Guinea

Visited: January 2009

Duration of visit: 12 days

Capital city: Conakry

Population: 10 million (2009)

Guinea travel blog reading time: 11 minutes

• Legendary trip from the Guinea-Bissau border to Labe: a river crossing in a bush taxi and getting stuck at a checkpoint at 1:00.
• Trekking Grand Canyon in Fouta Djallon: rock formations, waterfalls, descent in a canyon and breathtaking sunset.
• Conakry’s history of dictatorship and corruption makes it one of West Africa’s least appealing capitals.
• Charity project with kids in Brouadou.

Guinea was part of my three-month trip to West Africa in 2008-09, from Morocco to Ghana.

Guinea (or Guinea Conakry) is often seen as a classic African failure story. The northern mountains are linked by terrible roads, and most people in Conakry live in slum conditions, making the capital difficult for travelers.

Upon gaining independence from France in 1958, Ahmed Sékou Touré became the first president. He ruled with violence and repressive measures until 1984, when he died unexpectedly. With a swift coup, Lansana Conté rose to power, which he successfully defended until his death in 2008.

Despite the extraordinary reserves of aluminum ore, the economic situation of this devastated country into which Touré plunged it, has not improved. He was succeeded by a military junta led by Mouss Dadis Camara, which soon lost control of the country and responded with aggression to peaceful protests in the capital. Ongoing instability remains a significant contributor to poverty.

Guinea is predominantly an Islamic country, with Muslims representing 85 percent of the urban population. In contrast, the rural areas are home to people of twenty-four different ethnic groups.

Guinea is very rich in natural resources: diamonds, gold, and 25% of the world’s bauxite reserves. Most diamonds are still smuggled out without state control. I haven’t seen this wealth help ordinary people. The country remains among the poorest, with much of the population working in agriculture.

When it comes to tourism, Guinea doesn’t offer many landmarks, classic attractions or memorable things to do. Instead, it gave me unconventional and difficult adventure, demanding a lot of patience.

Guinea was part of my three-month trip to West Africa in 2008-09, from Morocco to Ghana.

I quickly completed the border formalities when crossing from Guinea-Bissau. Soon after, I was seated in the next Peugeot sept-place bush taxi that would take me to the first major village in Guinea for just a few Guinean francs. On this occasion, the waiting time to fill up the vehicle was less than an hour and, apart from military checkpoints, there were no significant inconveniences.

The settlement of Saraboydi was not my ultimate destination for the day; I still had another 15 kilometers to travel to reach the village of Koundara, where I planned to spend the night. By the time we arrived, it had been dark for several hours, and the clock was approaching 9:00pm.

All in all, over the last twelve hours I managed to travel just 95 kilometers. It took a great deal of patience, hours of waiting, driving on potholed roads, and, aside from a hearty breakfast, almost no food along the way.

Welcome to Guinea!!!

… but it can take some time.

Koundara was only a stopover on the way to Labe, a town for which I have to face another 250 kilometers of tough road through the mountains. I was ready for the trip early in the morning and separated my spot in a bush taxi before 7:30am. At 10:00am all places in the car were finally sold; we started the driving adventure.

Our car was in solid condition, while the experienced driver was full of confidence, smoothly avoiding numerous potholes. I had a strategic position next to the window in the front row with two passengers between the driver and myself. Everything seemed perfect.

Who would have thought we’d reach Labe, 250 kilometers away, only the next morning – 23 hours later?

What did go wrong?

Approximately at midday, we reached a large river, which is generally crossed using a raft. A kind of primitive system that moves the raft, loaded with vehicles and people, from one bank of the river to the other solves the basic problem of crossing the river. The raft is tied to a strong steel wire and pushed or pulled with a mechanic mill. The truck in front of us unfortunately fell of the raft and sunk in the river, right on the raft line, blocking the transit to other cars.

After five hours of calm, unproductive and comical attempts to pull the truck out of the water, our driver finally decided that it would be much better if we drive our bush taxi one kilometer upriver where the river level is lower and it may be possible for us to push the car to the opposite side without relying on the dysfunctional raft.

We took our shoes off, rolled up our pants and started to push the car toward the other side through the river. With so many locals that came to help us, I focused more on my own stability and walked carefully to avoid slipping on slippery rocks.

Our car was moving well and successfully overcame all obstacles in 5 minutes. I couldn’t understand why we were waiting the whole afternoon to use the alternative route.

When we finally arrived at the last military control 8 kilometers before Labe, it was already 1:00am. The soldiers were tired, bored and eager to sleep, the cold was creeping up even in these, usually warm places. During the routine check-up, it was determined that one of the passengers was traveling undocumented.

The uniformed man went nuts, closed the ramp and retired to his barrack for rest. We didn’t have any choice but wait until 6:00am, before they let us through without the undocumented passenger. We finally reached Labe at 7:00am.

I was desperate to lay down in a warm bad. It had been a long time since I appreciated so much a simple bed in a basic hotel, covered myself with fresh linens and cozy blankets.

In the northern part of Guinea, I settled down in a village of Doucki to explore Fouta Djallon – a mountainous region with some of West Africa’s greatest rivers, canyons, stepped sandstone plateaus and pleasant people. My host was Hassan, a famous guide – owner of a couple of huts, where random visitors are welcome to settle down, try local food and relax.

I walked around, up and down to Guinea’s Grand Canyon – a fantastic canyon that descends 600m in depth, several kilometers in length and 3 kilometers in width.

Accompanied by a local guide, I ventured into the depths and later climbed the rocks in makeshift ladders over the waterfalls. It was hot and the water perfect for a swim and relaxation.

The next day we explored a few smaller canyons, climbed over spectacular rock formations, and wandered among wild, unusual structures. The highlight was reaching the edge of the canyon to watch a breathtaking sunset, completely alone and surrounded by nature.

With my legs dangling 600 meters above the canyon’s precipice, I realized that Guinea has something exceptional to offer – the most outstanding hiking in West Africa.

During the trek, I was especially amazed by the older locals I met along the way. Even at a very advanced age, they climbed over rocks and up primitive rope ladders in simple shoes, carrying heavy loads on their heads as if it were nothing.

The valley by the river is home to several smaller villages. The inhabitants are mainly engaged in agriculture. Due to the difficult accessibility, goods from other environments are very limited. It is almost impossible for them to transport crops that could be sold in neighboring villages.

Conakry was probably the only capital city in West Africa where I was feeling uncomfortable walking around in various areas.

Close to the city center I could see people cooking in improvised stoves, burning wood and charcoal to make fire and living in extremely basic conditions without running water and proper sewage system. The general atmosphere was tense, and political changes with army uprising at that moment didn’t help.

I don’t remember any remarkable places to visit, attractions, or landmarks that truly caught my attention. I realized later that I had taken almost no photos.

My main goal was to get a visa for Mali and move on to the countryside.

Mission Catholique offered me inexpensive accommodation right in the center of the town, next to the main market. Simple, but clean and inexpensive rooms were quiet, attracting many fascinating guests to chat with. I didn’t dare to leave the guesthouse after dark because of many police checkpoints.

I met Phillip, a retired and well-off Canadian volunteer who wanted to help a small community in the jungle near Kissidougou. He had already spent more than two months in Conakry trying to import a pick-up truck and get permission to use it.

The Brouadou project, in the southern area of the country, was set up by a group of nuns, trying to improve simple lives of local population, especially kids. I knew immediately that it was going to be a perfect place to cooperate with my idea of supporting children in this part of the world.

My plan was to gather money from my friends back in Slovenia, find a needed community of kids and somehow improve the quality of their education.

This could be through books, school supplies, or simple everyday items that would motivate them to keep studying.

It takes an entire day to travel by bush taxi from Conakry to Kissidougou. I booked a strategic seat in the front row of a bush taxi and, and to my surprise, the other eight spots filled up in less than an hour. When I was already comfortably seated and we were about to leave, a huge woman in army clothes jumped in front of the car and insisted to commute with us.

Our driver couldn’t say no. His taxi was the only transport available that day. My arguing didn’t help at all, and she ended up sitting right next to me, partly on top of me, for the next 14 hours.

It was a very uncomfortable but much less complicated trip than in northern Guinea. Because of our military escort, we were not even stopped at many checkpoints on the way. When soldiers at the checkpoints noticed my young neighbor in the car, a few polite phrases were exchanged, and the ramp magically opened.

We arrived late at night to Kissidougu, but the monks at the Catholic Mission were waiting for me with a warm dinner and a clean bed.

The next morning, Sister Justine, a French-Canadian who speaks excellent English, picked me up. Beyond the easy communication, her positive energy, open-minded attitude, and relaxed personality instantly connected us. She studied in Canada but later chose to return to her parents’ homeland to help the poorest.

The admiration was mutual; she couldn’t believe that I came to the village with the purpose of donation and volunteering, while I couldn’t understand how she managed to set up the project in such a beautiful, but tough environment.

Brouadou is located 12 kilometers from the town of Kissidougou. With a population of about 1,800 people, most of whom rely on simple farming, the village is a typical African community surrounded by lush vegetation. Electricity and plumbing are projects of the distant future, the basic education in primary school is organized by local dignitaries, volunteers and charities.

The 20-minute drive to this fantastic village felt like pure joy. Moving through the dense tropical rainforest, I was feeling excited about what waited for me there.

Over the next few days, I participated in the production of clay bricks and helped with other simple tasks. Most importantly, I purchased books, notebooks, and school supplies for school and preschool children.

In a class of 20 to 30 children, only the teacher had a book. With the money I raised back in Slovenia, I was able to buy more than 100 books and hand them out to the students. Together with the school principal and Sister Justine, I bargained hard in the local bookstores.

My simple message to the bookstore owners was the following:

“Discount is not for me, but for kids. My money is limited. If you can add an extra pen, pencil or book, it will be for kids, not for me!”

Vendors understood my proposal and we managed to supply even more school utensils for the same amount of resources.

When coming back to school, the joy was endless. From now on, everyone will have books for French language and at least five books will be available in all classrooms for all other school subjects. There will also be football balls, pencils, chalks and simple tablets on which to write.

I managed to raise enough funds to provide the school with more than 200 children with the basic supplies they needed. With that, I knew my mission in Guinea was complete.

FARO donation initiative in Guinea is part of FARO, a voluntary program fully funded by donors. It aims to improve life for marginalized children in developing countries. You can learn more about FARO by reading the information at this link.

Guinea was one of the most difficult countries to travel around West Africa. Political tensions, bad roads, problems in communication and arriving, or even traveling, at night, made the whole experience much harder. In the cities, the tension was even bigger, therefore I avoided them as much as possible.

The real highlight for me was the countryside, far away from the chaos. I loved the stunning nature of Fouta Djallon and the simple, meaningful activities at the Brouadou mission.

I ate simple and limited meals most days, and the waiting time for transport was often long or completely unpredictable. My best and most reliable shelter was the Catholic mission. Due to lack of comfort I appreciated every small piece of luxury: clean bed, good meal or comfortable seat in a shared vehicle.