My parents, who are missionaries in Portugal, were also in Morocco for an outreach. We planned to work together in Tiznit with a contact they had. It was great to be able to join Explore Africa with my parents and we had a great time together!
Their contact worked especially with children with physical and mental disabilities. Which meant we could help her visit some of the children's families to build relationships and play with the children.
During this time we became friends with a young Muslim girl and her friend and finally had the opportunity to share the gospel with her and give her a bible!
From Tiznit we jumped on a bus and travelled 1000km's to the most southern Moroccan town called Dakhla. It was a very long bus ride!
Dakhla is actually in a disputed territory called the Western Sahara. Even though the Western Sahara is currently a protectorate of Morocco, the local people called the Sahrawi, does not want to be part of Morocco and wants the Western Sahara to be independent. As a result there is a lot of tension in the area and nobody mentions the name “Western Sahara” out loud for fear of retribution.
We could feel the tension rise as we entered the area. Suddenly there were checkpoints everywhere and at each one the foreigners (us) slowed down the whole process as they double-checked our passports and even made photocopies of them.
Our one team member, Johan, usually caught up with things a bit slower than the rest of us. While the rest of us already knew we were in the Western Sahara he only discovered it a few hours later while in conversation with one of the locals. To everybody's surprise he jumped up and shouted: “Hey guys, we're in the Western Sahara!” The whole bus cringed with shock while I frantically motioned for him to sit down.
Later on when we were in Dakhla the tension really started getting to him. He would start thinking that people were following us and even thought the one guy that walked passed us from the front asked him if he had life insurance!
In Dakhla we spent most of our time prayer walking through the town. Asking God to impact this little desert outpost. As far as we could find out there were no Christians in the town.
From Dakhla onwards the real adventure started. There was no public transport between there and the Mauritanian border, a 380km stretch. It took us a while to find transport before we eventually struck a deal with two old, local and classic Mercedez-Benz taxi's. They ripped us off but it was the only option. We would start early the morning and travel the 825km's to Nouakchott, the capital of Mauritania, where they would drop us off at a campsite.
Of course there was also still the visa issue nagging in the back of my mind (refer to the 'pink city' blog).
About 20km's before the border we entered a mine field, literally. Either side of the road was lined with red and white signs reading: “danger! Minefield.” As if this was not enough the border looked like a minefield. In between the dishevelled huts of the two border posts, in no man's land, car wrecks were burnt out and strewn all over the place.
We left Morocco and was met with pretty stiff Mauritanian security. I walked into immigration, fearing the worst and that we would have to go all the way back to Rabat for our visas. What a relief when the immigration officer looked at me and said: “Yes, we'll issue the visas!”
Unfortunately it was not that easy. We had dollars with us- thinking we could pay for the visas with that. “No,” they said. “We want Euro's.” “Were are we supposed to get Euro's?” I asked, motioning across the flat desert landscape. “No problem,” they said and they walked Detlef and me to a small stuffy caravan standing next to the dishevelled border post. It was their very own Bureau de Exchange! You know, almost like a family business.
Of course the rate was ridiculous. We tried protesting but after a few minutes realised it was going nowhere. In the end we had to concede and paid closer to 35$ for each visa than the original price of 20$! Yet thank the Lord we were through and soon we were travelling through the Mauritanian desert on our way to Nouakchott.
Yet arriving in that desert capital late at night delivered another adventure...
Below: Sunset in Mauritania. From left: Detlef, Johan and Elzet.
Below: Our bags didn't exactly fit.
Comments