An oasis saved my life/You eat like a woman!

"Too much good fortune can make you smug and unaware. Happiness should be like an oasis, the greener for the desert that surrounds it." Rachel Field

Choum, Mauritania. A small town in Mauritania, a long way from anywhere. As far as we could tell, Choum only existed because of the railroad. A common scenerio to towns near my home. We had arrived in an empty iron ore car at 5:30am. We piled into a minibus, heading for the oasis region of Atar.

The van circled the town, looking for more passengers. Stone buildings barely showing through the dust. The sun had risen I was sure, but was not visible, just a slight lightening of the surrounding area. Finally we were on the road to Atar. We passed flat, rocky regions, went over a large pass, the road well paved. Mostly we all just tried to sleep.

Atar is a small town with what seems more donkeys than people. A lively market sits in the center of town, selling freshly baked bread out of wheelbarrows, and meat from small wooden counters. To my surprise, there was lots of fish for sale, trucked in from the capital, 6 hours a away. The buildings were sand colored, made from concrete covered in an adobe type mixture. It felt isolated, but at the same time, well connected with the rest of the country.

We sat on a corner in a daze, watching the town come to life. Men dressed in flowing blue robes, heads wrapped with scarves, passed by, hardly glancing at us. Women in brightly colored clothes, some with faces veiled, others with complex hair styles on display, wandered everywhere. Old taxis plied the streets, some looking like they may fall apart at any moment. We organized a taxi to Terjit Oasis and set out. Five of us crammed into a car. We were stopped multiple times at police and military checkpoints. This is a common occurance in Mauritania, but they were almost always polite and just wanted to collect our passport information.

Atar streets in the morning

Market donkey in Atar market

Huge red cliffs narrowed into a canyon, sand and date palms filling the bottom. A small village living off the two springs. We walked into the palms, hot, tired, dirty. We walked, and walked, and even though it got cooler, we could not seem to find the water. Had the spring dried up? Was it not flowing this time of year? I just want a swim!

Finally, at the apex of the canyon, a small pool appeared. Two springs, one hot, and one cold, flow into a small depression, and a natural bathing area forms. Yes! We joined the locals, racing into the water. "This oasis saved my life!" I exclaimed. Having just been a little tired and dehydrated, I could already see how important a place like this could be in such a harsh environment. Mark it on a map, never forget how to find it, it could be the difference between life and death for the old caravan travelers.

We stayed in the water for half an hour, cleaning ourselves, coming back to life. It was amazing. The cliffs looked ancient. People have been living in this area for tens of thousands of years, as evident by the petrogliphs on the cliffs. It felt old, it felt forgotten. I felt far away.

Terjit Oasis

Terjit

The Terjit pool

We were told of a place to stay, the Auberge de Chez Jamal. Some small boys led us down a sandy road. Cloth tents next to a few small buildings. A large tree with a round, woven palm frond roof, with woven mats and cushions set out underneath. It was quiet, calm, and cool. A paradise. We layed down, the owners brought us dates off the trees, so soft they melted in your mouth. We slept and read the rest of the day. Dinner was rice and vegetables in sauce, it was delicious. I slept soundly, a cool breeze, a soft mattress on the ground, open walls, Quiet.

Thank you to this family, and to this place.

Our home in Terjit

Relaxing in the oasis

Terjit camp

We stayed in Atar the following night. We were able to hitch a ride back into town in the back of a passing truck with a Western Saharan UN worker. We stayed at the Bab Sahara guesthouse. It had seen better days, but the flow of tourists had dried up. It was a quirky overlander place: "Why are there so many animal skulls.....and WWI helmets here?". They pulled out mattresses in the dirt for us, and we fell asleep under the stars.

We took the bus back to Choum, ate fish and rice in a small restaurant, and waited for the train to arrive. We wanted to ride the passenger train back. The train came early. "The train is here! Run!". We ran the 2km to the car...except I had been sick feeling all day. I could not make it. The train only stops for 10 minutes. A friendly man in an ore car was yelling at me to climb up. So I did. The rest of our group just barely making the passenger car.

The ore car was now full with large chunks of iron ore. It was sharp, and hard to walk on, but being able to sit up above the edge of the car was a nice change. My train companion was Hameda. He rode the train often, buying old clothes at the mine and selling them in Nouadhibbou. He was a master train traveler. He had a blanket tent set up on the large ore rocks. He made tea over charcoal. He taught me how to eat with my hands, serving me pasta with camel meat he had made. "You eat like a woman! Take a big handful, use the whole hand!". The dust was not bad and the views were amazing. Watching Ben Amira slide by, the second largest free standing rock in the world, he told me the traditional story of how it got there. We watched the sunset, did the dishes, and I slept on piles of his used clothes. It was one of the most beautiful nights of my life.

Hameda, my train riding companion

Ben Amira Rock

Train sunset

In the morning, I helped to toss of the bags of clothes and said goodbye. We all met up at the train station, and stayed one more in Noudhibbou before heading south the next morning.