Sitting next to the road..

Sitting next to the road - Mauritania

 

Being left beside the road by the taxi driver, all 8 of us.

 

Let us start at the beginning.

 

Crossing the river into Mauritania, we had to wait for 3 hours for a stamp. We got our visas in Niger, but we still had to wait. Then they wanted to deport one of the team members for allegedly forging a visa. We showed them our receipts, convinced them to phone the embassy and then only after being scolded in a language that I do not understand, we could continue. But just a few steps and then the next scamster has the stage, trying to get some or other tax.

 

During our 3 hour wait, we negotiated a fair price for the taxi to Nouakchott 2000 Ouguiyas per person, luggage included. But all that changed the moment we entered the vehicle, not the driver but some bystanders arranged that, now all of a suddend they wanted us to pay 3500 Ouguiyas per person. So when we told them that we would exit the vehicle and look for other transport the deal changed to 12500 Ouguiyas for all 5 team members.

 

On our way out of town, the driver hit a large pothole, not that it would be possible to miss it, but he was doing it at F1 lap record speed.

 

The next moment he pulls to the side of the road and tells everybody to climb out, he looked at the wheel and got back in the vehicle, us thinking he would move it out of the road, he started back to town, shouting for us to wait next to the road, he is going to fix the shock.

 

At least we met Omar ,a Senegalese man living in Holland for the last 25 years, he is a businessman, making couches and furniture, also restoring 2nd hand furniture and exporting it to Senegal. He is sitting with us waiting for the driver to return.

 

So after 3 hours our driver returns, smiling from ear to ear, his vehicle is fixed.

 

So we continue, but the road is VERY VERY bad, and then it happens. 

 

The road block, a common site throughout Africa, but this one is a bit different. We have to either produce copies of our passports or write down our passport details for verification. So another 20 mins delay. At one stage I switched on my GPS and the estimated time of arrival was 21:00, it is now 21:18 and we are still almost 100km away from our destination.

 

And in the mean time we started towing another taxi that was standing next to the road.

 

Omar had to make peace with the fact that he missed his connecting bus north.

 

22:25 still not in Nouakchott, as a matter of fact, we just went through our 4th road block, this time we all had to get out and the police dog came to inspect both vehicles for possible drugs or banned substances.

 

O yes, before I forget, we probably stopped 8 times now for broken tow ropes. Everytime they just tie another knot in there.

 

22:37, another "special" roadblock. This guy is serious, full automatic assault rifle and all. And I get told that these roadblocks are for our safety and security. In the 8 hours and 45 mins that I am in your country, I have not travelled 200km, but you have now checked my passport 5 times, had me write down my details (copy my passport) and had your sniffer dog on me and the truth is, I just want to get through this country. I am tired of a military run state, where my every move have to be monitored. And every official have to try and show just how important he is in this system. We get it, you are important. 

 

I want to sleep, and get on the first bus out of here.

 

But wait, 22:55 another roadblock. All get out. Same old story.

 

Ok arrived in Nouakchott, just to find out that we need to pay the taxi driver another 2000 Ouguiyas to drop us at the "garage" for transport to Daklha.

 

Our connection in Nouakchitt does not reply to any of the text messages we send, so now we have to make a choice, try to find accomodation or try to get transport. 

 

What a mission, at last we are at the right "garage" just to find out the normal price from Nouakchott to Dakhla is 18000 Ouguiyas per person , R602,50. And then the negotiation starts, we reached a price of 15000 Ouguiyas per person ,R502, round 01:30. And this is now for all 6 of us, we had Omar as our interpreter during this whole ordeal. 

 

So now we are on our way "straight" to Nouakchott, but we first had to make a few stops along the way. We had to pick up a "co-pilot" for the long journey, we had to stop to eat before we could start the journey, but now we are heading to the "frontiere".

 

We arrive at the Mauritania border at 8:50, not to much difficulty exiting the country.

 

Now Morocco's first border, for there is actually 2 which is 3km from each other, the first one checks our passports and luggage, but no stamp gets issued. Quick and easy I thought, except for the police man who came across my bag of gadgets and each one he sees, he wants. I gave him an energy bar in the end and he was happy.

 

Now through 3 km of no-man's land, there is not even a road, neither Morocco nor Mauritania is allowed to build a road there, apparantly. So now we enter the real Morocco border post, different story.

 

It took us 3 hours to clear the border, from being sent from office to office and having the vehicle searched and then X-rayed, but then we hit the road to Dakhla.

 

Our progress is slower than we hoped for, the first 50km took an hour. Then we stop to stretch legs and eat something, only to get back on the road 2 hours later. Just another +- 300km.

 

We feel fresh and spirits lifted when we received good news while waiting for our drivers to catch up on their beauty sleep. The Lord has provided for us in a time of uncertainty. Praise His wonderful name.

 

17:14, 193km to go.

 

18:25, the first glimps of Dakhla, but only across the 11km wide stretch of lake that seperate us. We still have to drive 90km around to reach our destiny.

 

Few roadblocks later we arrived in Dakhla, what a surprise. You can not compare it to West Africa.

 

I thank Jesus for brining us here safe, and in sound mind. 

 

I really look forward to see what the Lord is doing here.

 

They say a journey of a 1000 miles begins with a single step. But who would have thought what this journey had in store when we got into the cab at 8:30 on the morning of the 2nd of April in St Louis?

 

I love you, Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. I called to the Lord, who is worthy of praise, and I have been saved from my enemies. The cords of death entangled me; the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me. The cords of the grave coiled around me; the snares of death confronted me. In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears. (Psalm 18:1-6 NIV)