Mauritania

Visited: December 2008

Duration of visit: 10 days

Capital city: Nouakchott

Population: 3.4 million (2008)

Mauritania travel blog reading time: 13 minutes

• Riding on Train du Desert – the longest train in the world in unhuman conditions.
• Mercedes cars are kings of the roads in Mauritania.
• Funny camel tour in Sahara Desert, where I learned that a camel can be replaced by a donkey.
• Chinguetti – from a broad savannah holy city of Islam to a desolate village in desert.
• Unattractive, young capital Nouakchott with excellent fish market.
• Constantly laughing at bizarre situations – Mauritania is a comedy.

Mauritania measures approximately 1,000,000 square kilometers or in other words it is 50 times greater than my homeland Slovenia. With a population of only 3.4 million, it is one of the world’s least densely populated countries with less than 4 people per square kilometer of land area.

Mauritania is also among the three poorest countries in the world, where daily life is shaped by limited resources and widespread poverty.

It is understandable, since 90% of the country is covered by the desert of Sahara, the political elite is corrupted, people are one of the least productive and unskilled I have ever met in my life.

“Mauritania is fun” could almost be a tourist slogan. I gave this name to the country myself, based on my experiences over the 10-days visit.

Mauritania was part of my three-month trip to West Africa in 2008-09 from Morocco to Ghana.

Crossing the border into Mauritania was an extraordinary experience. The three-kilometer stretch of no man’s land between Morocco and Mauritania felt like driving on the surface of the Moon. Heaps of garbage, no real road and burnt, destroyed, or robbed vehicles scattered on both sides.

Immigration officers at the border were extremely friendly and shamelessly displaying their laziness. An intern was laying on a bed, the boss was stamping passports like crazy, while others were preparing tea and shooing away the annoying flies.

My first stop was Nouadhibou, the second largest city, located in the northernmost part of the country. It is situated along the coastline, where the sea is one of the most abundant with fish in the whole world.

The biggest irony is that it’s almost impossible to get fish in any restaurant. I expected an abundant supply of seafood in markets, shops, and restaurants, but that wasn’t the case.

In a city with a population of 80,000, I encountered difficulties in finding a satisfactory dinner at one of the merely three restaurants that meet specific hygiene standards.

The highlight of Nouadhibou is the world’s largest ship graveyard, where hundreds of wrecks lie grounded in shallow water, scavenged or left to decay.

I discovered that the variety of cars on the streets was surprisingly small. Almost 90% of the vehicles were Mercedes in every four-wheeled version imaginable.

I couldn’t find any other particularly exciting things to do, attractions, or places to visit. I strolled from one street vendor to another, noting the unremarkable architecture. The locals greeted me with surprise, clearly not expecting to see a foreign visitor.

Mauritania is rich in mineral resources, especially iron and ore. In fact, the highest mountain, Mount Ijill is made almost totally of iron ore. Offshore oil and gas were recently discovered in 2001, already representing one of the country’s main exports.

Opened in 1963, the Iron-ore Train, known as the Train du Desert, runs between the iron ore mines at Zouérat and the port of Nouadhibou on the Atlantic coast. At times, it stretches to almost 3 kilometers as it travels along the border of the disputed territory of Western Sahara.

It was an easy choice to continue my trip on the longest train in the world. Its main task is to transport iron ore, loaded onto approximately 200 freight cars. However, the train also includes one or two passenger wagons.

The full 20-hour journey, covering 704 kilometers, is noisy, dirty, and dangerous. Many passengers travel on top of the wagons, so falls are common. The temperatures can reach well over 40°C during the day, while it can be extremely cold at night.

Obtaining trustworthy information regarding train departures proved to be unfeasible. Together with my travelling buddy Peter, I arrived at the train station at midday. We were the only people around until 3:00pm, when other passengers started to walk around the rundown platform.

It was not until 7:00pm that, finally, the first carriages of the train began to pass by. We quickly noticed two passenger wagons and began climbing the stairs even before the train had fully stopped. We found ourselves arguing and scrambling for a good seat, competing with many Mauritanians.

The group of four Americans and two Slovenians managed to conquer a private coupe in the train.

We spent ten minutes wrestling with the door and another thirty trying to close the window. The lights didn’t work, the toilet was clogged and dry, and the cushions that once covered the wooden benches had long disappeared.

Talking with new friends and sharing jokes on the longest and most dilapidated train in the world was fun at first, but the mood vanished as the night turned freezing. I put on all the clothes I had and jumped into my sleeping bag. The wind still cut through the half-sealed window. It was a long, cold night, and just before dawn we finally reached Choum, our stop.

I felt sick and cold, with my mouth full of desert sand. The stars above were spectacular in the darkness. What should have been an easy onward journey quickly became a nightmare: two hours of haggling for a ride to Atar, followed by three hours on a bumpy road that made rest impossible.

When finally approaching Atar, I was crushed down, desperate to find a bed to fall down. My colleague was really sick and, in a position, to do anything to find a comfortable space to rest. If we were saving on every cent before, now we took the first taxi without negotiating for the price and even tipping hasslers or mid-men, who basically didn’t do anything.

Peter immediately purchased a shemagh, an Arab scarf that is used to protect from wind and sun.

We soon ended in a run-down hotel with spacious room and working air condition unit where we rest through the whole day to recover after exhausting journey.

In Chinguetti and Atar I connected more closely with the locals, became involved in their way of life, and began to understand the daily routine of an average Mauritanian.

There are three groups of people in Mauritania: businessmen, women and children. All men are in theory businessmen, at least that is how they call themselves. The vast majority work little and produce in a year as much as an average European generates within 2 weeks. They drink tea at least 5 times per day (ceremony lasts from 30 minutes to 1 hour) and somehow, they always find a way to survive until the next day.

Women are inferior by definition of Islam and their mission is to give birth to children, raise them, do magic with limited resources in kitchen and keep the house tidy.

I noticed that most of the men seemed exhausted, moving slowly and with very little energy.

Atar is an oasis and an old caravan stop, though I didn’t find any real landmarks or noteworthy attractions there. As a major commercial center in northern Mauritania, it gave me the chance to meet Vivian, a funny local guy who spoke some English. He helped me organize my transfer to Chinguetti and the entire desert trip.

Dressed in a red jacket that used to belong to a German female tourist who fell in love with him, he behaved as a 10-year-old kid. He continuously surprised with strange, funny or bizarre ideas, which made Peter and me laugh constantly. Many times, I couldn’t tell whether he was being serious, testing our patience, or if his IQ was simply below average.

All three of us traveled together from Atar to Chinguetti, where we settled into the private home of one of his relatives. The ride in a Mercedes taxi was a perfect example of the Moorish way of thinking.

We drove along the asphalt section of the road at barely 50 kilometers per hour. But as soon as the dirt road appeared, the driver sped up to more than 120.

Everything was rumbling, stones were flying past us, we were all holding on to our seats in fear. We raced forward like daredevils until a loud bang suddenly brought us to a stop on the side of the road.

The driver elegantly crouched down under the car, screeched, repaired and whistled for a few minutes. Surprisingly, he fixed the car. As if nothing had happened, he continued with his stupid and dangerous driving.

A very basic one-room building with a flat roof became our shelter for two days in Chinguetti. We stayed there while exploring the town and negotiating our desert trip. I slept, ate, and relaxed on the ground, drinking endless cups of tea and enjoying sandwiches made with delicious French baguette. Local kids often stopped by to play ball with us or simply stare in curiosity at the only strangers in their town.

Founded in the 13^th century as the center of several trans-Saharan trade routes, Chinguetti continues to attract visitors today. They come to admire its simple architecture, scenery, ancient libraries and the surrounding desert. What was once a broad savannah with giraffes, cattle and farmland, is now dominated by sand dunes from the encroaching desert.

As the seventh holiest city in Islam and the ancient capital of the Moors, Chinguetti used to be famous for Islamic scholars attracting caravans transporting salt on thousands of camels.

The small town, which once boasted 12 mosques and 25 madrasas while providing refuge for 20,000 individuals, now has a population of merely 5,000 residents.

Surrounded by sand dunes, this once-thriving community is currently in a state of decline and disrepair. The old town survives mainly thanks to the dry climate, which slows deterioration and keeps the desert sand at bay.

The historical part of the town is interesting to navigate, even though there are few official places to visit. Indigenous Saharan architecture features houses constructed of reddish dry-stone and mud-brick techniques, with flat roofs timbered from palms.

The Friday Mosque of Chinguetti is the town’s main landmark and attraction, built from dry stone and known for its distinctive square minaret. It is believed to be the second oldest minaret in continuous use in the Muslim world.

The former French Foreign Legion fortress and a water tower are the other two semi-preserved buildings. Five important manuscript libraries of scientific and Qur’anic texts, with many dating from the later Middle Ages were closed during my visit. Luckily, I met a custodian who guided me through some parts that are usually not accessible to the public.

The sand dunes around Chinguetti are perfect for a desert trip. Exploring the desert is one of the most rewarding things to do here. That was one of the main reasons I decided to visit this remote area.

Our friend Vivian was an intermediate in negotiations with the camel owner, who was set to guide us into the desert. The concept involved a three-day trip, utilizing two camels, along with provisions and all necessary gear for camping beneath the open sky.

I explained the details to Viv, and he then talked with the camel owner, Mohamed, for about 30 minutes. Meanwhile, we waited in an improvised tea house, drinking tea.

“We have a problem!” finally Viv translated the long conversation with Mohamed.

“There is only one camel and one blanket to cover at night! We have a solution for the missing camel, but not for a missing blanket.”

Quite unusual answer, but I wanted to know more details.

“We can give you one camel and one donkey for the trip, but you will need to share the mattress and the blanket!” was the final alternative that seamed reasonable to the guide.

I looked at Peter and we simultaneously started to smile like crazy.

“We can share a blanket if there is really no other available in the whole town, but doing a trip into desert on a donkey is not an option.”

The hilarious situation and negotiations continued for at least another two hours, when we finally agreed to postpone the trip for another day, when the second camel would be available. However, it was still impossible to get two blankets for camel safari.

Sleeping under the open sky and watching the stars over the Sahara Desert was the highlight of the trip. The second half of the night was less magical, when Peter and I had to squeeze under the only blanket available. It was so cold that I hardly slept at all.

During the day, we passed by remote villages and climbed spectacular dunes. I was full of gases and farting constantly during lunch and dinner. Both guides, Mohamed and Vivian, had never encountered anything like this before and repeatedly rolled their eyes in disbelief. They kept wondering where so much wind was coming from.

I will always remember the donkey safari as one of the most outrageous and bizarre proposals I have encountered. Although we initially rejected the proposal and found it amusing, we later came to regret not having pursued it. It would have been another unconventional experience in Mauritania, and certainly a bizarre thing to do.

Nouakchott is a rather young capital, constructed in 1960, when the Independence of Mauritania occurred. A small village has been upgraded with mosques, government buildings and street markets, rising up out of the desert sand.

Even 50 years later, during my visit, only the main road was paved, while all the side roads remained sandy dirt thoroughfares.

The city known as the Place of Winds is peculiarly situated 5 kilometers inland rather than along the Atlantic coast, which would seem more rational. I found little to engage with in Nouakchott, aside from walking around and witnessing the daily struggles of the local people. I didn’t come across any appealing landmarks or interesting places to visit.

The typical speed of Mercedes taxis in Nouakchott is approximately 30 kilometers per hour. This slow pace helps prevent mechanical failures and improves fuel efficiency. Most of the foreigners are French, backpackers are a rare sight.

The most picturesque part of the capital is the fish market on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean. A wide variety of enormous fish is similar as in the northern area of Nouadhibou. I purchased fresh fish from the market and brought it to the guesthouse, where my companion prepared it in the oven. Cooking for ourselves in a simple, home-like setting turned out to be far more flavorful than most meals we had in restaurants across the country.

I had minimal expectations regarding my visit to Mauritania, yet I found the experience to be truly fantastic. So many unusual situations that would normally frustrate me or drive me crazy instead made me laugh and enjoy the moment.

The surreal nature of these events made it illogical to feel anxious or upset. I learned that it is much more productive to wait and do nothing to resolve an issue than desperately looking for a solution.

In the end, I will remember Mauritania as one big comedy.

I don’t remember enjoying absurd situations this much, and having Peter as a great companion certainly added to it.

There aren’t many tourists in Mauritania, so everything is geared toward locals, who have very different standards and needs. Adjusting to that wasn’t always easy, but in Africa there is always a solution. You just need patience, calmness, and a willingness to see things from another angle. I feel I managed to find that balance surprisingly well during my time in Mauritania