Salif Keita

We got up and walked into town to get the bikes we had organised the day before. Our plan was initially to cycle the dirt road back towards Sabou, where there are sacred crocodile lagoons. We started off in good faith and took a short water break under some trees - it was roasting hot. Spotting a hill about half a kilometre away, and not having any set agenda, we cycled down a dirt track determined to climb it! Leaving our bikes in the remains of a millet field (with added rubbish and broken glass), so that they were in clear sight, we climbed the rocky outcrop and were able to see a good view of the whole surrounding area - we were at the highest point for a few miles around.

The rocks at the top of the hill were all a shade of dark blue, possibly some kind of metal such as cobalt, and created a rocky outcrop at the top of the hill. We continued climbing and Barney entertained us all by climbing in and out of the rocks, chasing some cool black geckos and eventually finding a snakeskin. I had trouble staying upright because my stupid flip flops were on the verge of breaking, and just as we were about to leave the inevitable happened. Climbing down the rocks barefoot was only part of the problem, as I then had to navigate the field/rubbish tip without shoes.

However, when we got back on the bikes it was quite liberating to cycle barefoot - I felt like a carefree Victorian child, probably as dirty, and most probably on the same bike as one as well. We careered through the dirt tracks, racing and trying to knock each other off (23-year-olds tut-tut) before arriving back on the main road. We carried on for about a kilometre, but eventually decided that the road was too long. It was about 40 degrees and every time any vehicle passed we got showered in red dust and had to stop because the clouds impeded our vision.

We headed back for Kou, where I went on an urgent scout for some new flip flops - eventually choosing a pair that looked like Randy "Macho Man" Savage's - and also bought a Burkina Faso footy shirt. Number 18. Charles Kabore. Left winger, plays for Marseilles. In case you were wondering. There was no food stalls about, and we thought this was probably because of a Muslim festival called Tabaski that started that day. Also known as the Fete du Mouton, this festival was to commemorate the test of faith shown by Abraham, who was willing to sacrifice his son Issac to God, and at the last minute God swapped his son for a goat. Gotta love those Old Testament stories! Anyhow, this meant there was not much open as most Muslims had gone home to eat some mutton. We settled for the not-so-great Bache Bleu, as it was roasting hot, and hunger pangs set in. As expected, there was pretty tough meat, but a big bottle of Brakina helped me there.

In the late afternoon we headed past the stadium out of Kou, and circled back along the river into town. Dree and Kerry took their bikes back, but me and Barney took a ride because we wanted to see the stadium; well more me. Needless to say it was pretty poor, but some guys shouted at us taking photos. We were expecting hassle, but they were chilling out, having a late lunch outside. We got chatting to them, and took some pictures with them - me of course sporting my Burkina shirt!

Racing Barney a different route back through town, I stopped to do some touristy photos, while Barney had a very close run in with a naked man [On the way to the festival we bumped back into the same guy standing in the road at the busiest junction in town, traffic passing either side. A bit of a shock seeing him there, but also quite sad to think he is mentally ill and there is no support for him...]. That evening we had more beer and brochettes before wandering to the stadium for our last night at NAK. We'd got friendly with a couple of stalls and again had our regular stew sarnies. Great tucker.

The headlining act was Salif Keita, and we were pretty excited to see him, as we thought that he was playing on Sunday night, and we HAD to get on the road by Sunday morning. The first two acts were Rose Bationo and Toussy, again okay African sounds but not too memorable. Then on came Salif's backing band. There were calabashes, koras, and lots of drums including the distinctive djembe. They played for a little while before Salif came on stage.

Salif Keita is probably Africa's best known musician. Born in Mali in 1949, Keita broke the mould, not only because he was an albino, but also because he was born into a social class thought to be too good for performing. He made a name for himself fronting a couple of big West African bands before setting out as an artist in his own right. A Grammy Award nominee, and internationally acknowledged as one of the best African musicians, Keita is now on the books at Universal Records. I hadn't heard of his music before I came to Africa, but with this kind of background we were all excited to see him. He came on and started with some slower, traditional songs (Keita and a kora player - half kalabash, half sitar) before the rest of the band all joined in and everyone went wild. He is certainly well known and respected in Kou - everyone was up in the aisles. Even Keita started dancing at points, to whoops and cheers from the audience.

I was really glad to see him and thought he put on a really good performance, and obviously anyone who has been recommended by Mr Coxhead is worth a see. However, Barney describing him as a Malian Tom Jones to his dad isn't wholly accurate! A great performance and a great end to the NAK Festival for us.