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09-03-2010 Mauretania
Welcome in Mauretania
dear reader, where 75% of the land surface
is desert. The land is 200 times
bigger than Brunei.
Welcome to the Islamic Republic of Mauretania, a strictly Muslim
society.
WEDNESDAY 10-3-2010
Arriving last late afternoon, we slept in
Nouadhibou close to the border in
our hotel de la JAMBO. This morning we got
early up and
passing gendarmerie and military check points, were early on the
way to Nouakchott the capital
about 450 km south.
The sun was just rising over the desert when
we left
Mauretania is dry and inhospitable. This
morning, driving fast, an
easterly wind was blowing the sand about 1
ft high , just high enough
to take the paint
off our number plate.
Strong
easterly wind drives the sand
"Sahara sand blast"
The road was fine, but, lonely. Every
hour or so, we passed a car. Although topped
up in Morocco, the fuel was not enough to
reach
Nouakchott. We were already planning to transfer from our spare
tanks, when suddenly and unexpected a
signpost appeared in the
right side.
And we topped up
with fine TOTAL diesel, the only station for
the whole distance. "Well done TOTAL."
Mauretania was the last bastion for slavery
and therefore, about 40% of the population
are black Africans, descendants of freed
slaves.
In old days, one of the Trans Sahara trade route run
through Mauretania. There was gold, slaves and salt
on route which stirred up
desires and greed. Therefore
the Almoravid dynasty in Morocco thought to
control the trade, sending the army,
marching south - they
won the battles
against the Ghana Empire.
"Why should we give all booty back to
Morocco's rulers?" Better we keep it
yourself; by declaring us bosses and claim
independence". Said the Army
commanders. So it was done. Their decedents
ruled until the Arabs came in the 17th
century.
Then on, other bosses directed the events until the 19th century
when the French
called the shots. Only in 1960 Mauretania
got
independence.
The Sahara has
many faces as we see; and colors change with
the light
We confess
having no idea how these hills came about,
it was as if it is a landscape from another
planet.
First glimpse of Nouakchott the people are
much poorer than in Morocco
As history tells, trouble is always around the corner.
First, from the trade union. The 3000
expatriates in the mining community earned
two third of the countries entire wage bill.
The union found it unfair.
Then riots flared up in 1989, the Moors
chased the black Africans, many had to flee
South. As often, young nations settle only slowly
into a peaceful
existence.
But we have troubles on our own.
We really pushed through to the capital
Nouakchott. The reason being is the gearbox
of JAMBO. More precisely, the second, third
gear make a rolling noise, as if a bearing
is to give up. Worried to get stuck in the
desert, we just drove on and could not see
the
PARC NATIONAL DU BANC D' ARGUIN with
millions of aquatic birds.
We had to check into a hotel here and
searched for a repair shop, or perhaps
change the gearbox with a second hand one,
all together
tomorrow.
THURSDAY
11-3-2010
It was a second hand gearbox. Euro 1400.- . After tough
negotiations. The price was a bit higher than
in Malaysia. But no more
sound now while driving.
Two month guarantee they gave; By then JAMBO will swim to South
America.
JAMBO'S roadside repair shop
The "new" gearbox
Look at the picture, there is no lift, no jack. They work on sandy
ground. Harun was there all morning just to
check what they did and
how. But it seemed they know what to do. All workers were
blacks. They live and work there.
He liked the
Mursi woman
looking before work starts
Lots of kids are helping too.
Mostly street kids abandoned by their parents, who did not want
them in the first place.
They do not wash before crawling into a corner to sleep. Their oily
and greasy shirt and shorts is working and
sleeping dress. The
boys have only what they wear. Yet they laugh and smile in their
innocence. They know nothing else except the
old vehicles.
School? Off course not. They are human dynamite of the future, once
they understand and get desperate for a
better life.
In the
shelter they sleep and eat together from
pots
Mamas business; roasting groundnuts in sand
to sell in small packets
She her sister, husband and four children share an open tent on the
entrance of the roadside repair ground. They
got used to having
nothing living on 20 square meter, year in year out.
A "Children's playground"
"little mechanics"
The works took longer as expected, therefore
we took off to see the town, which has
nothing to show, we soon realized.
Dusty streets with overtaking traffic left and right. We went to
the seaside and fish market.
Arriving, that
is what one see first. A self-made carriage
with fish, rotting away in the sun and lots
of scrap-cars.
Two
dozen fishing boats anchored off shore.
Permanent boats land, fully loaded, coming
from the fishing grounds.
Again as we
see everywhere, the blacks do the work.
Here is their life and their home.
When a boat lands, the fish is shoveled into baskets, which other
guys in raincoats carry to shore.
Fishmongers buy on the spot.
Fish in sizes of 8" are thrown away and end
on the ground. No one cares.
A group holds the rope to keep the boat
straight, during offloading
while another
man hold seaward the bow
and a fish head fries for lunch
What is she
waiting for? He tries to make a living in "Fish business"
Nowhere else at
home
bigger ones waiting for a buyer
We had two Mauritanian Arabs with us, yet we were almost chased
away. They did no like to be filmed.
Harun looking at all this wastage of resources said with grim; "Now
they empty the sea, while she still has
plentiful. These people will
reproduce, increase the population, they catch more with
sophisticated equipment perhaps and sooner or later the sea is empty. Man
has once more destroyed what he should preserve. What will they eat
then? One another?
Why can mankind not act responsible? Are we really Gods image as
Christianity claims. With all our
shortcomings?
Or is it the companion from below the achiever in this world?
Directing mankind like a conductor his
orchestra, producing eerie tunes
of arrogance, blindness and incompetence?
JAMBO'S new gearbox did fine in the test run. Now finished we drove
to a petrol station to clean the vehicle.
Guess what? Trouble did
not end. While waiting for our turn, a woman reversed her car right
into the door of JAMBO.
"Sorry". "You must pay for the repair!" "I do not have money".
She said. I
was upset. We travel so far without a hick
and here...
"So sorry JAMBO"
It was oversized woman who did not look back
We try tomorrow to straighten the dent as
good as possible, and get out of this town.
FRIDAY 12-3-2010
This morning we searched for a panel beater,
these fellows with hammer and artistic skill
to make dents disappear.
Expecting some repairer, we met a "master
fixer".
 
First he placed grease on the area. Then he
removed the inner door cover and pushed with
a wood the dent out. Then he hammered a
bit
from outside on the greased area, pushed
again, hammered and pushed, took a rag
cleaned the grease away, all took 20
minutes.
From this... ...to this; nothing is seen anymore
We had now another
gearbox, but not tested it in desert sand,
to see if the reduction gear properly works.
Therefore we drove north
again about 200 km,
to turn left towards the shore which was 37
km away and where supposedly in the flats an
abundance of birds
feed and nest.
There was no road. We followed a track of
another vehicle which maybe a few weeks ago,
went in. Not driving a 5 km the going
was
getting tougher. In patches of Fech
Fech, powdery sand JAMBO's tiers were
like glued to the ground. On hard surface
accelerating in
third gear, then again
climbing up a dune the engine roaring, the
tires digging in, JAMBO hardly
made it through. Off course we could
have lowered the tire pressure, to "float"
of the sand but in-between were rocky hard
areas and we were worried to cut the tire. The
track we had lost, wind leveled the
contours out.
We knew we had to go west, but sand dunes
were piling up, which we
circumnavigated,
coming more and more south. The GPS was of
no help here.
Pushing on, we had meanwhile 15 km pure breed
desert behind us and another 22 ahead. No
problem in general,
just hard work, time
consuming. I looked at
the watch. It was 4:00 pm. "Shall we still
go? I asked Harun. "Another 15 minutes if we
cannot find the track,
we return."
Coming from North we met the track we had
lost earlier.
Maybe this is the route to the coast we
thought and followed it. Ten minutes later
she ended at a Berber family tent. "How the
heck
do they survive out here?" I wondered
by myself.
The head of the family, Mohammed Ali was
sick, he had a cold.
First we treated him with the standard remedy
and wonder pill of our Indian
doctors back home. That is Penadol.
Then he agreed to show us the "piste" to the
coast, if we bring him back and pay Euro 5-.
Naturally the kids got some sweets
Mohammed Ali
So he came with us, directing and we drove another half hour. Suddenly he
said:" Here is it"
"Where?" We could see nothing, except sand, no indication that a
vehicle had ever passed her.
"Better we return to his tent and drive out
again" said I and that was, what we did.
a home in the
desert Ali directing and Harun driving
Although I had loved to see some nesting
birds and the place of Medusa, where
supposing still today haunted souls scare
visitors.
(If ever one finds the way to there). This
is the Medusa story: On
2, July 1816, the French frigate La Medusa
run onto a sandbank, the
Banc la Eguin due
to a navigational error. The ship was
chartered by the new Governor of Senegal for
family and friends. "Every man
from
board" commanded the
captain. Suddenly many of the champagne
glass holding ladies of higher status,
remembered they did
not know to swim. The lifeboats were not sufficient
for almost 400 passengers.
"We make a raft" was the decision.
Loaded with 150 people the lifeboats
were supposed to pull them along towards the
shore. But
soon the elegant survivors
in the boats cut the ropes loose and let the
raft adrift.
It must have been mad scenes in the
following days on that raft. 65 persons had
to be shot by officers which were there too,
cannibalism saved the life of 15 survivors,
which were picked up after 13 days.
Back on the main road we met the camel herd belonging to the group of
Bedouins They fed them millet gruel in drums, the
camels
were separated in groups. The "lady"
in the right picture enjoyed a meal alone.
The smallest
mosque we ever saw Madam camel are you searching for a husband?
He was hungry...
...they too; for knowledge. Street school
under a tree
Late afternoon we
returned to Nouakchott. Among French
campers we set up our Hotel de la JAMBO for
a sound sleep.
After test-driving JAMBO in the desert we
knew he is doing fine again.
Hotel de la JAMBO in camping Menata. Who had
the better rest? He or us.We drove
behind this guy at 80 km/h, on a land
cruiser
SATURDAY 13-3-2010
We were heading east. On a tarred road with
many controls towards Kiffa Town, We
reached the town by 6:30 pm evening.
On the whole Africa map it looks so little
what we were driving .
We travel so much, it looks so little our road towards Kiffa
Mountains and vegetation below groundnut plantation
Where ever there is a
depression, or below mountains, and the
groundwater table comes close to surface,
the locals plant, as seen
in the
right picture groundnuts.
We are very suspicious for them! They have never seen a Malay
every camel is marked by the owner
These three women in their indigo blue are likely Tuareg, complete
different from the other population.
By look and by dress. When we wanted to
talk, they turned away.
The house made of stone has a canvas roof would you dine in such a restaurant?
At the Kiffa campground we got a visitor;
charming Fatilha a cute, little girl. Only
with two hands full of bonbons she consented
to
leave us.
Here she is, little Fatilha, the daughter of the camp owner.
Rock formations near the camp
SUNDAY 14-3-2010
Dear and noble reader
do you
think in the Sahara desert are crocodiles?
The land, where a commoner such as us will
survive two days
only, without water. Crocs
here? Living and surviving since thousands
of years? Yes there are! And you better
believe it.
72 km after Kiffa town eastwards, there is a
Guelta, a small gorge in the rocks where
water stands. And here, just here,
surrounded
by hundred miles of dry land
exist a pool maybe 30 m long and at best 5 m
wide, where crocodiles live since ancient
times, when the
Sahara was green due to
ample rainfall, about 5000 years ago.
The gendarmerie, police of the land showed
us half way in. After 10 km we stopped
JAMBO and continued on foot.
On the way
This is the croc pool?
Soon we met this cattle herd which also went to that pool to
drink. The walk over rock formations and
deep sand took us about one
hour. It must
have had 40 degree, the dark rocks were hot,
one could fry an egg on them. Then we saw
the pool. Muddy greens water,
cows drinking,
urinating and defecating at the same time into
the water.
Nothing was seen at first glance. A cattle
herder confirmed, this was the croc
pool. We waited.
cattle drinking
from the croc pond
patiently waiting
Then for a moment one came up, the eyes and
nose clearly visible. Then another one under
the rock. From the size of the head we
estimated, they measure not more than 1.5m.
This is the proof
Another croc
and catfish
At least two survived here. And little fish
we saw too. That is an island biotope. The
cows sh.. in the water, the fish have
something to
nibble and the crocs eat fish.
Not only that, we think, they come at nights
out and search for birds which are nesting
next to the water
in abundance. But please
biologists tell us how the fish survives the
drying up of the pond? The water has no
connection to anywhere.
That was such an amazing sight. Here are two
crocs, perhaps more. reproducing since
ancient times. We red that during extremely
dry seasons when the pool has no
more water, crocs dig a tunnel and survive
in the moist in there. Such a tunnel can
have a length
of 15-20 m.
Actually there should be a scientific study,
how they adapted and- perhaps the cattle is
banned.
After this adventure, we
continued eastwards until Ayoun- El
Atroda and reached the gate around 5:00
pm.
the "city gates" east
our camp ground '"only 40 degree" in
the shade
Before we leave tomorrow Mauretania for Mali, a last word.
People here are poor, very poor. Yet they
are devoted Muslim which will with their
last money build a small mosque to have a place
to pray.
Children are taught on the road, by a
Samaritan, maybe not even a professional
teacher but someone who feels that kids have
to
learn, for a slim chance of a future in
reduced poverty.
And there is an invitation from us to the
Moroccan traffic- overland gendarmerie.
Come to Mauretania and learn what honesty
is.
From about 50-70 roadblocks, not one
officer, be it army, gendarmerie, police,
asked us for anything.
Also here we drove by mistake into a "HALT
sign" as in Morocco. The difference is, here
they smile to the "sorry" we said.
In Morocco it was twice the half fine into the
officers pocket.
By 12:00 we had reached the Mali border , the procedure took just
one hour and we drove on Mali roads, which
due to European
Financing is wide and fine.
By 6:00 pm we had reached Bamako, the capital of Mali.
Our camping ground, outside of town, had no
electricity.
well water, but tiered and late at night we stayed on and closed our eyes rather soon.
If you, honorable reader like to follow our journey, then click
Mali, where our journey continues
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