Mauritania

Visited: December 2008

Duration of visit: 10 days

Capital city: Nouakchott

Population: 3.4 million (2008)

Estimated 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 – Mauretania 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.

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 a fun, could be a tourist slogan, which I have given to this extreme country, based on the experience of the past ten days.

Crossing the border into Mauritania was an extraordinary experience; traversing the three-kilometer stretch of no man’s land between Morocco and Mauritania in a Mercedes car that is over 30 years old reminded on traveling across the surface of the Moon: the heaps of garbage, no road, just tracks of other cars; burnt, destroyed and robbed vehicles on both sides.

Immigration officers at the border were extremely friendly and shamelessly displaying their laziness: one was laying on a bed, the boss was stamping passports like crazy, while others were preparing tea and removing annoying flies from the table.

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 is almost impossible to get a fish in any restaurant. I would expect abundant supply of seafood on the market, stores or 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.

Another big revelation was a small variety of cars on the streets; 90% of the vehicles are Mercedes in in all their four-wheeled variations.

Nouadhibou is also famous for the world’s largest ship graveyard, where hundreds of wrecks have been grounded in shallow water scavenged or left to decay.

Overall, there is a limited range of activities available in the vicinity. One can stroll from one street vendor to another, taking note of the unremarkable architecture and exchanging greetings with the locals, who appear surprised by my presence.

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 or Train du Desert is frequently almost 3 kilometers long, when it travels from the iron ore mines at Zouérat in the north-west to the port of Nouadhibou on the Atlantic coast, 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 on approximately 200 freight cars, but the train also contains one or two passenger wagons. The full journey takes around 20 hours and covers a total distance of 704 kilometers. The journey is noisy, dirty and dangerous: many passengers travel on the top of the wagons; therefore, 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 started to climb the stairs even before the train stopped completely, arguing and battling for a good seat, competing with many Mauritanians.

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

We struggled for ten minutes to close the door and, after half an hour of discomfort, we almost succeeded in fully closing the window.

The lights were not working, toilet was clogged and without water, and the cushions that once adorned on the wooden benches had been absent for quite some time.

Engaging in conversation with new acquaintances and sharing jokes aboard the longest and most dilapidated train in the world was enjoyable; however, as the temperatures plummeted during the night, all the fun was gone. I put on all my clothes, from shorts and socks to jackets, a hat and t-shirts, and jumped in my sleeping bag. But I was still cold due to the wind blowing through the window that we couldn’t seal completely. The night was long and just before the dawn we finally arrived to the village of Choum – our stop.

I was feeling sick, cold and my mouths was full of desert sand. Stars in the sky were fantastic though, and easy to observe in darkness. The rest of the trip should have been a piece of cake, but it soon turned out to be a nightmare. We needed two hours to agree on a fare for a ride to Atar and three more hours to actually arrive there. The ride was very uncomfortable, the bumpy road didn’t let me rest for a minute.

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 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 managed to make closer contact with the locals, get involved in their way of life and better understand a daily routine of average Mauritanians. 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 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.

Most of the men appeared tired to me, with lack of energy and slow movements.

I will remember an oasis and a caravan stopping point of Atar as the place where everybody uses a mobile phone. Apart from being a mayor commercial center in the north of Mauritania, this town of little interest offered me an opportunity to meet a funny local guy Vivian, who was able to speak some English and helped organizing transfer to Chinguetti, including the whole trip to the desert.

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 us with strange, funny or bizarre ideas, which made Peter and me laugh constantly. Numerous times, I couldn’t capture if his proposal was serious, was he just testing our patience, or his IQ was below average. All three of us travelled to Chinguetti, where we settled down in the private house of one of his relatives.

The ride from Atar to Chinguetti in a Mercedes taxi was a clear representation of the Moorish way of thinking.

We drove along the asphalt section of the road at only 50 kilometers per hour.  once the dirt road came into view, the driver accelerated to more than 120 kilometers per hour.

Everything was rumbling, stones were flying past us, we were all holding on to our seats in fear. We drove like daredevils and fast until there was a bang and our vehicle stopped on the side of the road.

The driver elegantly crouched down under the car, screeched, repaired and whistled for a few minutes. The car was ready; we were invited back into the vehicle. As if nothing had happened, he continued with his stupid and dangerous driving.

A very basic one room building with flat roof offered us a shelter for two days in Chinguetti, while exploring the town and negotiating a trip to the desert. In very basic facilities I was sleeping, eating and lazing on the ground, drank plenty of tea and ate sandwiches with delicious French baguette. Local kids passed by to play ball with us or simply admire strangers in town.

Founded in the 13^th century as the center of several trans-Saharan trade routes, this small town continues to attract visitors who admire its spare architecture, scenery, ancient libraries and desert around. What was once a broad savannah with giraffes, cows and people working in agriculture, is these days surrounded by sand dunes of the encroaching desert, which make up most of the region.

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 is still standing only due to favorable dry conditions which protect the buildings from complete deterioration and from being engulfed by desert sand.

The historical part of the town is interesting to navigate: 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 an ancient structure of dry-stone construction featuring a square minaret, which is supposed to be the second oldest in continuous use anywhere 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, but 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 desert trip and that was one of the main reasons why 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 details to Viv and he had a 30 minutes conversation with the camel owner, Mohamed, while we were sitting 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 observing the stars over Sahara Desert was a unique experience, as well as the second half of the night when squeezing with Peter 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, who had never encountered such a phenomenon previously, repeatedly rolled their eyes in disbelief and wondered out of where so much wind was coming from.

I will always remember the donkey option 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.

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, only the main road is paved, while all side roads are sandy dirt trough fares.

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. There is little to engage with in this area, apart from strolling and witnessing the daily struggles of the local population. The typical speed of Mercedes taxis in Nouakchott is approximately 30 kilometers per hour, a measure taken to prevent mechanical failures and enhance 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. Our own culinary efforts in a home-like setting proved to be considerably more flavorful than most restaurant offerings throughout the country.

There aren’t many tourists in Mauritania, therefore the offer is targeted to locals who have different standards and needs. Adjusting to them has not always been straightforward, but there is always a solution in Africa. You just need to be patient, stay calm and see different perspectives. I think I have been extremely successful in finding this equilibrium in Mauritania, also due to the invaluable support by my travelling companion Peter.

I had minimal expectations regarding my visit to Mauretania, yet I found the experience to be truly fantastic. So many atypical situations that could typically frustrate me or drive me crazy, instead brought laughter and enjoyment. 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 cannot recall the last time I experienced such joy and amusement in the face of absurd situations, which was likely enhanced by the presence of my excellent companion, Peter, during the journey.