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07.04.04

Overland Trip To Senagal 2004, Day 8: Atar

Thomas Morgan
2006-04-26 11:55:32

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The train was a test of endurance I could never have imagined. Sitting in a metal cargo box, no roof, no seats, no protection. Just ten hours of monotonous landscape, bumy arduous travel and, most challenging of all, the swirling, choking blanket of dust that layered us throughout the entire journey. It caked our clothes, stiffened our hair to cardboard and forced us to sit, faces covered for almost the entire journey. Heads bowed, we make it to Choûm at 1am. The train journey is a novel on its own but we had little time to dwell on it; we had to get to Atâr and luckily, we had Samba with us.

Oppressively hot, African heat as I expected we’d experience. 11.30, not knowing what where we’re going, what we’re going to do and when, nor even what I’m doing. We arrived in Atâr or Adrar, I can’t remember, early in the morning after another surreal journey, this one squeezed like a game of tetris in the back of a pickup truck, “taxi brousse” from Choûm. I wasn’t expecting a stretch limo given that we only paid 1000 ouguiya, but I wasn’t expecting to be crammed in the open cargo bed along with the following: a mid sized fridge, half a dozen or so sacks of grain of some sort, our luggage and the luggage of 8, not including Frenchy and Samba, other passengers. It was exhausting, through desert trails, bumpy and rough, manoeuvring delicately in the truck bed. I’m surprised we could move with all the weight. Three people in the cabin including the driver, four people on the top. We had negotiated the lift when we arrived in Choûm a bit earlier than expected to my immense relief. We walked into the little town, though it can hardly be called that. It exists solely because of the train and survives from passengers moving on from it. Luckily we had Samba. That’s not his real name but he prefers it to ElHadj. We met him waiting for the train in Nouâdhibou, he’s Senegalese, tall, thin, with dark, dark skin and a nice smile. Anyway ...