MAURITANIA BETWEEN SEA AND DUNES

Period: August 2005 Km covered: 14,000 of which 4,000 in Mauritania It's been talked about since April, being organised, researched … in August we're going to Mauritania …!!! And August has finally arrived… off we go!!! After three days of travel here we are full of enthusiasm at Agadir! Mauritania is a little closer … but suddenly Davide tells us via CB that he has just received a phone call from Italy: "In Mauritania … coup d'état".

Moments of anguish, our project, our dream is about to fade? We tune into a Spanish radio station and the news follows one after another … "international airport closed, tanks and rocket launchers in the capital …" what to do? By common agreement we decide to continue to the Mauritanian border and … inchallah!! Meanwhile we race along the asphalt and before our eyes pass the desert, the ocean, the ghost villages, the Dakhla peninsula, the fog of the former Western Sahara. Here we are … a few kilometres from our destination … Moroccan customs … a few kilometres of dirt road … Mauritanian customs "pas de problem" … we are in Mauritania, despite everything!!! Happy, we arrive at Nouadhibou where we camp and enjoy a nice "poulet avec frittes". Meanwhile processions of cars and banners cheer the political change, the nation is celebrating!! It's 5 August.

Bright and early the next day we set off again for the legendary Banc d'Arguin. At last we're on the track, or rather off-track on the beach and the waterline. First gettings stuck for the vehicles and first swims!! The flamingos and pelicans watch our four off-road vehicles speed past and we have fun riding the waves. We camp at Cap Tafarit where we find the first tourists. We cross small fishing villages and make our triumphant entrance by beach into the capital: Nouakchott. We celebrate with a nice plate of couscous washed down with the hard-to-find beer!! We enjoy a bit of African life in the capital, hard days on the track await us!! We set off again on asphalt for Tidjikja between dunes and sahel. We see cattle markets; here are the last nomads in their white tents, with dromedaries, donkeys, zebu, goats and sheep.

Beautiful and dignified, they ride the savannah on snow-white dromedaries on which their blue tunics stand out. It feels like living in an old film! We cross several villages … and one of them strikes us … we're about 70 km from Tidjikja, there are beautiful children who greet us as we pass, there are huts and small houses, who knows, maybe there's a school … here tourists certainly don't stop, they race towards the better-known Tidjikja. We have teaching materials from the association "Bambini nel deserto" to deliver … we stop. We are at Iguevane (GPS coordinates: N 18° 08.790' W 011° 55.185') We enter the village welcomed by children and women. They smile at us and someone asks for "cadeaux". We ask for the village chief and they lead us into a house adorned with cushions and carpets. The authorities arrive, the village chief and the imam, to whom we hand over the materials.

Intense and moving moments. They offer us very fresh goat's milk. Commemorative photos, thanks and promises to return bringing above all medicines and clothes for children and adults. We arrive at Tidjikja, the start of the great adventure, of the track studied for months at the desk on the maps: the track to Nema via Tichit and Oualata. We stock up on water and diesel. The service stations have been without diesel for several days and we're forced to buy it on the black market. It's 9 August. We're ready to face the 600 km that separate us from Nema.

Leaping from dune to dune, avoiding ending up in the frightening funnels, getting stuck from time to time, we arrive at Tichit, (N 18° 21.492' W 009° 07.223') a small marvellous village at the ends of the earth! We're the only tourists, they say one passes by a month!! The entire population of the village comes out to meet us, interrupting whatever work. We are guests of the village. We wander through the narrow streets among the half-destroyed stone houses, they take us to visit the mosque, the well, the old quarter. A hundred-year-old little old man, dressed in traditional clothes, comes towards us supported by some young men… he's the owner of the library…!! He opens with an old key the strange lock of the library, he barely speaks, and only Arabic. He sits in the centre of the courtyard… the visit begins.

From a dark room come the masterpieces, the very ancient volumes written with gold, indigo, charcoal and ochre. They're all dusty and several damaged… a pity. There are texts on grammar, science and mathematics, religious texts and registers of the passing of dromedary caravans. We are here, in a village buried among dunes and palm groves, there's a small airport and a medical dispensary with a gleaming ambulance (where will it go, with 200 km of dunes to the west and 400 km of savannah and mud to the east, before finding a hospital?). We decide to leave here the other two packages of teaching materials from the association. We hand over, in front of the authorities, our small gift. There's the teacher, the prefect, the religious figure and the mayor. We're the news of the day! Another moving moment with commemorative photos.

They serve us the traditional drink of Mauritania: cold dromedary milk diluted with water… a delight, and we drink plenty of it! Unfortunately we have to set off again towards Oualata, the track awaits us… We spend the night on a dune a few kilometres from Tichit, we fall asleep thinking of the children, the women and those who live in Tichit. We think back to that Malian mason who breaks stones in Tichit. He interrupted his work, put on the traditional holiday clothes and came towards us with his rather old camera asking if we could repair it for him. We read the disappointment in his eyes when, even after changing the batteries, the device kept not working. Even today we think of that boy and there's such a desire to get him a new camera.

Who knows if some tourist can grant us this little dream! Who knows if, with the help of the village chief, we can trace him… he'll certainly approach every tourist who passes through Tichit in the hope of finding a photographer who can help him. Our journey continues through splendid landscapes of dunes and savannah, the track no longer exists, only a few traces of cars that passed who knows when. We navigate with GPS and computer following the tracks and waypoints of other adventurers. We don't meet anyone for two whole days, we are alone in the infinity and silence of nature.

But here's the first mishap: hidden behind a tuft of grass, a treacherous rock rips open the front differential casing, bends a cross member and pulls off the clutch shaft of Angelo's vehicle; and as if that weren't enough, it rips a tyre on Dino's!! We have no choice but to set up camp!!! While the girls prepare a lavish dinner, the men improvise as mechanics. Nothing stops us and the next day all four vehicles set off again normally! 50 km from Oualata we meet the Bedouins again with their tents and their livestock… we're coming back to the inhabited world!! 12 August: we arrive at the village of Oualata. (N 17° 18.261' W 007° 01.622'). The village with houses painted in ochre and white. We are mobbed by the whole population while the police lazily check our passports. The visit to the village takes place in a festive atmosphere, we're surrounded by young people of all ages.

Here we make adults and children happy by distributing some clothes. Several ask us for medicines to treat sunstroke and chills, rheumatism,...to be continued....