The Waning Days and Thoughts

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Today, a second Peace Pole in the morning after a hot sweat throughout the night. Peace Pole panels for Mandagho, and then breakfast and photos, before more WAWA (West Africa Wins Again) with tardy boat drivers and their resistance to the idea of traveling to an Itsekiri village.

Finally, we hopped on the early boat to such place with the supplies for the pole. Quickly, within the ghost-town of Mandagho, we erected the partner pole with the help of locals. Peter and I stood back and watched.

Two hours later, left alone, two Americans in Mandagho to construct a Peace Pole after spending a full week in neighboring Oporoza where we built a library and raised an identical pole, rain, thunder, and lightning descended from dark, solemn clouds. The rest of the delegation was on a tour of distant villages, and we sat and waited; again, two Americans coming from Ijaw Oporoza now stranded, lying still in Itsekiri Mandagho. But locals were wonderful, alive, completely hospitable; an energy strong and determined.

More rain, thunder, lightning, ganja, and America on the other shore with a face of Chevron. This was the Statue of Liberty locals Smart and friends knew.

Alas, the others arrived. I was grumpy and hungry. Our stay was over, and I began to feel the effects of the whole week. Onward, back to Warri, my hands taking the wheel, steering a boat through the Creeks. I stood up, peering over the bow and saw the rainbow sheen of gasoline, and the black streams of crude covering the river's brackish waters when the sun hit the perfect angle. It was discreet, like the multinationals' responsibility toward pollution. And it was ugly, decrepit, scarred with the face of exploitation and underdeveloped despair.

Yet we only skimmed the surface, having toured the Delta; spoke with the people, heard their stories, and witnessed the sites. Only strangers, strangers in a strange land. We were foreigners and always would be. Just like that, we swabbed these waters of a complexity of degradation and coloration.

On our way back, the waters of the Creeks eventually went shallow. Low tide was met, grounded as the two 75-hp Yamahas struck bottom at full throttle. It took three jolts, three sudden strikes upon the shallows—a log, rock, or of some sort—before the captain's "No Problem" was cut. Through a narrow, jungle swamp we paddled Nigeria's primitive Venice in old, rickety gondolas. It was a scene from Apocalypse Now, in search of Kurtz's Warri-town, showers, and a cold Star.

From these shallows and into town, the Navy dock was the most polluted site of them all; wretched. Oil and gas swept in a flow of molten crude as four petroleum rigs emptied their precious cargo into a rusted barge. Bolts loose, teeth stripped, crude and rainbow liquids weaved in whirlpools between metal and fiberglass hulls. But what could we do? Even photographs were prohibited on naval grounds.

We loaded on our Delta Tours bus with eyes of excitement. The docks, the Creeks, the villages and people—all left behind. Yet we had our experience, our memories, and the hearts we opened with our Nigerian brothers and sisters.

And now at the Wellington, stars in the eyes of staff of this plush, marble-clad estate.

"I saw you. This morning, yesterday, the day before—you were on Delta TV. It was all of you!"

"The library was beautiful!"

"I saw you dancing African!"

The staff and security guards were grateful, each giddy like a child absent from class. God Bless you, a woman guard told me. God Bless you.

Our status after being on television spread to each of our ears. Oporoza, Mandagho and the distant riverine felt like a dream with the soap, the A/C, and the Nigerian-style buffet. At the Wellington we ate, we laughed—nostrils flaring with deep appreciative breaths—and we cried. With our waning moments together, we reflected on village life and the project now complete. But we understood, within us and without, it was only the beginning.

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Photos

Bridging Sides
Peace Pole of Itsekiri's Mandagho village

Overview
Leaving Oporoza with the impact of our week-long visit beginning to take effect.

Transporting
With the shores saturated in the waters of the swamps, wooden planks provide the support while boats are the vehicle of choice.

Navy Docks
On the river from Warri

Comments

[Terry McG - Seattle]

Blessings!
Karsten, thank you for all your inspired photos and writing, and the work for peace you and the others are doing. This is a true Christmas present.