The first sign came that we were actually getting close to Segou came when two men from a Bozo camp hopped in their boat when seeing us and paddled their asses off to catch up with us, only to try to sell us a fish at an exorbitant price. Previously, on the river, the Bozo fishermen wanted to give us fish as a gift, not to rip us off by selling it to us. These guys, living a day’s paddle from Segou, must be aware enough of tourists to know that we are just walking piggy banks, and stupid enough to pay $5 for a kilo of fish. We said we didn’t want the fish. They asked if we needed a guide. This seemed silly to us, since we had managed to paddle 170 km without a guide. We weren’t sure why we would need one now. It saddened us to see the attitudes toward us start to change, but we knew it had to happen.
Our spirits were up, though, and we had a good feeling about getting within a stone’s throw of our destination of Segou that day. The winds were calm, but then again, the current was dead. Rumor had it there was a dam 35 km after Segou, causing the river to feel more like a lake by now. We had gotten up early and made a significant distance in the first 2 hours. I had made my legendary soup, a recipe that you only wish I would impart upon you, which gave us lots of power.
But then the winds, once again, stopped us in our tracks…er, wake. We were forced to take a rest on an island being used as a cow pasture. Surrounded by cows and an abundance of their pies, we rested in the unrelenting winds and eventually cooked some lunch.
A pirogue with a sailing rig takes advantage of the winds to go up river.
At 3:00 we decided that we needed to move. The winds had only subsided slight, butwe were low on water, and could see a village half a kilometer away. Perhaps it was Segou Koro, or “Old Segou”, a village just 9 km away from Segou, that I had visited before the boat trip began. With the wind coming even stronger as we got into the middle of the river, and the whitecaps forming, we had a hell of a time getting to the village. But when we got there, and found that it was in fact Segou Koro, we were very relieved. Jonathan and Blai went into town to get a few things, while I waited by the boat. I was surprised that the kids were just as curious as the kids in the other villages, because they are used to seeing the occasional tourist. They were slightly bolder, but didn’t even ask for “cadeaux” as I thought they would. Eventually I saw two white men with fanny packs being led around the village by a guide. It was a weird sight, and I was glad they hadn’t seen me.
As I waited I met a fisherman in the boat next to ours. He said he was leaving to go fishing in Bamako (interesting because I saw almost no fishermen there). He said it would take him three days to paddle there. This seemed incredible, as it was pushing against the current and was over 200 km away. I think his concept of time (or French numbers) was a little skewed, but even if he did it in six days I would be incredibly impressed.
Segou Koro. Photo credit: Jonathan Heier
Photo Credit: Blai Garriga
They brought back the goods and Blai and I then set out to get a couple jugs of water. We filled at the pump, and when we tried to leave one of the women yelled at us. I assumed she wanted us to pay for the water as they usually have a community fund to collect money for repairs. I had almost no money, nor did Blai, so we pretended not to understand. We had never been asked for money at pumps before, and a woman behind her wagged her finger, indicating for us to ignore her. A young woman came up and said the French word for money. I gave the only ten francs I had (2 cents) although I think we owed 40 francs. They seemed ok with this so we left.
Sheep traveling by pirogue from an island pasture to the mainland. Photo Credit: Jonathan Heier
And the rest swam.
It was getting late, so we decided just to cross the river to find a place to camp. We landed on another island being used as a cow pasture. It was covered with hay and cow pies, so we had something soft to sleep on for the night.
Our cow pasture island for camping, with a couple of passing sailing pirogues. Photo Credit: Jonathan Heier
The next day we we got a relaxing start, uncertain of what our plan was. We figured we would arrive in Segou, but still had no idea where we would go or stay. Then we saw that there was a hotel just across the river from us. We decided to go there for a breakfast beer, make friends with the staff and see how tolerant they were of us.
Although Hotel Le Faro was on the nicer end of hotels with classy guests and a relaxed feel, the staff was very hospitable to us ruffians. After a beer, we asked the guy who seemed in charge if we could leave our boat there for the day while we went into Segou. He said it was fine.
We managed to hitch a ride the 9 km into Segou and when we got there the pace was a little weird and shocking. The people were friendly, but when we got into the center, we had our first encounter with the touts and wannabe guides. We were there at the peak of tourism, right at the beginning of their huge music and cultural festival. I thought I would be angry with the hustlers, though after so much time in the bush experience Mali in its purest form with the kindest people, these people just seemed to ridiculous to even be annoyed with.
We tried to keep it brief in town, so we just got the essentials. A meal of street food (eating without cooking was a great thing), some internet time, and a bottle of rum.
We moved back onto the main road leading out of town and tried hitching back out individually on motorbikes as we had in Koulikoro. Segou being much larger, with fast traffic, was not as easily hitchable. I managed to get two rides that got me halfway there, but Jonathan and Blai had no luck. They eventually arrived where I was walking, in the back of a moto taxi (basically a motorbike pulling a tiny bed that seats about eight people. I was disappointed in them, but they had actually bartered for a price that, to me, seemed nearly impossible. The driver didn’t even bother to pick up other people, and went directly to our hotel. He did it, smiling the whole way, and gave hearty handshakes when we arrived.
We spent the rest of the evening slowly sipping the hotel’s expensive beers, while taking shots of cheap rum on the sly. Jonathan and I wanted to cross the river to camp where we had the night before, but Blai didn’t see why we wouldn’t just sleep on the grass in front of the hotel. To Jonathan and I, this seemed crazy, but Blai insisted it would be no problem.
We had long intense discussions about politics, mostly revolving around Blai’s ideas about money and his theories about Rockefeller and Jews controlling the world. Money is all lies, he said, but we insisted that while money is controlled in weird, sometimes arbitrary ways, people have been using the idea of currency all over the world since the beginning of time, and we shouldn’t be so skeptical. It got heated at times, but it was fun.
One of the waiters at the hotel offered us dinner (probably steak or something expensive like this), and to test their tolerance of us, Blai said we didn’t need dinner, since we would be cooking our own dinner later by the boat, and that the waiter was invited to come eat with us. He seemed interested in this, so we decided it would be ok to stay the night.
The waiter never came, but we did indeed cook up a mean pasta with a peanut sauce before crashing for the night.
In the morning, we felt weird, and wondered if the staff would finally tell us to rent a room or leave. It is not normal to just sleep in front of a hotel (we didn’t set up our tents, just crowded together on our mat) and expect to not pay for anything or even be tolerated. However, nobody said anything, and Blai even was bold enough to go and speak with the French owner who was milling about. Eventually one of the staff told us, not that we had to leave, but to move to the other side of the lawn, as they would be setting up tents for something to do with the festival coming up. Although it seemed clear that we actually could sleep here for at least a couple more nights without trouble, we decided it would be best to try and move closer to Segou.
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