Off the stern a series of triangular, scrap-sized red,
yellow and green flags trailed over the rudder. The running flag flapping in
the wind behind the boat displayed the same colors, along with images of Bob
Marley and a regal lion. For another in a series of innumerable journeys, “The
King of Reggae” was headed up the Nile River with a crew of three, nine
passengers, food for two days and nights, 24 tall Stella beer bottles and an
undisclosed amount of Sudanese marijuana.
Feluccas — small, narrow sailboats — crowd the Nile’s waters
in many tourist locations of the Egyptian delta. While short rides near the
port are common, tourists in Aswan, Egypt’s third-largest city, can also catch
a ride toward Luxor, 200 kilometers north and home to the Karnak temple and the
Valley of the Kings. The full ride to Luxor costs less than 700 Egyptian pounds
($125), takes a week and includes meals. A shorter two-night ride that runs $15
to $18 will ferry passengers to Kom Ombo, a temple built in the second century
B.C. that overlooks the Nile. Crocodiles used to bask in the sun where tourists
arrive today.
“Buffalo Soldier” rumbled from an ancient boom box as the
single sail, catching wind, slowly eased the boat downriver. Across the flat
deck of the boat were thin mattress cushions covered by a green-and-yellow,
king-size Looney Tunes sheet. Pillows in matching cases held nine cushioned
heads along the port and starboard sides. An eclectically patterned, multicolored
sheet was stretched below the sail, blocking sunlight from the deck. The chilly
river wind blew across resting passengers’ faces as the boat traversed the
river back and forth between banks, creeping forward.
Mohamed, the boat captain, dressed in a black sweatshirt, a
black baseball cap and dark black sunglasses, was the crew’s youngest at 20
years old. He was also the most proficient in English, which he picked up not
in the classroom, but on the river, guiding tourists. He and his crew of two
lounged on the stern, taking turns manning the rudder and smoking Cleopatra
cigarettes, an Egyptian brand that runs about 20 cents per pack.
The oldest of the crew, at 23, wore baggy gray sweat pants
and a loose orange T-shirt. He once had to lunge across the boat, a cigarette
dangling under his short mustache, when the cooking fire toppled near the bow
and flames leapt from beneath the deck.
Mohamed’s other crewmember covered his long dreadlocks,
which hung down over his black T-shirt, with a red, yellow and green bandana.
During a brief stop along the riverbank he washed dishes in the Nile, then went
for a swim. From the top of a sand dune, a local farmer named Ahmed shouted
greetings to the three young men.
At 50, Ahmed has never been on a boat. He’s never been to
Cairo. He doesn’t speak a word of English. With scythe in hand, Ahmed was fresh
off the field he has farmed his whole life. Behind him lies the village he has
rarely left, a home he shares with five wives and 20 children under the age of
15. Although feluccas have frequently passed, he hasn’t met many foreigners. He
lives a life in stark contrast to those in the neighboring Aswan and Luxor
cities, which have become liberalized and modernized over the years by their
main source of income, Western tourism.
Mohamed and his crew are the products of this
Westernization. Bob Marley, beer, and their general party mentality stand as
symbols of their separation from the traditional Egyptian lifestyle found
outside the tourists’ paths.
Tourism is such an industry in this southern region of Egypt
that tragic events of the past have caused strict regulations on travel. In
1997, terrorists gunned down 56 Japanese, Swiss and British tourists at the
temple of Queen Hatshepsut in Luxor. Now, all buses, vans and even personal
cars carrying tourists must travel in convoys, with no exceptions. This means
that all feluccas and cruise ships carrying passengers must make sure to unload
them at a time and place suitable for meeting the few passing convoys — a
difficult task, considering that for entirely different safety reasons,
feluccas cannot travel at night.
Instead of continuing upriver, feluccas heading north meet
along the river at sunset, where the crews and passengers make camp. Camp
consists of wrapping a long sheet around the deck, creating a bonfire on shore
and gathering to sing, play drums and dance. On Mohamed’s boat, camp means
something else as well. His is the boat where the crews of other feluccas
gather, step inside the small forward room, and smoke undisclosed amounts of
Sudanese weed.
Climbing into a truck and rushing to meet the convoy, it was
easy to be excited about the coming sites: the temple of Kom Ombo, the temple
of Hatshepsut, Karnak temple and the Valley of Kings. It was easy to look
forward to the warmth of a hotel and a hot shower. But stepping off the bus
into the wind’s soft chill and hearing merchants call “where are you from,”
“looking is free,” “come see my shop,” made another night on the cold
uncomfortable deck start to seem pretty nice.
But this was the last trip of the semester, the last
adventure before many of the study-abroad students head home. We were tourists,
and didn’t have time to spend seeing nothing, lounging, listening to Bob Marley
and living life like the “King of Reggae,” — no matter how peaceful it was.
Then again, there’s always next semester for some of us.
