Exploring Foutah Djallon
Hi BoBers,
Foutah Djallon is a mountainous region of Guinea renowned across west Africa for its natural beauty. But I’ve also been shocked by the pure friendliness and hospitality of its people.
We crossed the border by canoe. After we had our clearest experience of cyclist privilege so far, when a soldier asked us for a stamp fee (he didn’t even have a stamp) and his friend told him to let the sweaty and muddy travellers through because we’d “suffered enough already”. And we continued to suffer. At the shoulder of the wet season the humidity is 100% at night. Big storms roll through most evenings and everything is covered in mud. Nothing dries. Afternoons are the worst. 70% humidity and 35 degrees. It’s impossible to ride and so you sweat in the shade, constantly shooing little flies seeking refuge in your ears.
We stayed with a local, Talahatou, and his family for a couple of nights for the Muslim festival of Tabaski. There was an endless supply of food. As a recently relapsed vegetarian it was intense. Goats are slaughtered on the streets. Blood, meat and pelts everywhere. The goat head soup was too much for me.
Our friend had studied in Conakry and was back with his family until he could afford another year of uni. He had a very negative view of village life and Africa in general. It was hard to square with the hospitality we received, but we definitely get a biased picture as white guests. His picture of western life was biased as well. I’d love to write more about this dynamic later because I think it’s essential for understanding migration, which comes up daily here.
I’m reaching a part of the trip where my gear (and body) is starting to slowly falter. Bald tyres (after only 500km!), broken zippers, stuck cables, shifters, bottle holder and kickstand and a couple of lost toenails. I’m holding out for Freetown to fix what I can. After nearly two weeks on the road, we arrived in Labe, with a shopping list, relieved to have a place to rest.
Drowning in kindness (and sweat),
J&BoB
