South to Niger

Ishamael South to Niger across the Sahara

From Tamanrasset, we headed south through the remote desert. Three days with no towns. There was a lot of sand and we traveled on more of a route than a road. We steered by the compass at times over the trackless waste.

When we got stuck, the driver would first try four-wheel drive, then we'd all pile out and push. If that didn't work, we'd use sand mats, one for each tire. Somebody had to race from the back of the truck with the mat as soon as it was free and put it under the front tire. It worked.

One day we just played on a very steep-sided dune, the biggest sandbox I'd ever seen.

The border from Algeria to Niger took us all day--four hours to leave Algeria and about as long to enter Niger. Both countries required thorough searches. The officials were nice about it, just terribly inefficient. At the Algerian border, we had to go into the office one by one in order of the passenger list. A man laboriously copied information into a book and checked our money declaration forms. After that, they searched everything (no one considered searching while we were waiting in line). Then we had to drive 100 yards or so to immigration, where we again stood in line in the correct order while another man, wreathed in cigarette smoke, even more laboriously copied each bit of information from the passenger list into his register. Of course, all the information was on the passenger list of which they had a copy. Bureaucracy at its best.

There was another long wait while everything was typed and cross-checked and recorded. Then we waited in line one by one to be given back our passports. They wouldn't give them to the driver in a pile. At least Dennis and I were first in line. Pity the folks behind us.

All this time it was about 95 degrees in the shade. This is the only time of year I'd fancy being in the Sahara--it's quite nice most of the time. A couple of mornings on the Sahara we were frozen. There was a cold and biting pre-dawn wind that continued until about noon, when the heat set in.

We finally drove to the Niger border--closed from noon to 3:30. We waited in the heat, all dressed up in skirts and our best clothes.

At least we were first in line at 3:30. Several other parties didn't get through that day. They had to camp and finish up in the morning. We had to empty the truck completely and inspectors went through everything piece by piece. The officials were quite pleasant. Unlike in Algeria, there were several at work at once. After the search, we had to go into the office one by one to show our passports and money.

No photos are allowed in Niger, anywhere, without a permit, which costs about $40 a day. It's a shame! It was incredible, and we felt like we were really in Africa. Most people had very black skin, and instead of veils, the women wear beautifully colored wraps.

We arrived in Agadez and were immediately accosted by vendors of cigarettes and souvenirs. I was on guard duty, and got to practice my French for "Go away," and "I don't want anything!" They left me and swarmed around Dennis. He's practicing those phrases now.

A couple of guys came up and just wanted to talk. I welcomed the opportunity to practice French, and felt pretty comfortable with one of them, who welcomed the opportunity to practice English. My French was probably a little better than his English. He showed us around Agadez. It's all adobe--a maze of passages, courtyards and streets. Very clean, I thought. At least there wasn't much western-style trash.

His name was Ishmael, and he took us to the Touareg market, which included a camel market. The shops or stalls were all of log frames covered with grass mats. The Touaregs don't go to the pharmacy, they go to a sort of "medicine man" shop with dried plants and herbs, some kinds of rocks and minerals, lizard skins, fox head, and who knows what else! It was nice because Ishmael could answer our questions. He's part Touareg, but considers himself Hausa. Away from the main market was the meat and animal market--meat on the hoof! Our driver bought a goat which we butchered ourselves and roasted over a spit. It was delicious!

When we returned to the truck, Ishmael saw the guitar. I played a couple of songs and then he started playing folk music of Niger. I tape recorded several songs. He took us to his house and allowed us to take a photo of him on his back patio (see photo above).

Later, he played a Fulani instrument made out of a stalk of sorghum, and today, just before we left, I got a recording of a Touareg friend of his playing a stringed instrument made of half a calabash (squash) with dried sheepskin stretched over it, a long hollowed out piece of wood, and two strings. It's kind of like a guitar, and it's amazing the music he could make with it. It was like walking around in a National Geographic film, the Touareg walking with us playing music and people in the street joining in and even starting to dance around playfully.

We're in the Sahel region now. Today we stopped for lunch and three families showed up over the horizon from nowhere to watch. I guess it was the best show in town, like watching TV for them. Some of us clowned and they laughed. When we left, they begged for clothes.

This area is drying up and turning into desert. There are lots of dead trees, and herds of goats and camels eat the little vegetation there is. People live in small round domed huts. Wish I could get some pictures!