"Where is the river of just this morning, with its whitecaps that would have liked to drown me, with its current flowing backward against the wind? Gone to this: a river of smoothest glass, a placidity unbroken by wave or eddy, with islands of lush greenery awaiting me like distant Xanadus. The Niger is like a mercurial god, meting out punishment and benediction on a whim. And perhaps the god of the river sleeps now, returning matters to the mortals who ply its waters?"She also chronicles how the people along the river change as she gets closer to Timbuktu. The tribes shift, the friendliness shifts, the tension shifts. At times I was a little frustrated because she was not taking the time to understand the culture and gain acceptance into it, and often left quickly due to fear. To me, fear can be a form of racism, so I'm a bit wary of that reaction. But I reminded myself that this was the Mali that housed Al Qaeda training camps and attempted to destroy the original manuscripts of centuries ago, during this same time period. And that this is a travel writer, not an ethnographer. But it really is a distinct difference - about the journey and the faces one might encounter along the way, and the occasional orange soda.
