Farcing the Jade Sea | Part 3 – Page 2

I take a little walk around to see the other boats that are not “anything that floats.”

I guess these are not anything that floats.

Updating my people. They too are anxious.

I painfully empty both my pockets and Mpesa account into Fimbo’s. He is not coming with me, but rather has assigned me a coxwain. Any man you leave holding all your money is a sharp businessman, and you are the fool parting with it.

Coxswains’ assistant who spoke very little, and whose name I did not get. I will just call him Assistant… or Asis.

On the boat, ready to push out. You can just see Fimbo taking a photo.

My boat ride starts taking a turn I had not anticipated. It starts getting interesting in ways I hadn’t thought it would. And guess what the source of this new development is…

The coxswain!

Bagayo is the type that is immensely uncomfortable with silence or sitting still. It pricks him like needles in his bones, he just has to talk and gesture twenty four seven. I really don’t think he sleeps at night. The boat engine is loud, he and I are seated right next to this loudness, but he insists on conversation every second. Excitedly! I’m confused… I thought I was the one having his first boat experience, not him!

My constant response to his constant hollering is “Ati?! What?!”

I don’t have much room for excitement, anyway, because I’m scared! I never thought water could be so fluid! Yes, that’s a stupid statement, I know. We are being swayed all over, I eye my bike, wondering how it is not capsizing the boat. It seems to defy physics. (Video here.) We should be in a crocodile’s duodenum by now…

We hit some waves and the boat tilts hard to one side. I can hear and feel the bike hitting the boat as it is thrown about. My arms are holding on tight and I’m screaming.

“Go slowly!!” I yell.

The two seasoned lake people glance at me. Bored. Nonchalant.

“The bike is completely tied down,” shouts Bagayo over the roar of the engine. “It is going nowhere!”

He punctuates that with some zealous throttling. I want to die… No! I DON’T want to die!!

There’s a large loaf of bread on the boat. Bagayo keeps pulling it out and asking me what we will eat the loaf of bread with. I tell him I don’t know. He shrugs his shoulders and motions at me with his hands, a clear message: That’s a problem, ain’t you gonna solve it? I don’t understand this, especially because since we left land, he has been taking big swigs off a two litre Cocacola bottle. I choose to ignore him, which is hard. He does not like being ignored at all. When he talks to you and notices that you are not really listening, he hits you hard with his hand so you can pay him undivided, unbroken attention.

TWAF! Bagayo’s hand hits my arm… “There is an island!” he yells.

That colour is why it’s called the Jade Sea.

TWAF! He asks if I want to visit that Island. I’m not sure what Island this is, but I say of course, yes. Well, part of me just wants to feel solid ground again. Bagayo says it’s his home. He asks if he can use my phone to call his wife Eliza, and ask her to make us tea. I say yes. He can’t raise his wife on phone, though. We head towards the island.

A few people on land, mostly children, run towards us as we approach. Such a big motorcycle on a boat must be quite a sight for them. The closer we get to the island, the more excited, chattier and animated Bagayo becomes.

As soon as we dock he demands a photo be taken of him holding the bike. I can tell that he is a hero to everyone, actual or imagined.

Bagayo’s true colours start coming out. Several people chat him up in their Turkana language. I can sense that they are asking questions about me and the bike.

Sometimes Bagayo points into the distant horizon, and I can hear “Ghana” in his response. Other times he points in another direction, acting like he is pointing really, really far away, and I can hear “Ethiopia.” I don’t know what he tells them; all I know is their surprised faces when I greet them in perfect rural Kiswahili.

Bagayo struts around majestically, full of energy, as he shows me around his home island. He seems to know everyone here. He greets people and shouts at some over fences. Being sensitive to Covid, I avoid shaking their hands or going close to them. I’m from the epicentre of that madness.

I later find out that this is Longech, and not really an island, but a peninsula that forms the Kalokol lagoon. It is pure sand everywhere. They get here only by boat, I’m told. There are no motorcycles here. There used to be hotels here for guests, but they went under the water when the lake level rose.

Longech “island.” I did not cross the island like that, we went around it. My GPS unit was off so when I switched it on it drew a straight line across.

At some point he pauses to hurriedly empty the Cocacola bottle.

It’s Sunday. This is why we couldn’t find Eliza on phone. There are several churches on the island and services going on. I spot one in the distance with very loud music and singing, and I can tell there’s very animated dancing going on in there. There is a window, and I can see silhouttes of heads bobbing around vigorously. Bagayo notices me taking photos and tells me come on, let’s go inside!

As we walk away, a man who noticed me taking photos chases and calls after us.

“This is the pastor,” Bagayo whispers to me, right before he undergoes the most amazing spot transformation I have ever seen. The strutting cockerel is gone, replaced by an extraordinarily humble man who bows his head and bends his knee to greet the pastor with utmost respect, using both hands. All this happens so quick, I almost spontaneously follow suit before I catch myself.

The pastor wants to know what we are up to. Bagayo switches to Turkana language, and after mentioning Ghana a number of times, the pastor seems satisfied, and tells us bye with a big smile.

Asis, who has been following us around from a distance, looks disturbed. He receives a phone call, and afterwards seems to have an exchange of words with Bagayo. They are speaking their language, so I don’t know what is going on.

We pass by a shop and I buy the three of us sodas. Bagayo drifts away a bit and gets into a long conversation with someone. Asis grabs the chance to talk to me. It’s the first time he has spoken to me.

“Fimbo says we should get moving,” he says. “Fimbo says if this guy comes to this island he will never leave. He will get drunk here, and we will never leave.”

Asis turns to Bagayo the exchange some more words. Bagayo seems unhappy. He turns to me and says “How can we go now? It’s still too windy! We can’t go with this wind! We have to wait for the wind to calm down!”

I’m not buying it. In fact, I’m now wondering if he’s been sober at all.

“What do you think?” he asks me. “You are the boss, whatever you say, we will do!”

“I think we should keep moving,” I say, “I’ve seen enough, and we still have a long trip ahead.”

The look on his face – it’s like I have run a blunt rusty bayonet through his kidneys, like I have totally betrayed him! He sighs, and says okay. Asis and I start walking towards the boat, as he nips around somewhere to do something quick. On the way down, we pass by some boat builders.

This is what they put in the joints to prevent water from leaking inside.

We have to wait a bit for Bagayo. He eventually shows up, and we push off the island.

We now head into open waters, where the waves are bigger, and the boat is thrown around more. But I’m quickly getting used to it.

It’s a long boat ride. The boat is slow. I’m tired already. The loud engine doesn’t help either. The sun is hot. We can see the Central Island far in the horizon, but it doesn’t look like we are making much progress towards it. I’m seated upright, but I close my eyes and try to take a quick power nap…

TWAF!!!!

“When you get to the island you will take photos like thiiiis!!!”