Niger River Project

Since leaving her gluttenous, muddy banks, the river hasn’t been a visual presence in our lives, yet she has remained at the forefront of our minds.

The canoe trip was an endurance event which suited me fine. I’d been suffering with the usual third world gripes for a few days, so was itching to get away from the contaminated ‘arse paper’ money which we seemed to be handling by the truck load, and get out into nature.
The fact that I almost lopped off one of my fingers in the process, gave me a heightened awareness that we were a long, long way away from help. A&E and other services and amenities we all take for granted every day in the first world, but they’re a dream for the vast majority of people here.

The days of endless blue skies were punctuated with the piercing screach of the Ibis, a sound which for me will be forever East African. Each paddle stroke was the focus of our world: like the cadence of a peddle stroke, the revolutions propelled us forward; the sound of water being ripped as the stroke ended, changed with the slightest shift in the angle of the blade. Our world had shrunk, but all our senses were magnified.

There were no people. Anywhere. Not even cruising at 33,000 feet above our perspiring brows.

Our close encounters with the hippos were adrenaline filled. The fight or flight mechanism kicking in within a pounding heartbeat. The trumbone-esque booming calls leaving no doubt as to their latent power.

Their shyness made photographing them pretty impossible. After shooting the last set of rapids just outside Kouroussa, we took one by surprise and were literally a few metres away, but it dived instantly, sending out a sizable bow wave, leaving us scanning the murk intently for any trace.

We quickly realised that the river experience was enhanced a few key elements: flat ground and a couple of trees (for my hammock), easy access, firewood and lack of biting insects. From about 5pm we were on the look out for an outcrop of rocks, obvious visual features on google earth, where we had a good chance of finding all of the above.
However this was no guarantee, as the ‘ant incident’ testifies…

Ps. Uploading pictures at this time is proving difficult. Seems like this blog needs quite a recent edition of windows to do such an ‘advanced’ task. Something in which this ‘terminal’ (an apt description) is sadly lacking. In fact nine of the keys on this keyboard have been re-written in felt tip and the desk has a strangely satisfying ‘give’ like the end of a diving board…

Pictures as soon as, people.

About time I added my thoughts and reasons for deciding to join Ben on this trip…

I have to start by saying that this is Ben’s adventure and I’m back-up. It’s clear from the knowledge Ben has amassed from hours of research that he is driven by the early explorers and his desire communicate a new perspective on an impoverished region. I will concentrate on providing a visual narrative of the trip and the issues that present themselves along the way. The image is everything. Without it, it did not happen.

Just a little bit of background, for those that don’t know my connection with the continent:

My Grandfather, Bill Norwood, wrote a diary ‘Africa Calling’ which sat on the family shelf, virtually untouched, until a chance conversation with my Dad stirred in me a desire to visit cousins I’d never met in Kenya.
I read and re-read the pages of this exotic, intoxicating, photographically illustrated account of a distant yet tangible world, and was instantly transfixed.
Growing up in Devon, and visiting ‘Granny’ and ‘Grandad’ regularly, we were often entertained with tall stories of the African bush, accompanied by a trumpeting elephant which would turn Bills face the colour of claret and our faces would flush as we laughed and gripped our sides.
Those emotions and that sound, a gift transported through story-telling, through the generations, through time and distance, embedded themselves in me and re-emerged when I read those pages.

I decided to visit Ric and Tim, my cousins in Kenya, and experienced true kindness in their family’s care.
I travelled with the help of friends and family, using the diary as my guide, throughout Kenya in the limited time I had, and managed to track down and re-photograph from the same spot where my grandfather had stood some 70 years earlier.

My second trip took me to Tanzania and further increased my understanding of this complex continent.

Bill’s diary inspired the naming of a new Safari Company, started by a great friend, Nikos Pocock. Nikos help me in my mission on my first East African trip. Anyone interested in a well organised Safari trip should get in touch with the great man – website link to follow.

And now, preparation is going well, although the visa issue is a little tight, and I still have to get two minor accomodation issues sorted (rent house/ tent v hammock?!) but all in all I think we’ll get there. And that’s where the fun starts…