The area is littered with Gendarmerie posts. Usually the stops are quick and painless, but every once in a while you come across a cranky fellow who wants to hold you up. This variety was out in full force on day two — perhaps there was something in the air. We spent the good majority of our morning confined to the car while Ahmed hashed it out behind closed doors. To this day, I’m still not sure what all the fuss was about. I can understand ten to fifteen minutes, but two hours? Come on. There had to be tea involved – lots and lots of tea. I’d be willing to bet my life on it. Or at least Rich’s.
We were eventually given the green light and continued our drive to Ben Amira and Aisha: two of the largest granite monoliths in all of Africa. Ben Amira, the larger of the two, is said to fall in line behind Ayers Rock in Australia. The contrast between the gigantic formations, golden sand, and bright blue sky was breathtaking. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: the scenery here is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t dream it up if I tried.
As I stood there, awestruck, attempting to take it all in, Ahmed snapped me back to reality. Rich was away and he wanted to play. It started with a story about a friend who opened an Auberge with his American wife. Apparently business is good and Ahmed wants in on the action. He has plans to open an Auberge in Nouadhibou next year, and is all he needs is a wife to run it. And las, the wooing has begun…
Whenever Rich wandered off, Ahmed sprang into action, making the most of his time. By early evening, we found ourselves in a bit of a fuel crisis. The tiny town was out of diesel, forcing us to purchase it illegally. We believe it was stolen from the train company, but we didn’t get the specifics. While working out the sale, Rich was skipping along the tracks, playing with kids, and Ahmed saw this as an opportunity to go for gold.
He had a three-step plan. Step one involved telling me, once again, that he’s in need of a young wife to bear him two children, and of course, run his Auberge. I’m sure all of the cooking and cleaning, too. He also wanted to make it very clear that even though he looks old, he’s actually very youthful, and has lots of life and love left in him. I wasn’t buying it.
Step two was to determine the exact nature of my relationship with Rich. We introduced ourselves as friends, but he had his suspicions. Desert nights can be chilly, so we opted to forgo our individual tents the night before and share a sleeping bag; I was without, and using a liner. This confused him. I thought it best to leave him guessing, so I skirted around his questions using the power of deflection – works every time.
Last, but not least, was step three: denounce “Rich’s system.” He frowned upon the fact we were splitting the cost of things. Real men — as in Mauritanian men — don’t let their women pay. Ahmed loves, and I do mean loves, the expression “for example’.” He uses it constantly. For example this, for example that, just plain for F’n example. I could deal with it until he said, “For example, if you were my wife.” I would rather die.
With the fuel tank full, we circled back to Rich, and then drove further out to setup camp. Rich could tell something was up, but I thought it wise to wait until we were alone to share. Luckily, it didn’t take long for Ahmed to wander off in search of coal, giving us ample time to discuss what had just transpired. Needless to say, we both found it entertaining, but were less than pleased.
We mulled over what to do next. Do we let it slide and hope he stops? If we do that, will he assume I didn’t tell Rich and that there’s a chance? Will I wake up one morning to discover that Rich has gone missing? We assumed Ahmed was harmless, but there was no way to know for sure. We were out in the middle of nowhere, in an area deemed dangerous, completely at his mercy.
After weighing our options, Rich decided it was best to have a one-on-one with him. Ahmed had guilty written all over his face. We switched our story from friends to fiancés. He quickly went into defense mode and chalked it up to be my fault — apparently I didn’t understand him properly. Sure. Sure, I didn’t. I could overhear their entire conversation, as I was preparing dinner. It took everything in me not to pounce on him with my frying pan. But, I swallowed my pride and took one for the team.
We all agreed to let bygones be bygones, but Ahmed felt the need to knock me a few times throughout the night. I showed restraint. Shortly after dinner he decided to walk into town (2km away), where he would spend the evening with the gendarmes. As we sat there alone, completely exposed, contemplating our fate, we were reminded of the travel warnings. The ones saying “stay the hell away.” We both thought about our families and how they would feel if they knew where, and what we were up to. We both agreed it was best that they didn’t… not right now, anyway. They would find out eventually, but we would be out of harm’s way by then.
Once again, we were treated to Mother Nature’s beautiful display of lights. Side by side, we stared at the sky until our eyelids grew heavy. We awoke the next morning to find that all was still right with the world. Nothing had gone awry in the night. Ten fingers, ten toes, and we still had our clothes.
