The Long Way to the Coast

For our second year getaway trip we decided to head east, to the beaches of Ghana. We went with our normal plan, which is to have no plan at all. Our travelling companion was our friend Susan and our only fixed date was to meet her boyfriend, Brian, at the airport in Ghana two weeks after we started our trip where he would join us for the remaining two weeks. In certain places having that much freedom might lead to distraction due to not having time to do everything. Not a problem here.

We entered Burkina and stayed in Bobo Dioulasso for a few days. We found this to be one of the nicest spots in West Africa, actually. With its tree lined streets, its relative lack of motos and harassing locals and a sleepy pace of life, this town was a real nice change from Bamako. It is also a hotbed of Christianity. The Jesus part is less alluring than the real reason we liked the heavy missionary presence in the area, the profusion of little open-air bars. They were on every corner. There is nothing like a frosty local brew in the middle of the day during the hot season, especially when they are practically giving them away. This was a recurring theme for the trip.

Onward to Ouaga where we decided, if we could get the right visa, that we would take the long way around to Ghana. After brief discussion of the bribe (our only one this whole trip!) and an afternoon of waiting, we had our five country visa. That decided it for us. We were off to Niger.

Naimey is a pretty nice capital city, as West African capitals go, albeit less fun to say than Burkina's capital Ouagadougou. It is cleaner than most, maybe because of less people. Of course it is also much further away than most, on the edge of the desert, making it also much sandier than most. The Niger river flows through town and still has, as we saw, hippos right there in the middle of town. This is not the case in Bamako (even though the country’s name, “Mali”, means hippo in the local language). In Bamako the river is so dirty that the only creatures you see in it are women doing their wash, yuk.


Why go to Niger at all? Well, we had heard there were giraffes, the last herd of wild giraffes in West Africa. We were shocked at the ease with which we arranged everything to find them. In Niger, they actually understand the tourist thing (in this case, at least) and try to make it easy on people! This was a serious departure from the West African norm. It did take a bit of effort to find them but nothing compared to our ordeal looking for elephants in Mali (which was long and uncomfortable but still recommended). The giraffes were not far from the capital and not too far from the road. They were fantastic. None of us had any idea how cool they were until we saw them in the flesh. It was worth a five hundred mile detour.


Then it was on to Benin. Why go to Benin at all? Well, we had heard there were giraffes in Niger. We traveled Benin from north to south, stopping for a few days in the beautiful hill town of Natitingou to laze by some waterfalls and just chill out. We made it to the coast at Cotonou but headed directly to the old voodoo capital of Oudiah. We actually spent a day walking from town, down the slave walk, to the point of no return (where the slaves were packed into the holds of the ships waiting to take them across the ocean, never to return) and back. It was such a nice tropical walk and so picturesque and peaceful at the monument that it was hard to get your mind around the fact that some of the more miserable moments in human history occurred right where you were standing.

On to Togo. Why go to Togo at all? Well, we were in Benin because we had heard there were giraffes in Niger. We spent a few days on the beach to recharge our batteries. The beaches were, unfortunately, too dangerous at which to swim. While being very scenic, they were also so steep and the current is so strong that we were warned against going in: severe under toe. We were, however, impressed by the profusion of good beers (read: four passable varieties) thanks to Togoland having at one time been a German colony. Therefore, it was probably a good thing that we were not swimming in dangerous waters while sampling these.


(Believe it or not, these are very dangerous waters.)

Eastern West Africa lap complete

The sights in West Africa are “few and far between.” This saying is usually an exaggeration meant only to add emphasis to a story but not altogether true. It is difficult to express how literal it is here. The countries here are pretty big and the distances are made almost impossibly far by grueling transport but there is almost always something along the way in a journey, right? Not so much in West Africa. There are very few “tourist” sights per nation. In fact, after our recent lap of eastern West Africa, another saying comes to mind. In West Africa, "the journey is the destination."

We took a month long tour which brought us from Mali, through Burkina Faso, Niger, Benin, Togo, Ghana, back into Burkina and eventually returning to Mali - all on public transport. What is that like, you ask? Well, if any of you happen to have a sauna in your house (maybe you are Finnish or maybe just eccentric) you should invite twenty to twenty five of your buddies over, heat up the sauna and all sit in it together for about twelve hours. Provided that your sauna is no larger than a cargo van, you will get the idea. For those of you who do not have a sauna available in your house don’t fret, you can head on down to the local YMCA and perform the same experiment. They have suanas there and you will probably end up with a more authentic experience anyway, what with the locker room smell, the others being complete strangers and your strong desire to be somewhere else after about ten seconds.

In reality, the transport in places like Guinea, Sierra Leone and the Ivory Coast made our transport in eastern West Africa look like a couple of recent grads backpacking Europe. It is difficult to describe those transport experiences without developing a nervous twitch or tick, so we will leave that in the past.

Anyway, you will all hear more about those travels. We will fill everybody in on the highlights soon but for right now we are off our Close of Service (COS) conference. Once we have been taught how to be Americans again we will get to the trip tales. For now, just know we are safe “home” in Mali.


(Mark outside of the car, resting on the curb, as is the radiator...)

Out of Range Again

The good news is we made it back to Mali. The bad news is that it is full on hot season, which means it is uncomfortable in Bamako. As we did last year, we planned to flee the country during a portion of this time. We are still going on our vacation, regardless of having been home recently,since we have been looking forward to it for a year.

We will be gone to Burkina Faso and Ghana for quite some while, during which you will not hear from us much (read: not at all). This radio silence does not necessarily mean we are in trouble, although we will try to get in some situations worth reporting for your reading pleasure. It probably just means that we are either having a great time or not near the internet. Knowing what we know of the rest of west Africa it is likely that both are the case.

Thank you for your mail

The fantastic cards keep pouring in. We had some seriously far-flung ones since last report. We also had quite a few first-timers getting on the wall, always nice. Time is running short, so get yours to us!

The Travelling Cambells continue to lap the planet, checking in twice from Ireland and Scotland. They also made it to Costa Rica, Italy and Denmark. A strange set of cards too, everything from a baby pig’s backside from Finland to a woman in California.










The Schiebels of Littleton, Colorado went all the way down to Patagonia and thought to send us one from there. We thank them and look forward to imposing on their hospitality again sometime soon.

Emily Doerr’s new job (which is not new by this point but we kind of live in a vacuum) sent her to Vegas, baby! What is says on the card stays on the card.

Janice Deering is doing well. She sent us two from the beaches Costa Rica, where she was kicking back. We’ve been meaning to get there for years ourselves, it looks incredible.

“Kevin Coughlan continues his hilarious postage onslaught with depictions of “Kick the Can with Dad,” Information Superhighway” and the “Wyoming Riding Mower.” These ones continue to remind us of how backwards we believed our town to be, until we came to Africa, of course.









Our buddies Zack and Shannon checked in twice from Jackson, Wyoming. We are surprised they are not sending us notes from all over the planet too, per their usual.

Louise Gignoux “decided to finally add to our collection" (others should take note). She was riding her jeep through Moab which she does when not shooshing down slopes in Jackson or summering in France. Easy livin’.

Amir Fouad, of Bridger Gondola fame, sent us one from the Matterhorn. On the back he reminds us to root against Algeria in the World Cup after they ousted his Egyptian squad. Fear not, being in a neighboring country and seeing a bit of their fans recently, this will not be a problem at all (especially as they play the U.S. of A.). At least he still has the US and Switzerland for whom to root, the perks of being a tri-citizen.

Not to be outdone by the Travelling Cambells in the bizarre department, Brother Brian in Scotland sent one with ridiculous public pronouncements by graffiti artists along with a bizarre card depicting a bagpipe playing pig, which is on some building in Edinburgh in lieu of a gargoyle, apparently. The coup de gras, however, was his “Sam and Mark in 40 years” card. Kudos.










Cousin Mikey and Sarah were apparently hanging out with the Kennedys, who have their own postcards. They will have less time for such high-jinx now that they have welcomed James McCarthy to their clan, although they will probably spend the summer on the Cape so maybe we are wrong.

Kallie and Katie Hannon were hanging out with aunt Cindy in New Hampshire but sent a postcard that said “Maine” on it. We think they are trying to start a debate between the couple composed of a New Hampshirite and a Mainer about which is better. This is one of our favorite topics.

Finally, our pals Nic and Jimmi got on the board in a big way. They sent us not one, not two, not three, but eight cards from South Africa. Impressive.

Trip Home

We have returned to Africa after an up and down few weeks in the States. The joy of seeing our families was tempered by the sadness of burying a father. While the graveside ceremony was something Frank would have bore begrudgingly, the Irish wake was an event in which he would have reveled. It seemed the entire town of Belfast, Maine came out to the pub for the memorial and a great time was had by all. While the memorial in Boston was much more subdued, it was no less of an honor to see all our friends come out to support us during difficult times and we thank them all from the bottom of our hearts.

Thanks to some fortuitous volcanic activity, the brothers Hannon were reunited for an extra week, which is the longest time that has happened in years.


There was a new Hannon to meet as well. Her name is Lila and she is wicked cute! There was a rumor that she was really fun to hold and play with but everybody had to be content just hearing the reports since Aunt Sam was a bit of a baby hog!!! We can’t wait to see her again when she will be starting to walk.



We also got to see Barb, who goes by Nana now, and John. We could go for walks in Acadia National Park from their front door, which was great and we will be doing quite a bit of that when we finally return.

We spent some time in Vermont and New Hampshire with Sam’s side of the family, too. The girls are growing like weeds. They are so big we can barely all fit on one couch anymore!

When we arrived in Vermont it was 80 degrees, freezing! It only got colder from then on out (later in the week we saw snow when we headed up to Killington) but the weather held long enough to play a family game of softball, Kids vs. Adults. The kids were named Creamers, but they really got creamed. Who knew old people could still hit, run and catch? It is funny how Mark and Sam are still on the kid’s team.

We saw some other old friends along the way. We look forward to seeing them all again and those that we missed next time around.

So, we are back in Mali for the home stretch. We are actually going on a vacation, which we had planned before all this, to Ghana next week. That will be a good bit of arduous overland travel. It should convince us to go get good jobs somewhere so we will have the money to fly from now on. After that it is our Close of Service (COS) conference and a few weeks to wrap up our work. Then we are finished with Peace Corps and whatever comes next, we shall see…

Sad News

Mark's father, Frank Hannon, passed away on Saint Patrick's Day. He was happy man who enjoyed life fully. He was sixty three years old.

We've returned to the States for the memorial services. While we are terribly saddened by the reason for our return, it is nice to see our families and friends once again. Bringing us home and the family together would please Frank greatly. One last gift.

He will be missed.

Francis Joseph Hannon, 1946-2010

The Elusive West African Red Ass

One thing there is not a lot of in West Africa is genetic variation, at least not among domesticated animals. When you picture in your mind cows, goats, sheep, camels, dogs, horses and donkeys you can be confident that the same picture appears in the heads of everybody else in West Africa because they all look the same. All donkeys are grey with a black stripe across the shoulders, all horses are white with a dyed red tail and mane and with a Toureg rebel on top and all dogs look like Santa’s Little Helper, including ours:

(Hercules is wicked cute!)

Obviously, when you make a sweeping generalization like this one you immediately see contrary examples pop up. Yes, of course, there is occasional black horse and tan donkey but not often, virtually never. We have yet to see anything other than a variation on the S.L.H. theme when it comes to dogs. That is why it is so strange to occasionally come across the extremely rare and exotic West African red ass.


“Red donkeys? I don’t think they exist,” you say. While these shy and elusive creatures are rarely seen by the casual visitor, Sam and Mark just so happen to live next to the plastic and cardboard (they can’t afford tar-paper) shacks of the falitigi (donkey boss) trash collectors. Owing to the sheer numbers of donkeys observed, we occasionally spot a red one. Incredible but true, not unlike seeing an all black penguin in the Antarctic, a white buffalo in Janesville, Wisconsin, or a R.O.U.S. (Rodent of Unusual Size) in a fireswamp.


After each ludicrously long and horribly unhealthy day of trash collection, the falitigis return and unhitch their donkeys from their carts, allowing them to roam the neighborhood streets. Not far from our house, near the smoldering mountain of trash (Note: this is not an exaggeration. There really is a three story high mountain of trash burning constantly, raining ash down and wafting the smell of burning plastic into our house year round. Glamorous!) there is a portion of the road which has been repaired with the red earth for which Africa is so famous. These red rocks have been pulverized by heavy trucks and ground into such a fine powder that it covers our feet, gets on our clothes and into our lungs. Donkeys love to roll around in the dirt to cool off and stop the bugs from biting them, at least for a little while. Every once in a great while they use this unique spot. The result is a strange sight: bright red donkeys. Behold!