Our final leg to Mopti was uneventful. Almost, that is. It would have been had we not had another flattened tyre. Just for the good measure. Somewhere along the way, with absolutely no lights visible in any direction, our „Toyota“ started cavorting and the driver stopped it in short order. It’s difficult to tell how worried we were. I guess if it had happened in broad daylight, the whole incident would’ve most certainly felt less ominous. But this way, at least to us westerners, the fact that there were no discernable signs of civilisation whichever way you turned wasn’t the most soothing one. Only occasionally, far and wide in between, there would be a car passing us by. But famously, according to local customs, none of them bothered to check in.
I’d like to believe that our African team was less worried. Even we, foreigners, sought to put a brave face on it and no one panicked openly. Marianne’s son even coolly lent a hand to the driver, holding the torchlight for him while the latter was inspecting the true nature of our latest break-down. To the collective sigh of relief, it turned out it was really just a punctured tyre.
They just can’t possibly have as many spare tyres at the ready as we had had them flattened. I don’t know if other vehicles that had been taking the same route fared roughly the same, but at times it felt as if a trailer just with spare tyres in tow would be an indispensable part of our overall equipment. So they didn’t replace this one. With what? They just tinkered with it in this arcane do-it-yourself way of African road heroes and after a while declared we were ready to resume our trip.
We could only hope it would be the last one.
And miraculously, the last one it was, indeed.
The ride back to Mopti strung out seemingly forever. When it started feeling like reaching our destination was long overdue, there were not any lights yet to indicate we were approaching any settlements. And when such lights finally appeared, our hopes were soon dashed by the realisation that those lights were no Mopti at all.
By the time we finally arrived, it was past eleven in the evening.
Katrin and Lea were first to leave the car. We all wished them safe flight back home and that was it for them. Marianne and her son also seemed to already have a place where they hoped to find a kip. So they followed in short order. Barbara was the only one who had previously stayed in Sévaré. But to my relief, she didn’t hold any emotional attachment to the place. In fact, she too was too tired to go there at this late hour. So she decided she might try to find a room in the „Le Fleuve“ hotel where they had been awaiting me.
In „Le Fleuve“ my friend Ibrahima was still up. He was visibly happy to see me and I was glad to see his friendly face, as well. One of the friendly receptionists, the one on the night shift tonight, was also there. I told them that Barbara was my friend and that she’d like to have a room in „Le Fleuve“. What kind of room?
„The same kind as you’ll give him,“ she answered simply.
The receptionist guy took her upstairs for inspection, and I was given again my old one on the ground floor. I just left my stuff inside and returned back to the garden for a chat with Ibrahima. I was leaving tomorrow morning, so we both wanted to spend some time together.
While we were chatting, Barbara and the receptionist returned and she declared herself satisfied with what they had offered her. So she too was going to stay there. She said she would take a shower now and we might talk more later. Besides, she wanted to get up as early as I would the next morning. It was fine with me, so she left again.
However, time went on and her shower was obviously still going on. More than mine would have, in any case. The long day had finally started taking its last toll on me and I couldn’t keep my eyes open any more. I wished sweet dreams to Ibrahima and everyone around, and finally called it a night.
