Home » Mauritania » Overland Trip To Senagal 2004, Day 7: Train to Atar

06.04.04

Overland Trip To Senagal 2004, Day 7: Train to Atar

Thomas Morgan
2006-04-26 11:52:36

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I dreamt of Leeds United and Peter Reid, him making a joke during a post-match interview. Weird. Weirder still to remind myself of where I am and what I’m doing, and what may be around the corner. The shower is perfect, warm water a luxury we never experienced in Morocco but enjoy in this struggling country. An Islamic Republic, you’d never have guessed it. Breakfast is the same, the same young boy, fifteen or sixteen, serving us with great speed and effort. A little girl, the daughter of the quiet cleaner playing in our spotless room, laughing and smiling, not worried about a thing. Frenchy and I brush our teeth at the two sinks, change the money and pack. Up on the roof it’s grey and spitting rain, that little flash of water like someone emptying a bottle out the window of a moving car and you in the back seat feeling it.

I’m not too sure why but Ross is losing the plot. After the teapot fiasco and his spectacular fall in a side street (“I think I’ve swallowed some dust as well”) comes this latest effort. A van parked next to the hostel with the word “cyclisme” clearly written on it, and a logo of a cockerel on top of a French flag and the letters F.F.C. “Hey look”, he exclaims. “France Football Club”. I look at him slightly stunned as he realises that a) a van with “cyclisme” on it has nothing to do with football and b) there would not be a club for the whole country. “I suppose it wouldn’t be written the English way either would it” he says passively, probably wishing he’d never set eyes on this van in the first place. My mind goes back to the first few lines we wrote, “numerous bookings already”. Indeed. As Ross passes me the notepad for me to write this passage, his attempt to slide it across the floor fails when he hits his own leg with it. He then tries to rectify the situation by throwing a pen over to me, which catches his other hand and goes off in some other direction. It’s 10.30 but it would seem that Ross has a long, long day in front of him. Maybe he’s still concussed from the bag of barley incident…

6.30 – Here we are, chèches on heads, small slits to see out of, dust flying over out heads forcing us to sit down in the empty wagon in which we climbed at Nouâdhibou. Two guys are seemingly asleep at the other end but we are being thrown around violently. Our clothes and bags are stained with red iron ore and dust. Very grateful that we bought the chèches, we would be in major trouble without them. Another 10 hours in store.