CANOE ... the Most Simple Watercraft, yet of Great Tradition

Canoe paddling is quite a great fun. The mere watching of one running a scenic lake or a white water river is fascinating and often triggers a special feeling.

From childhood, I have never once ceased to be allured by them.

Tarzan, a gentleman in my childhood really made the craft a wonder to behold.

On a typical day, I quickly finished my home chores. I flung my school bag over my shoulders without even properly buckling up my pair of sandals.

"Stanley, why are you in so much hurry?" my mum asked.

I was silent. And I wondered if she could ever understand my plight; that I must catch up with seeing Tarzan that Monday morning. Almost ritualistically, I looked up to seeing him and his canoe every school day.

My strides were long and quick with the cool breeze beating my face. Soon, a multi colored snail crawling across the road caught my attention. I stopped, and for a while, admired it and the moist trail it had left behind. Then I took a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching me.

It hissed as I quickly tucked it into my bag. I didn't care if its dripping liquid would smear my books or pollute my lunch package. I was all smiles as I hastened to my destination.

There were many kids already waiting when I arrived at the bridge across River Okere. Boys and girls pushed and pulled one another along the length of the 15 feet bridge in a bid to get a good viewing spot.

“Hey, will you all leave there and go to your school," a motorist yelled at us.

But he had only spoken to the winds. Other motorists just slowed down on getting close having noticed a cluster of children in school uniform.

Along the river bank was a host of traditional wooden boats. All were made of same material, but with sizes and designs varying with their purpose. The small ones, owned by fishermen, could conveniently be handled by just a paddler and could accommodate two passengers. Some of them were just meant for personal commuting. I suppose all residents along the river owned at least one canoe.

Some very large ones that lined the bank were meant for transporting sand. The canoeists of these were usually broad-chested hefty men, professional sand diggers. This type required so much power to paddle them once there were loaded. I don't think there was much fun paddling these ones.

However, Tarzan's own, as I had come to know of it, was remarkably different. I looked forward to seeing him with great anticipation.

Then, all at once, there were cheers, shouts, and clatter from many of my colleagues. I looked over the shimmering water. At a far distance away, I noticed fingers of the morning sun radiating from a bald head.

Quickly, I joined the chorus.

"Tarzan! Tarzan! Tarzan de power!" we hailed him.

I felt elated watching him glide his craft over the calm water. He really had a special place in my heart.

Sometimes, I do wonder if he really had any friend. I had even once overheard other children gossiping and throwing banters about his lonely life style.

However, his lesson room was a place where anyone could easily meet him. This was the place he privately tutored pupils preparing for secondary school entrance examination.

Being his pupil was a privilege to any child. He was known with a success record of 100% every year.

While our parents thought his success was the result of his strict disciplinary measures, we knew otherwise.

We knew the truth. It was something he had kept away from every one. It was about his ritualistic canoeing. We knew his whole power was from the river gods.

My colleagues and I, however, kept hailing him as he canoed down effortlessly. He appeared so engrossed. He couldn't afford to return our cheers and waves of hands. We didn't mind though.

But his lips widened and his eye brows tilted upwards as he paddled right through under the bridge.

We were very happy as we waved on and hailed,” Tarzan! Tarzan! Tarzan de power!"

His craft was like a splitter from a canoe. But for its shape, it was just a piece of wood!

"See, the canoe would sink," a little girl by me said.

Really, considering the bulky Tarzan, the buoyancy of the craft was a mystery to us all. It sped like a power boat.

His over 100Kg weight made the bow tip to the skies. And the beam only just managed to keep level with the water. Perhaps for precautionary measure, he never took anything along with him. Not even a paddle.

He paddled seamlessly with his bare hands. It was intriguing watching the way he maneuvered and dictated the speed of his wonderful craft effortlessly like the cruising duck.

None of us knew his destination or the purpose of this daily ritual. He was not known to have any family or friend at the neighboring communities or any where else. No one even knew his family roots.

Perhaps, he was a child of the river gods, I had thought.

However, I watched him with great fascination until he paddled bare handedly out of sight.

As usual, he should be returning from his mystical trip at about 2.30pm, I reflected as I walked leisurely to school. And I knew then that I only had to hurry back at the close of school to watch him yet again.

Eventually, it wasn't until many years later that I became aware that canoeing to an enthusiast can be a way of sport.

So, as the mystery surrounding Tarzan and his craft became cleared up in my mind, my interest in canoes as craft for sports grew. Ever since then, I have taken a deep interest in them.

And now, I have gotten much interesting information on them. This information would, perhaps, endeavor to make you a proud and happy owner of this most traditional water craft irrespective of all the modern development to its many varieties.

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