The final night of the festival was the biggest mess yet. Failure or success, I am not sure, but it was a crazy night, in which we all stumbled back home at different hours of the morning. The fact that none of us suffered more than a few scratches was lucky.
So by the last day, we still had been almost completely unsuccessful in getting into the concerts. The final act featured Amadou and Mariam, probably the most well known Malian band outside of Mali. It was time to try our final idea to get into the concert. We would simply paddle our pirogue right into Segou and anchor it next to the stage, which was right on the water. It seemed pretty fool proof, and we hadn’t tried it before because we had usually been too tired or it had been too windy to paddle.
So at 6:30 we headed over to Jacque’s hotel to retrieve our boat, where it was still parked. The German couple and Alejandro were not there. A German guy, Christian, was with us when we got to the boat, and found that our paddles were missing. Jonathan started freaking out. Even though he usually is quick to blame thieves for lost items, it seemed like that was the only possibility. I hesitated, though, and thought that maybe Katia, the server at the hotel, had put them away so they wouldn’t get stolen. We tracked her down, and she knew nothing. Jonathan and Blai were getting very angry, though also realizing that maybe we shouldn’t have left our paddles in the boat for four days unattended. Christian called his girlfriend, who supposedly was with the other German couple. Indeed she was, and they had our paddles. Where? Oh, out on the river. Husseiney, the fisherman who hangs out at the hotel had taken them out for a boat ride, and taken our paddles so everyone could paddle. Although we were relieved that our paddles were not stolen, we were pretty annoyed with the Germans for taking them when we needed them to get to town. It took them thirty minutes to get back, and the sun was just about down.
We had invited anyone that wanted to come with us, but they all had tickets given to them by a local German hotel owner. Christian decided to come with us, though. I was glad to have the extra help paddling, as we were running late. I stood on the bow and used the bamboo pole, while everyone else paddled. The pole really made a difference and we had a good pace. Christian, however, did not make a difference. We hadn’t really thought there was any way to be bad at paddling, but this guy had no idea what he was doing. We all had to stop ourselves from laughing at him as he flailed his paddle around the water. He quickly exposed himself as dead weight, but we didn’t mind. We liked having someone along for the ride. We thought he would enjoy it, but he actually seemed nervous the whole time. He also didn’t understand why he hadn’t bought a motor. He wasn’t the type to appreciate the tranquility of the river. But I guess that is where we differ. He is a great traveler, but he always travels with his own vehicle. In fact, he and his girlfriend had driven their Mercedes camper fan across Europe, across the middle east to, Pakistan and India, took a boat to Dubai, drove through Oman and Yemen, took a boat to Djibouti, then continued down the east coast of Africa, then up the west coast of Africa and back to Europe. A very impressive journey, but I don’t think I could ever subject myself to that much driving, or dealing with all the complications of having your own vehicle.
About a km outside of town, Christian said it was getting late, and he should probably get back on land to get to the concert faster. We decided to take advantage of this break and get some dinner before getting to the show. On our way in, a couple of young women selling frozen drinks in plastic bags started talking to us. Blai started to flirt with one of them, telling her that we were going to the concert in our boat. She asked if she could come, so Blai said sure. I didn’t think either of them were serious. She then volunteered to show us a good place to eat. She led us through some back roads to a crowded street stall serving all sorts of things. The food was some of the best (and cheapest) in Segou and this earned my respect and trust. Yes, she could join us on the boat.
I was surprised when she actually did join our vessel, probably getting tar on her pretty new dress. Her name was Kadi, and we liked that she was daring enough to jump in a boat of a few weird strangers. We stopped just before arriving to the stage, to pick up some rum and coke (the cokes for Kadi). And we were off to the show.
Kadi. Photo Credit: Blai Coulibaly
The concert was in full swing when we anchored our boat about 50 yards from the side of the stage. Our view of the stage wasn’t spectacular, but we could hear the music. It was one of the openers to Amadou and Mariam, and Kadi was familiar with the music. We all jumped up, dancing on our boat, excited about our success in getting “into” the concert by our own means. Within minutes, we could see a flashlight shining at us from the side of the stage. It was obvious they were trying to get our attention, but we just ignored it. Minutes later we saw security on shore also shining flashlights, obviously waving at as to come on shore. Why would we voluntarily go in and get kicked out?
We assumed we were untouchable, until we saw one of the large passenger pinasses pull out from its parking spot nearby. I was shocked, but sure enough, security was taking this seriously. I figured we were in a sort of uncontrolled international waters. Who could restrict us from being in a boat on the river? We hadn’t snuck in or gone through any gates illegally. The pinasse had three security officers on it, and I was surprised at how quickly they poled the boat right next to ours. I tried to push our boat off of theirs, but it only delayed the inevitable. Two of the men jumped on our boat without saying a word. One of them grabbed our bamboo pole and tried to move us. Jonathan was on the back, yelling at me to take the pole from him. I tried half-heartedly, not wanting to get tossed into the water. My best defense was that we were still anchored, which he hadn’t figured out. After poling a few times, he figured it out and pulled it in. I tried to throw the anchor back out, but the other man stopped me. Basically, we were screwed.
When our boat reached shore, there was more security and a few military men. They wasted no time leading us out, through the gates. My only worry was for Kadi. I knew we weren’t really in much trouble, but I wasn’t sure what this could mean for her. Segou is big, but it has a small town feel, and I could imagine that word could spread that she got in trouble gallivanting around with some crazy young foreign guys. Initially we were told we would have to pay the $50 entrance fee (let alone the fact that tonight’s concert only cost $30), which was obviously not an entrance fee, but a bribe that would go straight to the police that we were now dealing with. We refused to speak French, so they went and found some young officer, who spoke decent English. He looked uncomfortable, and not up to having the strong presence to demand bribes. This definitely worked to our advantage. He asked Jonathan if he had been drinking. Jonathan asked why that mattered. The young guy nervously responded, “I think you have smoked something.” Jonathan simply said, “search me”. The scare tactics didn’t really work. We spoke fast and with confidence to him about why we wouldn’t pay the full ticket price. They said we would have to take us to the station. Then it was a bit of a stalemate, and everyone was just standing around, waiting for someone to make a move. They obviously didn’t want to bother with taking us in, but still wanted something from us. Kadi got involved and went to bat for us. After a few more minutes of negotiations, she said that we would have to pay $2 per person. We didn’t want to pay, out of principle, but we wanted to get her out of this situation quickly, and we also were a little nervous leaving our boat unattended. We talked it over, and decided to pay. Blai and Kadi were escorted away from the concert while Jonathan and I were escorted back to the boat. As we walked back through the concert, we saw some military officers using their rank to get a group of beautiful Malian girls through without paying.
We paddled our boat to where Blai and Kadi met us. We picked them up and paddled back out into the river, making sure to keep a bigger distance this time. Amadou and Mariam had started, but the sound wasn’t as good, and the performers were barely visible. Even still, it was good enough for us. We danced on the boat, drank our rum and had a great time on the final night of the festival. It was a bit of a compromise, but we still felt proud of ourselves. Just being in the boat with rum at night is fun, so add a distant Amadou and Mariam concert and we were having the time of our lives.
Just as the concert was finishing up, Kadi said she was getting tired, so we paddled back to shore, and Blai left to walk her home. This is where things get a little hazy. Blai was taking a while, and I was getting hungry, so I ran into town to grab an egg sandwich. Jonathan waited at the boat, getting deeper into the rum. By the time I returned, Blai was still not back. At least I think this is how the story goes. For some reason, Jonathan and I decided that he wasn’t coming back, so we left (after calling of course).
Here is where our stories start to break up. Jonathan and I were heading back home in the pirogue. I wouldn’t have had a problem leaving the boat somewhere in town overnight, but Jonathan wouldn’t do it. So here we are at probably 1 AM setting off, upstream, for an understaffed drunken 7 km paddle. I was on the front, with the pole, Jonathan on the back, paddling and steering. Halfway there, the land started to jut out in front of us, and there was about 6 pirogues parked directly ahead. Jonathan was trying to steer us around them, but the way I was poling was keeping us on a straight course. Although we were going incredibly slow, Jonathan began to panic, yelling at me push us away from the pirogues. I did what I could, but we were still heading straight for them, and he kept yelling. In my desparate attempts to get us out of the way of these other boats, I shoved the pole in too hard, and it got stuck in the mud, and I fell off balance. The water shocked me as I fell into it. The combination of Jonathan’s irrational yelling, my drunkenness and exhaustion had pushed me to the limit. Any time we were in a slightly difficult situation, Jonathan gets unnecessarily dramatic, and being drunk, I was unable to just blow it off like usual. So I told him where to stick his paddle, threw the pole back onto the boat and dragged my soaked self onto the shore. He was probably just as annoyed with me, or too prideful, so he didn’t even call after me.
I didn’t know where I was, but figured it would only be a matter of walking until I found the road. Unfortunately, it was completely dark and I was wet, freezing and barefoot. I climbed up the bank, and didn’t even think about whatever thorns, glass or parasites were making their way into my feet. First, I was in some gardens, and then found myself trapped by mud walls. I seemed to be in some family’s compound, though, luckily there were no signs of people. Unluckily, there did not seem to be any alternate ways out, so I climbed a wall and landed in a trash heap next to a goat. I then just made a beeline in the direction that I knew would bring me to a road. Another wall jumped, and I was back. It was a long, cold walk. Nobody gave me a ride. I probably looked like the type of down and out hitchhiker that people avoid at all costs in the states. By the time I got home at four in the morning, I was shivering and my feet were destroyed.
In the meantime, Blai had come back, looking for us, and angry that we had left. Instead of going home, however, he tried to find us. His method was to find a ride for a kilometer, get out, march through gardens, bushes, jump fences and walls to the river, and look for us. He must have done this 4 times with different rides between each in his attempt to get back with the boat. Even after all this, he still got home before me.
In the even meaner time, Jonathan continued paddling. It was an impressive attempt, or one person to paddle that huge boat up river, and he gave a decent shot at it for at least an hour. He brought it within two km of home before giving up at 4AM. He anchored the boat, and tried to sleep under the exposed root system of a tree on shore. It was too cold, so he moved on, also barefoot. His walk to the road probably would not have been much longer than mine if it wasn’t for the roundabout way he took. He first jumped a concrete wall, that in the daylight, we saw could have been easily walked around, then walked through 200 yards of gardens, then jumped the other concrete wall, then through some bushes, through deep trench, across a big field, and back to the road. He even marked his trail with bent branches and found pieces of cloth, so we were able to find the way the next day. He got home a little after sunrise.
Nobody was happy with one another, but for this reason, we could all easily forgive, especially after seeing what we had all been through the night before. It actually brought us all together, especially when we went on the trek back to the boat and saw the ridiculous walk that Jonathan had had to deal with.
So the festival turned out to be completely different than I had expected, mostly because we didn’t go to it, but simply existed in its periphery. But what a weekend. On the Monday morning we all swore off the lifestyle we had lived for the past 5 days. None of us felt like good people, but damn it was fun.
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