Entre Dakar et Bamako, le salaire de la peur des routiers ravitailleurs
Please rinse your feet before climbing into the cab. A bit like taking off your shoes at the entrance of a house, but inside a semi-trailer. "This is our home," says Abdoul (1), a 25-year-old Malian driver, giving a thumbs-up towards the soft rear of the cab, "because we don't really have a home." To his right, a mint tea set, two mini-fans, and N'fa (1), an apprentice barely out of his teens. It's 5:15 p.m. in early November when the truck, freed from its parking brake, lets out a whoosh. "The Dakar-Bamako road is long [about 1,300 km, ed.]," warns Abdoul, with a charming smile and slender legs outlined by skinny jeans. "But we're fast, four days on average, depending on the cargo."
The truck pulls out of the "Malians' corner" on Dakar's bustling distribution platform, near the port. Loaded onto it are tires, cement, excavators, cars, food… Senegalese dried fish is even transported as far as Burkina Faso, Niger, and Nigeria. The only stop: Bamako, Mali, via the now treacherous roads of western Mali.
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