A Hollywood Ending

The next morning, the girls were called awake by 8.30 a.m. and were packed and ready to go before noon. We walked through gardens and valleys to a small place for lunch where Marion decided against Soulemane’s wishes to hike up into the desert. That morning she was fooling around with her pack on her head and was hamming it up for the locals and when it fell, she twisted her shoulder and apparently hurt it somehow. But by afternoon she was raring to go. After one failed attempt to find a way up the rocks, she came back for gifts for the local kids, who then showed her the way. An hour before our set departure, the other “chou” decided she wanted to go too, but luckily she was distracted by the local kids. At 4.30 p.m., I hefted on my backpack and took off with Soulemane, who had a rather short fuse for the girls. Turns out Marion took his watch up into the sand and left it there. He told me he’s been paying for all their drinks and cigarettes and would have to spend two nights in Mopti with them before the banks opened and they could pay his fee. Unbelievable! At barely the halfway point, Marion doffed her pack pathetically and said she needed a break. I had been walking without my pack, as I was up early enough to accept the Quebecois’ generous offer to carry my sack on their cachette. She looked at me and I just smiled and looked away. I was already carrying their small sack and there was no way I was going to carry her big sack as well because of some phantom injury. In the end, Soulemane had to send a moped to collect Marion’s bag and we were all somewhat surprised that she came riding in on the back with her pack and had left Aureille to trudge the last few hundred metres alone with a heavier pack on her back. I found it interesting that she zoomed in with a big grin on her face, since the motion of the moto should have been pulling her back backward, which should have been straining her shoulder. The auberge, newly opened, had some of the unfriendliest management and most expensive prices. But the food was descent enough. Marion did laundry for the first time in the trip. I snuck off to bed early and Aureille followed closely behind. Soulemane slept on the roof for the first time as there were stairs he could actually negotiate and he brought his tinny radio with him, meaning I pulled out the earplugs for the first time. Again, the morning started well, with the girls up by 8.15 a.m., but things deteriorated as they always do. We walked up into the village to look around, then took off again. The plan was to walk about 8-km before lunch, stop at a UNESCO village for a break, then make it to our last town by dark, which we could explore in the morning before heading to Sangha and onto Mopti. But along the way, Marion the Intrepid decided she would rather walk directly to Banani and forego the stop. At he village, Rosaire came out to say hello and ask why weren’t stopping to see the UNESCO site. Soulemane said the program had changed and it wasn’t that far. But Rosaire’s question buzzed around in my brain and by the time I reached the sign announcing it was still 2-km to the next village, my water was gone, it was approaching noon and I was made as a wet hen. I positively stalked through the sand, seething with rage that once again the fucking French had mad ea decision that negatively impacted my trip. I was tired of them, tired of Soulemane blaming them while he plied them with alcohol and cigarettes and cut things short when they were too much for his leg. The more I thought about it, the more incensed I became and by the time we arrived at what I thought was the hotel, I was ready to explode. The girls were well, well behind by this time and even Soulemane was a couple hundred metres back. I was following the man with the donkey who was carrying stupid Marion’s pack, as it was too painful for her damaged shoulder. I followed him into a building and demanded pure water and was nearly moved to tears when the woman said they didn’t have water like that. Soulemane was damn, damn lucky he arrived in time to explain this wasn’t the auberge. Another 15 minutes and we finally arrived. I had about three swallows when Marion and Aureille arrived, Marion with a smug smile, as they’d done the last kilometer in the back of a truck filled with people with misplaced generosity. Have you been waiting long? She asked. We just arrived, I spat and she got the sense I was a wee bit ruffled. Aureille asked if everything was “ca va” and I told her “never better.” Those were my last words of the afternoon, until Soulemane returned and we had it out. The girls, who had kept everyone waiting for 10 days, decided they couldn’t wait for Soulemane to return, so they would just go on into the village without him. When he returned, he asked why I wasn’t’ content, was it just walking in the sun? I told him it was the end of my patience, I’d had it with the girls and I’d had it with his leniency and I’d had it with warping my trip around them. That yes, it was a real test of his patience, but I also waited every morning, afternoon and evening for them and was paying for the privilege. Soulemane acted hurt and surprised but I told him, first off, don’t throw your handicap in my face, a lot of people wouldn’t hire you and you know it, and secondly, he’d been telling me how awful the girls were, so it should come as no shock that I’d finally reached the end of my rope and he was lucky it hadn’t happened earlier in the trip.

I think he thought I was looking for a way out of paying, because then he started talking about how he doesn’t do this for pleasure, he does it for work, it’s not like he’s on vacation. Again, I told him I wasn’t interested in a guilt trip. That it was pretty good work and he’s paid handsomely for it and that if he doesn’t enjoy it, it’s his choice not to do it. (Of course, in this country, that is hardly true.) In the end, we reached a stalemate, interrupted only by a local boy who arrived to take us out for a walk. He had to find the girls first, however, and by the time they turned up, I was already up to my elbows in questions about replacing the town’s Hogon, who died three years previously. They choose from amongst the town’s elders – most are upwards of 85 years old – and they’re considered the town’s spiritual leaders.

We made our way back down and it occurred to me that the best possible solution for the trip was to simply transfer to the Quebecois group, who would be my companions on the Timbuktu trip anyway. Apparently they had the same thought, as Rosaire was waiting at the hotel to pitch the idea, which I eagerly agreed to. Soulemane and Moktar and myself sat down to work out financial agreements. I paid my advance, and my balance, and then Moktar went to bed and Soulemane went to check on the confirmation for their car. I could hear the girls already up on the rooftop, giggling away, and heaved a great long sigh of relief that by morning I would be gone and they would no longer be my problem. Just one last, silent meal to work through and if there were any questions about my sullen behaviour, I had decided to let fly with my commentary on how their selfish, infantile behaviour had ruined things for me and I would be continuing on without them in the morning.

Such a great speech. All for naught.

Although the girls were called to dinner, they took their time arriving, as usual, so I just opened things and helped myself. At one point, I heard Marion going on about “chou!” and attend, but I didn’t’ really follow and wasn’t that concerned. At one point, she came in to demand water and later I saw one of the hotel’s boys running out with a toolbox or something. I figured, as I helped myself to a second serving, that if they needed me, they would call. But I couldn’t figure out what had happened, because the action seemed to be just outside the auberge, and yet, Aureille had been inside on the opposite rooftop.

Finally Marion came dashing in and told me there was a “petite probleme.” Turns out Aureille had decided to walk around through the uneven, unlit part of the roof, without a torch and had fallen off the roof and hit a rock upon landing. When I went out, Marion was tying to dress a rather nasty cut, but other than that I could see no real problem. But Aureille was crying and a crowd was growing. They decided to pick her up and take her to the local clinic, but I suggested instead they find “Les Anglais,” who were all doctors. Luckily, for us, not for them, their guide arrived on the scene just as I was saying this. Soulemane was also working his way up the hill and the poor man looked like he needed a Valium after realizing what had happened. I could hear his brain whirring way at how much more this was going to cost and how unlikely it was the girls would pay.

Down the road, the English doctors were scrubbing away at the wound and in the light I could tell there was a much more serious problem, as Aureille’s ankle was already swollen like a golf ball. The doctors explained she needed an x-ray by morning and it was their choice whether to trust the setting of the ankle to a local doctor or hightail it home to France. They generously offered some rather strong and expensive painkillers, did an excellent job cleaning and dressing the wound, then sent them packing. I was more than mildly embarrassed, especially for Aureille, who was being rather coquettish with the doctor, whose lovely wife was assisting and translating. As they were cleaning up and clearing away, I asked if Aureille’s newfound dopiness was just the drugs or genetics and the doctor just smiled and said the drugs wouldn’t start working for a half hour.

Once Aureille was settled and Marion was clucking over her like a wet hen. I bought Soulemane a beer and laughed my guts out about the turn of events. In some ways it was the ending of a made-for-TV movie. The evil twins finally got their comeuppance. But poor Soulemane. I’ll dine on that story for a while, but he will likely be stiffed several hundred dollars. At one point I overheard Marion and him discussing what would happen now and she suggested he continue on with me after arranging for transport to the hospital for them. I was somewhat shocked, not so much at the idea she remembered I was on the trip, but at the audacity of skipping out on paying Soulemane. She seemed equally shocked that I had made other plans and I’m sure she wondered when all that had come to pass.

Soulemane woke everyone just before 7.30 a.m. and explained they needed to get up and get going if they were going to get to Mopti. I could hear Marion arguing and smiled to myself that this was no longer my problem. Rosaire and Moktar arrived early and Rosaire got suckered into helping re-dress the wound, which had bled all night. I wished them bonne chance and walked away feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders.