crooked set of timber poles, a straw-covered roof. Gasoline is filled from beer bottles of 0.7 liters, lined up in a row at the front of the 'gas station'.
So I fill 50 bottles of 'beer' gasoline at an inflated price. I don't even look for food — I need to continue to Mali this evening.
Border Crossing
I leave, with a lingering memory that will last forever. The evening brings some cool air. I sense the mighty river nearby. At a bonfire near the main road, I recognize the Guinean border guards who camp here.
They are the friendliest I ever found in Guinea. After receiving the exit stamp, I carry on. The dark road cuts through the middle of the bush beside the river.
Selingui Dam and the River
The Sankarani River, a tributary to the mighty Niger. The road is rough and dark. I slow to 10 mph, unsure if I can make it. I manage to cross the half-empty riverbed road, climbing the other side.
The road leads into grassland. A shimmering light, a line of plastic bags, and a checkpoint ahead. No one in sight. I honk the horn. It's 8:00 PM. A customs officer appears — we've reached Mali.
Mali Entry
I 'beg' the officer to let me through. He disappears to the hut, then returns back, removes the rope which serves as a barrier, and guides me to a grass makeshift hut. The policeman asks for the car papers and travel documents. I wait patiently. Eventually, I enter the hut and see three officials checking my International Yellow Vaccination Card.
They ask for proof of meningitis vaccination. That’s the delay. 5000 CFA later, I’m allowed to pass. I continue through the night.
God was gracious enough to let me come out to tell my story. At some stage, I was not sure if I could make it back home.