Niger Currents
Exploring life and technology along the Niger river

We walk by the riverside. It's a jumble of small gardens, people washing and fishing by the riverside, young men porting sand from the boats to nearby trucks and, most importantly, people building boats. This area, Djikoroni Para, is just outside the city proper, but it feels so far away. Despite the mass of people there is a sense of calm here. Free of the honking cabs and incessant pollution of the city centre, people here are able to move at a more civilized pace.

We walk further down the road, past where the large transport boats are being built, eventually reaching a small covered area behind a mosque. This is it - Bouba's shop. A partially finished boat bottom sits on the ground, the beginnings of our home on the river. I can only see the rough outline of a boat in the planks of wood sitting in his workshop, but I can already see our boat in my mind. I'm excited, but mostly interested and intrigued to find out how this man is going to craft the ungainly pile of wood into a boat.

As we enter the work area Bouba looks up, nods his head to acknowledge our presence and quickly goes back to work. I don't feel slighted by the lack of attention; it is clear he is just deeply focussed on the task at hand.

Bouba's assistant brings two pieces of wood over from the pile. The two men then begin to discuss which one should go where. Putting this boat together seems like a jigsaw puzzle. The long strips are nowhere near uniform and Bouba carefully ponders which piece will fit where. I left Canada half way through the process of building a cedar strip canoe with my father, so I'm interested to compare techniques.

Bouba quickly chops away at the new piece to get it close to the desired shape. Most of his work is done with just a few tools - a hand drill, a handsaw, a hammer and two swinging chisels. His chisels look somewhat like small hatchets with the blade turned sideways. It seems as if his favourite chisel never leaves his hand. He can do whatever he wants with this one tool, shaping the wood into the right form, smoothing the surface of the wood like a plane, cutting out sections of bad wood, or hammering pieces into place.

The way Bouba is building our boat isn't how I would put it together. But then again, I'm thinking about the workshop I have at home, and the materials available in North America. Bouba works within his local context - the materials available dictate a certain method of construction. The reality is that many boats are built or at a minimum repaired in rural areas where power tools would be of little use. Even if electricity were available, buying power tools would be expensive, and once they broke they would be hard to repair. Bouba's method of building is low-risk and robust. He can easily fix or replace the tools he uses as they are commonly available. He also doesn't have to rely on electricity or have a fixed location. With an armful of tools he can take his trade wherever he sees fit. As long as he is able to work with his hands he will have a source of income.

After some time, we have a proper introduction. Bouba exudes the calm confidence of someone who is a master of his trade. The first day I spend a few hours watching, mesmerised by the pace and efficiency of his work. The work is clearly difficult - the sweat dripping from his brow demonstrates that. But Bouba is in his element, and when a problem or challenge arises he quickly surveys the situation and confidently goes forward without hesitation. At the same time, he is open to questions and not at all offended by my queries about how the boat will go together. I assure him that my questions are due to my interest in the process, not any doubt in his abilities. He simply tells me: "This is my work. If I can't tell you what I am doing then I don't know this work."

I like watching his facial expressions as he works. Usually he is calm and relaxed, but when a challenge presents itself he has a look of clear focus and thoughtfulness. A slight smile usually cracks his face when he solves the riddle and adds one more piece to this floating jigsaw puzzle. When Bouba explains how the boat should go together to his apprentices his arms fly about excitedly, drawing detailed pictures in the air. With all of his energy and excitement you can't help but get caught up in his enthusiasm.

When I ask Bouba how he became a boat builder it is clear this is much more than just a job to him. It is both a passion and part of his heritage.

"I've been doing this since I was a young boy," he tells me. "My brothers build boats, my father built boats and so did my grandfather and great grandfather." Everyone in his family learns to build boats. The first place the children in his family go after school is to their family boat yard. Bouba then makes it clear just what boat building means to his family: "One of the family, he has a big job with government, but every vacation he comes back to work on the boats. Building boats is what we do. If you don't know that, you don't have your heritage and you have nothing."

Bouba tells me that his family is mostly in Mopti, the real heart of river life on the Niger. His excitement is evident when I ask if we can visit his family's boat yard when we pass through Mopti. I'm excited to see it as well. With 40 people working together on boats of all different sizes it sounds like an impressive operation.

When I ask Bouba where else his family is, I'm a bit surprised at the answer. Most of his family lives in Mopti, Djenne and Bamako, but two of his brothers are currently working in Europe. I'm somewhat confused, wondering if he means they are working for large shipbuilders in Europe. He explains that his brothers work in France, Germany, the US and Japan sharing their knowledge on how to build wooden pirogues. Apparently this style of boat is in demand and Bouba's family are the experts on how to build them.

Not only is this a passion and part of his heritage, but it's also a business. I admired Bouba's skills as a craftsman right from the start, but it wasn't until I asked what his favourite boat to build was that I began to see his business acumen. I was surprised when he told me that the 20-metre pirogue is his favourite to build. I thought the precise work of a smaller boat would draw him in, but his thoughts are clearly revealed in his answer. "A 20-metre pirogue uses 4 or 5 men to build. The work is fast and not difficult. People take them up the river for transporting goods and many people will ask where they got their boat. Many people will be referred to you when you build a nice 20-metre pirogue." I can't say I underestimated Bouba, but I was so interested in his craft that I never thought much about his business. But it seems he knows very well which boat gives him the best profit margin, keeps more of his family at work and provides the best word-of-mouth advertising.

On Monday we sacrificed a chicken and gave kola nuts to the elders to ensure a safe journey, before heading off towards Segou. It might seem a bit odd to friends in Canada, but so would smashing a bottle of wine on a boat if you weren't expecting it. Bouba's pride in the boat was evident. I was just happy to have spent a week with a man as passionate and skilful as Bouba.