Leaving Oporoza with the impact of our week-long visit beginning to take effect.Today, second Peace Pole in the morning after a hot sweat throughout the night. Peace Pole panels for Mandagho, and then breakfast and photos, before more WAWA (West Africa Wins Again) with tardy boat drivers and their resistance to the idea of going to an Itsekiri village.
The Waning Days and Thoughts


Camron Karsten2006-02-18 20:09:42
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Leaving Oporoza with the impact of our week-long visit beginning to take effect.Today, second Peace Pole in the morning after a hot sweat throughout the night. Peace Pole panels for Mandagho, and then breakfast and photos, before more WAWA (West Africa Wins Again) with tardy boat drivers and their resistance to the idea of going to an Itsekiri village.
Finally, we hopped on the early boat to the village with the supplies of the pole. Quickly, within the ghost-town of Mandagho, we erected the partner pole with the help of locals. Peter and I stood back and watched.
Two hours later, left alone, two Americans in Mandaho to construct a Peace Pole after spending a full week in neighboring Oporoza where we built a library and raised an identical pole; rain, thunder, and lightning descend from dark, solemn clouds. The rest of the delegation were on a tour of distant villages, and we sat and waited; again, stranded, two Americans coming from Ijaw Oporoza and now lying still in Itsekiri Mandagho. But locals were wonderful, alive, completely hospitable; an energy strong and determined.
More rain, thunder, lightning, ganja, and America on the other shore with the face of Chevron. This was the Statue of Liberty locals Smart and friends knew.
Alas, the others arrived. I was
Peace Pole of Itsekiri's Mandagho villagegrumpy and hungry. Our stay was over. And I began to feel the effects of the whole week upon me. Onward, back to Warri, my hands taking the wheel, steering a boat through the Creeks. I stood up, peering over the bow and saw the rainbow sheen of gasoline, and the black streams of crude covering the river's brackish waters when the sun hit at the right angle. It was discreet, like the multinationals' responsibility toward pollution. And it was ugly, decrepit, scarred with the face of exploitation and underdeveloped despair.
Yet we only skimmed the surface, having toured the Delta; spoke with the people,
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