12/15/2023 Bikepacking Mauritania Day 129 : Allah can wait

I love the way that people’s eyes light up when I tell them that my name is Brian. They always think it is “Brahim.” I used to show my passport, but they get so deflated when they see Brian, that I’ve decided to just be Brahim. Allah certainly won’t mind this peccadillo. But he might mind me interrupting prayer time…

I was having a persistent low blood sugar - one that couldn’t be cured with a bag of dates, two loaves of bread, and candies. I was beginning to worry that I’d run out of sugar when a little store by a tiny mosque appeared. I ran in to get some little donuts and cakes; Mohammed beamed with excitement that “Brahim” was there. He was at least as friendly as everyone else who I have met the last two days. I was packing my bike when I saw him sitting on the floor through the doorway - motioning me to come drink tea with him. I was still shaking from the hypo, so this seemed like a great idea: Full Octane Tea. I joined him as we sat on the floor and passed the phone back and forth, sipping our tea.

Mohammed began to look a little anxious. His own phone was on the floor and he kept checking it. Suddenly he got up and ran out the door to the little nearby mosque. I could hear him get on the loudspeaker and start singing for a few minutes. I figured the party was over and returned to my bike.

Mohammed ran back, and no, there is time for more tea! I was fine with that. When I asked what he was doing, the translator reported back that he was a sheikh. As I do with most people who I talk to, I mention God blessing them; usually the last sentence. I love to watch them read the text and then smile broadly as they get to the end. God seems to brings us together.

Temperatures peaked near 95F today, so I made a lot of water stops. At one, I bought 4 bottles of water and consumed 7/8 of one before I got engaged in taking to a bunch of friendly guys. We had been taking a while when I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a woman sitting on the ground motion to her kid. The kid comes over and brings her my 1/8 full water bottle. It had been quite a while since I had done anything with it, so I think she thought I was done. She uncapped it, and swilled the remaining liquid. I’ve seen this with sugar drinks before, but not water.

I’m glad I made 24 of this fiche cards and 20 copies of my passport. I’m giving 8 out per day along this route. Overlanders complain about all of the military checkpoints, but being on a bicycle, I do not mind. It’s nice to take a break, and almost all of them are friendly, joking around, and want to invite me to a meal or tea. Bikes stop a lot easier than RVs. Today, a guy announced that we have the same birthday, except he is one year older. The military guys all speak French well, and unlike some of the villagers, they know their age and birthday too.

Speaking of being invited to meals…

Since people are always on the ground, I didn’t notice this at first, but the guy running another shop where I stopped to buy water had something going on with his legs. He had feet, and I didn’t want to stare just so I could tell you the mechanics of it all, but I think his calves may have been just a few inches long. He got along quite well, his eyes as high as my bellybutton. Since everyone crouches here anyway, after I bought the water, I crouched with him as he carefully packed some hard boiled eggs. He had a great smile and asked, “will you come eat with me?”

It pained me to say “no.” Something around him smelled like fresh human poo. I kept trying to blame it on the eggs… but no… there was poo nearby. Maybe on him.

This may sound bad to say, but I suspect you guys might not have a feel for how dirty it is here because I don’t just go around taking pictures of all the squalor. Outside of cities, near the Bedouin tents, for example, there is a semblance of sanitation. Kind of like if you were camping at home with the most basic supplies. In the cities, however, it’s a different story. Drivers careen down the streets made of potholes and dirt. Trash and dead animal carcasses can be seen (and smelled) on the side of the road. If you enter a shop, it is usually 10 feet wide and 10 feet deep with no interior lighting. Sometimes the shelves behind the counter have some food; sometimes they are stuffed with trash. The people lie on the floor of the store; usually amongst the trash. The only thing on the floor that isn’t trash (besides the bodies strewn out like slugs) is a little tea preparation station. Usually consist of a tray, teapot, at least ten glasses, a bucket of rotting compost (where they pour the used tea leaves, but also other organic material that draws flies). The people often stay on the floor when I enter, so I’ll just open the refrigerator myself. Sometimes there is a lot of exploded stuff in there, but often times it is OK too. Today I retrieved a pristine 4 pack of yogurt from the war torn fridge; nothing else looked edible. It’s not always like that, but I’ve been to plenty of places that match that description.

All on all, it was another great day of riding, with tailwinds and lots of friendly people. 100% of the people who solicited my attention today were genuine. I had ZERO requests for gifts or anything. Since leaving Nouadhibou, Mauritania has been really good about this, and I feel more and more confident to stop for long periods and just chat it up with about 20% of the people who call out for me to stop and talk. There isn’t time to talk to everyone!