Day 1: Riverboat Fantasy

The boat, which was set to leave at 10, of course left at 1 (it seems pointless even mentioning how late things occur in West Africa, simply because it has become a redundant exercise). Along with us came an American volunteer named Kevin and a random pair: a burly Scotsman named Ross and older man from New Zealand named Pete.

Something like 10 minutes into the journey, we ran aground. Given that this was the dry season and that the river was much lower at this point in the year, it was understood that this could happen. Men had to get out of the boat, wedge large logs between the boat and sandbar and try and push the boat on course. It took a long time before we left the greater Mopti area and this would be a reoccurring theme on the trip, as we would soon find out.

Dinner was – uh, rice and beef from a communal plate. Okay. We humoured the crew and ate it. On a higher note, the sunset over the Niger was spectacular and we got on the roof to watch it. The banks of the river were interesting, with houses that, at first glance, appeared to look like cottages with long paths to the docks. In fact, being on what was essentially a giant motorboat riding on freshwater felt a lot like being in the Muskokas or Lake Okanagan. It’s strange how some random things in faraway places just remind you of home. I’ve noticed it quite often, conjuring warm thoughts and images of near deja-vu.

In the evening, we sat around by candlelight, playing cards, reading and telling stories. I myself started reading “The Road to Timbuktu”, Tom Fremantle’s retracing of Scottish explorer Mungo Park’s journeys in his quest to find the mouth of the Niger River and the direction in which it flows. The story of his travels is quite fascinating, in which he is attacked by natives, beaten, deserted by friends, imprisoned by kings and eventually dies in his relentless pursuits.

As I drifted off to sleep, I felt a strange feeling, reading about Mungo Park, sleeping on the deck of a boat by candlelight, while other passengers played traditional Taureg music on an old stereo… I knew that I truly was in the heart of West Africa. And I was glad to be there.