Chinguetti
Day 5
Fri July 22nd
Start: Terjit
Mid: Atar [20 25 N 13 03 W]
End: Chinguetti [20 20 N 12 22 W]
Today was the 11th anniversary of President Jammeh’s presidency in The Gambia. I can now picture it in The Gambia, signs saying “Celebrating 11 years of Progress and Prosperity”
We told the kids what time we wanted to leave in the morning, but they weren’t around and we were still locked in. Nate climbed the fence and met an old man on the other side which had a set of keys. Figuring the man and kids were in the same family we showed him the money and he eagerly took it. Whether the kids knew we paid or not we would never know. Maybe they might have taken a cut for themselves and given the rest to the family if we didn’t give it to the old man.
For a half hour we walked down the path to the intersection of the main road to Atar before being picked up by a pickup truck. The roads at parts we could tell were impassable the day before, and some were barely passable now with the pickup. Even before he got picked up we walked across two small streams that weren’t there a day ago.
The driver said he would drive us all to Atar for only 1000UM a person ($3.50), we agreed. At Atar we thought we were being scammed into an expensive ride until we met a Mauritanian teacher who worked in Chinguetti (where we were heading that day) who spoke just enough English to tell us the names of volunteers living in Chinguetti. Usually you don’t know it, but you give their names first and someone will say “Oh, yes, I know Jack!” and scam you somehow. This teacher named both contacts we had without any prompting from us, and his receipt had the same cost we did. We thought he would be a good guide and show us where one of them lived but he left for another ride.
Before he had left we talk to him for a little bit concerning what we did in The Gambia. He taught at the Elementary School in Chinguetti. Nate had trouble again with the bee part, so out came a book I borrowed from one of the staff members. “Picture wordbook in English, French, German, and Arabic”. For over a thousand items this small book shows a hand-drawn picture of the item and then on the four corners of the box for the pictures has what that item is in the four languages. It doesn’t help much for German, but the French and Arabic is great for an Arab country. We found “bee” and showed him the picture, with the French being “une abeille” and the Arabic being something that can not be produced here on an English keyboard.
I borrowed the book primarily for those types of reasons, to get points across or to illustrate something I need. However, there’s one drawback in the book. It’s not meant for travelers. It doesn’t have bread or water, but if I ever want to meet the Mauritanian Astronaut I know can write down Astronaut in Arabic. I can’t mail a letter home, but I can use a microscope on the space shuttle. Believe it or not, the first African Astronaut was actually self-funded: Mark Shuttleworth of South Africa.
Erika and I went to get some lunch while Nate watched our bags. As were buying little fried bread I saw through a window to a shack kids playing Super Mario Brothers on a Nintendo! Things you would never expect to see you see! Just because their houses look like run-down shacks, the roads are dirt, the children have used clothing does not mean that they don’t have money. You’ll be surprised what you find in those shacks made of corrugated tin.
When we got back to the car garage Nate was on top of the luggage which was on top of the back part of the truck. We were going to ride on top of everything while holding on. Erika and I climbed on top the six or seven feet and took our place, along with six other Mauritanian men, along with all our luggage and bags of rice. A few blocks down the road we picked up Francisca, a Malian volunteer also vacationing in Mauritania. She was half French and half American, so she helped a lot when it came to communicating to people in French along the way.
For the three hour ride Francisca, Erika, Nate and I talked about Mali, Mauritania and The Gambia. She asked if it was all right to take pictures of the other passengers for us which they agreed. The most eager to have his picture taken would be a dentists’ dream in the U.S. Crooked, yellow teeth – of those which we present. Huge gaps separating other teeth and even a few hanging on by roots. After the picture Nate asked if I got him smiling.
The view from Atar to Chinguetti changes dramatically, from desert to plateaus to climbing up huge hills and having to go around them. And here we are riding on top of the truck going around curves going up the hill. There’s a few good pictures among them. After the cliffs the road leveled out and we continued along our way. A half-hour later we passed what looked like an airport runway, but it was just dirt. I was, at this time, sitting on top of the driver’s cabin facing the other way and was able to see the sign saying it was an airport.
We arrived in Chinguetti exactly at two o’clock in time to see everyone coming out for the two o’clock prayers required by Islam. Chinguetti is split into two sections, the old region dating from 1600AD is across a dried river bed from the section of town we were arriving in which was founded in the 1960s. The original Chinguetti, dating from 700AD, has long been covered by the sand a few kilometers away. No one has seen it in centuries. Despite the fact that the original city is hidden, the old city is now considered the seventh holiest city of Islam. Mecca is number one, followed by Medina. The others are Jerusalem and Cairo. The reason for Jerusalem, which you might think is a Christian holy site, is that Islam also believes in Jesus – as a prophet and not the messiah. Judaism believe Abraham was the last prophet, Christianity believes Jesus was, and Islam believes Mohammed was. Just like the Bible is the Torah plus the New Testament, the Koran is the Bible plus some additional parts about Mohammed. The books in the Koran are in a different order than in the bible; actually the order of the Koran is by longest chapter to shortest chapter irregardless of chronological order. Since the Koran is memorized (literally, there's schools specializing in the memorization of the Koran) they found it easier to put it into poetic verses, which meant get the hard chapters first. Other than an opening brief paragraph (which counts as a chapter) proclaiming Allah the one true god, the first chapter is labelled "Cow", "Family" is number two, followed by "Women". The shortest book (and hence the last at 114)? "Mankind"
Chinguetti used to be on the main route for follows to make their pilgrimage to Mecca. This stop over made is a holy site throughout the ages. Although being a holy city for Muslims, it is quite the tourist spot. The airport we saw earlier coming into town serves for the European tourists who come in. Each person off the plane gets a turban, just like tourists in Hawaii get a lei. The original town had up to 12 mosques, and was the home to over 20,000 people. Now, only 4,000 live here.
After dropping supplies off he drove around trying to find the volunteer’s house. We tried everything from “Peace Corps” to “Corps de la Pais” to “White Person” to “American” No Avail. Finally he came upon a house which he says he lived here, but he’s not living there now. That didn’t help. A Mauritanian boy, named Sidi (pronounced C-D), came up and in almost perfect English asked if we were looking for Jeff. Jackpot!
He wasn’t in, but Sidi took us to a small restaurant where we could get some food and water. As were waiting Jeff showed up. He knew we were in town by going to his house and seeing three different sets of Chaco’s treks in the sand. He followed them until he found us at the restaurant. Although we had the right house, he was in fact, not living there at the time. We walked into Sidi’s house instead. More correctly, Sidi’s Hotel. It was Jeff’s old house, that Sidi (at 19) bought from the renter, fixing it up, and is renting it out to tourists. The night we stayed there he was making the sign. There was one big room, enough for maybe a crowded six mattresses, but there was three.
Nate and I walked up to the ceiling of his hotel, using the dried mud bricks that made up the stairs. In the distance, right outside the city, the dunes lifted up to the sky to over 20 meters in height. You could see people on top either sitting or just standing, pondering or meditating.
Francisco was feeling worse off, probably due to heat exhaustion; so we tried to find ice for her. None was found in the old part of town, although some could on the newer part. Wet towels were given to her to help, and more water to drink. She was determined to do a camel ride in the morning.
We chose to do ours the next evening and sleep over in the desert.
We slept on the roof with the desert wind blowing over us keeping us cool.
Fri July 22nd
Start: Terjit
Mid: Atar [20 25 N 13 03 W]
End: Chinguetti [20 20 N 12 22 W]
Today was the 11th anniversary of President Jammeh’s presidency in The Gambia. I can now picture it in The Gambia, signs saying “Celebrating 11 years of Progress and Prosperity”
We told the kids what time we wanted to leave in the morning, but they weren’t around and we were still locked in. Nate climbed the fence and met an old man on the other side which had a set of keys. Figuring the man and kids were in the same family we showed him the money and he eagerly took it. Whether the kids knew we paid or not we would never know. Maybe they might have taken a cut for themselves and given the rest to the family if we didn’t give it to the old man.
For a half hour we walked down the path to the intersection of the main road to Atar before being picked up by a pickup truck. The roads at parts we could tell were impassable the day before, and some were barely passable now with the pickup. Even before he got picked up we walked across two small streams that weren’t there a day ago.
The driver said he would drive us all to Atar for only 1000UM a person ($3.50), we agreed. At Atar we thought we were being scammed into an expensive ride until we met a Mauritanian teacher who worked in Chinguetti (where we were heading that day) who spoke just enough English to tell us the names of volunteers living in Chinguetti. Usually you don’t know it, but you give their names first and someone will say “Oh, yes, I know Jack!” and scam you somehow. This teacher named both contacts we had without any prompting from us, and his receipt had the same cost we did. We thought he would be a good guide and show us where one of them lived but he left for another ride.
Before he had left we talk to him for a little bit concerning what we did in The Gambia. He taught at the Elementary School in Chinguetti. Nate had trouble again with the bee part, so out came a book I borrowed from one of the staff members. “Picture wordbook in English, French, German, and Arabic”. For over a thousand items this small book shows a hand-drawn picture of the item and then on the four corners of the box for the pictures has what that item is in the four languages. It doesn’t help much for German, but the French and Arabic is great for an Arab country. We found “bee” and showed him the picture, with the French being “une abeille” and the Arabic being something that can not be produced here on an English keyboard.
I borrowed the book primarily for those types of reasons, to get points across or to illustrate something I need. However, there’s one drawback in the book. It’s not meant for travelers. It doesn’t have bread or water, but if I ever want to meet the Mauritanian Astronaut I know can write down Astronaut in Arabic. I can’t mail a letter home, but I can use a microscope on the space shuttle. Believe it or not, the first African Astronaut was actually self-funded: Mark Shuttleworth of South Africa.
Erika and I went to get some lunch while Nate watched our bags. As were buying little fried bread I saw through a window to a shack kids playing Super Mario Brothers on a Nintendo! Things you would never expect to see you see! Just because their houses look like run-down shacks, the roads are dirt, the children have used clothing does not mean that they don’t have money. You’ll be surprised what you find in those shacks made of corrugated tin.
When we got back to the car garage Nate was on top of the luggage which was on top of the back part of the truck. We were going to ride on top of everything while holding on. Erika and I climbed on top the six or seven feet and took our place, along with six other Mauritanian men, along with all our luggage and bags of rice. A few blocks down the road we picked up Francisca, a Malian volunteer also vacationing in Mauritania. She was half French and half American, so she helped a lot when it came to communicating to people in French along the way.
For the three hour ride Francisca, Erika, Nate and I talked about Mali, Mauritania and The Gambia. She asked if it was all right to take pictures of the other passengers for us which they agreed. The most eager to have his picture taken would be a dentists’ dream in the U.S. Crooked, yellow teeth – of those which we present. Huge gaps separating other teeth and even a few hanging on by roots. After the picture Nate asked if I got him smiling.
The view from Atar to Chinguetti changes dramatically, from desert to plateaus to climbing up huge hills and having to go around them. And here we are riding on top of the truck going around curves going up the hill. There’s a few good pictures among them. After the cliffs the road leveled out and we continued along our way. A half-hour later we passed what looked like an airport runway, but it was just dirt. I was, at this time, sitting on top of the driver’s cabin facing the other way and was able to see the sign saying it was an airport.
We arrived in Chinguetti exactly at two o’clock in time to see everyone coming out for the two o’clock prayers required by Islam. Chinguetti is split into two sections, the old region dating from 1600AD is across a dried river bed from the section of town we were arriving in which was founded in the 1960s. The original Chinguetti, dating from 700AD, has long been covered by the sand a few kilometers away. No one has seen it in centuries. Despite the fact that the original city is hidden, the old city is now considered the seventh holiest city of Islam. Mecca is number one, followed by Medina. The others are Jerusalem and Cairo. The reason for Jerusalem, which you might think is a Christian holy site, is that Islam also believes in Jesus – as a prophet and not the messiah. Judaism believe Abraham was the last prophet, Christianity believes Jesus was, and Islam believes Mohammed was. Just like the Bible is the Torah plus the New Testament, the Koran is the Bible plus some additional parts about Mohammed. The books in the Koran are in a different order than in the bible; actually the order of the Koran is by longest chapter to shortest chapter irregardless of chronological order. Since the Koran is memorized (literally, there's schools specializing in the memorization of the Koran) they found it easier to put it into poetic verses, which meant get the hard chapters first. Other than an opening brief paragraph (which counts as a chapter) proclaiming Allah the one true god, the first chapter is labelled "Cow", "Family" is number two, followed by "Women". The shortest book (and hence the last at 114)? "Mankind"
Chinguetti used to be on the main route for follows to make their pilgrimage to Mecca. This stop over made is a holy site throughout the ages. Although being a holy city for Muslims, it is quite the tourist spot. The airport we saw earlier coming into town serves for the European tourists who come in. Each person off the plane gets a turban, just like tourists in Hawaii get a lei. The original town had up to 12 mosques, and was the home to over 20,000 people. Now, only 4,000 live here.
After dropping supplies off he drove around trying to find the volunteer’s house. We tried everything from “Peace Corps” to “Corps de la Pais” to “White Person” to “American” No Avail. Finally he came upon a house which he says he lived here, but he’s not living there now. That didn’t help. A Mauritanian boy, named Sidi (pronounced C-D), came up and in almost perfect English asked if we were looking for Jeff. Jackpot!
He wasn’t in, but Sidi took us to a small restaurant where we could get some food and water. As were waiting Jeff showed up. He knew we were in town by going to his house and seeing three different sets of Chaco’s treks in the sand. He followed them until he found us at the restaurant. Although we had the right house, he was in fact, not living there at the time. We walked into Sidi’s house instead. More correctly, Sidi’s Hotel. It was Jeff’s old house, that Sidi (at 19) bought from the renter, fixing it up, and is renting it out to tourists. The night we stayed there he was making the sign. There was one big room, enough for maybe a crowded six mattresses, but there was three.
Nate and I walked up to the ceiling of his hotel, using the dried mud bricks that made up the stairs. In the distance, right outside the city, the dunes lifted up to the sky to over 20 meters in height. You could see people on top either sitting or just standing, pondering or meditating.
Francisco was feeling worse off, probably due to heat exhaustion; so we tried to find ice for her. None was found in the old part of town, although some could on the newer part. Wet towels were given to her to help, and more water to drink. She was determined to do a camel ride in the morning.
We chose to do ours the next evening and sleep over in the desert.
We slept on the roof with the desert wind blowing over us keeping us cool.
posted by Mike | 8:00 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home