Daily life at the Camp - Aéré M'bar, Mauritania

 In April 2012 the government of Mauritania contracts a Spanish company to undertake a quite ambitious project,  a irrigation system for a massive rice plantation . The purpose was meant to be the development of one on the poorest and less advanced areas , Brakna. Mauritania is very complex in terms of  ethnicity, to summarise there are 3 distinguished  groups: Moors, Africans and the mixture of them. According to a Mauritani feller I met in at the capital, Moors don't stand Africans and the other way around, so it is the mixed people the ones who played the mediator role. Most of Africans are setted in the South where there is poor infrastructure or lack of it. Despite this , I could see much more misery at the capital than in this forbidden peace of land. Life Aéré M'bar is pretty simple, I believe this is the key of their success.

The day I arrived it was raining so the path that leads to the camp was completely muddy. It was night and I could not see anything but the barracks and a terribly noisy generator which supplies the camp with electricity. A few meters away the village of Aéré M'bar sleeps silent and in a complete dark, the village still don't have electric supply. That night I only had time to set my bed and put my stuff in place. I would share the room with Manolo, my dear friend from Santiago. I was happy to have Manolo as a room mate, at least I had a friend at my side, someone to share all my thoughts and fears with. My friend Manolo is a big man in all senses. He had gained some extra weight since he stopped smoking due to a lung issue two years ago. 

The production at the construction site was canceled due to the rains so from my first day on I little work to do .Most workers at the camp were extremely bored as they and spent their time watching TV and just staying in  the camp. They didn't find anything interesting beyond the camp, moreover they didn't feel comfortable walking through the village. This fear was reciprocal for locals as they were not use to see 'whites' in such a forbidden place of the earth. In fact, when I first went for a run through thevillage some people looked at me as I was a ghost. Children made fun of me as they could not believe what they where witnessing; a milky guy just arrived from the UK ( where I usually get whiter), running without apparent reason. Later on they got use to see me and felt confident to join me. I remember Amadou, a 6 years old boy. He laughs all the time and runs very close to me as if showing up.

My friend Manolo liked to walk before lunchtime. He used to say: do we go for a walk to the swamp Pablo? Of course, in fact it will help you to lose weight. We use to talk about everything and in depth. I like people who delve into the details , I believe details are the essence of life.

Do you think that the water level will rise more? I don't think so Pablo, if it happens, water will get into town. They have been living here for a long time so they probably know how much the flood rises every year, don't you think? yes, you're right, we should ask them.

We also used to speak about personal topics.  In fact he was thoughtful because his girlfriend unexpectedly had raised the topic of matrimony. She was afraid of a possible fatality in Africa and therefore remain without rights as they were not married. In regards to me , he advised me  that it was time for me to have a serious relationship. I agreed 

At the swamp women were washing their clothes while having a bath  and children were playing in the water. They seem very happy, isn't it ? I think this is their favourite season, the rest of the year the swamp dries up and they cannot swim and play in the water. Don't you think that women might feel uncomfortable as we are around? I don't think so, They might have a different sense of shame, it might be natural for them to be naked outside.

It seems strange to go through the village and talk with nobody, they are so few ..... have you learned any word in Pulaar Manolo? I learned to say 'hello', 'how are you' and 'goodbye'. Where did you learn that Pablo ? Girls from the camp taught me a few words, they fell off the floor laughing when I was trying to speak in Pulaar. Now, when I meet a villager I use the few words I learned. But, do they understand you Pablo? Yes, and they answer with a big smile. I think that some of them asked me if I speak their language.... It is a shame, I would like to talk to them and ask lots of things ....

I think we better get back, it's lunchtime Pablo. OK, tomorrow we go for a walk , isn't it? yes, of course.

From Mauritania to Senegal

It was in August 2012,south Mauritania and so close to Senegal that I could almost see Senegal from the camp. Since day one I had absolutely nothing to do as the rice field where I was supposed to work was flooded due to the rains. During those endless days doing nothing I had thought of moving away and see something different, something exciting , perhaps at the other side of the river? perhaps senegal had something interesting to see?.I was sure it did. One morning , without having planned anything at all, I decided to jump to Senegal and travel south to Saint Louis. The raining season had just started so I knew it was not going to be easy, but on the other hand I was alone at the camp ( my spanish colleges were off to Spain) and for the first time in years I had a lot of time. The landscape had changed completely since my first day. When I got to the camp, there was just sand and a few bushes around. Later on, after the rains, it was so green! there was water everywhere, in fact the camp was surrounded by water. Locals were fishing where it used to be sand kids were playing in the water and semi-naked woman were doing laundry in the swamp. I could not believe that a landscape could change that much in such a short period of time!

The river was just 2 kilometers away from the village, but the water had reached the outskirts of the village as the river was overflowed.


The first obstacle was crossing the massive swamp by kayak before getting on a horse carriage which would take me to  the Senegalese border . The path was moody and it made quite hard for the horses to follow the normal track, in fact the carriage wasn't steady at all and I thought I could fall off anytime.

A local guy who had learned Spanish in the Canary Islands took me to the border, once there he found another guy who would help me to cross the border. From this moment on I would be on my own , with a guy who only speaks Pular (local language) and who didn't seem to understand my body language when I tried to find other ways of communication ...
It wasn't only the language I could not understand but also the strange sounds he would make with his tongue when speaking with other locals...later I read that some Africans do have this kind of sounds in their tribal languages. In that case that sound meant agreement (yes or ok).
At the border, still in Mauritania, the guy gave me a hand to get Senegalese currency  to pay off the 'ferry' (wooden kayak). Once in Senegal I managed to take a van which was meant to bring me directly to the main road(30 km away), where I would take a bus to Saint Louis. I thought It was done and that it was a matter of an hour to get to the main road. But it wasn't that easy. The road was flooded so 1 km after leaving the border the van stopped and I had take a kayak and continue by horse again. The flock of sheeps that were on the roof of the van would now have to cross the swamp by kayak. 

After one hour on a horse carriage I got to Medina where I had to walk for another hour to reach main road. At this point I wasn't sure where I was going and if I would manage to make it. My guide was so unresponsive when I was trying to communicate that I was already thinking of going back and find someone else who could help me. Finally  I could see the main road, finally a signs of civilization. There I understood that a van would stop, eventually, opposite the Acacia tree.

The absolute ignorance about the territory, local language, and bus timetable made me think whether or not the travel was a good idea......But it was too late by then, so I resigned myself in the shade of a tree with other locals who were having a tea. I tried to communicate with them and one of the guys introduced me a girl who would speak some English. I was the only one worried there, waiting for a van that might or might not arrive. I realized how different is the conception of time for westerners.
Finally I could see a multicolor-van approaching the tree-stop. I thought I was lucky enough even though the van had wooden benches instead of seats and I was literally embedded in between two big women. Goats were tied up again on the roof of the van. The situation got worse when a third robust woman got on the van, jumped the first bench, jumped my bench(thank God I thought) and finally fitted her bum in a non-existing gap right in front of me. I thought she had no space but she made herself comfortable by pushing the others out. That is how it works, I thought....At this point my knees were also embedded into the woman's bum. She seemed to be comfortable, I didn't. 

After having travelled for 5 hours, I finally got to Saint Louis, I was extremely tired but happy to get to my destination. The old french colony of Saint Louis, one of the embarkation ports during the the Slavery Trade.