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Published: August 4th 2005
The 'Tomato Van'
Crossing the desertA cheap night (2 euros) at Hotel Al Atlas, Dakhla. A whole morning at Hotel Sahara waiting for my ride to Nouadhibou (Mauritania). To eat, nothing but bread and water. My last dirhams were just enough to pay for the fare.
At 3pm a kind soul took my bags and I to the police check point outside Dakhla. By the road I waited, and waited, and waited. I had a ride but not the money demanded by the driver, a cheeky young Mauritanian with whom I didn't want to travel.
One of the policemen took over the situation. He promised me to find someone willing to take me for the dh 200 I had.
Around 6pm a tall gentleman arrived, the ceaseless wind blowing his blue-sky robe against the setting sun. He accepted my price. Furious, the other driver went back to town.
An hour later they finished loading the van with crates of tomato and lettuce. The 'Tomato Van' certainly dated back to the 1980's when it was used in Genova (Italy) to carry processed cheese around.
It was 7.30pm when we shot off. In the cabin, the driver and bags of
The Border Crossing
X DANGER X Landmines ahead crisps, another Mauritanian and myself. And the teapot and the stove, of course!!!
Night fell as we whizzed across the desert. The starry sky, the long stretch of tar, the headlights. My body shivered. My skin bristled. My eyes filled with tears. Tears of joy.
In the darkness I saw my very dreams come true and swiftly dissolve in the arid vastness.
We stopped for dinner. Five shacks lined the road. My money allowed me another bread. The great Mauritanians, a big sandwich. It's not that the food was included in the price I paid him. It's in their nature. Though poor, they always share food.
Back on the road, it was teatime! They had no problems heating it up between our legs while smoking. Note that, in Mauritania, TEA is not so much a drink as a ritual. There are no cups but small glasses, also used to stir the sugar. They usually drink 3 rounds: the first should be as bitter as life; the second, as delicate as a woman; the third, as sweet as love.
By 2am we parked at a service station to sleep. The lack of lockers had the driver sleeping in the van. The other passenger and I unrolled our mats in a communal carpeted room where travellers could stay for free.
We woke up as the red sun rose.
The border-crossing was something out of this world. The route is not signaled and, as there are as many car wrecks as landmines scattered along the way, a silly mistake would have blown ourselves away.
In a couple of hours we were rolling down the sand-drenched streets of Nouadhibou. Another country. A whole new world!
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Pieter
non-member comment
Oi Miguel! It looks like you're enjoying yourself in Africa...Life can be tough sometimes, but it must be a great experience! Looking forward to read your next article! All the best Pieter