When it comes to collecting passport stamps, ODT sports writer Alistair McMurran is a master. Recently, Mali became the 171st country or territory he has visited. Here is Part 2 of his journey.
Have you ever attempted to carry anything on your head? Most people in the West find it a hopeless exercise, as a book, shoe or any object falls off their head.
Africans find it easy and men, women and children are adept at carrying big loads on their heads.
It is all about balance and Africans do this perfectly.
That is why they make superb runners because their body position is perfect.
Women are the work horses of African society and are able to carry heavy loads on their heads.
Rural Africa is the real Africa. People do not have much money but they still like to travel.
No one heeds the recommended number of passengers for any vehicle. They pack them in on trucks, vans and buses.
We saw one bus loaded with luggage on the roof that was in danger of tipping over.
They even transport goats on the roofs of buses.
There are a few modern cars in the cities, but most of the vehicles are old and only kept mobile because the Mali people are skilled bush mechanics.
The cars, trucks and buses break down frequently. But that does not upset the placid Mali people.
They just lie down and sleep at the side of the road while the mechanics fix the problems.
Elizabeth Migliore, from New York, said that the most popular car in the United States today was the Mercedes Benz.
"It is also the case here in Africa," she quipped. "But they are 20 years older."
The Mali people are happy to accept the discards of the West. The old cars, trucks and buses are a means of cheap transport.
The horse or donkey drawn cart is a cheaper form of travel and has advantages because the animals always know the way home.
One man was asleep on his cart, safe in the knowledge that he would wake up when the donkey had taken him home.
The work animals form an important part of the economy of Africa.
"Any man who does not have a donkey, is a donkey," our guide Sory explained.
Sheep, goats and chickens mix with humans in the towns and have even infiltrated parts of the cities.
The camel express is a significant form of transport in the desert areas in the north of Mali.
We visited the Koro Village that was formed in the 17th century and still nestles beside the Niger River.
The houses consist of mud huts with sticks coming out the side so that they can be restored easily after the ravages of the rainy season.
A local guide showed us the mosque and the chief's home. It was a five-room house with holes in the roof and walls for light.
The village survives through millet farming.
It was full of activity with the women washing clothes by using a scrubbing board in the river.
They have a variety of utensils from silver tea pots, old pans, basins and empty tins.
The women carry all utensils in the basin back to the huts, balanced on their heads.
The children are friendly and hold your hand as they walk you through the village. The main road is tarsealed and smooth.
But once we left the highway on the road to Timbuktu it changed.
It was a difficult and bumpy ride on the clay and sandy road to Timbuktu.
There were sudden dips and bumps in the road and we had to hold on tightly to our seats to avoid hitting our heads on the ceiling as we negotiated them.
Our driver, Mamadu, had to swerve to avoid pot holes and take diversions off the road to avoid wet patches.
To break up the journey we stopped for a picnic lunch in the shelter of bushes to avoid the 38degC heat.
We drank Fanta and ate French bread with cheese and bananas.
It was a long drive and we still had another three hours left before we met the ferry that transported our Land Rover across the Niger River to Timbuktu.
We travelled in Mali at the edge of the rainy season and green grass was still growing at the side of the road. It becomes desert sand in the dry season.
We were pestered by persistent sales girls who wanted us to buy peanuts, cold drinks and other trinkets as we waited for the ferry to return from its 30min trip to the Timbuktu side of the river.
There was a bus, three vans like our one and a small truck on the ferry as we crossed to Timbuktu.
It cost the locals 1500 Central African Francs (about $NZ15) for the 8hr journey from Mopti to Timbuktu.
On top of the piled up luggage on the truck were two live chickens hanging over the edge with saliva coming out of their mouths.
The owners were lucky there were no animal activists on board.
One chicken died and a Muslim man dressed in his white robes threw it into the river and lifted the other chicken to a more comfortable spot on top of the luggage.
There was an older man with a white beard and wearing a turban who just sat in the bus.
Three boys were coming home to Timbuktu for the holidays from their school in the capital, Bamako.
There were two teenage girls listening to transistors and copying the western make-up look.
The younger Mali people use modern gadgets like cellphones.
There was a steep climb off the ferry and the bus nearly toppled over as the driver accelerated up the slope.
We drove to the town along a causeway that had been built by Libyan money donated by Colonel Muammar al-Gaddafi.
It was lined with Australian gum trees. It was hot.
There was a swimming pool at the hotel and we all had a swim after a dinner of beer, soup, an omelette and an orange.
The water was warm and bats skimmed across the top of the water.
