Writing for Fun
The Lure Of The Wild - Jeanette Rothwell
June 2014
George left the office with a spring in his step that Friday afternoon. Ahead of him lay three whole weeks of vacation and he had succumbed to the lure of the wild, namely a sacred crocodile pool in The Gambia.
For three whole weeks, no business suit, no shiny black shoes, no crisp white shirt and strangling tie, no slicked back hair and fragrant after shave. Instead, he was looking forward to grubby old trainers, comfy socks, khaki shorts, lurid T-shirts, and a battered panama hat borrowed from his father.
On Saturday morning he set the alarm for some ungodly hour so he could travel to the airport and check in for the flight to The Gambia, then landing at the tiny airport in Banjul. His pal, Sam, whom he had met at University, was waiting for him.
From the Airport they boarded a rather rickety bus to the centre of Banjul where George would be staying with his pal. George marvelled at the rather primitive accommodation. It was better to describe it as a hutch. No running water in his curtained off area. Just a stand pipe at the end of the road. The roof was made of corrugated iron and there was no glass in the windows. George told himself that this is what he wanted to experience and cheerfully unpacked some of his rucksack. There was nowhere to hang anything so he just folded his spare clothes neatly and placed them on a nearby rough carved chair.
Sam had written to him to come to this part of the world and learn about the Katchikally Crocodile Pool and, if he liked it, he could become a tour guide for the duration of his holiday. George was full of excitement as Sam had promised to take him to the pool the following day.
The next morning, over a simple breakfast of bread, butter and jam, Sam gave George lots more information about the croc pool which had been discovered hundreds of years ago by the natives of Bakau which was about 8 miles from the capital Banjul and it was home to more than 100 crocodiles.
Every morning scores of foreign tourists visit the pool to play and have their photos taken with the reptiles that are so used to people they can be petted. The crocodiles in the pool have a strange taste for food. They prefer fish to fleshy meat. The pool, surrounded by a forest of beautiful tropical flowers and trees with different species of birds, is believed to have supernatural healing powers.
Hundreds of barren women travel from far and wide from both within and outside The Gambia to visit the site where they are washed with sacred water from the pool by specially trained women of the Bojang clan who are forbidden from exploiting the pool for financial gains lest it loses its sacredness.
They are also given a bottle of the water from the pool that has to be applied to parts of the body before going to bed and early in the morning. In return, people washed at the pool give small monetary donations, a piece of cloth and a colanut. (A cola nut is the fruit of the cola tree, a genus of trees that are native to the tropical rainforests of Africa. The caffeine-containing fruit of the tree is sometimes used as a flavouring ingredient in beverages, and is the origin of the term 'cola'.) Half of this nut is shared among the elderly and the other half is thrown into the pool to appease the crocodiles. Once the ritual is performed the women are seriously warned to stick to their partners and avoid adultery. Interestingly, a large number of tourists – many from the UK – who have gone through the ritual, claim that they then became fertile.
When George arrived at the pool, the first croc he saw was two metres long and lying across his path by the poolside. Initially George thought it was a plastic model covered in green slime until it moved its head. He jumped back in alarm. A scruffy-looking guide assured him that it was perfectly safe.
The crocodile's name was Charley. He was a Nile crocodile and the guide said he enjoyed being constantly manhandled by a stream of tourists and had never attacked anyone. The guide put his hands on the lazy croc's back and encouraged George to do the same. He was petrified and the feel of the skin was rather harder than expected, but that was not his major concern, the guide cheerfully encouraged him to start lifting Charley's back legs. Surely he is not going to stand for this sort of manhandling much longer? In truth, the scariest part wasn't touching Charley himself; it was his not-so-little friends around him. There were well over 100 of them in and around the pool which was a fluorescent green colour so it was not possible to see into the water for the crocs that could leap out at any moment.
There was no fence and a rather battered ungrammatical sign saying 'Don't touch This Crocodiles'. There was also a story around Charley the croc that he is so close to his masters that sometimes he leaves the pool to spend time in the ancestral home of the Bojang Clan – the keepers of the pool. The attendant claimed that whenever Charley left the pool it was normally a sign that he had a message for the people.
Sam thought George's sudden fear of the croc very amusing and wasn't particularly sympathetic.
The guide related the legend surrounding the pool. It seems that one day a witch was apparently crying by a well when a stranger came along. Claiming that her children had fallen down, she asked the man to help. The man climbed down the well to find them. He searched hard but saw no trace. He regretfully told the crying lady this, to which she replied that she hadn't lost her children after all. She was just testing to see whether the man had a good heart.
As a reward, she gifted him the supposedly magical waters of the pool. Anyone who bathed in them would become fertile and as proof they were magical, she would fill it with crocodiles that would never bite anyone.
Sam stated 'Well that's all right then. Perfectly safe.' George was not convinced.
Sam then showed George the rest of the forest, relating all the various legends and showing him the museum and other tourist attractions. After a lunch of some strangely-cooked chicken and coucous (how George longed for a MacDonalds Burger and Chips) he watched the guides deal with the tourists and answer all their questions. He observed the crocodiles warily but gradually gained the confidence to get closer.
Over the next few days he became quite fond of Charley, giving him a pat or a stroke every time he was on the edge of the pool. He even managed to answer some tourists' questions and reassure them about Charley's sociability. At one time there was a visit by a local senior Gambian politician who seemed to think the waters would help him to win the next election!
At the start of the following week, when George was helping out, with only the scruffy guide on duty, some American teenagers visited the pool. They were loud and boisterous and the guide asked them not to make so much noise for fear of agitating the crocs. They took no notice and started to throw stones into the pool. The crocs woke from their slumbers and began to move around. George became concerned for their safety as the stones were becoming larger and were hitting some of the larger crocs.
Slowly George felt his anger rise. How dare they behave so badly and against the advice of the guide. He walked forward and bravely attempted to stop one lad from tossing a particularly large rock into the pool. The lad raised his arm and George grabbed it firmly and pushed him back from the edge of the pool. The lad resisted and the rock fell on to George's shoulder causing him to step back in pain and tumble sideways into the slimy green waters of the pool. He had never been a good swimmer and immediately panicked. Thrashing his legs around he tried to get to the edge of the pool but only managed to stay still or turn in circles.
Suddenly he felt something stir in the depths of the pool and he shouted for help although his voice sounded hoarse and rather faint. The object beneath him settled itself under his legs and gradually pushed him to the edge of the pool. George scrambled out as quickly as possible and looked round to see what had happened. There was Charley lazily swimming away. The lads had by then moved away from the pool looking rather sheepish. George was covered in green slime but didn't mind. He now believed in the legend and spent the rest of his holiday happily working at the pool.
The lure of the wild had certainly given him much to remember. Every day when George turned up for work, Charley turned his head. Can crocodiles smile? It certainly looked like it.
