The Kids are All Right

Saturday July 19th
Noukchott, Mauritania




This is Cam and Seleka. I am now staying at Auberge Sahara where I have met Cam and his "mate" Pete. Cam and Pete are British and South African expats who live in Morocco. They drove down from Southern Morocco in Pete's Turbo Diesel Van. Seleka lives next door to the Auberge with her family in a well appointed tent (note TV in upper left hand corner and Seleka on the left). You can click on any of these photos to get a bigger version of the original.

This is what Moors do. They pimp out their tents. Oddly enough Moors drive pretty pimp cars--all Mercedes, all almost new, all unfortunately stolen from Europe and sold for a pittance in this backwater Saharan Country. Seleka is about as cute as they come, so she would come over--by herself--and hang out with all the western travelers who would ooh and ahh over her. You may be tempted to ask the obvious questions, like what is a 2 year old doing wandering around by herself, but I will answer your foolish questions with an all purpose response. This is Africa.





For the first time I am excited to be in Mauritania. My experience so far has been hellish and the dare-I-say that the people have been less than welcoming. So I was a bit shocked to check into my tent and find that they were 4 brits at the hotel. I left the US on July 3, and since then, I have not spoken with a native English speaker. I had started having dreams where I was shouting in English. Not at anybody in particular mind you, but just because my brain needed to speak in its native tongue. "THE FLOWERS ARE ON THE TABLE. THE GIRL CROSSES THE ROAD. YES, MY GOATS ARE FATTENING UP NICELY THIS SEASON." I was tired of communicating by slowly speaking my French with somebody for whom French was their 3rd or 4th language.

One of the brits had some contraband gin--alcohol is illegal in Mauritania. So we had a great little party which somewhat eased my mind that the day before I had paid $8 for half a gallon of gasoline. I had been driving from Noudibou, just under 500 kilometers away and the wind changed direction during my drive, killing my gas mileage. I calculated that I needed two extra liters to make it back to Noukchott. In the middle of the desert (see illustrative pictures below), there are not many gas stations. I began to ask around and sure enough, a man came out of his shack offering to sell me 20 liters of gas at $2 liter. Not unreasonable considering the circumstances. Our negotiations went like this:




MAN: I have 20 liters for sale
ME: I have a moped. I have no room for 20 liters. I am only looking for a few litres.
MAN: You are in the middle of the Sahara desert. You will buy what I sell or else the vultures will eat your spleen before you die of thirst, infidel.
ME: I will pay well for a few liters.

Desert nomads, while excellent at goat-herding, camel trading, and exploiting the occasional Westerner, aren't always very quick at math. While he was pondering my offer, I did a few calculations to broker a compromise. I ended up paying the guy the same profit for 2 liters (about $5) as if he had sold me all 20 liters. This took me a bit of explanation, but it got both of us closer to our goals and saved me $32. And there is a great silver lining. Now, no matter where you are the planet, when people complain about high gas prices, you can stand up and proudly say you know somebody who has paid a good deal more.