On arrival, I was treated to a bowl of grapes while a brightly-robed clerk collected my $60 visa fee and my fingerprints. At passport control, the uniformed immigration officer went slowly through my passport, reading carefully the details of my 37 pages of stamps and visas. While studying my passport, he asked me three times for the name, address and phone number of my guest house − even though this information was clearly written on the immigration form in front of him. By the time he finished reviewing my passport, it was 11pm. I was the only foreigner remaining in the small, quiet airport. The immigration officer expressed concern that I might need his help finding a taxi. Sure enough, when we exited the terminal into the cool desert night, all the taxis were gone − including the driver who had been sent by my guest house to meet me. He had given up and gone home.

The officer pretended to telephone a taxi for me. Just then, an ancient Toyota pulled up and asked me if I needed a ride into town. I said "oui" and negotiated a price. As I got into the taxi, the immigration officer requested $10 for his help finding "my taxi." I laughed, made an appropriate remark in French, and drove away in the Toyota. I expect I'll see more of this sort of behavior in the weeks ahead. This is Africa.

Nouakchott is home to a third of Mauritania's 4,000,000 residents. I walked around town for a morning looking for a functional ATM and photographing people.

Its population is almost equally divided between Moors of Arab-Berber descent and black Africans. This is a striking cultural combination that's part of Mauritania's appeal, or so the guidebook says.

Many people covered their faces − not only for religious reasons − but out of necessity.

While I was taking this snapshot, I was probably photographed by at least a dozen American security cameras.

With no docks on the beach, fishermen unload their catch onto the sand. Workers gather the fish, wash them and then sell them under thatched shanties.

In the bright desert sun, this is a sight to see ... and smell.

The Gambia was a British colony from 1783 until its independence in 1965. Its historic significance is that about 3,000,000 slaves were taken from this region to the Americas. Wow!

Today, a third of Gambians live below the international poverty line of $1.25/day, surviving on farming and fishing. Tourism and beach resorts help sustain the country's economy.

Gelli-gellis are cheap − about a penny per kilometer. They're sometimes very slow − if they drop off and pick up many passengers along the route. They're crowded − these 7 passengers mini-vans often pack 14 passengers inside, with luggage and teenage boys on the roof.

Nevertheless, Gelli-gellis seem to be an efficient way to move people from place to place. The driver can focus on his driving because he has a young assistant who collects the fares and calls out the destinations.

Although they have fairly fixed routes, gelli-gellis run when and where they're needed. On busy routes, I never had to wait more than two minutes for a ride. The best thing about gelli-gellis is that they're very sociable. I met lovely people on every ride.

What I didn't realize until I visited the museum here is that a third of these slaves went to Brazil to work in mines. Mine work was generally a death sentence because working conditions were harsh and dangerous. Another third of the slaves went to the Caribbean.

Alex Haley is a name known to almost everyone in The Gambia. His book put The Gambia on the map, and is the reason why lots of people from Europe and America visit this country.

You can − and should − take a boat trip through some of these natural canal systems. There are few roads, and a boat is the only way to reach these areas.

This delta is an undeveloped part of The Gambia. The birds and wildlife are amazing.

The Nile Monitor is a relative of the Komodo Dragon of Indonesia. These lizards are big enough to be aggressive. In my experience, they are not afraid of humans. They also swim very well.

In The Gambian jungles, you might spot one of Africa's most dangerous snakes: The Green Mamba, whose victims usually die within 30 minutes.

Most tourists who come to The Gambia stay at hotels on the beach. They spend their time at the up-scale restaurants and bars. Not me. I headed inland to see the "real" Gambia.

I rode gelli-gellis down sandy roads through the river delta until I came to a village called Kumbaya. Yes, that's its name: Kumbaya, just like the song we used to sing at summer camp.

Pounding to separate the rice from the hulls

As I walked through the villages taking pictures of the artwork, I got used to being followed by flocks of children, and being called Toubob. This isn't a derogatory term. It's just the West African word for a European.

I stumbled upon the rustic Wunderland Lodge, with bungalows by the water, the sound of birds all day and night, and no paved roads for miles. It has wifi, cold beer, great food and is run by a very hospitable couple shown below. I spent three nights here and could have stayed here for a month. Highly recommended!

Fish and rice for lunch

The bus stopped. My excited fellow passengers were impressed and amazed that this young man had slipped through the previous ID checks and international borders without any documentation. Everyone brain-stormed about how to solve the young man's problem, while vendors came on-board to sell cashews and change money.

It was decided that our bus driver and two of the men on the bus would accompany the young man back to the Senegalese border to sort out a solution. The rest of the passengers remained on the bus eating cashews in the sweltering heat. Half an hour later, our negotiating party returned successful. The young man was smiling as he waved a piece of paper covered with enough stamps and signatures to allow his entry into Guinea-Bissau. No one complained about the delay. We arrived in Bissau before dark, which was good enough. This is how things get done in Africa.

But unlike Cabo Verde, there's almost no tourism here. Guinea-Bissau spent the 60's and 70's in a long and bloody war of liberation from Portugal. The 80's was a time of coups and experiments in socialism. The 90's saw growing corruption, national strikes and civil war. Extreme poverty motivated farmers to replace cashews with cocaine. In 2009, the president was assassinated. Since May 2014, Guinea-Bissau has had five prime ministers. A year ago, the government was dissolved.

On the bright side, Lonely Planet says that attacks and coup attempts rarely wound civilians or visitors.

I travel to learn about people and places that I don't know about. You can't know what someplace is like unless you go there. What's written about a country often doesn't tell the whole story − or even half of it. So, I came to Guinea-Bissau to see for myself what's really here.

It turns out that Guinea-Bissau is a pretty interesting place. The people are friendly, easy-going and never aggressive. Bissau is a bit run-down, but it's got potential. Although a lot of the country consists of swamps, subsistence farms and poor villages, the offshore islands are amazing and wonderful.

Guinea-Bissau feels like a new frontier. I met a few European entrepreneurs who have come here to start new lives and new businesses. The government is making an effort to encourage tourism by offering an on-line e-visa. Foreigners can buy a 5-year residency permit by filling out a one-page application and paying 100 euros. There are direct flights between Bissau from Lisbon.

To get to the Bijagós Archipelago, I took the Consulmar Ferry from Bissau to Bubaque. The ferry was seriously overloaded. There were only a handful of life-jackets for about 250 passengers. (If the ferry had capsized, I would only have had to swim a couple of miles to an island.) At low tide, my ferry ran aground twice. But we managed to cover the 60 kms to Bubaque in 4 hours. Yay!

• François who cooks and manages his Ecolodge
• A native family who clean and maintain François's bungalows
• Four French tourists who came ashore for a picnic
• Three young doctors from Lisbon who came for one night
• Some fisherman who sleep on one of the beaches

François is a fabulous chef.

The gigantic Kapok tree in the middle of the camp is like something out of the movie Avatar.

I had to pinch myself and ask "Am I making this place up?" One of the reasons I travel is to find destinations like this. I might come back here some day.

I had a rare invitation to join some fishermen one morning for an Animist ceremony under the baobab trees. Inside the thatched hut was a fetish object that no one was allowed to see. Outside, there was much chanting and praying to a large, round stone wrapped in a shawl.

The ceremony was accompanied by grilled fish and cheap rum. When the bottle was passed around a second time, each man took a swallow and spat the remainder (of the rum) onto the large, round stone. As with fisherman rites worldwide, we were praying for a good fishing season and safety at sea. I prayed for a safe return to Bissau.

From Bissau, I'll continue overland into Guinea, also known as French Guinea or Guinea-Conakry.

Guinea remains poor even though it's the world's second largest producer of bauxite, and has deposits of diamonds and gold. The Ebola outbreak of 2014 had a lot to do with this. Until the country was declared free of Ebola in 2016, this country saw zero tourists or international commerce. Enough history.

The roads are terrible. The transport is designed to move as many people as possible as cheaply as possible, with the key word here being cheap.

The first time I went to a shared taxi depot, the ticket handler suggested that I pay for two seats. At the time, I didn't know what this meant, but was very glad to have bought two seats. This meant that I rode shotgun next to the driver, in a seat all to myself. (Normally, the front passenger seat is occupied by two people.) I looked back to see how my fellow passengers were doing. There were 8 adults packed into the two back seats, with 3 babies on laps. We then drove 360 kilometers in 10 hours in 35°C (95°F) heat on bone-jarring dirt and gravel roads. I was really glad to have a window seat and a seat belt. I'll never complain about cramped seating on commercial airplanes again!

Many tourists avoid the shared taxis by hiring a private tour guide and a cushy, air-conditioned 4x4. Had I done that, I wouldn't have met all the wonderful people I met along the way. After a few days in Guinea, I figured out how to enjoy a shared taxi ride:

• Arrive at the taxi depot at dawn. That's when the taxis fill quickest and the wait is shortest.
• Buy two seats and make yourself comfortable in the front passenger seat. This will mean paying $20 − instead of $10 − for a journey of a few hundred kilometers.
• Introduce yourself to the driver. He'll be pleased to be sharing the front of the car with only one passenger.
• Buy snacks from the vendors who come to your window before departure. Plan on spending a dollar or two.
• When the taxi pulls out of the depot, distribute snacks to the driver and to the passengers crammed into the back of the car. You now have nine new friends.
• Join your new friends at the lunch stop. They'll show you where and what to eat.
• When you come to a Guinean checkpoint, just smile. If a policeman or a soldier starts asking you questions, your fellow passengers will vouch for you − loudly, if necessary. The officer will return your passport and wave you through.
• At your final destination, your fellow passengers will ensure that you find your way to wherever you're going next. You might even exchange a few email addresses with the wonderful people you've spent the day with.

• When I asked for directions, Guineans often walked me to where I wanted to go. If I offered to pay them for their help, my money would be refused.
• When I shopped at markets, I was charged the same prices as the locals.
• On one occasion, I accidentally overpaid a shared taxi driver. He promptly gave me back my overpayment.
• Contrary to what the guidebooks say, the police were polite and friendly, and never demanded a bribe.

Conakry is full of life. The sidewalks overflow with people buying and selling. At low tide, kids play soccer on the beach because there's no place else in the city with a large open space that's garbage-free. Loud African music plays from noon until 3am.

For anyone looking to do something positive and adventurous, Guinea's highland interior would be an attractive place to do volunteer work. The weather is cool(er). The cost of living is low. The Guineans are friendly and honest. They could use some help. Anything you could do to improve their lives would be appreciated.

Suddenly, on crossing into Sierra Leone, we came to a brand-new divided highway with toll booths. I thought I was dreaming. I haven't seen roads like this since California.

It didn't take long to spot the Chinese construction equipment and supervisors. The Chinese built this road to extract the iron and hardwoods from Sierra Leone's back country. The tolls collected on this highway go to China, not to Sierra Leone.

This is typical 21st century colonization and exploitation. I've seen this sort of thing all over Africa. Still, I was thankful for a paved road.

Sierra Leone has a lot in common with South Carolina:

• Sierra Leone and South Carolina are about the same size.
• They're hot and humid.
• Rice grows well in both places.
• They were both British colonies.
• Most of the slaves in South Carolina (and Georgia) came from Sierra Leone.
• Many freed slaves returned from America to Sierra Leone.

I spent a couple of days wandering around Freetown learning American history.

Freetown has the largest natural deep-water harbor on the continent of Africa. This is why Britain was so keen on capturing and holding this part of Africa. At the top of Freetown's harbor is Bunce Island, located as far upriver as big ships can sail, while being easy access for canoes and riverboats coming downriver. The British built a fort and slave trading center on Bunce Island. Most of America's slaves were shipped from here.

During the 1770's, Bunce Island was owned by Richard Oswald. Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic in South Carolina, Mr. Henry Laurens received the British slave ships from Sierra Leone, auctioned the captives to local rice plantations, and sent the proceeds to London.

In 1777, Laurens was elected President of the Continental Congress. After the Revolutionary war, Laurens helped negotiate the U.S. independence under the Treaty of Paris. The British negotiator, sitting across the table from Laurens, was none other than Richard Oswald. Thus, American independence was negotiated between a British slave dealer and his South Carolinian business agent.

Here's another historical tidbit: In the early days of Bunce Island, the British branded slaves with the acronym "RACE" which stood for Royal African Company of England. Could this be how the word "race" was introduced into America?

Freetown was established as a place for slaves to be free. As the story goes, when the first slaves arrived here in 1787, they walked up to a giant cotton tree just above the shore and held a thanksgiving service there for their deliverance to a free land.

The tree still stands today. Seeing this tree gave me goosebumps.

This is a tradition called eshowbi. It lets everyone doing something together show that they're part of the same organization, group or family. Eshowbi will be important in the next part of this adventure.

Half of my traveling companions were a wedding party en route from Freetown to Monrovia to see their sister get married. Like everyone else I met in Sierra Leone, they were friendly and hospitable. By the time we'd shared five meals, pushed our vehicle through the mud, waited by the river for the ferry, and camped overnight at the border, we were all good friends. When they presented me with my eshowbi shirt, I was part of the family. NB: This sort of thing doesn't happen when you take an airplane.

Our first project was to deliver food and supplies to a children's home in Kumasi, in rural Ghana.

Our second project was to provide a library for a middle school in nearby Aduman village.

I try to avoid being a tourist. By donating my time and money to good causes as I travel, I meet great people, get to know cultures, and visit beautiful places that aren't in the guide books.

Nevertheless, some tourism is necessary to seeing and learning about a place. Ghana has two well-preserved and infamous slave castles which I had to see.

The dungeons, the shackles, and the Gate of No Return are preserved to remind us of the millions of people imprisoned here. About half of them died prior to transport to the Americas.

Though first established as a trading post, this is where the barbaric Atlantic slave trade began.

This is also a very hot, dry and dusty place. One of the first things I noticed is red dust everywhere. Some folks say that it's red because of all the blood that's been spilled here. A geologist will tell you that it's because of all the iron in the rocks and the soil. Archaeologists have verified that the African Iron Age started here about 2500 BC when the inhabitants learned how to smelt iron. And that's what put this little country on the map and on the trans-Saharan caravan routes.

Most people just call it Ouaga (Wa-ga) for short.

One morning, I attended the weekly Moro Naba Ceremony at which the emperor of the Mossi tribe appears before his chiefs and his subjects to give them his blessings and to promise that he won't go to war this week.

The Burkinabé people are hospitable and sociable, and they were especially friendly to me. Due to a funny linguistic coincidence, everyone in Ouaga seemed to know my name. I heard it spoken − even shouted − frequently around town. I received a warm reception every time I showed my passport. When dealing with customs and immigration, there were big smiles and enthusiastic handshakes. Towards the end of my visit, someone finally told me what was going on: ZOA just happens to be the Mossi word for "friend!"

• In Ouaga, I paid $44 for a Visa Entente which I'd read was valid for Burkina Faso, Togo, Benin and Niger.
• Handing me my visa, the officer in Ouaga said my Visa Entente was valid everywhere except Niger.
• I applied for a Nigerien visa, but was told that I didn't need a visa because I had a Visa Entente.
• At the Ouaga airport, I was allowed to board my plane to Niger with my Visa Entente.
• In Niger, immigration assured me that my Visa Entente was valid ... but that confirmation was needed.
• When the immigration boss arrived, he explained that my Visa Entente was not valid.
• From the airport, I was driven on the back of a motorcycle to La Direction de Surveillance Territoriale.
• Two hours later, my passport was stamped with a Nigerien visa good for 30 days in exchange for $36.

Benin and Togo are famous for Voodoo. About half the citizens of these two countries follow Voodoo practices, which they do in addition to praying at a mosque on Friday or attending mass at a church on Sunday. In Benin, Voodoo is officially recognized as a religion.

In Voodoo, the spirits of the dead live side by side with the world of the living. So, don't forget to bake a birthday cake for your great-grandmother.

As my guide explained, all of creation contains the power of the divine. Herbal medicines work because they're created by nature. Mundane objects, like rocks and feathers, have spiritual powers. Talismans (aka "fetishes") are objects such as statues or dried animal or human parts which have healing and rejuvenating properties.

Voodoo picks up where Christianity leaves off. Saints aren't limited to human beings. In Ouidah, the Temple of Pythons and the Basilica face each other across the town square. Holy snakes!

• Friendly people: People throughout west Africa have consistently greeted me with a smile and a handshake. In Benin, I was pleased that people would also let me take their photos and help them cook.
• Interesting cuisine: In southern Benin, the most common ingredient is corn, often used to prepare dough which is served with spicy peanut- or tomato-based sauces. Fish and chicken are the most common meats.
• Colorful fashions: Everyone here wore really colorful clothing, especially the men. What looks at first like pajamas is a pants suit called Bomba. No two are alike. I bought one, of course.

Benin's economy is based on fishing, farming and ranching. It was common to see cattle being driven down the streets of Ouidah. These odd-looking cows are a hybrid of Indian and European cattle breeds. They're known for their fertility and resistance to diseases.

Generally, all beaches are pretty much the same. Sand, sun, water and surf maybe. Seen one, seen 'em all, right?

What surprised and impressed me in Benin and Togo was how clean and empty the beaches were. One doesn't think of west Africa as a beach destination, but it certainly could become one if enough people found out about how nice the beaches are here.