View of the spires from far far away
So, despite the mostly bemused objections of our villagers (‘lemme get this straight- you not only want to visit the spirit inhabited, toubab eating spires, you want to sleep there in toubab houses?!! (tents)’) we set off to climb these crazy cliffs and, inshallah, stay the night up there. Getting there was as much an adventure as actually climbing the mountain. Marielle and I cut down back paths from my site to meet with Ben and CJ. This entailed crashing through 6 foot high grasses that covered the path, gettin’ eaten up by tsetse flies but in turn eating some cooked straight on the coals corn with some friendly villagers along the way. Eventually we emerged from the mass of grasses, found our comrades and turned up back paths towards a town at the foot of the ridge called Dunkita. There we befriended a Jalunke man who offered to keep our bikes while we continued the rest of our journey on foot.
Next we climbed straight up the mountain to Marougou, a tiny Jalunke village at the foot of the spires. Marougou looks like, as Ben put it, a model West African village one might find in a cultural center or National Geographic. It is extremely poor but beautiful, a tiny cluster of huts and mango trees rimmed by the mountains of Guinea and the Spires. We found the village chief, gave him kola nuts, and asked if we could stay the night there. Our explanation of toubab houses really confused him but eventually he got the point and found a nice place for us to set up tents. As soon as we made camp though we were hit by a terrifying rain storm. Ben and I jumped in the tents to keep them from blowing away and Marielle and CJ were nearly hit by lightning as the rain through the rain on the way back from pulling water.
As the clouds cleared the Chief’s son, Sory, invited us into his hut to dry off and make tea. We passed the rest of the evening in there, drinking tea and swapping stories about Genies while the sun set over Marougou. We had brought rice and given the villagers some money so they could make us dinner, and finally an old woman came into the hut with a tiny little bowl. We opened it up and found fonio, a delicious West African grain, and peanut sauce. Though the portion was tiny we ate gratefully, thankful for anything they could give. This turned out to be just round one though, and as soon as we were done another woman came with another bowl of fonio. Then came dinner number three, fonio again, dinner number four of the rice we brought, and more fonio for dinner number five! Amazing! It turned out that all the women in the village were making us little dinners to welcome us, fattening up the travelers with true Senegalese hospitality.
The next morning we woke up early. And, with some kind prayers from the elders and thank you’s all around (‘I nin walli’ in Jalunke) we headed out. Some little boys from the village took as far as they dared to go and then we veered off into the bush, cutting a line through the bush with a machete. It took a few hours to reach the base of the spires but then the real work began. Two times we tried to summit, crashing our way through fields of stinging nettles and clamboring over boulders only to be stopped dead by the sheer, insurmountable walls of the cliffs. After the second time we figured we had maybe one more attempt left in us before exhaustion and our alarming water shortage got the best of us. So after eating soggy bread (soaked in the rainstorm the day before) and sardine sandwiches we set off. Eventually I crested a ridge and there it was, a high grass valley nestled between two huge but potentially climbable peaks. Marielle and I took one side and CJ and Ben took the other. CJ and Ben found a way up and eventually we all were at the top of the highest point in Senegal, the flatlands of Senegal stretching out forever into the horizon far beneath us. It was beautiful.
That night we played cards, rationed our tiny water supplies, and went to sleep early. We awoke in the middle of the night to a terrifying roar. Perfect Storm number 2 had rolled in and an unbelievable wind was tearing around the cliffs and making a noise like a dragon. It and the rain hit our tiny tents at the same time with incredible force. We all were starfished on the floors, praying that the wind wouldn’t pick up the tents and fling them off the edge of the mountain. The genies or whatever energy is found on the Spires were angry, but Alhamdoulilahi the storm finally passed and we lived through the night. We awoke the next morning to the sound of a million bees (genies round two?) but we hit out in our tents ‘till they had mostly flown away.
And thus ended our spires adventure. We climbed back down the mountain, greeted the Marougou villagers who all were quite happy to know we had survived the night, and then headed down the ridge to retrieve our bikes in Dunkita. For the Dunkita family who guarded our bikes we promised to bring children’s cloths and we’ll be printing pictures for our lovely Marougou hosts next time we pass through. For as crazy and fun as it was to climb the spires, the thing that has really stuck with me after our grand adventure was the kindness and hospitality of the people along the way. It is one fine fine place I am living in.
