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"Craig, Stephanie, your time is up!" Bahini called all too cheerfully for this ungodly hour of the morning. It was still dark. I looked at my watch. 4 a.m., a mere 90 minutes after going to bed. Ugh. I scrambled to get up and start packing up, hoping that Craig could rest some more. We had intended to wake up at 4:45 to try to maximize sleep time, hoping that rest would settle Craig's stomach. I asked Craig how he felt, and he said that he actually felt ok. He tried to take a sip of water and immediately got sick again. It was a good thing that he had dug that hole in the sand last night, he thought, as he covered it up with sand. This didn't bode well for a long day of car rides. One of the Tuaregs serving as night watchman at the camp must have heard, and he came right over to check on Craig.
I went to get Bahini to tell him the situation. As he took off for our tent, I headed over to the mess tent and scarfed down some bread, Laughing Cow cheese, and a cup of Nescafe with Tina, Pam, and Susan. I told them about Craig's condition, and we grabbed some toasted bread for the road in case Craig might want some later. There was a lot of activity going on so early in the morning. The air was thick with smoke from fires. People were already dismantling the empty tents at camp. Engines revved as vehicles prepared to leave. Soon there would be no trace, save for a stage and a couple of concrete buildings, that anything had ever happened here. I went back to the tent, and found Craig desperately trying to get his luggage together. The two of us managed to get our bags ready, and I placed them outside the tent. We managed to walk Craig to the vehicle and this is when he realized that he wasn't ok at all. Neither Craig nor I had sat in the front seat yet on this trip, thinking we would save that priviledge for when we really needed it, and that was now. We sat him in the front seat, and I got in the seat behind him so that I could keep an eye on him and care for him as needed. Bouba packed up the car and the rest of the group all got inside. As we started the drive, we taught Bouba the English word "STOP!" in case Craig needed to request an emergency pit stop. The "roads" were crazy. Everyone was leaving at around the same time. Bouba was in a hurry; we didn't want to reach the ferry too late or the line would be tremendously long. As we sped down the tracks in the sand, we could see the rosy glow of sunrise illuminate the indigo sky. Craig was conscious enough of his surroundings to ask us to get a picture of the sunrise. Susan stuck the camera out the window and got a surprisingly good shot, given that we didn't have time to stop. Craig had to ask Bouba pull over at one point, and whipped open the door and got sick. Bouba was very comforting, and put his hand on Craig's back. We got Craig settled back in, but as the ride progressed, he felt worse. He was moaning and feeling like he was overheating. We stopped at our Timbuktu hotel for a rest room stop. Craig stayed in the car slouched down in the passenger seat. We tried to get him to drink liquids, but he couldn't even drink. The most he could do was wet his lips. There was no way that I could get him to take his daily anti-malarial pill. At around 8:30, we reached the ferry port at Kabara. Unlike the other side of the river, Kabara was more of a town. There were little shops and businesses lining the main street, and vehicles were queued up waiting for the ferry, while their passengers wandered around taking in the sights and sounds of the port on this busy morning. There was a little dust-up about vehicle queue position, but we knew that Bouba would prevail. He parked our car in its rightful position. We had no idea how long we would be waiting. The car was in the sun and Craig's condition was going downhill fast. He appeared to be burning up. He opened the car door to try to get some air, and a group of kids immediately swarmed around him trying to sell him things. He was feeling like he could be sick at any moment, and worried that he might be sick on them. I had very little patience for the kids and shooed them away with Bouba's help. I was starting to get really scared. Pam, Tina, and Susan were great and they kicked right into action. They asked Bahini to pick up a the closest thing to ginger ale he could find at a little store. Tina gave me a travel thermomenter, and we attempted to take his temperature, but I couldn't get a reading. Susan had some excellent rehydration fluid that she mixed up for Craig, and she had the great idea of putting a cold compress on his head. Tina, Susan, and Pam scurried around, trying to locate a doctor amongst the waiting ferry passengers. They found a Welsh doctor who came over with a thermometer. Craig's temperature was low, which he said can be consistent with malaria. He asked what we were taking for anti-malarials, and I told him it was malarone. He said that the treatment for malaria is 4 malarone per day (as opposed to 1 for prophylaxis), so I should give him the pills and we should take him straight to the hospital in Mopti. While this prognosis wasn't what he had wanted to hear, we at least felt good that someone had taken a look at him and had given us a course of action to follow. Bouba was noticeably worried, and started to pray for Craig. If Craig was indeed suffering from malaria, I wanted to get him out of here as soon as possible. It is now that you realize how remote Timbuktu actually is. Wasn't there a way we could somehow cut the line as a medical emergency? There must be someone we could bribe, right? I was really starting to freak out. While Tina, Pam, and Susan wandered around looking for some way to get us on the boat, Susan had my camera and took some photos of the general business of the port. Boats were being loaded and unloaded. Rows of salt tablets looked like quartz countertops. Brightly colored sleeping mats were loaded onto waiting boats. Baskets full of vegetables and fruits were loaded and unloaded. I was grateful that she took these photos, as Craig and I were in no shape to absorb anything about our surroundings. After speaking to some other guides and eventually talking to the right people, we were able to get onto the next ferry, and then before we knew it we were on the road to Mopti. We kept rewetting Craig's compress with our drinking water, and he happily wrapped his face and head in its coolness Pam called the travel insurance company, and was told that there was noone available because it was early on a Sunday morning in the USA. I was disillusioned. I always took solace in travel insurance...that if things were bad enough, we could always be med-evaced to a good hospital. But here we were at least six hours away from Mopti, and all they did was tell us to do is continue hydrating him and get to the nearest hospital. Craig was now fading in and out, every once in a while being able to speak to the rest of us, and then all of a sudden sleeping. Susan suggested that Pam call Anna, our local contact who had organized our volunteer work in Kori-Maounde through her Tandana Foundation. This was a great idea, and Pam called her immediately. Anna had reservations about the Mopti hospital, and said that the best place to go would be a clinic in Bamako. She offered to meet us in Mopti to help however she could. She was very sweet, and it was quite nice of her to offer. We thanked her and told her we'd get back to her. So the Mopti hospital was not hygeinic. But Mopti itself was 6 hours away, let alone Bamako, which was an additional 7.5! But I didn't want to risk Craig's long-term health by subjecting him to an IV in a dirty hospital. But would I have a choice? He was alternately burning up and shivering. How long could he even stay in the car? Maybe we could get a flight from Mopti to Bamako? Different scenarios raced through my head. I felt the tremendous burden of having to be the decision-maker, and yet having no idea what was the better option. Craig was now able to drink a sip of rehydration fluid now and then, and I gave him one malarone pill at a time. We told Anna we'd keep in touch and let her know how things were. I managed to get Craig to keep the malarone pills down for a while, but eventually we hit a bump and his stomach lurched. He signaled for Bouba to stop, and he got sick again. What came out was clear and bright green, like antifreeze, or Mountain Dew. This freaked me out even more until I realized that it was just the dye from the malarone pills. So much for keeping him medicated. There was barely any conversation as we were all lost in our own thoughts. We got stopped at a road block on trumped-up charges. The man told Bouba that when we came through in the other direction several days ago, the passenger in the front seat hadn't been wearing a seat belt, so we needed to pay a fine. Bouba was furious, as it wasn't true, and he knew that this guy was just looking to pocket some cash. Bouba had specifically asked us to put our seatbelts on in this area! Bouba left with the guy and returned a few minutes later, vindicated. Bahini translated that Bouba told the guy that he knew his boss, and threatened to call him. The man then backed down and let Bouba proceed without paying the "fine". You go, Bouba! We stopped in Douentza to try to get some sandwiches. Craig couldn't eat, but everyone else needed lunch. As we got Craig out of the car, he noticed all of the local people watching us with interest. His head was spinning and he coudln't keep focus. The restaurant was full of travelers like ourselves, making their exodus from the Festival. They sat at tables in the shade, where we had eaten breakfast two days ago. I led Craig to the bathroom and was glad to see that he was at least able to walk. He was actually starting to feel a little bit better. The restaurant was too busy to make us sandwiches to go, so Tina and Bahini went into a little store and bought some cookies and snacks. Craig and I contributed granola bars, and we had a makeshift lunch while speeding toward Mopti. Craig was able to eat a couple of crumbs of cookie, which we felt was a positive sign. We were back on paved roads again from here on in. The ride seemed infinite, and my knee was starting to lock from being in the same position for so many hours. As we approached Mopti, Craig was definitely starting to feel a little bit better. He had drunk the entire bttle of reydration fluid, and was finally able to keep it down. We decided that the best course of action would be to go straight to the hotel and have Craig get some sleep. We would avoid the hospital if at all possible. Craig was conscious enough to know that he didn't want an IV at a sketchy hospital. Pam texted Anna to let her know the new plan, and we told her we'd be in touch if we needed her. At 4 o'clock, 11 hours after departing from Essakane, we arrived at the Hotel Kanaga. Ironically, the hospital was literally right next door to the hotel, and let me just say that I was SO glad that Craig's condition was starting to improve. It didn't look like the kind of hospital that any westerner would venture into unless ABSOLUTELY necessary. On the other hand, the hotel was very new-looking. It was built to look like traditional Malian mud architecture, but with a clean modern flair that made it seem that it would have been at home as a spa in the American southwest. We saw a small lizard with an orange head on the wall as we entered the lobby. I hurriedly filled out the check-in paperwork, and a man grabbed our luggage and led us outside through the courtyard to our room. They turned on the air conditioning and an exhausted Craig immediately collapsed onto the bed. I tried to shut the door behind the porter, but it wouldn't latch. I called him back and explained that it wouldn't stay shut, but he didn't seem to believe me, and thought I was just doing something wrong. I got a little annoyed; it had been a very stressful day, and I did know how to operate a door, thank you very much. After he tried unsuccessfully himself to shut the door, he called over his manager. I explained the situation and the manager didn't believe me either, and had to take a shot at it himself. That was it. I politely buy forcefully demanded a new room, telling them that we had been driving for 11 hours and my husband was very sick and we needed a room with a functioning door. They quickly grabbed our bags and led us down the walkway to room 40. They turned on the air conditioning, confirmed that the door functioned properly, and left. This was a nice, comfortable hotel room, and I was glad that we were in the nicest hotel of our trip thus far when Craig really needed it. Craig immediately took a nice shower, while I went through our bags, which had been hastily packed this morning and were full of sand. I shook the clothes over the wastebasket to get all of the sand off, and I painstakingly picked the krim-krim burrs one by one from almost every article of clothing I had. By the time I was through, the floor was covered with a thin coat of sand, despite my best efforts to contain it to the wastebasket (and when I washed the clothes on our arrival home, I would find yet more krim-krim burrs as well). When Craig was done with his shower, he got into bed for a nap, quickly selecting the side of the bed closest to the air conditioning unit. I then took a nice hot shower (my first since before the Festival) and washed some of our dirtier clothes in the sink. One thing can be said for the climate of Mali: clothes dry almost instantly. Craig wanted to try to drink a Fanta for some nice carbohydrates, so I decided to explore the hotel a bit and buy a nice cold Fanta from the bar. I discovered yet another problem with the door. There wasn't a REAL doorknob. The door was like a hobbit door with a stationary knob right in the middle. But there was no knob on the inside. We had been given one keycard, and you needed to plug it into the wall in order for the electricity to work. So, I could take the keycard with me and Craig would be left with no lights and no air conditioning. Or, I could leave the card in the room, but then if Craig fell asleep he may not hear me knock to let me back in. I needed option 3: so I wedged my empty backpack into the door to keep it ajar a little bit, and headed out. I went through the lobby and stood in front of the hotel, looking at the Niger across the street. The shadows were long and this was Craig's favorite time of day for photography, so I wanted to get a few shots before the sun went down. But, as a woman outside by herself, I was immediately accosted by people from every direction, trying to help me by selling me things or offering me pirogue rides on the river. After the day I had had, not to mention the fact that I was still running on only 90 minutes of sleep, I was in no mood to fend them off, so I retreated back into the hotel lobby. I bought two ice cold Fantas at the bar, and then headed straight back to the room. We rested for a while and I wrote in the journal. Craig wanted to attempt to go to dinner with the group, so we met them outside for a drink. We sat in chairs on a nice covered patio overlooking the pool, and each ordered a drink. Pam, Tina, and Susan were very glad to see Craig up and about. We saw Chris and Ed and the rest of the British group as well. Pam had been telling them how sick Craig had been, and they were quite happy to see that he was beginning to feel better. They asked us how the Festival was, and we felt badly that they hadn't been able to attend, when the Festival had gone off without a hitch. We all entered the dining room, and the Brits sat at their table and we sat at ours with Bahini. Dinner was a buffet with seemingly random food. It was a prix-fixe price of 10,000 CFA per person. Soup and bread sounded wonderful to Craig, and there was an onion soup on the buffet. Onion soup may not seem like the best choice for an upset stomach, but it was sweet and warm and good, and Craig enjoyed dipping his bread in it and savoring the first food he had eaten in close to 24 hours. I had the onion soup, spaghetti, and chicken, with a delicious flan for dessert. Since Craig had only eaten soup. the restaurant didn't charge him at all, which was quite nice. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief now that Craig seemed to be on the mend. Craig had been a real trooper all day, and I was proud of him for trying to make the best of his situation. After dinner we went back to the room and went straight to bed. It had been an exhausting day for both of us, and we could use all the sleep that we could get. We turned off the light, admiring the cute lamp which featured a little man made out of metal and rope, holding up the lampshade. We were asleep by 9:30. View Larger Map |
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