The customs procedure at Burkina Faso seemed to go smoothly, the officials were very nice and everyone was happy. Unfortunately we were directed to go in a certain route as we left and the Bedford took down another telephone cable outside the customs area. Everyone took a sharp intake of breath.Undeterred and perhaps practiced at this by now, Aubrey and team hastily and miraculously fixed it together and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
We drove until dark looking for a good place to camp. Supper was a ‘dig deep into the food box’ affair which we were glad to eat and finally in the dark we all gazed at the black sky and there were shooting stars everywhere on this night.
As often has been the case we awoke on Wednesday morning at the crack of dawn to a sea of little faces peering at us. All children, of various sizes, they stayed interested in us for a while and then slowly drifted off.
Burkina Faso has great place names like Ouagadougou and Grom-Grom but we are going today to Bobo-Dioulasso. Bobo-Dioulasso has a very famous market called the Grand Marche. As there is some business to do and food to buy, we also snatch 30 minutes in the market and which is heaving with activity and what we have become familiar with in terms of a local market. Exciting, claustrophobic and an attack on every sense.
Following this, the day’s drive through arid flat country side with images and sights which in many ways even a camera would find hard to capture.
Another and final border is close. We leave Burkina Faso and pull in for the night with the Ghanaian border in sight.
This is probably one of the worst night stops ever. We even have to sweep the rubbish out of the dust to find a clean spot to set up but everyone gets on with it and tea and beds are prepared.
In a cloud of red, red dust the next morning, we arrive at the ‘Welcome to Ghana’ sign. This is in English and in big letters over the entrance to the Customs and Immigration post. It feels so close to the final leg of the journey that we are both happy and sad at the same time, but, as a final hurdle, it turns out that we don’t all have visas to enter the country.It is agreed with Immigration that in order to obtain the visas we will drive to Wa with an official who will accompany us to the visa office and sort it out. This will involve additional costs and undoubtedly in-depth discussions, but we know it is possible.
For around 2 hours we drive on a sandy dirt road, sometimes a corrugated surface and potholes or half the road missing. You cannot stay on the right side of the road just pick your way through and everything passing does so in a cloud of red dust. Meanwhile we are pumping in dust which bellows in through every gap and moves around the bus.
The official is a smartly dressed young man in uniform who wears a hanky over his nose and tries in vain to keep clean. At some checkpoint we are also joined by a fireman who needs a lift. He is also very clean.
To further complicate the day’s events there is a loud bang from the tyre and we have a puncture. Fortunately we have just reached a tarmac road and this helps the repair considerably.
The fireman, the immigration officer and 3 police officers who were just passing by, plus the Sabre team, change the tyre. On we go but before we reach Wa it is obvious the radiator is leaking and after obtaining the visas this will also need fixing. On top of all this there is a presidential election on December 7th and the president is parading through Wa this afternoon. There is an air of chaos and excitement in the streets.
Meanwhile the practicalities of overland travel have to be dealt with well into the evening in an atmosphere of oppressive heat and dust. The final destination of the day, having obtained the visas and fixed the radiator was a village on the edge of Mole National Park, reached by a further drive on red dust roads in conditions which were challenging and apparently fun to drive on! There were also snakes on this road.
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