Paula Taghon is interviewed by Annemie Struyf.
I worked for VRT, making reports. At the time, I was in Africa with Monique for another report (we'll get to that later), and Monique told me about your adventure, the kidnapping in the desert. I asked Monique, "Can I meet Paula too?"
Paula, can you briefly recap your story? When did the kidnapping happen?
The kidnapping happened in 2001. Monique's sister lived in Niamey, the capital of Niger. Our plan was to drive to Timbuktu by jeep, which meant traversing a desert route of over 600 km.
That desert route was already known as dangerous back then. Did you know that?
In a way, yes, but everything has some kind of danger or risk attached to it. If you reason like that, you shouldn't go anywhere. I had already visited Timbuktu with my husband in the 1970s, and I was already so fascinated by this place then.
So the two of you set off through the desert to Timbuktu.
We had a driver, but it was a different one than we had planned. The driver we'd originally booked was ill. We left in high spirits. The trip was supposed to last three days. We drove a full day, then slept in, and continued our journey in the morning.
Paula with her friend Monique (left in the photo) on their trip to Mali
And then?
At one point, we saw a broken-down pickup truck. We stopped to offer help when suddenly several men jumped out of the bushes. We heard a loud bang. At first, we didn't know where it was coming from, but it turned out they'd shot out our front tire. They violently pulled us out of our jeep and dragged us into their car. They were pointing a gun at us. Those men were so agitated, so frustrated. It was as if they'd been drugged.
At that moment the thought flashed through my mind: 'Now it's over, here and now we are going to die'.
We had to show them where the spare tire was. Once the tire was repaired, we drove on. Monique, the driver, and I all had to climb into the back of the truck. I didn't know I was so flexible. I was practically a stretcher. Monique is claustrophobic and told me, "I can't get in there." I told her, "You can do this." From that moment on, a strength came over us and we knew: we'll get out of here together!"
And then there's that terrible heat. In the desert, temperatures can reach well into the forties.
What we now know very well is what it means to be truly thirsty. We weren't hungry, but we suffered terribly.
You didn't get anything to drink from the kidnappers the whole time?
No, and during our journey, we were constantly being pointed at by a rifle. With every pothole we passed, we thought a shot would go off. Eventually, they removed the rifle from our temples, but they still kept it pointed at us .
They kept riding with you guys?
At one point, the jeep stopped and we were let out. We were blindfolded, but we could see a little through them. They took us away and had us sit under a bush. Our driver, Monique, and I. For a moment, I thought again: they're going to shoot us.
I got down on my knees and started saying 'inshalaya' loudly and repeatedly.
This was inspired to me. At that moment, I had no idea what this word (= please God) meant.
I see one of those men coming towards us, he stops next to me and says: 'moi chef, pas mort'.
Then they drove away. We begged them to give us some more water.
They threw two more bottles that were not even half full at us from the car.
We had to make do with three of them. They also signaled us in which direction to go.
At these temperatures you normally need 3 to 4 litres of water.
We had to be very careful with the little water we were given. The three of us took turns taking tiny sips, swirling the water around in our mouths to ensure some refreshment.
There you lay, abandoned in the middle of the desolate desert.
Indeed, we were primarily happy to be freed from our captors, that they'd let us live. But then things started: we were exhausted, worn out, hadn't eaten for two days, and were incredibly thirsty. Now we had to find our way back on our own. We had to find the dirt track. Fortunately, we could follow the tracks of our own jeep. It was sweltering.
It was already getting dark when we found the dirt track again, towards evening. That was the place where we'd been robbed. We'd picked up the shell casings and found our way back that way. We hoped a car would pass by, but that only happens there every two or three days, if you're lucky. We kept walking. Once the sun disappeared, it was freezing cold; we lay there in our T-shirts. Eventually, the driver lay down between us, and the three of us were under his sweater. We couldn't sleep; we were literally shivering from the cold.
I do like to drink a pale ale every now and then. I was looking up and said to Monique, "I see a pale ale in the moon." Monique thought I was hallucinating. (laughs)
It took a long time for it to end. At one point, I felt the life draining from my body. I thought: we need help now, or we won't survive. We worshipped all the angels and saints. We couldn't speak anymore because we were so exhausted. Monique had lost her glasses; she could barely see anything.
Suddenly I see something blue in the distance…
It turned out to be a nomad.
What did you think then?
Finally, we were saved. We fell to our knees. This was the first time we cried. That nomad, Mohammed, took us to his settlement. He wanted to give us something to drink, but it was polluted river water. We weren't allowed to drink it. As Westerners, our bodies can't handle it, and we would get sick and possibly die. Finally, he brought a tomato and said "mange"… That tomato was the first liquid we'd had in a long time. Afterward, they slaughtered a sheep for us to eat.
Nomads lead a very poor existence.
Yes, the nomads had three sheep. So, that sheep was a third of their property.
After eating, we felt our strength return, but we still hadn't had enough fluids. Mohammed told us he knew someone in Timbuktu, a Belgian, who dug wells in the region. It was a 30 km walk. Because we were still so weak, he said he would look for donkeys, but they were nowhere to be found. This forced us to continue our journey on foot.
And then at some point you thought it was going wrong again…
Yes, during our trip to Timbuktu with Mohammed, a car stopped again with a few men who came at us with weapons. It turned out they were the police, who thought we were robbers. We told them our story, and they took us to Timbuktu.
They gave us money to buy water. The water you then drink is unbelievable.
We entered an inn in Timbuktu. A whole group of Belgians were there at the time. They gave us clothes, a watch, and so on. They were very friendly and helpful. That's how we met Jean-Marie, the man who digs wells in Timbuktu. Jean-Marie booked a hotel for us. We were able to take a shower, put on fresh clothes, and sleep in a bed.
We then waited two days for a plane. Jean-Marie paid for our plane ticket to Bamako, the capital of Mali. Monique's brother-in-law had many connections there. We had lost everything: passport, visa, etc. He arranged everything so we could still catch the flight back to Belgium.
You then wonder: why is this happening to us now? Did you find an answer to that back home?
We didn't talk about it much at home, only with those close to us. We emerged stronger, and we're grateful we survived. You learn to put things into perspective.
Five years later, we went back. Our neighbors thought we were crazy, but we had to do this. This time, much safer and with better supervision. We sailed for two days and one night on the Niger. We wanted to thank our rescuers and give something back. We said to each other: what if we drill a well there? Luckily, we had Jean-Marie, who was perfect at guiding us.
Of course, we had to find Mohammed. In a 500 km2 area, that's a nearly impossible task, but we succeeded.
That must have been a moving reunion?
Mohammed recognized us immediately and came over. "I still dream of you every night," he said. We hugged each other tightly.
Looking back now, Paula, what made you escape from this adventure?
Our faith. If you believe in something and have faith, you'll get through it.
Listen to your intuition. When something happens to you, you have to trust that there's something inside you that will always guide you.
As a journalist I often get asked: who do you look up to?
Then I say: 'I know a woman who I really look up to and that's Paula.
Paula, your life wisdom and the way you approach life are a source of inspiration for many women."
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