The saddest journey in the world is the one that follows a precise itinerary. Then you're not a traveler. You're a f@@king tourist. - Guillermo del Toro

20 December 2019, Taiama to Mathoir, 69.8km
Meadowlands Guest House 50,000LLE (R73)

“Hey white boy, where you going?” This is not the first time I have been mistaken on the bike for a man. With my shirt hanging loose, my head and face largely hidden, and the EXPECTATION of seeing a man not a woman, perhaps this is understandable. Yesterday, however, Charl and I had both dismounted in search of a soft drink. We bought cool fluids from a Liberian woman eager to go back home. While Charl was hunting down a cigarette, I was approached by a young man who asked if Charl was my husband. I said no, and asked why he asked. He said, indicating the small group behind me, that they wondered if I was a man or a woman! I managed to thoroughly embarrass him by cupping my breasts and asking if I looked like a man. I mean, really…
Today, instead of the usual “boomyi” chanted in excitement by tens of kids in every village we pass, kids began to chant “apoto”. We had asked our Taiama lunch companion yesterday what “boomyi” means and he had confirmed our assumption that it means “white”. He was very careful to point out that the term was merely an observation, not intended to be insulting in any way. We set his mind at rest, saying we had not taken offence and that in most African countries through which we have passed, kids, and adults on occasion, call out a word denoting our colour. Anyway, today Charl asked someone what “apoto” means (I had assumed kids wanted their photo taken!), and was told it means “we praise you because you are white”. I found this extraordinarily disturbing, and later came to reject it as being unlikely. It probably simply means “white” and shows only that we have moved into a different language / tribal area. We’ll check it out… [Confirmed - it simply means “white” in the Temne language.]
Today’s scenery was more open and marginally less green. We broke for lunch, rice and cassava leaves, in Yonibana, then cycled on to Mothair, hoping to find accommodation as 70km was all we cared to do in the humid heat. We were told there was a guest house, but that it was not yet completed and therefore not open for business. Nonetheless, we were told to wait while someone went to find the owner. During the wait, we found ourselves surrounded by and in conversation with a group of mainly small boys, and one 17-year old hoping to study law. The schools are closed for Christmas, so I asked the boys, aged perhaps 6 to 8, if they were doing anything special during their holidays. They looked a little confused, so I simplified my question to “What are you doing during the holidays?” They all answered “Selling”. I can’t stop thinking about their response. No holidays at the beach for these boys…
Eventually a young man, the brother of the owner, arrived to let us in and offer us a bed. The bed was his, with his used sheets thereon, his clothes hanging above it. Behind the curtain, the window was boarded up. The bathroom was uncompleted, the loo uninstalled. A bucket bath was possible, but he told us to use a small black bucket as a loo. I asked where it should be emptied and washed, but he insisted he would do this in the morning. Can’t say I was happy to leave my poop for someone else to clean…
Here is what we were happy about and grateful for: we had a bed for the night and did not have to cycle any further in search of another. We were not camping at ground level in some dusty village surrounded by gawping kids. We had water for a bath, and found that if we placed the small black bucket inside the uninstalled loo, using it was much like using a loo. Although there was no electricity, we had a solar lamp and we could leave our door open onto a secure balcony and therefore had cool air. When we asked our host if there was somewhere in town we could get dinner, he offered to go out and get us something, returning with grilled chicken and boiled eggs and bread, not a cassava leaf in sight.
We were struck again by the low expectations of many Africans. In the partially-completed structure, the new ceilings were fully-installed. The painter, however, had not bothered to prep the walls and ceilings before painting and had dabbed paint along all the ceiling edges, big drag marks in white on brown. Sad…

For today's route see below photos
For overview route, click on ROUTE tab above…