not too arid for mud

field journal

Saturday revelation: Mauritania and pens are like socks in the dryer: periodically one eats the other, and you just have accept it as a part of life.

Saturday happenings: what did not happen today? First, we did not stay in Sabualla. We also did not travel by foot, despite the flooded conditions of the bush. We also did not second guess the off-roading abilities of Brahim’s Mercedes in the rainy season. Nor did we bring enough shovels. You can perhaps devise how we spent the afternoon. It was not in Boghe drinking cold cokes as we had originally planned. The mutederribiin (trainees) of Sabualla did have a great time, however, shoving copious amounts of decomposed shit under Brahim’s rapidly sinking tires, meeting three random nomads en brousse willing to push a car two inches in two hours without complaint, cursing and shortening the life of Brahim’s Mercedes, and eventually catching a ride back home on a horse cart in the dwindling sunlight. It was quite a day. We had to leave Brahim; he wanted to stay with the car and brainstorm solutions. The sky is threatening rain, so he better brainstorm quickly. It looks as though tomorrow’s planned trip to Mbedia may need rescheduling.