Crossing Borders

I'm back in Mauritania after a lovely holiday in Senegal. Yesterday I took a sixteen hour taxi ride from Kaolack to Nouakchott. I was lucky to always arrive at the stations when the taxis were full- but that also means I was always crammed in the tiny third row of seats in the back of the "seven place" station wagons. This is not a good seat for someone tall! I put on my headphones and watched the countryside go by. 

I arrived at the border at 1:00 pm. Unfortunately the Mauritanian side of the border is closed from 12:30-3:00 so I was forced to wait to get my passport stamped. The one person responsible for this task arrived at 3:45 pm and then I was on my way. During those three hours I tried my hand at Arabic calligraphy with an avid R. Kelly fan working on a sign for one of the money exchange shops at the border. He loved the song "Worlds Greatest," which also happens to be one of my favorites. 

After leaving the company of these new friends I went to the taxi station where I found three of my students from the University. They already had a taxi ready to go and then we were on our way. The driver crammed four of us in the middle row of the taxi, turning it into an "eight place." Then he announced we had to stop along the way to pick up a "baby." This is the translation I was given because was speaking Hassaniya.  So he squeezed two people in the front seat to make room for the "baby" in our row. 

After ten minutes of driving, he veered of the paved road onto a sandy path. He drove like a maniac across the sand until we arrived at a little village with a mosque and few scattered houses. He talked to his family for a few minutes and then brought "baby's" bags. My fellow passengers explained to me that "baby" was a newly wed bride who has to sneak away from the village and couldn't be seen leaving. We drove a few meters and then "baby" emerged out of another house, giggling and laughing. Baby was a large woman swathed in yellow and wearing huge sunglasses. Baby was going to be the fourth person in the back seat with us. This was no baby! Our taxi was now a "nine place"!  

The border patrolmen stopped the car every 30 minutes throughout the journey. Every time they collected my passport, they made me get out of the car. I was briefly interviewed, asked to show my baggage, given a lecture about how Americans are welcome in Mauritania, and sent on my way. No one else in the car was ever interviewed, except for sometimes "baby" because she had no id with her. Baby was never asked to get out of the car. One time the car was stopped and everyone piled out of the car to pray. When the prayer was finished and we were all getting back into the taxi I noticed that Baby was missing. The driver went off in search of Baby. She came back wearing a new mulafa, this time bright pink. Baby had to look good for her new husband!!!

I loved traveling by land across the border but I think the next time I will take the flight instead!