Leaving Segou

A few days before our departure from Segou, I broke the news to Blai and Jonathan that I would be leaving the boat trip. This had been an incredibly difficult decision for me to make, and there were many factors. I told them that I was running low on money (not that low), and that I was considering going to Cote d’Ivoire or Liberia to report on the conflict. I didn’t really know what I would do next, but I felt that my days in West Africa were numbered, and I felt I needed to do something different, and travel alone for a bit. Additionally, I was weeks away from hearing if I had received a Fulbright grant, which would send me to Kenya in August for a year. If I received the grant, I would need to get back to Seattle as quickly as possible to prepare. Additonally, my student loans would be starting again in May and that would put an abrupt end to my travel funds. I had had many plans for this trip, and had not accomplished many, although the most pipe dreamy ones of donkey travel, hitchhiking, train-hopping and buying a boat on the Niger had somehow happened. I had not visited Harley as promised, or my friend Awine in Ghana.

They were shocked and told me I was making a bad decision. They both offered to loan me large sums of money to continue the trip. I was touched with their generosity, but the fact was that I had already made my decision and wouldn’t be changing my mind. They felt snubbed and I didn’t blame them for this. I also would have felt like I was leaving them high and dry if it wasn’t for the fact that one of Jonathan’s old travel buddies was high-tailing it in our direction from Morocco to join the trip. Paddling the boat trip with only two people would be nearly impossible and I would not have put them in that situation. I told them that I would wait until Jonathan’s friend had arrived, even if that meant that I would go with them to Markala, a town 35 km from Segou, the last town that is easily accessible from a main road before Mopti, some 300 km away.

Our last few days in Segou were filled with constant guilt trips and interventions trying to get me back on board with the boat. I stayed firm and managed to be strong emotionally. The truth was that our social dynamic had been wearing on me more and more every day, and I felt desperate for a new situation. For me, traveling alone is very important and I had only had very brief moments of this in the past five months. Sure, traveling with other people is always more fun, but sometimes you miss a lot because you are too preoccupied with those around you to appreciate the great places you are in. I wanted to throw myself back into the vulnerable, exciting and sometimes lonely act of solo travel.

It was a weird time for me and even though I knew I would be leaving the boat trip in Markala, I couldn’t picture myself being alone, and I still didn’t have a real plan.

So things moved forward, and by March 8, we were finally ready to get back on the river. Blai was in the process of giving away the last of his puppies. He had given two to the chief, who he trusted to take care of them (and not eat them, as he was a good Muslim). We went to Kadi’s house one last time, and gave a puppy to her family. She was not there, though, as she was visiting family in Bamako. Blai gave another one to Husseini, our friend and fisherman who lived nearby.

Chief picks out his puppies.

Husseini and his new puppy.

Everybody in town wanted one of Fura’s puppies. The Lebanese woman that ran the shop where we bought our wine was incessantly asking me about the puppies. Blai had promised one to her during our first day in Segou, but he had since boycotted her due to the way she treats her own dogs and the single local employee of the shop (hint: she treated them similarly). She had repeatedly proved herself to be one of the least likeable people in Segou, and there was no way Blai would give her anything.

Blai wanted to make sure he gave them to people that would treat them well, and wouldn’t eat them. It was hard to find trustworthy candidates and Blai was careful about who he would give them to. In fact, by the time we left, we still had one puppy that he was unable to give away.

We went to visit Katia, next door at the hotel. She had been so sweet to us during our stay in Segou, and it was sad to leave her. She worked so hard to run this hotel, and it was always obvious that Jacques, the owner, did not treat her well and worked her hard. We bought her a Coke and insisted that she come and hang out with us as we had our last beer in Segou. She told us that she hadn’t had a day off in a long time, and that Jacques wasn’t even around today to help. It was International Women’s Day and she was doing all the work while Jacques was nowhere to be found.

Hanging out with Katia.

We spent most of the day cleaning out the house and packing the boat. A bunch of the local kids came to help us carry loads down to the boat.

Blai packs up his room.

Jonathan packs up his room.

The rewards we gave them in the end were modest and it gave me mixed feelings. The kids had been watching keenly to see what we were throwing away. We had kept our trash boxes inside to quell the grabiness. When we were finished, we brought the boxes out, and they were torn apart by the small mob of kids. The empty glass or plastic bottle were popular and could be easily sold for a few pennies. I don’t know what they would do with most of the things we had left behind, but their resourcefulness would leave nothing wasted. It felt awkward that they had stuck around to help us in exchange for our garbage. When it was all claimed they then turned to the house, that Chief had already locked. There was something left. I saw Chief open the door a crack to allow one kid to run in and grab the small piece of a dried out baguette that was left behind. The kids tore it apart, dividing it evenly so each kid got a small bite. Blai gave them his soccer ball that he had been traveling with for a long time. He did his best to explain that it would need to be shared among the group, and based on their performance with the bread, I felt that they would do ok with this.

One last water run.

The kids divvy up the bread and trash.

At sunset, we were finally ready to go. We had just enough daylight to get halfway across the river, and set up camp on an island. We felt free again. I knew I would need to truly savor these last few days of river life.

The next day we had to paddle to Segou to provision. The seven km paddle to town and shopping took most of our day. We took turns watching the boat as we individually hustled around town to get a million errands done. Again, we escaped back to the river just before sunset.

It was exciting as we passed the port area of Segou where large crowds were gathered (for working purposes, not to see us off). We turned the little boom box up loud and made a big scene as the people paused in their work to wave to us. After five weeks, we were finally leaving Segou.