Open Writing

Egypt conjured up images of pyramids, deserts, camels, date-palms and the Nile in my mind. Images of dust, heat and arid ambience drew me to this ancient land. A thousand kilometres south of Cairo, from the bank of the Nile at Aswan. I arranged my passage on a felucca called Rocket. Feluccas are small open-decked sailing boats that have sailed up and down the Nile for centuries.

Along with felucca Captain Hussein, my cosmopolitan travelling companions were David from South Africa, Chris and Cassie from New Zealand, Wim and Connie from the Netherlands, Tony and Ros from England and Kent from Denmark.

We planned to sail to Edfu. Captain Hussein said: 'We take three days, because government won't let me sail at night. I make you good food for eat.' On this promise we set sail.

Kent informed us: 'I hope we stop often. I need to go to the toilet about five times a day, exactly when the mosque calls people to pray.' The Egyptian diet had upset his sensitive digestive system. However, it was late afternoon when Hussein stopped to serve us lunch of unleavened bread, fish, salad and cheese, lighting up a water-pipe after lunch for the smokers amongst us. We sailed until dusk, past sand dunes on the bank and river islands. From the river bank where they were fishing, collecting water, washing and bathing, villagers waved at us.

At sunset pinks, reds, oranges and finally purples lit the sky, until only silhouettes of the sand dunes remained. Hussein brought the sail down, letting the felucca drift downriver, cooking a pasta dinner for us on a kerosene stove. The food had begun to deteriorate.

Hussein noticed our worried looks as he washed the pots and plates in the contaminated river. He assuaged our concerns smiling: 'In Egypt we say you drink water from Nile you'll come back to Egypt.' Drifting to an island in the Nile, Hussein anchored the felucca for the night. Having dined, Hussein lit his water-pipe again, but the wafting aroma suggested that he wasn't smoking tobacco.

We slept on the crowded open deck counting the stars in the Egyptian night sky.

I woke at dawn to the wailing of a distant mosque calling the faithful to pray. Kent was missing, his synchronized with the wailing. Hussein fixed us breakfast of eggs, stale bread, a sad salad, cheese and tea as the felucca drifted untethered. Hussein was in a hurry to move on.

The sky was cobalt blue. It was hot. The desert wind was blowing strongly, here where it rained maybe once a year.

I watched the land pass by. Others were reading or chatting to each other. Poor Kent had a sudden, urgent call of nature in the middle of the river. The Nile is often over a kilometre in width. Balanced on the back of the felucca he demonstrated with stark clarity why not to drink from the Nile. We pretended not to notice Kent's predicament and acute embarrassment.

Without warning, near Kom Ombu a gust of wind hit the sails, gushing water into the felucca, rolling us off the felucca into the Nile. I struggled to tread water, gulping down mouthfuls of the Nile. The wooden felucca was iron clad, robbing it of buoyancy when full of water. It sank in 30 seconds. My foot caught in a mast stay momentarily. Had I not extricated my foot, I would have sunk 35 metres to the bottom of the Nile. Only the tip of the mast remained above water when the felucca came to rest, with our possessions on board.

Hussein screamed: 'Allah, Allah, Allah!' as we swam safely to the riverbank with the aid of flotsam.

Ros and Tony had given up work and sold their possessions to seek adventure. They had just forgotten to get travel insurance. Their money, passports and valuables along with their hopes and dreams, were last seen floating towards Cairo, Alexandria and the Mediterranean, beyond.

My backpack floated to the surface although most of my equipment including my camera and reels of film found a home at the bottom of the Nile. My passport and wallet survived, remaining waterlogged for weeks, despite the heat

Upon reaching the bank, in unison with the Islamic call to pray, Kent uttered: 'Please! Does anyone have any toilet paper?' Someone replied: 'Yes, but it's wet.'

Having drunk from the Nile, will I return to Egypt? Only if can sail to Edfu.

© Gehan Wijesinha