I am finally back in Atar after taking a little farewell tour across the RIM. I scored the best ride ever. I got to tag along in a Peace Corps vehicle all the way out to Aioun and back. They always have A/C, personal space, seat belts and terrific drivers. Given the scorching heat and humidity we encountered, I consider myself quite blessed to have traveled in the big white Land Rover.
However, I concluded my tour with one of the worst travel days ever. Carl, a region mate, really, really wanted to try to the new ,daily, a/c bus that has started between Nouakchott and Atar. It is the same price as a taxi and you are guaranteed your own seat, AC and free, unlimited luggage. I was skeptical. This is Africa and a guarantee works quite different here. A guarantee usually comes with an Inshallah. We might advertise one thing, but you can't really expect to get it.
Shockingly, there was no working a/c, just a warm fan slightly blowing. That coupled with a mild sand storm and record heat, made the trip just a little slice of heaven. For some reason, tons of sand was coming through the crevasses of the bus creating a mini sandstorm within, for the entire 7 hour trip. I was coated with a layer of crust by the time I finally made it home. About mid way, I had no clean area of skin or fabric with which to wipe my eyes. I am still trying to clear my sinuses and lungs today but my exposed skin is soft as silk. To be fair, I did have my own seat and all of the luggage I could carry at no extra charge. However, at one of the police stops we had to pull out all of this unlimited luggage for the 55 people on board so that they could search most of it (during a mild sand storm).
Have I ever mentioned the power of a Peace Corps ID card? Towards the end of this search, the policeman finally sauntered over to me and asked me which bag was mine. Surprise, surprise it was the one and only REI backpack aboard. Everything else was packed in either rice bags or those big plastic bags that are ubiquitous in travel through developing countries. He asked me to open it. Actually he had to ask me twice because I couldn't understand his French with his howly (arabic head wrap) wrapped around his mouth. Naturally, I complied. I unhooked the top slowly and reluctantly as I really didn't want to unload all of my dirty laundry out onto the sand. I was searching my brain for the french translation of "dirty underwear" because I was sure he was going to ask me what was in the plastic sacks. Then he asked me for my identification, twice, because again I couldn't understand his french under his 6 meters of fabric wrapped around his mouth. All he did was glance at my id and he immediately stopped his request to search my bag and moved on to less well connected folks. (I'm sure gonna miss my quasi-diplomatic status) 1.5 hours later, we were back on the road.
The bus cleared out a little at Akjoujt (5 hours later) so that our next 2.5 hours to Atar was far more comfortable. Of course, this trip was exactly what I expected (less the sandstorm within the bus)...It was hot, miserable, and long. But I will admit the other 53 passengers on the bus behaved rather uncharacteristically. They were calm and quiet. Possibly they too were miserable as they melted and were being sandblasted for the long voyage. There was little praying and nearly everyone kept to their assigned seat (truly astonishing). Usually there is at least one person praying, which I find disconcerting, and blaring arabic prayer calls from a scratchy cassette during the entire ride. I feel ill at ease whenever I am in a situation that calls for constant prayer. I assume they are appealing to Allah so that she won't strike them dead in an accident. Or maybe they pray so that if they are indeed struck dead by some idiot driver in one of the thousand deathtraps on the roads, they will be called directly to paradise. I am not sure which and not sure I really want to ask.
Anyway, I am alive, no worse for wear and have exactly 14 days left in Atar.
Alhumdulilah.
Cheers from here
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