October 17, 2004
So this is Timbuktu, on the southern edge of the Sahara. It is a very sandy place. The town is slowly being swallowed up by traveling sand dunes. Inside the doorways of the older houses the floor drops about a foot below street level. The streets are getting higher and the houses are getting lower as the sand moves in. Someday it may be one big dune. Mother Nature must have a plan.
It is hot, very hot here. The sand is everywhere. I wanted to wear sandals today, however after walking from the shower to the room, my feet were caked in mud, fine dusty sand mixed with shower water. I opted for my other shoes with socks which are now full of sand too.
Sandals seem like a good idea, but they have minimal traction and can even get seriously stuck in deep sand. No matter which shoes, it is slow going, and the sand will find its way between the toes and eventually into the ears and even into the mouth. After a few hours here bite down and you'll notice.
The bread here has to be the world's best looking bread. Mmm. But it is the hardest to swallow. It comes with sand too.
Each time the wind blows, I can feel a thin layer of dust on the paper. I brush it off and it returns. The sand is probably a problem for pens.
The hotel room is like a mud cave with a dirt floor, and we agreed to stay even though we both experienced the physical taste of dirt in the mouth and nose upon entering. It is like a prison cell, no cable TV, no windows. Actually there is a small hole that lets in one thin ray of dusty light. It is not big enough to crawl through, and itīs too high to jump to. It's hard to tell
what the view might be, maybe a neighbor's square mud house. It is hot in there too. No lights either. I am waiting for the dried mud on the ceiling to fall.
It is Ramadon now, the largest Muslim holiday, and the locals are eating goat today. They are cooking a large animal in the mud oven in the courtyard here where I sit. The oven seems to be generating MORE heat than the sun. Add a little smoke to the sand that's in the air and you may picture what I am experiencing now. I can hear the large animal broiling, bubbling, roasting, not a favorite sound for vegetarians.
One of the young servant girls just walked by carrying a large pot on her head and unfortunately I saw the contents: three severed goat heads. Yikes! The image will haunt me forever.
We spent most of the day exploring the ancient streets of Timbuktu. I liked the markets the best. The narrow mud alleys were lined with mud brick houses. Most had medieval castle-like doors and windows with metal decorations and large hinges. Some of the mud walls were textured with hand prints, all hand crafted, made by many hands like a sand castle.
October 18, 2004
Last night we had a hard time sleeping. It was extremely hot in that dark dirt room. We decided to go to the roof instead so we found ourselves hauling the mattresses (foam) and pillows up the uneven mud stairs in the dark.
The manager at the hotel (the eldest son) is very attentive to our every need, including camel trekking and souvenir shopping. He seemed to expect we might want to sleep on the roof and has warned us kindly NOT to walk in the center as it is possible to fall through the mud thatching. Wouldn't that be frightful to come flying down through the ceiling mattresses and all!
We got to the safe area of the roof uninjured and slept under the stars for a while until the desert winds blew making it too cold. We then carefully hauled the mattresses back to the room below - like walking on a tight-rope with a load.
The hot room was still extremely hot, so we positioned the mattresses close to the doorway and left the doors wide open, but even that didn't help. Heat must radiate off mud walls. To make matters worse, a neighbor broke out his drum at roughly 3AM and played away as if no one within miles were trying to sleep. Maybe it had something to do with the holiday. After about an hour of drum playing, the morning prayers began blasting over loud speakers somewhere nearby.
The drums and prayers lasted until it began to get light outside. This was when a family of flies moved into the room. We hardly slept at all, and we paid 10 dollars for the experience.
Our camel driver is fasting today since it's Ramadon. He has just returned from collecting two camels that were a 15km walk away. He said he was tired since he had to walk there and back through the desert.
Pushkar and I loaded up on water and beer for our overnight camel trek. At 5PM the camels were ready, sitting in the sand at the end of the road waiting for us.
It was a thrill to be atop a camel as he stood on four spindly legs. Watching Pushkar's camel it looked like the camel's legs could bend backwards and forwards, like they have two knees in opposite directions. I'll have to study that later. First forward, then back, then standing. Hang on.
The tired camel guide decided to sleep instead of deal with us so he hired his 10 year old cousin to take us for a spin through the sands to his aunt's house. The camel driver and his family are Toureg, the indigenous ethnic group that lives in the Timbuktu area. We would visit a traditional Toureg house and have dinner in the sand.
The camel driver who was now home sleeping had said we would trek 3 hours into the desert. His young cousin, however stopped after only an hour. The sun was setting, and we decided an hour in the camel saddle was maybe enough. But we would not be happy until we found a BIG dune. Somehow we communicated this even though the young man didn't speak English or French which we were learning. The boy only nodded and said "way", yes in Toureg maybe.
At the top of a nearby dune, we decided this was a good place. It was a long way down to the ground from the camel in standing position, and as the camel sat it felt a bit like falling. Hang on. Getting down is more scary than up, the camel bends to his knees forward, then the back knees bend back and down, and finally we could climb off.
The boy placed a blanket in the sand where we could sit and ponder the desert. The boy and his younger friend who had joined us on the way tied up the camels - so we thought. They then went back to the Aunt's house to fix dinner. Pushkar and I enjoyed a beer on the dunes of the Sahara as the sun set.
Part of our entertainment was watching the camels. We weren't sure how the boys had tied them exactly. At first we thought their legs were tied in a kneeling position so they couldn't stand. However, soon one of the camels managed to stand and then the other. Maybe they had tied their legs together so they couldn't walk very far, a strategy we had already seen used for donkeys. The camels moved slowly and paused to snack on the leaves of a nearby bush.
Pushkar and I got to talking about something, and about an hour passed before the boys returned. They looked surprised to see that the camels were not with us. Even from the top of the biggest dune the camels were no where to be seen. The two boys set out to find them.
After a long time, the boys returned to tell us (sign language) that they had seen the camels running into the depths of the Sahara. They pointed in the direction of Algeria! No luck. No camels. Gone? Oh my. Really gone?
The elder young camel herder would set out to look for them again, and motioned this time he would walk a long long way to find them. I wanted to go, but he thought I should stay and Pushkar should go instead - one of those cultural male/female things. Pushkar insisted I could keep up so the young boy agreed. I put my shoes on for the trek. Pushkar did not.
It was dark by now so the headlight helped. The boy seemed happy to see that. We headed out.
Not too long after leaving our big dune camp site, Pushkar complained that the thorny bushes in the area were too thorny. Without shoes, trekking was difficult. He decided to go back. He clearly said he would stay at the big dune and wait for us there.
The older boy and I walked quickly. He held the light, waving it over the ground as if looking for tracks. It seemed like he was following something, but from the looks of the sand, several camels had gone through the area over the last year or two. So this must be what it is like to look for a needle in a haystack. Two camels in the Sahara? Forget it.
I had no idea where we were, but the boy knew the desert well. We continued at a steady pace and finally found ourselves at the big dune again after about an hour. However now Pushkar was missing. He was probably out looking for US. The boy surveyed the area and found Pushkar's shoe tracks and thought we should follow. So we did.
About a half an hour later once well into the desert, I heard a whistle and knew it was the lost soul we were looking for. We called and whistled back and forth, listening to the exact direction in the dark, and finally we managed to find Pushkar in the black vastness of wherever we were.
Pushkar of course had gotten lost and could not find the big dune or us. He said he'd been calling and calling for a long time, but while the desert echoes from one quiet dune to the other, it is silent when a dune is in the way. I'll have to study the desert acoustics later. The two boys, Pushkar and I managed to get back to our campsite, though we were still without the two camels.
The boys said it was time for dinner. We had just lost two HUGE camels in the Sahara Desert, and it was time for dinner? I was sure the boys would get in lots of trouble, perhaps something like this was a death sentence or a life in prison. Who knew? Dinner could wait! I thought we should go back to Timbuktu and wake up the sleeping guide who spoke English.
Instead we went to the aunt's house and had dinner. When I saw dinner, I was sure we had overpaid for the one hour camel ride. The rice was plain and sandy. They gave us one bowl and one spoon to share. There were no vegetables like the English speaking guide had promised.
We had lost their camels. Maybe we didn't pay enough. I ate three bites and left the rest for Pushkar. He eats anything.
Soon after dinner in the moonlight, the English speaking guide appeared carrying a flashlight and a cell phone. Everyone in Africa has a cell phone. I wondered how they held up with all the sand.
Before the guide had a chance to chew the two young boys out, I gave him a piece of my mind, saying it was not their fault and that he had left us in the hands of children and what did he expect.... I told the whole story of how we looked and looked for the camels and even showed him the bleeding scratches on my leg from those plants. He didn't seem too phased and told me not to worry.
It seems the camels would most likely return to their home 15km away where they eat and sleep when not working with tourists. I felt MUCH better knowing they were not gone forever, though still I could not sleep. It was cold in the middle of the night. Bandits could have come to take us but they didn't. I watched several shooting stars as the glow of Timbuktu lit the distant horizon.
The next morning there were two new camels ready to take us back to Timbuktu.
Heather O'Neal
Of Global Interest LLC Adventure Travel
Ann Arbor, Michigan
(734) 369-3107
www.ofglobalinterest.com
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