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Waking in the morning and watching the
villages glide by, each with a dramatic and distinctly designed clay
mosque towering above all other structures. Looking down from the boat
it feels like the boat is one with the river. Unless you look at the
riverbank it is difficult to judge how fast we are traveling -- we are
going down stream -- but on careful examination it is clear we are
making progress -- the Niger has a pretty good flow rate at this time
of year. Every few kilometers there is a village visible from the
river -- there is no way of knowing how many villages there are just
back from the river.
About midday we stopped in Segou. The dock was stacked with
watermelons and the riverbanks were lined with people washing, cloths,
babies and bodies. Upland areas were stacked with firewood,
construction sand and other commodities that were obviously brought in
by boat. The boat stops a longer here so there is time to get off and
look around. Prior to the French arriving in the 19th century Segou
was one of the capitol of the Kingdom by the same name. The French
also used it as a capitol for a while. The tree lined streets and some
taller French-style architecture separate Segou from most others of
its size. We spent a majority of our shore time meeting some of the
merchants in the market and learning about the different kinds of
beautiful fabrics (woven, batik, dyed, painted) that are produced in
the region and conjecturing about the uses of some of the bird and
animal parts and plant materials that are in the traditional medicine
section of the market. By the time we returned to the boat most of the
watermelon had disappeared, presumably into the hull of the boat.
Single melons were available for purchase so a couple were bought for
the group.
Afternoon is a lazy time. People retreat to books, journals, card
games and the shade. I periodically revert to a birder and am occupied
trying to distinguish between different models of heron, egret,
kingfisher, plover, weaverbird, scavengers, etc.
Just before dusk we passed through a canal that lead to a lock. For
miles along the canal were checker-board vegetable gardens, mostly
growing onions. Who eats all of these onions.
At the locks, as the boat is lowered there is a trading frenzy between produce sellers
on the land and buyers on the boat. It goes on until the two groups
are out of reach. Much of the produce is destined for more arid and
remote destinations along the river like Timbuktu. Very animated
trading is the norm for every stop. |
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