Choum-Nouakchott
Mauritania, what is it? A dangerous desert full of terrorists? When you watch the websites of the governments and the lonely planet it is. However I can for sure say this is not true at all.
There might be a lot of poverty and a lot of people who only want money.
However, when I travelled around in Mauritania I found something else. Very helpful and friendly people, real nomads, a beautiful desert with a lot of different faces.
The road to Atar was pretty tough. It was a beautiful Landscape but there is the Harmattan.
A strong wind coming from east, carrying a lot of sand and makes a blurry vision on the horizon.
After 35 Kilometres against this wind, I decided to get on a truck. I thought I don’t understand the driver correctly as he told me that he wants 100 Euro for the lift. But he was serious about it and I told him to go off. There are not many people here, only a few cottages with a few people. Whenever I pass by the children come and shout Cadeau! Donnez moi Cadeau. Gift, Give me Gift.
I once made the mistake and stopped at some children just to say hello. They tried to open my panniers and as you can imagine I pushed the pedals and drove off as fast as I could.
It is drier here than it was in the Moroccan Sahara and soon I have to stop to ask for water. I do it even though the people ask me again for Cadeau. At least I got invited to the cottage and they give me camel milk and a dish only made of rice and stripes of dried meat.
The people don’t stop asking for Cadeaus and finally I give them something against toothache and a little money. There are three young women and everyone keeps asking me if I don’t want to marry one or all of them. It’s not so easy to explain them why I don’t want to. But I have to admit that I feel a little flattered, they aren’t ugly at all.
When a truck stops at the street, they all run out to beg for some Cadeaus. I take the opportunity and leave with my bike.
They were all friendly and nice but I am just unsure about this greedy, Cadeau asking behaviour that shone a little through all the time.
Is this Mauritania? Are they all like this?
I finally arrive in Atar. This is finally the Africa as you imagine it. Houses made of mud bricks, chaos, dust, ages old cars, goats that feed on the waste that is all lying around. That most of the shops are selling parts of old cars tells another story.
I drive around trying to find a cheap place to stay. I take a little brake and eat some of the bread which they are selling everywhere here. It is still warm and it has a great taste. Very good.
I finally find a campground and meet up again with Ken and Inga, the two backpackers from my train journey.
There are some Italian tourists on the same campground, they have 4wds and motorbikes with them. They are very interested in my journey and in the evening they even invite me for dinner. They are a group of twelve people and they brought everything from Italy. Ham, Salami, pickles red wine are just the starters. The literally have everything from Italy.
As I mention that I want to go to Chinguetti the next day, they invite me to come with them as they are going there anyway.
With 3 4wds and 4 Bikes and one quadbike we drive to Chinguetti. It’s up the mountains and then a piste follows. Possible with the bike, but with too much wind. So I am glad that I now sit in a 4wd and can enjoy the moment. We are leaving the road and take another stony piste into the desert. We arrive at the Adrar valley with an amazing view. A few Kilometres a go, I had spotted some dromedaries and nomads but unfortunately, we didn’t stop.
However right now these Nomads with their about hundred dromedaries are now heading towards us. On Nomad, with four loaded dromedaries at his hand, comes to us and asks us if we could put the vehicles away. They want to pass to the valley and the dromedaries are afraid of it. So we do and finally all the dromedaries pass. A very good opportunity for me to make some amazing photos from real nomads.
Chinguetti is the caravan city between Guelmim (45 Days) and Timbuktu (35) days. It is a city in the middle of the desert. The houses are small and built of mud, everything seems to be dusty.
After the lunch, consisting of beans and tuna and bread, we finally go into this city. Like everywhere, there are immediately people looking for Cadeaus or trying to sell some jingeling.
There is a library and museum which we want to see. Well it’s not a museum as you might imagine it. Instead of glass vitrines, there is only a house made of mud, palm trees and palm leaves. The absence of humidity and the dark environment in the house have preserved the things shown. The owner, a descendant of an ages old family shows us some over 800 years old Quran. Written on pergament and together with other scriptures from the same age, are lying on a small table. We are even allowed to touch them. There are fourteen family’s here in Chinguetti that still persevere these things. In former times there was always one member that was travelling to find and buy other scriptures and one at home who copied and guarded all the scriptures. However, nowadays this task has become more a profession than a matter of family. Unluckily the government itself does absolutely nothing for its heritage.
Back at the campground and invited again by the Italians, they tell me about their plans of the next two days. They want to go to Terjit, Oujeft and Nerguent, some remote villages in the desert. They want to drive around in the desert with their motorbikes and spend a night right in the desert. But there is some more. They want to visit a certain place in the desert where one of their best friends died. Fabrizio Meone was two times the winner of the Paris Dakar rally and he died at the rally in 2005.
As I ask the Italian guys out about him, they get tears in their eyes. He was a great man, not only the winner of the Paris Dakar but also generous as he gave a lot of money to help build a school in Dakar. A school which I promise to them to visit once I am there. It tells a lot about this man that all his friends made their way to the place of his death to honour him. Despite all the warnings and all.
My intention was to leave for Nouakchott the next morning but I can’t help and ask them if I could go with them. It is not just the good photos I made and gave them in revanche for taking me to Chinguetti, that they are all happy that I asked them to go with them. I think there was already a friendship between us.
So I left my stuff with Inga and Ken, took my tent and my cam and we went off in the early morning.
I now began to realise why car drivers are so bad in estimating road conditions. With the 4x4 you just fly over bad roads, where I would already have big problems. We take pistes that I couldn0’t even imagine that it was possible to do by car.
I am sitting in the front seat, with my cam on my legs, ready to shoot at every opportunity.
But the car is shaking so it is quite difficult to a good shot, nevertheless, I can do some good ones.
The desert keeps changing its face. Sometimes it’s a sea of sand dunes, then gravel, then endless flats of sunburned black stones. Sometimes some really green spots, even thee sand keeps changing the colours. It would have been impossible by bike but as we drive fast, I can see all the shades of the desert within a short time.
Sometimes we pass a village. The women in their colourful dresses give a very welcomed colorspot in the desert and are a good photo motive. However we don’t stop in the villages. Too many people.
We finally arrive at the point where Fabrizio died. A stack of stones shows the position. On a big stone in red there is written, in memory of Fabrizio Meone. A new board of stone with an engraving is placed on it and as it is already night, his friends lit a candle under it.
I was climbing on the sand dunes nearby to get a good spot for a sunset photo, unfortunately the sunset wasn’t as spectacular as I hoped.
And my photos in the night weren’t really good as the Harmattan still kept blurring the horizon.
So I sat down next to the campfire, where our three local guides where preparing their tea and dinner. They made a dough out of flour, olive oil and water and now they put it in the sand with some glowing wooden and underneath the sand that covers it.
When its bake it isn’t sandy at all, the sand just drops from it. They start braking it into small pieces and then put it in a bowl. They add warm water, sugar and oil and eat it like that. The best you can have they say. I can’t say but I could taste the bread and it was really good.
The next morning begins with some struggle, the wind is blowing badly and it is a real challenge to pack our tents, then we drive back the way we came.
Another day in a beautiful desert.
As I don’t feel well the next day, I decide to stay a day longer and I use the time to write some new travel stories.
The farewell the next day isn’t so easy for me. I The Italians have now become good friends, our guides too and I have to say goodbye to Inga and Ken as well. I really loved to chat with them and we had a lot of fun. But finally I have to get back on the road again.
I met a lot of people in Atar and meanwhile my opinion about the Mauritanians has changed. They are friendly and helpful and when the children realise that you don’t give any Cadeau they become friendly and curios. What’s your name? They ask then.
On my way to Nouakchott is still some interesting landscape. Sometimes you see big herds of dromedaries and goats grazing on some large green spots. I even had e herd of wild donkey around my tent one night.
Sometimes the cars stop next to me and ask if I need water or anything. And I do need water. A lot four litres per day for drinking. There are huge bags filled with water, laying on the ground, wherever there are people and there I can get Water.
The people invite me to camp next to their tents, as they fear for my safety. And then invite me for tea. More sugar than in morocco but still good.
One evening, after doing 120km, I was trying to get a place to pitch my tent at an Auberge. An empty space with some cottages where the people could sleep. I didn’t have any cash with me so I asked for a free camp. It was my own tent at least.
But the owner still wanted 200 Ouguiya (5Euro), Nope.
I turned back on the road drove 50 Meters back and asked the Nomads, who were guarding their dromedaries there. The two young men agreed and invited me to pitch my tent next to theirs.
I could be among the dromedaries as they were milking it and in the evening we were sitting in front of their tent and trying to speak with each other, while they were selling the milk in plastic bags to the people passing on the street. An old car drove by and we made jokes about the cars in Mauritania. I told them, that we, in Switzerland, send our old cars here and here they still drive it with pride, it was easy for them to understand when I made the matching face and the noise of a Mauritanian driver. Tangtangqueeekbang. And we laughed.
The next morning, my breakfast is oatmeal with camel milk. The two nomads didn’t want any money for the milk and still warm, it tastes very good.
As I then say goodbye and finally arrive in Nouakchott, I am really glad to be out of the sand and being able to wash my clothes and myself. You just can’t imagine how much sand I had been carrying with me.