Google map:
http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=pt-PT&geocode=&q=mompos+colombia&sll=53.904338,-4.042969&sspn=12.7084,28.125&ie=UTF8&ll=10.049994,-73.806152&spn=2.65012,5.603027&z=8
Bus ride from Barranquilla (in the north, by the coast, in the Google map) to Mompos. It was a forced stop in Barranquilla as I arrived too late from Santa Marta to get a bus the day before. Ugly town – nothing to write home about, really. Well, it’s the home town of Shakira, so perhaps I can say it’s an ugly city with beautiful sons…
The ticket, bought the day before and printed in an impressive computer system says 7.45am. I arrive with plenty of time to spare, just in case. I ask the woman at the ticket booth for the departure time, just in case. 8.00am, she says. I go for a walk, find the bus and ask the driver for the departure time, just in case. 8.30am, he says. The bus leaves at 8.20am. Departure time given as +/- half an hour. No surprises, right?
The road from Barranquilla ends in Mangangué, where a 45-minute ferry takes passengers and cars upstream the Magdalena river, to a small little town from where the road journey continues.
It was supposed to be a long 8-hour ride in total, but ended up being even longer, more like 11 or 12 hours, for sad and unexpected reasons: half way the Magdalena river journey a small fast boat with locals coming in the opposite direction hits the ferry by the side, rolls over, people and cargo are thrown out to the river, and an old man, who couldn’t swim, drowns do death.
Of course, the ferry didn’t even tremble, and unless you were watching the events from the deck you could not tell anything had happened. I didn’t see the accident as I was sleeping in the bus, but was awaken by the excited screams of the other people inside, who got up quickly and went out to see what had just happened. When I got outside the only thing I could distinguish were people’s heads above the water, small from the distance, trying to stay afloat and swimming towards the shore. The bad news came later. The casualty, of course, but also the sad story of the captain of the small boat who apparently had more alcohol than blood in his veins. As everyone else in the boat with him. I don’t want to know what will happen to him – nothing, perhaps?
It really makes you think: how quickly and easily these things can happen, and how irrevocably people’s lives can be changed forever. Or terminated. Just like that...
The ferry had to stop and wait for 3 long hours, so that the police, first, the military, second, and the port’s authority, third, could arrive, collect testimonials and take care (?) of things.
Amidst the tragedy it was curious to observe how human group behaviour in these circumstances is so much the same pretty much anywhere in the world. The speed at which gossip travels from mouth to mouth and the most incredible theories are created. The ease with which you form a bond amongst those who are on the same side of the event, and how quickly you see the other group as the “enemy”: “No, don’t go there – let them come here instead! There are more of us here in the ferry and we can easily kick their ass, as I’m sure they’ll want to do something stupid!” [someone yelled this, as the ferry’s crew was preparing to jump off to shore, and meet the several shipwrecked who were now gathering, along with a few passers by, in a small house by the river].
There was also the attitude of the “people of authority”, looking at everyone with a sense of superiority, with a face of who just had - unfortunately - their sleep interrupted, and was doing a favour helping the “little people” solve the problem they had created themselves, out of their stupidity and insignificant existence.
It eventually became a small festival, with people almost forgetting what had just happened, protesting the all time for having to wait so long against their will, and entertaining each other with jokes and stories – some of better taste than others.
Poor old man. I’m sure he was far from imagining this when he woke up that day.
The shipwrecked, at far
It was a small speed boat, just like this one...
Gossip, hear-say, gossip, hear-say
Interesting, the effect "authority" can have on people. Once they knew a port's representative was coming, the ferry's crew got really busy arranging a table and chairs so that "His Majesty" could write his report in peace. As if he was the Pope or something...
Killing time, watching a group of men chatting about the accident, just below me (previous photo). As the only tourist on board, I felt I could easily stay away from it all - I did
Beauty, despite the tragegy
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