Within two hours of leaving the well, it seemed that our luck had changed. Not only was the tire holding air, but we found another well, which had clear, sweet water. We exchanged all the brown water for this water (even the donkey water, as Susan insisted) and even had a water fight. Probably bad desert etiquette, but we were dirty and we needed it. We had a few dates, and pomegranates for lunch, and continued on. This day was going smoothly and we were making relatively good speed. Late in the day we came across a family of camel herders. Jonathan yelled to Susan to cover up, so she put a sarong over her legs. The old man in charge was goofy and friendly. He brought all the women and children of the family to meet us. The women quickly showed Susan that she needed to cover herself. They found the pink scarf that Khadija had given her in Tessegnan, and quickly wrapped her up. The man showed us that one of the women had an infected cut on her hand. Nurse Susan cleaned it up and bandaged it. Then the man showed that his back hurt. I think he wanted some pills to help with this, but Susan thought he wanted a massage. He didn’t want a massage from her, and she didn’t want to give him one, so it all worked out.
An hour before sunset, we faced one of the most difficult hills of the trip so far. We surveyed it, looked at alternate routes, and decided the only way was straight up. Susan led, Shuwya Shuwya pulled the cart, which we had named the French Navigator, and Jonathan and I pushed our nuts off. It was really demanding for everyone, but we made it to the top like real pros. We kept on trucking and by sunset we found a beautiful camp spot. We all agreed that it had been our most successful and enjoyable day of donkey travel thus far.
We got on the road by 9:00 the next day, as we were hoping to connect to the main road toward Tan Tan. We estimated that we had no more than 10 or 12 km to go for that. The dirt road started to ascend, and eventually brought us to the top of a hill, where we could barely see the road off in the distance. It was many 6 or 7 km away. We were all excited and relieved, as the road meant more security, however the atmosphere would never be the same as on this remote dirt track.
When we arrived at the road, we stopped for a long lunch of sardines, dates and pomegranates. We checked the nearest mile marker and found that we were only 50 km from Tan Tan. This was a little closer than I had expected. Getting to the road also meant the possibility of riding on the cart again. We basically hadn’t even ridden on the cart in about 60 or 70 km because the terrain was too difficult.
We thought getting back on the smooth pavement would be a relief, and it was in some ways, but in others it was miserable. The asphalt must have raised the temperature ten degrees, and the fast traffic frayed my nerves. As always, we got a lot of attention from the passing drivers. The truckers would often honk and give a thumbs up in approval. I liked this, but after a while, it really got to Susan and Jonathan. What annoyed me was the drivers that would pass and make a gesture of confusion, shoulders shrugged, palm turned up. I knew we were confusing, but I didn’t know what they wanted us to explain to them.
One car full of friendly men dressed in business clothing stopped in front of us. This kind of thing always annoyed us because we didn’t want to waste our time stopping to answer every curious person’s questions. They got out of the car and stopped us. They asked the normal questions about what we were doing, where we bought the donkeys, where we were going, where we were from, how much did we pay for the donkeys, etc. They claimed to be from some sort of law enforcement or security agency, but based on their identification badges, they did something in the tourism industry. They insisted on getting plenty of pictures with us before letting us continue.
We came to the foot of a hill that looked so daunting, we needed to take a break to discuss how we would do it. It was too long, maybe 2 km, to ascend in multiple trips with small loads. It was the worst up hill of the entire donkey traveling. What was worse was that this asphalt was more slippery for the donkey’s shoed feet than the concrete road between Guelmim and Plage Blanche. We put Shuwya Shuwya in front, as she was always the stronger and more reliable donkey, especially going up hill. Susan insisted on pushing, so I took the reins to lead the cart up the hill.
We weren’t even on the steepest parts of the hill yet, and I could already feel Shuwya Shuwya’s feet slipping. It was like ice for her. I didn’t want to be leading. For me it would have been less stressful to be grunting it out behind the cart, than fretting over each of SS’s steps.
After the first km up hill, the team was getting tired, and the steepest stretch was still to come. I asked if we needed a break, as there was a tiny sliver of shoulder at this halfway point, but Jonathan and Susan preferred to keep on going. We continued onto the steepest 500 meter stretch, and slowed to a crawl. Huge semis were creeping past us from behind, zooming down the hill in the other direction. The honking and waving continued, as they didn’t realize, or care, how stressed we were. We made it to the top of the pass, but as soon as the road dipped down slightly at the top of the hill, SS really started to slip. It was a barely noticeable downgrade, but she was having a really tough time with it, so we supported the cart and moved slowly. At the top of the hill there was a police checkpoint. They let us through without searching us. We still had some daylight left, but when we saw what the descent on the other side of the pass was like, we knew we needed to save it for the next day. The police showed us where we could camp, and later an officer arrived to take our passport information.
In the morning we discussed how we would descend this down hill. We hadn’t gone down anything this long or steep before, and we knew that simply going straight down with the cart would be a disaster. We decided to take the main load of the cart down in saddlebags, and when the cart was light enough, Jonathan and I would rickshaw the cart down. Susan volunteered to take loads down with Shuwya Shuwya, which took about 30 minutes round trip.
As expected, when Susan left with SS, it made Rough go crazy. He pulled at his rope so hard, I was worried it would give him another cut on his ankle. He just got crazier and crazier. Jonathan laughed at him, very confident in the pile of rocks he had tied him to. A few more crazy lunges, though, and the rocks started to come loose, and Rough was running. We ran after him, and managed to cut him off so he didn’t get on the road. Once he realized he was trapped, he surrendered.
Susan took three loads with Shuwya Shuwya before Jonathan and I were ready to rickshaw the cart down. It took most of the day, but we managed to get everything to the bottom of the hill safely, and without too many problems. We were running low on food though, and we didn’t have much confidence in the tire that needed occasional pumping. It was decided that I would hitch a ride in to Tan Tan for the night to get provisions and fix the tire. A truck driver picked me up within ten minutes. We made it to Tan Tan in about 45 minutes, but based on the amount of hills we went over, I knew that it would not be easy on a donkey cart. There was a police checkpoint at the entrance of Tan Tan, and they made me get out of the truck, and let the driver go. They asked me the same questions as usual. They asked me about the tire. I explained about the donkey cart. I showed them pictures on my camera to help explain. They were so amused by this whole thing, but they seemed to feel the need to remain cop like, so they kept asking me other random questions, and made me sit around a while longer. I was annoyed because I was running out of daylight, and I had a lot of business to attend to. Eventually they stopped a truck driver and told him that he had to take me to a cheap hotel (as I told them I didn’t have much money) on his way in to town. He seemed annoyed by this, and wouldn’t make any conversation with me. He dropped me off at the first hotel into town, which was not cheap, nor was there any vacancy. But I was near all the tire shops, so I took advantage of that. As they were fixing the tube, they realized that the tube was actually the wrong size for the tire, which was probably why it had gone flat before.
I lugged the tire around for a couple of km before I found a hotel that looked affordable. I bartered the price down from 100 Dirhams ($12.50) to 50 Dirhams, and had my first bed in over two weeks.
I met two men in the lobby from Guinea, who told me that this donkey traveling is dangerous and that we are too vulnerable. They said if we want to see the desert, we should rent a 4x4. I said that it was far too expensive for us, and they argued that it wasn’t. It seems that even when I tell some people about my money situation, they just can’t comprehend it. Which is not shocking, as almost every other foreigner we met in Morocco was in their own car. We didn’t meet a single on-the-cheap backpacker sort of traveler our whole time in Morocco. Even when I wasn’t lugging around a spare tire, people would ask me where my car was.
After doing all my shopping, and indulging myself with street-meat sandwiches, I met a man from Mali who spoke English. His name was Handsome, or at least that is what he told me. I invited him for tea, and we had lots of good chatting about Africa and football. He was playing for the local Tan Tan football club, as it paid better than the team he was playing for in Mali. He offered to let me stay at his place for the night, but as I had already paid for my hotel room, I turned him down. I took his information, though and said I would call him when we got to Tan Tan.
The next morning I walked a couple of km toward the edge of town before I got a ride. It was with a friendly older man who seemed happy to help a donkey traveler. He dropped me off where Jonathan and Susan had made camp the night before. We got loaded up, and set out. Early on, we came a sizable hill, which was demanding, but as we had been through worse, we ascended with confidence. The way down was a different story. The asphalt was slick, the hill was steep, and the tight turns gave us little protection from the traffic. I scouted around for a different route and found it. It was on loose gravel, and some dirt road with large rocks and ruts. It was slightly less steep, and at least it would not be slippery and we wouldn’t have to deal with traffic. To keep the load light, we loaded Rough with saddlebags carrying water, and Jonathan left to take him down. Thirty minutes later he came back fuming. Halfway down, Rough had refused to continue, and Jonathan had to tie him up near the path. Jonathan is better with the donkeys than any of us, as he grew up on a farm, so this was surprising. Most of all, though, it was just a blow to Jonathan’s pride, and he admitted to it. The three of us started going down. I navigated, while Jonathan and Susan provided support. A lot of the road was so rough that agile navigation was pointless, and we just had to roll down fast and hope that we didn’t pop a tire or lose everything on the cart. I feared for the entire cart as we hit the biggest rocks and ruts. We had had so many problems so far, that any sort of breakdown wouldn’t have surprised me. We made it though, losing a few items along the way as they bounced off the cart. Jonathan and Susan retrieved them as they walked back up to get Rough. He fought again, but between the two of them, they were able to get him down. We got back on the road and made about three more kilometers before sunset.
Shuwya Shuwya
We were only 27 km from Tan Tan, and I was optimistic. Our longest day so far had been 25 km, and I knew the terrain was not going to be too bad. However, for whatever reason, we didn’t leave until 11. Later that day, just as we were finishing our lunch stop, Rough and Ready got loose once again. We watched casually as he simply pulled his stake out of the ground. He didn’t even know at first, but as soon as we started to get up and walk towards him, he realized. He ran away from us, and then paused before he made his move. Jonathan and I took positions between him and Shuwya Shuwya. Sure enough, he charged. It seemed like it would be too easy, as we were used to this by now. Our gamefaces were not on, and Rough and Ready out-maneuvered us. Suddenly he had made his way behind Shuwya Shuwya. I hesitated to get between them, as she was starting to kick. He knocked her on the ground and clamped his teeth onto her neck. Jonathan and I started wailing on Rough, and quickly managed to get him off of her. It seemed fairly routine by now, but it was the first time Susan had seen Rough and Ready get…rough. This was a startling revelation for her that these really were just animals acting on instinct. No divine spirit, no special connection, no beautiful soul. For a long time she had criticized any use of force against the donkeys, and preferred to gently coax them into doing what she wanted them to. While this never was effective, she still tried, because she believed it was the right thing to do. Now it was all shattered. It hit her that these were not our companions and fellow adventurers. Just a couple of animals that did what we told them to avoid a beating, and one that just wanted to get laid. It took her some time to get over witnessing an attempted donkey rape.
Soon after this episode, a bearded man emerged from the desert, and approached us, offering some oranges. We accepted them, and offered him some dates. He ate many, so we offered him some pomegranate, then some peanuts. He didn’t seem to speak any French, and didn’t seem very interested in communicating in Arabic. We wondered if he would leave, or at least do something to explain what he was doing here. It never came, so he helped us get our donkeys ready to go, and we left together. He seemed eager to help push up hills, and support the cart on down hills. He waved proudly to the truck drivers honking at us. He even joined us in our habit of scavenging useful scraps of material and trinkets from the side of the road. He found a bag of discarded oranges in perfect condition. He continued with us all the way until sunset, when we found a camp spot next to the only tree we had seen in days (weeks?). It seemed as if he would at least be eating dinner with us, and probably spending the night. I managed to glean a little bit of information from him. It seemed that he was walking from Guelmim to Tan Tan. I don’t know why he would walk 130 km alone, when he could have probably hitch hiked for free or just a little bit of money if he waited long enough. I don’t know where he would even get food or water, as there are almost no wells or villages between the two towns. All he seemed to be carrying were the couple of oranges he had shared with us. I asked his name by listing off Muslim names. He nodded at my second suggestion, Sayeed.
We cooked dinner and he ate less than us, but he seemed to enjoy it. He drank our tea and coffee, which most Moroccans didn’t do since we never put enough sugar in it. So it was weird, and he made us a little nervous, but he seemed like a good guy. We slept in our tents, and he slept on our tarp, with our spare blanket. I felt bad not giving him my tent to sleep in, as I know any Moroccan would have done that for me if I were their guest. I felt worse when it started raining.
Said at dinner time
Before I fell asleep, I heard a small crash from the box where we kept our silverware, plates and knives. It shocked me, and I couldn’t think of any explanation for the sound. I waited a few minutes, and then got out of my tent. Jonathan called to me because he had heard it too and asked if I saw anything. Nothing was out of place, and our new companion seemed to be sleeping peacefully. I felt guilty for sleeping with one eye open and a large knife under my pillow.
In the morning Said was still there, to my half-surprise, and he helped us wash dishes and pack the cart. We were only seven km from Tan Tan, so it was pretty obvious that he would be going all the way with us. I was unsure about what we should do about the police checkpoint at the entrance of town. They had asked me a lot of questions when I entered town hitchhiking, so I imagined it would be more complicated to come in with a donkey cart. Adding a man to our group that we knew absolutely nothing about wasn’t going to help. When we got within sight of the checkpoint, we stopped, and tried to explain to him that we needed to go through the checkpoint separately. He seemed confused at first, but eventually understood. I felt awful, because he looked disappointed. After thanking him for his help and wishing him a good journey, though, it was obvious that he was clear on why it was like this, and he didn’t blame us. I hope. We gave him a ten minute head start and never saw him again. Later, in Mauritania, I explained this incident to someone from that area of Morocco. He seemed to think that there was nothing too odd about that experience. It is just old desert etiquette. If you are traveling in the desert, and you meet other travelers, it is the protocol to just start traveling together. I was somewhat aware of this, but had learned of it in the context of the British explorer Alexander Laing being joined by a group of Tuaregs as he passed through the Sahara in is search for Timbuktu. After traveling side by side for several days, the Tuaregs made a midnight attempt on his life.
For our entrance to town, we all got on the cart for the first time in close to two weeks, and started playing music. I had Susan’s drum, and Jonathan and Susan had tin whistles and we all took turns singing. As we approached the checkpoint, we played In the Jungle, and some Moby song Jonathan had taught us, with incorrect lyrics as always, “Oh lordy, travel so hard”. The police were confused by us, and therefore asked us a lot of questions. Of course, they couldn’t contain their amusement, but they still tried to act like cops by acting very suspicious of us, asking our birthdays, then checking that information against our passports, asking lots of other erroneous questions, for some reason thinking they were going to catch us in a weird lie. One question that was probably asked by 95% of people that really annoyed me was how much we had paid. Of course it annoyed me because we had paid too much and I didn’t want to tell people the truth. But now that we were in Tan Tan, and we were considering selling the donkeys, I felt this information was now somewhat sensitive. During the questioning, good old Rough and Ready was going crazy with his hee-hawing as this town was full of donkeys. The officer was really annoyed by this, and normally I would be embarrassed by our inability to control the donkey, but I enjoyed it at this point.
Grand entrance into Tan Tan
When they finally let us go, we continued to play music as we rolled into town. We felt like minor celebrities with how much attention we attracted. Everyone was taking pictures of us on their cell phone cameras. It made me wonder, though. If I saw a Moroccan dressed as a cowboy, riding a horse somewhere in the southwest, would I stop to take his picture? Probably not.
Rough and Ready gives the Gum Show
An hour before sunset, we faced one of the most difficult hills of the trip so far. We surveyed it, looked at alternate routes, and decided the only way was straight up. Susan led, Shuwya Shuwya pulled the cart, which we had named the French Navigator, and Jonathan and I pushed our nuts off. It was really demanding for everyone, but we made it to the top like real pros. We kept on trucking and by sunset we found a beautiful camp spot. We all agreed that it had been our most successful and enjoyable day of donkey travel thus far.
We got on the road by 9:00 the next day, as we were hoping to connect to the main road toward Tan Tan. We estimated that we had no more than 10 or 12 km to go for that. The dirt road started to ascend, and eventually brought us to the top of a hill, where we could barely see the road off in the distance. It was many 6 or 7 km away. We were all excited and relieved, as the road meant more security, however the atmosphere would never be the same as on this remote dirt track.
When we arrived at the road, we stopped for a long lunch of sardines, dates and pomegranates. We checked the nearest mile marker and found that we were only 50 km from Tan Tan. This was a little closer than I had expected. Getting to the road also meant the possibility of riding on the cart again. We basically hadn’t even ridden on the cart in about 60 or 70 km because the terrain was too difficult.
We thought getting back on the smooth pavement would be a relief, and it was in some ways, but in others it was miserable. The asphalt must have raised the temperature ten degrees, and the fast traffic frayed my nerves. As always, we got a lot of attention from the passing drivers. The truckers would often honk and give a thumbs up in approval. I liked this, but after a while, it really got to Susan and Jonathan. What annoyed me was the drivers that would pass and make a gesture of confusion, shoulders shrugged, palm turned up. I knew we were confusing, but I didn’t know what they wanted us to explain to them.
One car full of friendly men dressed in business clothing stopped in front of us. This kind of thing always annoyed us because we didn’t want to waste our time stopping to answer every curious person’s questions. They got out of the car and stopped us. They asked the normal questions about what we were doing, where we bought the donkeys, where we were going, where we were from, how much did we pay for the donkeys, etc. They claimed to be from some sort of law enforcement or security agency, but based on their identification badges, they did something in the tourism industry. They insisted on getting plenty of pictures with us before letting us continue.
We came to the foot of a hill that looked so daunting, we needed to take a break to discuss how we would do it. It was too long, maybe 2 km, to ascend in multiple trips with small loads. It was the worst up hill of the entire donkey traveling. What was worse was that this asphalt was more slippery for the donkey’s shoed feet than the concrete road between Guelmim and Plage Blanche. We put Shuwya Shuwya in front, as she was always the stronger and more reliable donkey, especially going up hill. Susan insisted on pushing, so I took the reins to lead the cart up the hill.
We weren’t even on the steepest parts of the hill yet, and I could already feel Shuwya Shuwya’s feet slipping. It was like ice for her. I didn’t want to be leading. For me it would have been less stressful to be grunting it out behind the cart, than fretting over each of SS’s steps.
After the first km up hill, the team was getting tired, and the steepest stretch was still to come. I asked if we needed a break, as there was a tiny sliver of shoulder at this halfway point, but Jonathan and Susan preferred to keep on going. We continued onto the steepest 500 meter stretch, and slowed to a crawl. Huge semis were creeping past us from behind, zooming down the hill in the other direction. The honking and waving continued, as they didn’t realize, or care, how stressed we were. We made it to the top of the pass, but as soon as the road dipped down slightly at the top of the hill, SS really started to slip. It was a barely noticeable downgrade, but she was having a really tough time with it, so we supported the cart and moved slowly. At the top of the hill there was a police checkpoint. They let us through without searching us. We still had some daylight left, but when we saw what the descent on the other side of the pass was like, we knew we needed to save it for the next day. The police showed us where we could camp, and later an officer arrived to take our passport information.
In the morning we discussed how we would descend this down hill. We hadn’t gone down anything this long or steep before, and we knew that simply going straight down with the cart would be a disaster. We decided to take the main load of the cart down in saddlebags, and when the cart was light enough, Jonathan and I would rickshaw the cart down. Susan volunteered to take loads down with Shuwya Shuwya, which took about 30 minutes round trip.
As expected, when Susan left with SS, it made Rough go crazy. He pulled at his rope so hard, I was worried it would give him another cut on his ankle. He just got crazier and crazier. Jonathan laughed at him, very confident in the pile of rocks he had tied him to. A few more crazy lunges, though, and the rocks started to come loose, and Rough was running. We ran after him, and managed to cut him off so he didn’t get on the road. Once he realized he was trapped, he surrendered.
Susan took three loads with Shuwya Shuwya before Jonathan and I were ready to rickshaw the cart down. It took most of the day, but we managed to get everything to the bottom of the hill safely, and without too many problems. We were running low on food though, and we didn’t have much confidence in the tire that needed occasional pumping. It was decided that I would hitch a ride in to Tan Tan for the night to get provisions and fix the tire. A truck driver picked me up within ten minutes. We made it to Tan Tan in about 45 minutes, but based on the amount of hills we went over, I knew that it would not be easy on a donkey cart. There was a police checkpoint at the entrance of Tan Tan, and they made me get out of the truck, and let the driver go. They asked me the same questions as usual. They asked me about the tire. I explained about the donkey cart. I showed them pictures on my camera to help explain. They were so amused by this whole thing, but they seemed to feel the need to remain cop like, so they kept asking me other random questions, and made me sit around a while longer. I was annoyed because I was running out of daylight, and I had a lot of business to attend to. Eventually they stopped a truck driver and told him that he had to take me to a cheap hotel (as I told them I didn’t have much money) on his way in to town. He seemed annoyed by this, and wouldn’t make any conversation with me. He dropped me off at the first hotel into town, which was not cheap, nor was there any vacancy. But I was near all the tire shops, so I took advantage of that. As they were fixing the tube, they realized that the tube was actually the wrong size for the tire, which was probably why it had gone flat before.
I lugged the tire around for a couple of km before I found a hotel that looked affordable. I bartered the price down from 100 Dirhams ($12.50) to 50 Dirhams, and had my first bed in over two weeks.
I met two men in the lobby from Guinea, who told me that this donkey traveling is dangerous and that we are too vulnerable. They said if we want to see the desert, we should rent a 4x4. I said that it was far too expensive for us, and they argued that it wasn’t. It seems that even when I tell some people about my money situation, they just can’t comprehend it. Which is not shocking, as almost every other foreigner we met in Morocco was in their own car. We didn’t meet a single on-the-cheap backpacker sort of traveler our whole time in Morocco. Even when I wasn’t lugging around a spare tire, people would ask me where my car was.
After doing all my shopping, and indulging myself with street-meat sandwiches, I met a man from Mali who spoke English. His name was Handsome, or at least that is what he told me. I invited him for tea, and we had lots of good chatting about Africa and football. He was playing for the local Tan Tan football club, as it paid better than the team he was playing for in Mali. He offered to let me stay at his place for the night, but as I had already paid for my hotel room, I turned him down. I took his information, though and said I would call him when we got to Tan Tan.
The next morning I walked a couple of km toward the edge of town before I got a ride. It was with a friendly older man who seemed happy to help a donkey traveler. He dropped me off where Jonathan and Susan had made camp the night before. We got loaded up, and set out. Early on, we came a sizable hill, which was demanding, but as we had been through worse, we ascended with confidence. The way down was a different story. The asphalt was slick, the hill was steep, and the tight turns gave us little protection from the traffic. I scouted around for a different route and found it. It was on loose gravel, and some dirt road with large rocks and ruts. It was slightly less steep, and at least it would not be slippery and we wouldn’t have to deal with traffic. To keep the load light, we loaded Rough with saddlebags carrying water, and Jonathan left to take him down. Thirty minutes later he came back fuming. Halfway down, Rough had refused to continue, and Jonathan had to tie him up near the path. Jonathan is better with the donkeys than any of us, as he grew up on a farm, so this was surprising. Most of all, though, it was just a blow to Jonathan’s pride, and he admitted to it. The three of us started going down. I navigated, while Jonathan and Susan provided support. A lot of the road was so rough that agile navigation was pointless, and we just had to roll down fast and hope that we didn’t pop a tire or lose everything on the cart. I feared for the entire cart as we hit the biggest rocks and ruts. We had had so many problems so far, that any sort of breakdown wouldn’t have surprised me. We made it though, losing a few items along the way as they bounced off the cart. Jonathan and Susan retrieved them as they walked back up to get Rough. He fought again, but between the two of them, they were able to get him down. We got back on the road and made about three more kilometers before sunset.
Shuwya ShuwyaWe were only 27 km from Tan Tan, and I was optimistic. Our longest day so far had been 25 km, and I knew the terrain was not going to be too bad. However, for whatever reason, we didn’t leave until 11. Later that day, just as we were finishing our lunch stop, Rough and Ready got loose once again. We watched casually as he simply pulled his stake out of the ground. He didn’t even know at first, but as soon as we started to get up and walk towards him, he realized. He ran away from us, and then paused before he made his move. Jonathan and I took positions between him and Shuwya Shuwya. Sure enough, he charged. It seemed like it would be too easy, as we were used to this by now. Our gamefaces were not on, and Rough and Ready out-maneuvered us. Suddenly he had made his way behind Shuwya Shuwya. I hesitated to get between them, as she was starting to kick. He knocked her on the ground and clamped his teeth onto her neck. Jonathan and I started wailing on Rough, and quickly managed to get him off of her. It seemed fairly routine by now, but it was the first time Susan had seen Rough and Ready get…rough. This was a startling revelation for her that these really were just animals acting on instinct. No divine spirit, no special connection, no beautiful soul. For a long time she had criticized any use of force against the donkeys, and preferred to gently coax them into doing what she wanted them to. While this never was effective, she still tried, because she believed it was the right thing to do. Now it was all shattered. It hit her that these were not our companions and fellow adventurers. Just a couple of animals that did what we told them to avoid a beating, and one that just wanted to get laid. It took her some time to get over witnessing an attempted donkey rape.
Soon after this episode, a bearded man emerged from the desert, and approached us, offering some oranges. We accepted them, and offered him some dates. He ate many, so we offered him some pomegranate, then some peanuts. He didn’t seem to speak any French, and didn’t seem very interested in communicating in Arabic. We wondered if he would leave, or at least do something to explain what he was doing here. It never came, so he helped us get our donkeys ready to go, and we left together. He seemed eager to help push up hills, and support the cart on down hills. He waved proudly to the truck drivers honking at us. He even joined us in our habit of scavenging useful scraps of material and trinkets from the side of the road. He found a bag of discarded oranges in perfect condition. He continued with us all the way until sunset, when we found a camp spot next to the only tree we had seen in days (weeks?). It seemed as if he would at least be eating dinner with us, and probably spending the night. I managed to glean a little bit of information from him. It seemed that he was walking from Guelmim to Tan Tan. I don’t know why he would walk 130 km alone, when he could have probably hitch hiked for free or just a little bit of money if he waited long enough. I don’t know where he would even get food or water, as there are almost no wells or villages between the two towns. All he seemed to be carrying were the couple of oranges he had shared with us. I asked his name by listing off Muslim names. He nodded at my second suggestion, Sayeed.
We cooked dinner and he ate less than us, but he seemed to enjoy it. He drank our tea and coffee, which most Moroccans didn’t do since we never put enough sugar in it. So it was weird, and he made us a little nervous, but he seemed like a good guy. We slept in our tents, and he slept on our tarp, with our spare blanket. I felt bad not giving him my tent to sleep in, as I know any Moroccan would have done that for me if I were their guest. I felt worse when it started raining.
Said at dinner timeBefore I fell asleep, I heard a small crash from the box where we kept our silverware, plates and knives. It shocked me, and I couldn’t think of any explanation for the sound. I waited a few minutes, and then got out of my tent. Jonathan called to me because he had heard it too and asked if I saw anything. Nothing was out of place, and our new companion seemed to be sleeping peacefully. I felt guilty for sleeping with one eye open and a large knife under my pillow.
In the morning Said was still there, to my half-surprise, and he helped us wash dishes and pack the cart. We were only seven km from Tan Tan, so it was pretty obvious that he would be going all the way with us. I was unsure about what we should do about the police checkpoint at the entrance of town. They had asked me a lot of questions when I entered town hitchhiking, so I imagined it would be more complicated to come in with a donkey cart. Adding a man to our group that we knew absolutely nothing about wasn’t going to help. When we got within sight of the checkpoint, we stopped, and tried to explain to him that we needed to go through the checkpoint separately. He seemed confused at first, but eventually understood. I felt awful, because he looked disappointed. After thanking him for his help and wishing him a good journey, though, it was obvious that he was clear on why it was like this, and he didn’t blame us. I hope. We gave him a ten minute head start and never saw him again. Later, in Mauritania, I explained this incident to someone from that area of Morocco. He seemed to think that there was nothing too odd about that experience. It is just old desert etiquette. If you are traveling in the desert, and you meet other travelers, it is the protocol to just start traveling together. I was somewhat aware of this, but had learned of it in the context of the British explorer Alexander Laing being joined by a group of Tuaregs as he passed through the Sahara in is search for Timbuktu. After traveling side by side for several days, the Tuaregs made a midnight attempt on his life.
For our entrance to town, we all got on the cart for the first time in close to two weeks, and started playing music. I had Susan’s drum, and Jonathan and Susan had tin whistles and we all took turns singing. As we approached the checkpoint, we played In the Jungle, and some Moby song Jonathan had taught us, with incorrect lyrics as always, “Oh lordy, travel so hard”. The police were confused by us, and therefore asked us a lot of questions. Of course, they couldn’t contain their amusement, but they still tried to act like cops by acting very suspicious of us, asking our birthdays, then checking that information against our passports, asking lots of other erroneous questions, for some reason thinking they were going to catch us in a weird lie. One question that was probably asked by 95% of people that really annoyed me was how much we had paid. Of course it annoyed me because we had paid too much and I didn’t want to tell people the truth. But now that we were in Tan Tan, and we were considering selling the donkeys, I felt this information was now somewhat sensitive. During the questioning, good old Rough and Ready was going crazy with his hee-hawing as this town was full of donkeys. The officer was really annoyed by this, and normally I would be embarrassed by our inability to control the donkey, but I enjoyed it at this point.
Grand entrance into Tan TanWhen they finally let us go, we continued to play music as we rolled into town. We felt like minor celebrities with how much attention we attracted. Everyone was taking pictures of us on their cell phone cameras. It made me wonder, though. If I saw a Moroccan dressed as a cowboy, riding a horse somewhere in the southwest, would I stop to take his picture? Probably not.
Rough and Ready gives the Gum Show
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