I can not even begin to articulate the horrible nature of overland travel in West Africa. So I am going to steal Jeff`s eloquent words (http://bonjourbenin.wordpress.com/):

"Transport Troubles… is putting it mildly.  If I’ve complained about the transport in Benin before, please forgive me: compared to Kumasi, north to Burkina, still further north to Mali, and south toward Benin, our happy home is a veritable Eden.

The start of our troubles was only a minor setback on the way from Kumasi, Ghana, to Ouagadougou (”Ouaga”): our bus broke down (at the station, happily) and we were stranded near the border for a few hours.  Nevertheless, we ended up in Ouaga on time and only had minor hassles at the border (taking all of our bags off the bus just so we could put them back on again).

Our guide suggested we stay in Ouahigouya to avoid arriving at the border prior to its closing at 6 pm, and Ouaga to Ouahigouya, actually, was a pleasure.  The STMB bus left on time and arrived on time, exactly three hours later.  Once in Ouahigouya, though, things again started to go downhill, starting with a 2000 fCFA ride to our hotel.  He offered to bring us back in the morning to get the minibus across the border — for another two grand.  No thanks!

Next morning’s leg was Ouahigouya to Koro, Mali — another 3 hour leg, but in a bien serré-ed (think sardines in cans) minibus.  Unfortunately, 20 minutes out of town, we found the road was blocked by a “barrière de pluie,” a rain barrier.  Presumably, they string this chain and sign across the road whenever in pours like it did the night before so that folks don’t get stuck in the mud.  In practice, three vehicles came the other way and several donkey carts sallied forth while we sat and waited, prompting one woman to remark that the rain apparently only singles out certain vehicles to stop.  Finally, after about 45 minutes, we were freed and made it into Mali without incident.

Our transport to Dogon was normal by Phoebe’s and my standards.  Out of it, we had to fight with the katkat (SUV) driver, who wanted 2750 fCFA more because it had rained the night before.  He complained of the mud.  I told him that’s what katkats were for.  He relented when our guide’s brother (the fixer, often-time PCV guide, and generally good guy Oumar) was called.

At the taxi stand in Bandiagara, we found an empty minibus waiting, which we were assured would fill up for our ride to Mopti, though it was already mid-afternoon.  So, we discuté-ed for a bush taxi, which we thought we were renting out for a direct ride to Mopti — a fatal assumption which led to a row at the gas station when the driver thought he’d make a quick buck by picking up a couple extra passengers without making the appropriate adjustment to our fare.  We won the argument, but in vain, for when we arrived in Mopti, he dumped us at the city gates and walked away from the car (the ultimate insult in any argument).

A gloriously mostly hassle-free day in Mopti folloed (more later), and then it was time again to get on the road back to Ouaga.  The taxi out was decent: we got a stunning view as we came down the falaise in Dogon country southwest of Bandiagara.  We had to walk across a swollen muddy river as the driver took his car across, which I thought was kind of funny if not fun.  From Bankass to Koro, though, the road certainly deteriorated, as did the health of our joints and heads.  By the end of this portion of dirt road, we were rattled and ready to get on to Ouahigouya.

Four hours later, we boarded our minibus, bound for Burkina.  Not ten minutes out, we hit a goat.  Actually, a herd of goats, but only one seems to have lost his life.  Our driver then seems to have ticked off the police at the checkpoint, but it was smoothed over with an iPod charger and 500 francs.  Odd.

No problems till we got into Burkina, around sunset, at which point we ran out of gas.  Not because we hadn’t put any in, but rather because the driver thought 3 liters would be sufficient for the remaining hour of travel.  Happily, after an hour or so, a couple Canadians volunteering in Ouaga came along in an SUV with a friend and two other rescuees and took us to their hotel, where we were also planning to stay.

When I last left off, some friendly Canadians had just rescued us and got us to our hotel for the night.  They shared their food, as well, and we enjoyed sitting around for a while (and a couple grande beers).

Next day, we got the bus from Ouahigouya to Ouaga with no worries.  It left on time, as STMB busses seem always to do, and we made it into Ouaga early.  That’s when our next adventure started.

Instead of just taking it easy and resting in Ouaga for a day, we decided we’d try to make it to Benin.  After all, it was still early, and we had The Book (Lonely Planet), which recommended we get a minibus at a certain gas station.

At the station, we found a guy who was willing to sell us the tickets.  We should’ve seen the warning signs: the price was too high, he kept confusing the destination, and he was obstinate.  Still, beleaguered and hoping to get back to Benin sooner than expected, we pressed on.  Three and a half hours later, we found ourselves dumped on the side of the road in a glorified intersection called Sapanga.  Apparently, there is a town in Burkina Faso named Tindangou, which is decidedly not Nattitingou, Benin, but which everyone insisted we had paid 12,000 francs each to get to.  Now, it seems, the driver had taken off with the bulk of our money, leaving the transfer man only enough to get us where we didn’t want to go.  He didn’t want to give us our money back, understandably, as he would then gain nothing from our sojourn at his crossroads.  We didn’t want to wait around till dark for the driver to come back through town (and didn’t really expect him to); so, we finally convinced the transfer man to give us our 9,000 when an STMB bus came rolling into town — our salvatory ride back to Ouaga for the night.

Back in Ouaga, we stopped at the Gare de l’Est, which is where we shuould’ve gone in the first place to get our minibus, and despite almost getting left behind when our bus started moving again, Phoebe managed to secure us reservations for the next morning.  We saw our Canadian friends again when we went out for dinner, and I imagine they were a bit shocked to see us.  (We must have been a fairly grizzled sight, too!)

No troubles on what seemed like day 152095: today.  Got our minibus to Tanguieta.  Got another one to Nattitingou.  And, tomorrow, we have reservations for the ConfortLines (sic) to Cotonou."