Sahara Nights

FROM ISSUE # 107 (November 2004) | IN THIS ISSUE
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It was 20:00 hrs when we crossed into the Mauritania border. The wind howled in the night desert as our driver raced the jeep over sand. The blowing sand had drifted and covered all paved roads.  The driver desperately swerved to find hard surface to drive on.  The fact that there are land mines still buried in the sands of Sahara was not comforting to know at all. I didn't want to imagine what would have happened if our jeep ran over a mine. But there were remainders of other unfortunate travelers whose vehicles did run over these mines- there was very little left for me to imagine when I saw the rusting wreckages; cars, refrigerators, televisions, tires. It had been about half an hour of riding through this no man's land when our jeep got stuck in the sand and stalled.  The jeep refused to start back up and I started to get worried and even more when our driver got out of the vehicle and walked away, disappearing into the darkness. My mind began working over time with imaginations.  I went to the back of the jeep, took the Khukuri out of my backpack and put it on my waist bag. I was ready to run away, but where would I go? Before I could deicide, I heard voices coming towards our jeep. I was sure I was going to be robbed once again but I was in no mood to give in easy, the khukuri was now out of my waist bag and on my hands. They opened the doors and called us out to help push the jeep. Seems I was wrong, but after being robbed several times and kidnapped in various continents, one can never be too careful. We rescued its tires from the swallowing sand but the jeep still wouldn't start.  Another vehicle came in our direction so I decided to stop it and ask for a ride till the next town. No go. Our driver announced that we would sleep in the jeep overnight but I could not imagine staying overnight in this isolated and dangerous place. Another vehicle was approaching so I suggested to our driver that we ask them to tow our jeep but the other vehicle was not interested in helping us. Then I stopped a truck whose driver did help us. As luck would have it, about half an hour later our jeep got a flat and the truck left us behind. Our driver said he could not change the tire in the dark so I gave him my bicycle light. Then he said he could not remove the tire so I had to change the tire myself.  Spending the night in the desert was out of the question for me. The two passengers, Moroccans, were napping inside the jeep. We were ready to roll, but we had to wait for another truck to tow us. Surely enough a truck did show after about ten minutes. The city of Noudhibu was another 50 kilometers away and because of the sand, the truck that was towing us couldn't drive fast. But it seems Sahara was in no kind mood. Half an hour of being towed, the towline broke and the truck continued driving on. I asked our driver to blow the horn and signal but he just gripped the steering wheel, so I frantically got up from back seat and blew the horn myself after which the truck did luckily stop. "If the line breaks again I won't stop," the truck driver warned us. Thankfully, it didn't. 

It was 22:00 hrs when we finally reached Noudhibu. Upon arriving at the city, the jeep driver and the Moroccan guys asked me to share a room with them because it would be cheaper. I told them I didn't have money for hotel and that I'd go to a campsite. They asked me which camp I was going to and agreed to go along with me. They insisted on taking a taxi but I cycled down alone. Although we had decided to meet at the camp, my travel companions started making me feel nervous so I decided to go to another camp while I presumed they went to Buba as planned. But, what do you know! In the morning I saw them at the camp that I went to. I asked them how they found this camp and they told me they had seen my bicycle tire tracks in the sand. The driver invited me to have dinner with him that night at his house. What I didn't understand was, if he had a house here, why didn't he go there last night and why he followed me to this camp. Fortunately, I met a German couple in the campground. They were driving a truck through the Sahara and Mauritania. I asked them if they could give me a ride to wherever they were going and they said they would be happy to help.  With much relief, I bid farewell to yesterday's friends.

Eklo yatri

[Travel wtih Pushkar over continents and years at wavemag.com.np]