There are times when you really have to question karma. This turned out to be one of those days.
The drive to the border from Tambacounda had been speedy, if a little hair-raising when we came across the occasional large pot hole at 140kmh. Formalities on the Senegalese side passed jovialy and easily, so around midday we headed across the bridge with great anticipation to Mali.
We failed at the first hurdle. Our driver had apparently failed to bring along any documentation attesting to his right to have the car. We were sent back to Senegal.
A few calls to Dakar and a long wait later we received a faxed letter from the owner giving the right permissions. Paper in hand we crossed for the second time into Mali. Trucks queuing at the border now filled both sides of the road for the mile strech to the Malian customs, leaving a narrow single track to negotiate with few passing places and plenty of donkey carts, pedestrians and of course on-coming lorries.
The Customs office, a delapidated building with a single row of antiquated desks, was packed with officials in a variety of ill-fitting uniforms and a crowd of assorted hangers on. The Africa Cup was in full swing and the office had one of the few tellies available at the border.
Apprently the fax should have been stamped by the Senegalese Police, and we were sent back across the border once more. Maybe we should have waited for half-time.
Several attempts to pursuade the local Senegalese police to authorise the document fell on deaf ears. Instead they insisted it wasn’t required. A return trip to try to pursuade the official in Mali with a little ‘encouragement’ also got us nowhere.
So, stuck in noman’s land, we reverted to calling Dakar for help. Apparently it would take about 2 hours to get the document faxed back with a police stamp. I am still unclear whether this would be real or forged, but it was our last option.
A quick scout around of the local shacks revealed no eateries of any palatable description. We resigned to sitting it out in the car, the shade of a nearby building providing little respite from the 35c heat.
On the positive side we had wi-fi access courtesy of the fax bureau, very much unbeknownst to them. iPhones in hand we caught up on emails and facebook updates.
Finally at 5 pm, with the ’stamped’ documents in hand, we headed back to Mali for the last time. Car authorised, visas stamped, we headed full tilt towards Kayes. We had agreed not to drive after dark and darkness was falling fast.
A little later than hoped and with a little help from the town’s folk we found a hotel for the night.
Tomorrow our week in Mali would begin proper.
