crossing the Sahara desert

September 1980

(The tales of a fellow traveler whom I spent 10 days crossing the desert with in August 1980)

I had never seen a mirage before I made my jouney home from Nigeria. There were lots of things about the desert which I had only read about or seen pictures of. I had often wished that I could see crescent shaped sand dunes such as I'd learned about at school and I really wanted to know wht it was like to visit an oasis.

Ten days or so after setting off from Kano, there I was in the middle of the Shara and experiencing a real taste of desert life. There was sand everywhere. by and large it was flat sand which spread out in a wide flat plain touching the horizon in every direction. The sun threw down its scorching rays like a purge and made shimmering images dance in the distance. I hadn't, by then, reached an area of dunes but I was in an oasis which was boarded on one side by a small cluster of mud hills. it wan't a very big oasis because there were only two palm trees and an acacia, but there was an artesian well and two or three salty ponds. About fifty houses were clustered together around the trees but many of them wre falling to bits and there could only have been between fifty and a hundred inhabitants. A number of boney goats roamed the dusty alleys between the mud walls and a couple of camels were knealing near the palms. It was a lovely spot, I might almost say idyllic,except that when I was there I was stranded. I didn't have any money, there was no transport and the water was horrible. I did't like being stranded. I wanted to go home, but couldn't. It was miserable.

I left Sokoto early in the morning...

My experiences in Agadez would have been miserable and discouraging in the exteme if I had been on my own but it was comforting to know that I was not. I had already mentioned Charles but there at the Sahara Hotel we met up with nine others who were in just the same predicament as ourselves. David and Prudence were prominent among them, not least for their experience of crossing the Sahara some years before. They were Ameicans who had taken six weeks of their University vacation to roam West Africa on public transport. Then there was Anne, Rita, and Peter, who, like me, had been teaching in Nigeria and were taking the leisurely way home. Anne and Rita were heading for Ireland. Peter, for Holland. Ther others were two charming French couples. They were Dominique and Marie-George, and Pierre and Veronique. Dominique and Pierre had been teaching in Abidjan. As a party of eleven were cemented togethr by our common interest in getting to Tamanrasset by lorry. We shared the difficulties and discomforts and so our companionship was based on mutual understanding.

As our prompt departure from Agadez grew more improbable I made slightly longer trips to other parts of town. I bought a black turban in the market place which was to prove invaluable later in keeping sand and sun from my face. I also bought a Tuarag wallet which I hung around may neck with my passport inside. Sometimes we had our meals in poky restaurants. Once it was the Hamdala, once the Croix du Sud, and once at the Sahel. the menus didn't matter much; it was always rice or macaroni and some meat soup. When we didn't eat out we would have sardines and bread and melons on the roof of the hotel or at a table in the vicinity of the bar. None of us wanted to travel into Algeria with Niger Republic currency because it would be difficult to exchange over the border so we didn't change anymore travellers cheques in Agadez. This gave us the delicate problem of budgeting for an undetermined wait but ending up with minimum of extra cash.

On the 19th of July in the evening, all our bags and water containers were piled up in the entrance of the hotel because wer were waiting for a lorry to come and pick us up. It was the most hopeful lead we had had. There were two drivers in a syndicate who were going to go to Tamanrasset together. We had gone around to see the little mud house where one of them lived in the afternoon and had seen them washing their turbans and generally preparing for the trip. Then a sandstorm blew up, just when were due to leave. The sky became dark and thick yellow dust swirled and billowed around the hotel and streets. One of the drivers came to tell us that, on account of the storm, they couldn't leave until the following day. He did have a good excuse but it didn't reduce our disappointment at the thought of another night on the roof.

That evening there was a fight in the hotel. The atmosphere was just like that of a western saloon brawl when you see them on combow films. Two of the men who had been drinking at the bar suddenly started beating one another. It was very violent. Chairs and tables were scattered as the pair sprawled across the floor and bystanders tried to separate them. People at my table watched with sickened disinterest but those at tables near the bar retreated backwards, clutching their bottles and glasses. One fighter picked up a metal frame chair and brought it crashing down on the others back. There were shouts and crashes and at one point a bottle of beer could be heard shattering. Each time the contestants were separated they lunged at each other again in a rage. After five or ten minutes the fighting stopped but we were shocked to see the mixture of blood and beer on the floor. One chap had a big cut on his back and there was a big wet patch on his shirt.

We left Agadez at 2:30 the following afternoon. I had never been more ready to leave a place. It was a tremendous relief to be on our way after such an exasperating wait. In some ways the last hours that we spent in Agadez were more painful than the days leading up to the departure. We had been told to be at the driver's house at 9:30 or 10:00 exit so for five withering hours we set on our bags in the man's compound. I watched the shadow of one of the wells gradually disappear and then thre was a period of intense and scorching sunlight before a shadow reappeared at the foot of the opposite wall. We all crowded underneath one small shelter that was propped up in a corner and read novels. I was reading Persuasion by Jane Austin and Charles was reading Robinson Crusoe. The noon time silence was invaded only by buzzing flies and the splashing at the standpipe when somebody when to it for a drink, or to throw water on their face.

All that became farther and farther away from us as the lorry trundled along the road. We saw camels grazing on plains of green grass, west of Agadez and there were patches of water too. Sometimes the lorrry lurched across a stream or ditch where the bed had been scattered with rocks. It was such a place that the driver's mates had to use their shovels for the first time. The second time is when we became really firmly stuck. The sun had gone down and it was begining to grow dark. We were on a flat stony plain that stretched in every direction as far as the eye could see. A great wall of dust and been seen rolling towards us as we stopped but it didn't result in any more than a stiff breeze. The atmosphere, on the other hand, did become considerably thicker and it soom was impossible to see the horizon. The flat plain just seemed to merge with vague cloud above it. The moon continued to shine brightly and the sand and the sky took on the same illuminated quality. It took three hours go tet the lorry finally free from the mud than there was another delay of an hour or two when the battery overheated, but at some time in the early hours of the morning we arrived at the little oasis town of In-Gall. It was obvious that we wre going to stay there for a while so I took what sleep Icould get on the sand next to the lorry. My hair and face were covered in irritating fine sand when I woke up but I soon found that I had to put up with that discomfort for the rest of the day, because water was either being rationed or it was difficult to get.

It was a fascinating place. Most of the streets were wide and they led off from one another at right angles. The mud brick buildings were all of different shapes and sizes but they all had coarse plasterwork on the front with corrugated iron doors. There was a large open space in the centre of the town which had a small open-air mosque near its middle. The windswept expanse of dazzeling white sand was disturbed only by the blue robed men who strode across it and the goats which were being herded by little children. One side of the open space contained the market. There were a few temporary stalls but most merchandise was sold from well built shops. There were dark inside but it was possible to see sacks of tea, weighing scales, salt cones and cloth through the doorways. Around the shops people were selling meat, dates, and flat, round loaves of bread. At the opposite end of the market a wide street went past at right angles. At one end of this was a water tower and at the other, a grove of palm trees.

Just as the last day in Agadez had been made an agony by our unexpectant waiting so, at In-Gall we were forced to sit around the lorry wondering which moment we would have to jump onto the sides and dive to find a space. The first information we were given by the driver told us that we would be going at 11:00 in the morning but when that time was over-run by a couple of hours we asked some of the crew if they knew when we would be leaving. Nor or Soom would be the automatic answer and so we continued the struggle of waiting. The French four got out some food and had a little meal in the narrow strip of showdw at one side of the lorry. I took my paraffins dove into the shade of a shop and prepared something for Charles and I; more from boredom than a feeling of hunger. You wouldn't feel very hungry if you only had pea soup and bread to eat.

At seven thirty that evening we finally left In-Gall. The driver had taken on more passengers for the next stage of the trip so the discomforts in the back were acute. One man had brought with him a huge bundle of dates which took up half the floor space. Aided, however, by the vibrations and jolts of the vehicle we all managed to settle down into reasonably comforable positions on top of all the baggage. When our limbs had gone numb from being crushed we couldn't feel the pain. The joy of being on the road was rudely disturbed by the embarkation of eight or nine more passengers. They clambered over the sides of the lorry like pirates boarding a ship. All hope of a comfortable ride was abandonded after that, but before we had much time to comtemplate a cramped night the lorry had turned off the road and stopped. It wasn't because we were stuck and at first there was some confusion as to why we were there. A storm was coming our way and for a little while we wondered whether we were just waiting for the rain to pass. We had hardly gone five miles out of In-Gall. We found it useless to ask the driver or his crew for any infromation about the immediate plans. Someone would say that we were staying the night there and others would say that they were just waiting for the rain to pass and if they were asked when we were going to leave, the answer as always would be "Hurry up and wait!" It transpired that we were to spend the night there where the lorry had stopped but the prelude to sleep was a ludicrous game with the rain. I layed out my sleeping bag on a polyethelene groundsheet and then discovered it was raining so I folded it up and sa ton it with my cycle cape that I was wearing, covering both me and the bag. The rain stopped, so I started again but this time I got into the bag and tried to sleep but then the rain came down in a torrent. Like everybody else I dived for cover under the lorry. Half an hour later I was back in the sleeping bag, tired, and damp, but happy.

An excess of rain was our major problem in the desert. On our way northwards from In-Gall the lorry got stuck many times in soft, sticky mud. The old, grey-haired driver came in for some criticism from us because he seemed to steer habitually for the wettest patches of the track. I began to wonder whether his undoubted experience wouldn't benefit from a dash of intelligence.

Dull or otherwise, no one could criticise our driver and his mates for their work. Each time we were stuck they set to work without hesitation to dig us out. On one occasion it had just started to rain from a dark grey cloud immediately above. There was the familiar sinking feeling and then the loud roar of the engine spinning the driving wheels in a spray of slurry and grit. Two of the driver's boys climbed aboard and rooted around for the tarpaulin which they found somewhere near the bottom of our baggage in a sack. It was opened out and pulled over the sides of the truck. I was very thankful that our rubbish heap of a vehicle actually carried a tarpaulin and it made the interior look really very cozy. The only problem with the device was that there was a hole in it. It was the size of a saucer and just in fromt of where I was sitting. This in itself wouldn't have been a problem except that it acted as a funnel for the rest of the tarpaulin and everytime someone stood up or poked the thing, all the puddles on top came sloshing full onto my feet.

The rain came down heavily and we tried to make the hole the uppermost part of the tarpaulin. First, David sat in the middle and held it up with his head. Then a stump of wood was propped up to do the same job. An ingenious Frenchman, however, solved the problem temporarily, by producing some tent poles. These were passed down the lorry until there was a little row of poles precariously held by passengers holding up the tarpaulin like a ceremonial Chinese dragon.

The comic absurdity of the sight contrasted with the pathetic scene outside. The men squelching about in the mud with their spades and struggling to get us going. Their turbans had taken on a darker color because they were wet ant their clothes stuck to their bodies and looked shiny. The clay-like mud wasn't soaking up the water at all and the whole area seemed to be a bubbling lake. Spears left by the men's feet had already filled with water and more rain drops were splashing down in a mass of rings. Peter offered to take photographs of the view from the back of the lorry and our french friends had a biscuit. I finished off my half coconut which I left at lunchtime.

At last the lorry continued, but slowly, and now we had the added discomfort of dirty and wet bodies crowding in next to us. The unpleasantness was relieved somewhat by the knowledge that we were getting nearer and nearer to Tamanrasset. Seconds later even that was taken way, because we sank dramatically in some extra soft mud. We were all told to get down and to walk to dry ground. I leapt from the side of the lorry in order to save getting my feet wet in the puddle we were in. As it happened, I jumped unnecessarily because it was impossible to walk anywhere in the vicinity without sinking in the mud. We all paddled to a hump half a mile away and watched the progress of the lorry. After a very long time it could be seen chugging along, clear of the mud. Even from our distance the thing seemed to be shuddering and its movement was accompanied by loud banging and a husky whine. Blue snoke was billowing from the chassis and David commented that if the lorry were to be found in Massachusetts it would be booked as unfit for the road, never mind crossing the Sahara Desert.

The next morning I woke up to hear Rita complaining that she didn't like the Sahara because it was too wet. We had camped just where we had stopped on the watery plain and all our sleeping bags were damp. We expected to set off immediately as we had done the day before but the crew revealed nothing to us and we spent a whole morning hanging around the lorry becoming hot and frustrated. "Why don't we move" we asked ourselves. "don't they realise that we're in a hurry to get to Tananrasset."

After a very leisurely breakfast and several cups of tea, the crew started repairing the tyre which punctured yesterday. (We had been travellling with a wheel missing since he afternoon of the day before.) Another cup of tea followed that achievement and then some repairs were made under the bonnet of the lorry. After that, the vehicle was started and it was driven forwards a few yards. David announced that things were really looking up since yesterday, for now a proper fan belt had been repaired and put on in place of the rope, all six wheels were fixed and it was no longer necessary to push the lorry to start it.

Hours seemed to pass extremely slowly on that steamy morning but eventually at twelve noon the driver climbed into his seat and seconds later we were off. Half a kilometer further on we had stopped again. It the driver had wanted in increase our frustration he was being very successful. Two of his boys went to fetch some water is a goatskin and another two went to fetch some firewood. We sat in the burning sun for the half hour that it took, too distressed to get out of the heat. The relief that we all felt as the lorry pickup all the gentle speed it could muster was immense. At last we're getting somewhere, we thouhgt, and we hoped that the driver too, would realize how long it was taking us to get to Tamanrasset and try to make up for lost time.

After half an hour of driving we came ot the little village of Tegguiddan-Tessoum. Some of the people who had travelled with us from In-Gall made moves to leave us here and the rest of us sat tight hoping that if we didn't get down, the driver would set off more quickly. The tactic had no effect and to our utter disappointment we were told that we would all have to climb down for we were going to wait until the driver's friend arrived from Agadez. Our bitterness turned to anger and we tried to communicate the Arabs our frustration. Anne wanted to get home in time for her sister's wedding, David and Prudence had plane tickets which became invalid after a certain date and one by one the members of our group became illegal immigrants of Niger, as their tourists visas expired. Our chief medium of communication was Hausa which Charles had mastered fluently during his ten months in Niegeria, cut of which the driver had only a smattering. A crew member had a knowledge of Fench but it wasn't enough to help very much. We couldn't believe the new that we would have to wait for the driver's friend. Most of us in the group had been able to smother our irritation at the hardships up to that point but we were all so sick of waiting about the whim of our crew that the prospect of another long wait brought emotions to the surface.

For three days we were imprisoned at Tegguiddan-Tessom. We were allowed to use a little room to keep our bags in. It opened onto a compound which was strewn with batered oil drums, odd pieces of used timber and had a mosquito infested puddle in the middle. The village consisted of less than fifty houses and there were only two trees. There were some flooded salt pits to the west, but all around was a sea of sizzling sand. We soon got covered by the brown dust that was everywhere in the room where we put our bags, and two days running there was a violent sand storm the filled the air with gritty clouds of sand. Charles and I wrapped our faces in our turbans during such storms but our cameras suffered most from the sand. The focusing ring on mine acted more like a pepper mill after Tegguiddan-Tesseun and Charles' wouldn't work at all. David fell sick while were in Tesseom and for a day and a half he couldn't do any more than lie in the middle of the floor of the little room and make frequent trips outside to evacuate himself.

We all suffered from thirst to a degree at Tessum because the drinking water was so horrible. There was an artesian well in the village but its water was so salty that it was nauseating to drink. The other alternative was a steam of floodwater which was flowing a few hundred yards away. The water in it was thinck with sand there were little creatures in it too. We filtered the dark brown water through our thin cotton turbans and rendered it free from all but the smallest wildlife. The colour was quite unchanged. This water was much better than the salt water for drinking but it left a roughness in the mouth like you get when you drain a cup of ground coffee.

Peter took bets to find out who cold predict the time that it would take to get to Tamanrasset. The guesses ranged from an optimistic three days to a generous eight days. In actual fact we spent anothr week in getting there from the time the bets were made.

Charles and I had been careful to leave Agadez with the minimum amount cash to avoid looking out on the very strict financial controls of Algeria. We had packed enough food for four days and had changed a few pounds into Algerian Dinars. Prudent as this seemed the time, it meant that we became very hungry at Tessoum. I had tried to barter some of my clothes for dates and biscuits on the first day but unsuccessfully. David and Prudence got the best exchange rate by trading in their plastic mugs for several tins of sardines and some crackers. Peter sold his alarm clock for biscuits and Mackerel and Anne sold her watch. I was encouraged by the succes of others and on the third day I managed to exchange a shirt and a towel for three tins of mackerel, twenty biscuits and a bar of soap.

We hoped that our lack of food would influence the driver to make an earlier departure for Tamanrasset and so we begged him to feed us. Once were given a big pot of macaroni and sauce and the next day it was couscous. On the third day the food was late so we asked when we were going to be fed. Long deliberations amng he crew ended with a message form the driver to say that there would be no flood that evening because they had run out of firewood. We wre given a bag of dates instead.

Whilst I don't want to prolong the list of unfortunate circumstances that surrounded me at Tessoum I would have left out a major aspet if I didn't say what was happening to the lorry. As I told you before it wasn't the best maintained vehicle in the desert but even the crew admitted that it needed some attention by the time it got to Tessoum. About twnety four hours after our arrival a special part had been acquired from a mineral mining headquarters to the east of the village. Then the engine was stripped down. Pistons, gaskets, rods and rings wre spread out enthusiastially underneath the cab and the driver's boys fiddled happily with the disembowelled remains. Knowing what had happened to Charles' camera the idea of the lorry grinding to a halt in the middle of the desert was a real anxiety.

In the early afternoon of the tihrd day at Tessoum we enjoyed the wonderful experience of leaving it. We had to share the back of the lorry with about twenty nomadic Tuareg women together with their tents, goats, and babies. At first we protested that the greedy driver had left no room for us, but he persuaded us to get on board and our rucksacks were piled up on the sacks and drums at the front of the lorry. We perched on to of them and held on tightly. We made good progress until dusk although the crew had to dig us out of deep sand on several occasions. It was a greasy patch of sand that we deposited theTuareg woman near to some brown leather Bedouin tents. Their baggage was unloaded by the driver's boys and for those of us who had worked in Nigeria it was a shock to see men working whilst women sat down and watched. Ther reversal of accustomed roles was an indication of the matrilinial society we were passing through.

The day that followed was extremely uncomfortable because we were forced to while away the hours underneath the lorry where we only just managed to escape from the blazing sun. It was half past three in the afternoon when we finally moved off and the metal sides of the lorry were red hot. Our anger surfaced again a few hours later because the driver kept chargindgaround in the desert without making any northerly progress. He kept stopping at bedouin encampments and talking to the locals. Once he sat down under a tree and began to enjoy a leisurely cup of tea with one of his friends. We were left to gently roast on to of the lorry. Some of us jumped down and militantly told the driver to get a move on, but Anne actually fainted on the sand which had a more dramatic effect. She was allowed to sit in the cab form rest of that day and progress from there was much better.

We stopped at a well as the sun was setting and filled all the jerry cans. It was nice to be able to pour away all the remaining Tessoum water. A meal was prepared by the lorry boys on a nearby dune and we lay about on the warm sand looking up at the stars. (It is always easy to see the stars very clearly in the desert.) Arabic bread was the main part of the meal and it was fascinating to see how it was made. Some flour and water was mixed to a dough in an enamel bowl. Then the glowing embers of a fire were brushed to one side and the flattened lump of dough was dropped into the ashes in the sand. Then the embers were brushed back to their place on top of the dough and any exposed pateches of dough were covered over with hot ash. About twenty inutes later, the fire was disturbed agian and the dough turned over, though by this time it had hardened to a cake. Ten or fifteen minutes later the baked loaf was taken from the ashes and washed in water where all the sand and ashes were removed. The loaf was then carefully broken up into small spoon-sized pieces. Over these was poured some oily meat stew andthe meal was complete.

Charles talked about the outward bound course that he had been on as an induction to his time at Wheaton. He said that it had tested the leadership qualitiies of each participant in a series of very arduous exercises in survival. One of the features of the outward bound course had been the secrecy with which the organisers had covered each stage. We all agreed that the journey that we were then undertaking was just like the Wheaton College outward bound course except for the fact that nobody had organized it.

Before I had swallowed the last mouth of that heavy and aromatic bread we were having to load our belongings back on the lorry. For the first time since leaving Agadez our driver was starting out after dark. This was real progress, we thought. An hour later though, the usual soft sand brought us to a standstill in the middle of an immense plain and we spent the night on the sand at the side of the lorry.

A couple of antelope were seen the following morning a we trundled northward and fine sand was being whipped up from the ground and blown along as though a thin veil were floating over the desert floor. Everything was going well for a few hours but then we were told to transfer to the other lorry in our little convoy because the one we were travelling in had run out of oil. A likely story, but what could we do? The other lorry was full of firewood, but we piled it all up to one side and carried on without the first lorry. When the sun was just past its hottest we arrived at the border post marking the last territory in the Niger Republic. We flopped down under some trees and waited for our passports to be processed. We were all hot and dusty and there didn't seem to be any fresh water in the place. We only had the foul tasting stuff we had drawn from the well the night before. Two parties of French tourists drove up in their well equipped mini-buses. They infuriated us by telling us that they had left Agadez earlier that morning and they expected to be in Tamanrasset the following day. What's more, their children played under the trees where we were sitting and threw buckets full of water over each other to keep cool. The men-folk lounged on the bonnets of the vehicles and drank cans of chilled beer which we had seen them take from a little fridge in the back of one of the buses. To smother our intense envy we all agree that the touritst didn't know anything about crossing the Sahara compared to us.

When our passports were finally produced there was another stamp to admire and we set off towards the north. Thre were rocks to look at on this stretch of road and they made impressive landmarks filled with pale yellow sand. We climbly slowly up the edge of a rocky ridge and frop the top had a magnificant panorana of In-Guezzam in the plain below. It was our first sight of Algeria. There was a mess of small mud buildings and a large mud coloured fortress at one side. There were patches of thorn trees and one or two palms.

Picturesque as the sight of In-Guezzam was we quicly began to hate the place because it seemed to impossible to leaveit. The lorry that had brought us into the town set off for Tamanrasset the morning after we arrived leaving us in acloud of dust. Our spirits sank to new depths as we waited bcause one by one, the lorries lorries that had arrived during the night left the town with their drivers refusing to take on passengers. When people had asked me in Nigeria what would happen if I became stranded in the desert I had confidently told them that I would simply hitch a lift with next drive who came along. At In-Guazzam I gained a more realistic idea of Arab drivrs and came to realize that we were at the mercy of a greedy and irresponsible crew who wouldn't think twice about dumping us in the Sahara if it benefitted their ends. To everyones surprise, the lorry that had run out of oil came trundling into In-Guezzam the day after we arrived. The driver was probably more disappointed than surprised because we surmised that the oil story was a ploy to get us to travel in another vehicle so that he wouldn't have pay a bribe at the border. As I said earlier, we were illegal cargo. No one wanted to continue the journey on that clattering heap and we desperately hoped that an alternative lorry would turn up. Two days that we stayed at In-Guazzam wre difficult enough for Charles and myself but for the girls it was worse. They were disturbed in the middle of the first night we were there and afterwards they couldn't go the wall to wash without an audience.

From there, we split up. Eight days and 300 miles.