On our tenth day of Donkey travel we once again got another late start. I couldn’t explain why, but I am sure that leaving a beautiful desert beach had something to do with it. As we got ready, a couple of Moroccan men camping not far from us invited us for tea. It was my turn to get left behind, so Jonathan and Susan went while I packed.
When they returned, the older of the two men, came with a bag of oranges, stew and some bread. We ate greedily, and this pleased the man. After he left, he returned again, carrying a large shade tent made from grain sacks with him. He gave it to us unceremoniously and left. We never set it up to provide shade, but we used it for the rest of our donkey travel as a mat to cook and relax on. It was a huge gift.
Just as we were packed up Jonathan and I decided to take one last jump into the river that flows into the ocean. We agreed on cannon-balling, and we went at it at full speed. Jonathan slowed down before jumping in, but I kept going. I jumped, curled into a ball, and just before hitting the water realized I had jumped in the wrong spot, and the water was about two feet deep. As I hit, I felt a snap in my ankle. I was terrified, as my imagination went wild with the severity of the injury. I moved slowly, and was relieved to see that there was no bone sticking out of my foot, or even anything grossly misshapen. I didn’t blame Jonathan for his concern to be eclipsed by laughter. I sat in the water for a few minutes, scared to move my foot. After all we had been through, I did not want to stop donkey traveling now. And I absolutely did not want to have to go to back to Guelmim to see a doctor. Susan came and took a look. She has nursing experience, so I was relieved for that. She said that it was probably just a bad sprain, and she wrapped it with an ace bandage. But now we had to deal with getting back up the steep road from the beach. The cart was ready to go, but I could barely walk. Luckily there were a couple of young Moroccan men who quickly joined in to help push the cart up the hill. Another guy came and offered to help me up the hill. I didn’t really need it, as I was hopping on my left foot just fine, but he walked with me anyway. He said that there was a party for doctors from Guelmim at the top of the hill. I assumed that I didn’t understand, but when we got to the top, there was a large tent set up, with dozens of people milling about in nice suits, enjoying music and food. And yes, it was full of doctors. “Allahu Akbar,” I said.
An older man who spoke little French arrived, blowing cigarette smoke in my face as I tried to explain what had happened to me. He told me to sit down, and he then took off my bandage and tossed it aside. He started giving my foot a rough massage, with a lot of violent wrenching, using my reactions as indications of pain, rather than asking me where it hurt. Occasionally he would spit on my foot and rub it in. he gave it a final slap, and told me I would be fine. His only other advice was to get rid of that bandage. I asked why, and he didn’t care to explain, but instead just said it was no good and I shouldn’t wear it. He tossed it away and left.
When Susan and Jonathan arrived, we got the donkeys ready to go, and asked around about where the road actually continued. We had been under the impression, based on the map we had bought, that there was a decent road, maybe even paved, that connected the beach to Tan Tan. Now that we were here, we were getting very different explanations about how the road continued, none of which was very encouraging. Some said there was no road, some said there were many roads, but it was necessary to know which ones to take, some said we would have to cross a river, maybe several, too much sand, too many hills, etc. We had also heard that the route was only used by herders and smugglers. The general consensus, though, was that it would be no easy task with a donkey cart. It was a sudden shock, but we really didn’t have much choice. One of the young men who had warned us not to go this way stopped an approaching produce truck, grabbed a pumpkinish thing and brought it to us. I assumed this was a late Halloween gift, which I was very grateful for.
As a final scouting report, Jonathan ran over to the school that he had gotten water at. They explained that it would be a rough dirt road, sometimes several roads, for 45 or 50 kilometers before it meets up with the main highway to Tan Tan. We would also have to cross a river. They could not give us any information on whether there would be any wells along the way, but other people believed that there were.
We got on the road at about 3:00 and right off the bat, the road was hilly and covered with large rocks and loose gravel. Even though I was hopping on one foot, riding on the cart was out of the question, and I even had to push as much as I could on the uphill sections. The river turned out to not be a problem, as the road just went right over it. It was one of the only lucky breaks the terrain gave us during the whole trip.
As we moved into this more remote area, we could see nomads taking peeks, or long stares, at us from nearby cliffs, and surrounding hills. One thing I learned during this trip was that regardless of how alone you feel in the desert, there is always somebody else there, and quite often they are watching you.
When they returned, the older of the two men, came with a bag of oranges, stew and some bread. We ate greedily, and this pleased the man. After he left, he returned again, carrying a large shade tent made from grain sacks with him. He gave it to us unceremoniously and left. We never set it up to provide shade, but we used it for the rest of our donkey travel as a mat to cook and relax on. It was a huge gift.
Just as we were packed up Jonathan and I decided to take one last jump into the river that flows into the ocean. We agreed on cannon-balling, and we went at it at full speed. Jonathan slowed down before jumping in, but I kept going. I jumped, curled into a ball, and just before hitting the water realized I had jumped in the wrong spot, and the water was about two feet deep. As I hit, I felt a snap in my ankle. I was terrified, as my imagination went wild with the severity of the injury. I moved slowly, and was relieved to see that there was no bone sticking out of my foot, or even anything grossly misshapen. I didn’t blame Jonathan for his concern to be eclipsed by laughter. I sat in the water for a few minutes, scared to move my foot. After all we had been through, I did not want to stop donkey traveling now. And I absolutely did not want to have to go to back to Guelmim to see a doctor. Susan came and took a look. She has nursing experience, so I was relieved for that. She said that it was probably just a bad sprain, and she wrapped it with an ace bandage. But now we had to deal with getting back up the steep road from the beach. The cart was ready to go, but I could barely walk. Luckily there were a couple of young Moroccan men who quickly joined in to help push the cart up the hill. Another guy came and offered to help me up the hill. I didn’t really need it, as I was hopping on my left foot just fine, but he walked with me anyway. He said that there was a party for doctors from Guelmim at the top of the hill. I assumed that I didn’t understand, but when we got to the top, there was a large tent set up, with dozens of people milling about in nice suits, enjoying music and food. And yes, it was full of doctors. “Allahu Akbar,” I said.
An older man who spoke little French arrived, blowing cigarette smoke in my face as I tried to explain what had happened to me. He told me to sit down, and he then took off my bandage and tossed it aside. He started giving my foot a rough massage, with a lot of violent wrenching, using my reactions as indications of pain, rather than asking me where it hurt. Occasionally he would spit on my foot and rub it in. he gave it a final slap, and told me I would be fine. His only other advice was to get rid of that bandage. I asked why, and he didn’t care to explain, but instead just said it was no good and I shouldn’t wear it. He tossed it away and left.
When Susan and Jonathan arrived, we got the donkeys ready to go, and asked around about where the road actually continued. We had been under the impression, based on the map we had bought, that there was a decent road, maybe even paved, that connected the beach to Tan Tan. Now that we were here, we were getting very different explanations about how the road continued, none of which was very encouraging. Some said there was no road, some said there were many roads, but it was necessary to know which ones to take, some said we would have to cross a river, maybe several, too much sand, too many hills, etc. We had also heard that the route was only used by herders and smugglers. The general consensus, though, was that it would be no easy task with a donkey cart. It was a sudden shock, but we really didn’t have much choice. One of the young men who had warned us not to go this way stopped an approaching produce truck, grabbed a pumpkinish thing and brought it to us. I assumed this was a late Halloween gift, which I was very grateful for.
As a final scouting report, Jonathan ran over to the school that he had gotten water at. They explained that it would be a rough dirt road, sometimes several roads, for 45 or 50 kilometers before it meets up with the main highway to Tan Tan. We would also have to cross a river. They could not give us any information on whether there would be any wells along the way, but other people believed that there were.
We got on the road at about 3:00 and right off the bat, the road was hilly and covered with large rocks and loose gravel. Even though I was hopping on one foot, riding on the cart was out of the question, and I even had to push as much as I could on the uphill sections. The river turned out to not be a problem, as the road just went right over it. It was one of the only lucky breaks the terrain gave us during the whole trip.
As we moved into this more remote area, we could see nomads taking peeks, or long stares, at us from nearby cliffs, and surrounding hills. One thing I learned during this trip was that regardless of how alone you feel in the desert, there is always somebody else there, and quite often they are watching you.
We probably only moved 3 km that day, after which we set up camp before trying to ascend a steep hill lined with pastures of stone walls. The wind was strong that evening, which gave us a break from the mosquitoes, but also caused dirt and sand to get in every crevasse of everything.
We woke to heavy wind and a light drizzle, only halfway excited about the upcoming hill. As soon as we got everything packed, Jonathan noticed a major problem that had been lingering in the back of my mind for days. A flat tire. I had noticed one of our tires looking a little mushy, but figured that there wasn’t much we could do. Because so much of our preparation had been done hastily, we were never able to find a spare wheel, though it was always on our shopping list. We didn’t even have the tools to take the wheel off the axle. I walked up the hill and found the house that belonged to the pastures. I walked toward it nervously, wondering exactly how I could explain our situation. Even if whoever was there could speak French, would I know how to say “our donkey cart has a flat tire, do you have a pump, or the tools to remove it?” I saw a truck in front of the house, a good sign. There was an elderly woman just standing next to the truck. I had been hoping that there was a man there, but I saw nobody else. So I approached her discreetly, avoiding eye contact, and said, “salaam alaykum.” I started to try to explain our situation, using lots of hand gestures. When I looked up, I saw that she was gesturing to her right, toward the truck. I looked, and saw an arm hanging out of the truck window. It shocked me at first, realizing that I had been close to someone the whole time. It was a man of maybe 35 or 40 years. I looked serious as I explained our situation. Nothing about three foreigners with a donkey cart seemed surprising or interesting to him, probably because he had known of us before we had even arrived. He probably was expecting us to run into these problems if we tried going on this rode. He reached over to his glove box and pulled out a couple of wrenches and sent me on my way. One was too big, the other too small, so I went back, and he found one in between. This one was the right size, but the wrench and the bolts on the tire were too worn for it to work. Jonathan walked the 3 km back to the beach and found some Spanish overlanders, who lent him a crescent wrench and WD-40. They didn’t want to let him leave with it, and they said he had to be back in 30 minutes. Well that was impossible, but he took it anyway, and we got the tire off.
It was Jonathan’s turn to return to Guelmim, so he left and Susan and I with the task of researching our water situation, and keeping our levels topped up. The Spanish overlanders were gone, so we got free WD-40 and a free crescent wrench.
I was disappointed to be stuck, but knew that it was good timing, as I should probably rest my sprained ankle. Susan left on a water mission with Rough and Ready. Our total supply of 120 liters was probably only down 20 or 30, but we still wanted to be sure we always had as much as possible. As soon as Susan was out of sight, Shuwya Shuwya escaped. Luckily for me, when she escapes, she barely seems to realize it unless you run to her. So I limped over to her, as she made her way toward the giant grain sack, and re-tied her. Not a minute later, I turned around and saw Rough and Ready galloping toward us. As soon as he saw me between them, he seemed to surrender. I limped toward him, and he slowly retreated back down the road. Susan was nowhere in sight, but I was able get a hold of him without too much trouble. Eventually I saw her, several hundred yards away. By the time she reached us she was cursing Rough worse than any of us had. She even gave him a few whacks on the face. As often as Rough got loose, it was really fortunate that we had Shuwya Shuwya to act as a magnet for him, so we knew as long as she was under control, we would never lose him.
Susan made a second attempt to find water, and was able to get twenty liters from some nomad women, in exchange for one of our funnels.
Unsurprisingly, Jonathan didn’t make it back that day. But that night, right after we were done with dinner, we could see some headlights, maybe a kilometer away in the direction of the beach. We hadn’t seen any vehicles on the road since we had started on it. It looked like there might even be two vehicles, and that they were approaching very slowly. I thought it could be Jonathan, but not if there were two vehicles. Susan got up and started to walk toward the vehicles. I didn’t know why. I assumed these were some sort of smugglers, and wanted to be as discreet as possible. After five minutes, I called out to Susan, but she had walked out of earshot. Another five minutes, and I got up and started yelling for her to come back. Still nothing. All I could see was the now unmoving headlights in the distance. I could then hear raised voices speaking Arabic, but still nothing from Susan. I got nervous, but after a few more minutes she emerged from the darkness. She said it was some sort of tractor and a truck, and they weren’t sure which road to take, so she showed them the way. When they passed by our camp the large van in front stopped. I spoke with the driver, and he explained that they were coming to do some roadwork. Now? Yes. Here? Absolutely. A huge bulldozer passed next, and the driver stopped to ask how steep the hill in front of him was. After this incident, I couldn’t comprehend how weird this trip could get at times.
The wind continued to blow the next day, and we were camping in an area with more loose dirt than anywhere else. It was getting caked on everything. Susan went on another water mission. While she was gone, I watched an old man descend a hill in front of me. When he arrived at the bottom, next to one of the stone walls, I watched him observe the situation where the wall was damaged. The day before, I had watched as nearly a dozen sheep ran through. He got my attention and waved me over. He wanted me to help me fix the wall. At the part where it was broken, it was just a mess of broken netting, a few ropes, some wire, and stones. I didn’t know what could be done as a quick fix, but he instructed me with where he wanted me to put certain ropes and stones. He was too weak to do it on his own. It was a shoddy job at best. It was downright comical, actually, and I doubted that it would keep any sheep in that wanted to leave.
Susan returned from her water mission, and now we were completely topped off. She had met some men with trucks hauling sheep. As we were in the weeks approaching Eid, the Muslim holiday in which everyone slaughters sheep, every vehicle seemed to be hauling at least a few of the animals. The men welcomed her to their lunch and they argued over whom she would sit next to.
We waited for Jonathan until nearly 2:00. He finally arrived in a huge land rover. He brought two tires, a pump and a few yoghurts for us. He told us about his previous day. He had waited for hours for a vehicle to depart from the beach, and when one finally did, they picked him up. It was a Moroccan man and his wife. When they got to Guelmim, the man took Jonathan all over town in search for the right size of wheel. It was a three-bolt rim, which is common for donkey carts and some cars here, but apparently we had the old edition, which was smaller, and they were nearly impossible to get a hold of. They finally found one at a tire shop, but the man refused to sell it, for whatever reason. They were able to find one eventually, but the price was steep. The man brought Jonathan to his house that night, and fed him well, and even helped him arrange transport back to the beach. There is one land rover that goes to the beach every day to bring supplies, and if there is room, it also takes people.
So we now had two wheels for the cart, a spare, and a pump, just in case. This in addition to a full water supply and we felt in good shape to finally get back on our way.
We only moved about 5 kilometers before we arrived at a dry riverbed filled with soft sand, and lots of vegetation. Jonathan was tempted by the sand and wanted to camp there. I knew it would be bad for mosquitoes, but they didn’t seem to care. The “I told you so” is worth the mosquito bites for me, so I didn’t argue much. Sure enough, as soon as the sun set, they came in droves so heavy that we had to do our cooking and eating away from the river bed.
Our 13th day of donkey travel was another one filled with problems. Within the first three kilometers of departure, the saddlebags fell off of Shuwya Shuwya, and as we argued about the best way to tie them back on, we realized that our brand new tire had gone flat. This road was really rough, and within 11 kilometers, had already given us two flat tires. We still had at least 35 kilometers to go before getting to a main road. At some point during the changing of the tire, or cart pushing, or saddlebag tying, Susan revived an old injury on her wrist, making it difficult for her to help push the cart, or control the donkeys. We now had two injured travelers and a cart prone to flat tires.
And the road just kept getting worse. Huge ruts, and dropoffs that took very careful navigation. And the worst of them weren’t usually on level ground. We got to one section that had wide ruts on a slight downhill, a small cliff on the right side, huge rocks that would stop the cart cold, followed by a small uphill of the same terrain. I stopped the cart, surveyed the terrain, and figured out the route I would try to take to avoid ruts, and keep Shuwya Shuwya moving. I was nervous. Jonathan and Susan would be behind the cart, pushing especially hard if we got caught in any ruts, and doing the same on the uphill. From the start it was a disaster. Shuwya Shuwya wouldn’t cooperate with me and she was trying to avoid walking in the ruts, putting the tires directly in them. We quickly stalled in the most difficult spot, and I ran to the back to push, and Susan took the reins. I am not sure now exactly how it happened, but as we were pushing as hard as we could, there was a panic, some screams, and the cart fell. Shuwya Shuwya had collapsed, with the full weight of the cart on her back. Jonathan and I ran forward and started to untie her. Some of the ropes didn’t come off easily, so I grabbed my knife, and Jonathan cut them off. Shuwya Shuwya was motionless, and had a blank look in her eyes. Total resignation. Jonathan was frantic, almost in tears it seemed. I was probably mirroring Shuwya Shuwya’s face. I was in shock and didn’t know what we had gotten ourselves into. It took a couple minutes to get the weight of the cart off of her, but even still, one of the straps lay under her, making it impossible for us to move the cart. Susan and I held the cart up, as Jonathan tried to move her, and check for injuries. It didn’t look like she had broken a leg, but we couldn’t be sure. After a few tense minutes, she seemed to have a sudden twitch, a brief moment of realizing what was going on around her. She looked around slowly, moved a little bit, and all of a sudden just hobbled back up onto her feet and started walking with only a slight limp. We were all too adrenaline-rushed and panic-stricken to jump in excitement, but just felt huge sighs of relief. As we tied her up and unloaded the cart, two goat herders appeared next to us. They didn’t speak French, but we were able to explain what had just happened and that we were trying to get to Tan Tan. They were friendly and seemed amused by us. They helped us carry our items through the rough section, and to rickshaw the cart to safety. They showed us that they had binoculars and that they had seen us from far away. We asked them about a well, and they said there was one in five kilometers. That would be our goal for the day.
When we reached the well at sunset, we didn’t even care that the water was brown. We deserved something to celebrate. At some point in the night, I woke up to Jonathan yelling, “Joey, Joey, Rough and Ready’s loose.” I jumped out of my tent just in time to see Rough jumping onto Shuwya Shuwya. She was giving him double back kicks, which were only a mild deterrent to his randiness. By the time we got a hold of his neck rope, he had pinned her down and had his teeth clamped firmly in her neck. It took a lot of punching and kicking, but we got him off before anything happened. The next morning we found two bloody wounds in Shuwya’s neck from Rough’s teeth. As if she hadn’t been through enough that day.
It was Jonathan’s turn to return to Guelmim, so he left and Susan and I with the task of researching our water situation, and keeping our levels topped up. The Spanish overlanders were gone, so we got free WD-40 and a free crescent wrench.
I was disappointed to be stuck, but knew that it was good timing, as I should probably rest my sprained ankle. Susan left on a water mission with Rough and Ready. Our total supply of 120 liters was probably only down 20 or 30, but we still wanted to be sure we always had as much as possible. As soon as Susan was out of sight, Shuwya Shuwya escaped. Luckily for me, when she escapes, she barely seems to realize it unless you run to her. So I limped over to her, as she made her way toward the giant grain sack, and re-tied her. Not a minute later, I turned around and saw Rough and Ready galloping toward us. As soon as he saw me between them, he seemed to surrender. I limped toward him, and he slowly retreated back down the road. Susan was nowhere in sight, but I was able get a hold of him without too much trouble. Eventually I saw her, several hundred yards away. By the time she reached us she was cursing Rough worse than any of us had. She even gave him a few whacks on the face. As often as Rough got loose, it was really fortunate that we had Shuwya Shuwya to act as a magnet for him, so we knew as long as she was under control, we would never lose him.
Susan made a second attempt to find water, and was able to get twenty liters from some nomad women, in exchange for one of our funnels.
Unsurprisingly, Jonathan didn’t make it back that day. But that night, right after we were done with dinner, we could see some headlights, maybe a kilometer away in the direction of the beach. We hadn’t seen any vehicles on the road since we had started on it. It looked like there might even be two vehicles, and that they were approaching very slowly. I thought it could be Jonathan, but not if there were two vehicles. Susan got up and started to walk toward the vehicles. I didn’t know why. I assumed these were some sort of smugglers, and wanted to be as discreet as possible. After five minutes, I called out to Susan, but she had walked out of earshot. Another five minutes, and I got up and started yelling for her to come back. Still nothing. All I could see was the now unmoving headlights in the distance. I could then hear raised voices speaking Arabic, but still nothing from Susan. I got nervous, but after a few more minutes she emerged from the darkness. She said it was some sort of tractor and a truck, and they weren’t sure which road to take, so she showed them the way. When they passed by our camp the large van in front stopped. I spoke with the driver, and he explained that they were coming to do some roadwork. Now? Yes. Here? Absolutely. A huge bulldozer passed next, and the driver stopped to ask how steep the hill in front of him was. After this incident, I couldn’t comprehend how weird this trip could get at times.
The wind continued to blow the next day, and we were camping in an area with more loose dirt than anywhere else. It was getting caked on everything. Susan went on another water mission. While she was gone, I watched an old man descend a hill in front of me. When he arrived at the bottom, next to one of the stone walls, I watched him observe the situation where the wall was damaged. The day before, I had watched as nearly a dozen sheep ran through. He got my attention and waved me over. He wanted me to help me fix the wall. At the part where it was broken, it was just a mess of broken netting, a few ropes, some wire, and stones. I didn’t know what could be done as a quick fix, but he instructed me with where he wanted me to put certain ropes and stones. He was too weak to do it on his own. It was a shoddy job at best. It was downright comical, actually, and I doubted that it would keep any sheep in that wanted to leave.
Susan returned from her water mission, and now we were completely topped off. She had met some men with trucks hauling sheep. As we were in the weeks approaching Eid, the Muslim holiday in which everyone slaughters sheep, every vehicle seemed to be hauling at least a few of the animals. The men welcomed her to their lunch and they argued over whom she would sit next to.
We waited for Jonathan until nearly 2:00. He finally arrived in a huge land rover. He brought two tires, a pump and a few yoghurts for us. He told us about his previous day. He had waited for hours for a vehicle to depart from the beach, and when one finally did, they picked him up. It was a Moroccan man and his wife. When they got to Guelmim, the man took Jonathan all over town in search for the right size of wheel. It was a three-bolt rim, which is common for donkey carts and some cars here, but apparently we had the old edition, which was smaller, and they were nearly impossible to get a hold of. They finally found one at a tire shop, but the man refused to sell it, for whatever reason. They were able to find one eventually, but the price was steep. The man brought Jonathan to his house that night, and fed him well, and even helped him arrange transport back to the beach. There is one land rover that goes to the beach every day to bring supplies, and if there is room, it also takes people.
So we now had two wheels for the cart, a spare, and a pump, just in case. This in addition to a full water supply and we felt in good shape to finally get back on our way.
We only moved about 5 kilometers before we arrived at a dry riverbed filled with soft sand, and lots of vegetation. Jonathan was tempted by the sand and wanted to camp there. I knew it would be bad for mosquitoes, but they didn’t seem to care. The “I told you so” is worth the mosquito bites for me, so I didn’t argue much. Sure enough, as soon as the sun set, they came in droves so heavy that we had to do our cooking and eating away from the river bed.
Our 13th day of donkey travel was another one filled with problems. Within the first three kilometers of departure, the saddlebags fell off of Shuwya Shuwya, and as we argued about the best way to tie them back on, we realized that our brand new tire had gone flat. This road was really rough, and within 11 kilometers, had already given us two flat tires. We still had at least 35 kilometers to go before getting to a main road. At some point during the changing of the tire, or cart pushing, or saddlebag tying, Susan revived an old injury on her wrist, making it difficult for her to help push the cart, or control the donkeys. We now had two injured travelers and a cart prone to flat tires.
And the road just kept getting worse. Huge ruts, and dropoffs that took very careful navigation. And the worst of them weren’t usually on level ground. We got to one section that had wide ruts on a slight downhill, a small cliff on the right side, huge rocks that would stop the cart cold, followed by a small uphill of the same terrain. I stopped the cart, surveyed the terrain, and figured out the route I would try to take to avoid ruts, and keep Shuwya Shuwya moving. I was nervous. Jonathan and Susan would be behind the cart, pushing especially hard if we got caught in any ruts, and doing the same on the uphill. From the start it was a disaster. Shuwya Shuwya wouldn’t cooperate with me and she was trying to avoid walking in the ruts, putting the tires directly in them. We quickly stalled in the most difficult spot, and I ran to the back to push, and Susan took the reins. I am not sure now exactly how it happened, but as we were pushing as hard as we could, there was a panic, some screams, and the cart fell. Shuwya Shuwya had collapsed, with the full weight of the cart on her back. Jonathan and I ran forward and started to untie her. Some of the ropes didn’t come off easily, so I grabbed my knife, and Jonathan cut them off. Shuwya Shuwya was motionless, and had a blank look in her eyes. Total resignation. Jonathan was frantic, almost in tears it seemed. I was probably mirroring Shuwya Shuwya’s face. I was in shock and didn’t know what we had gotten ourselves into. It took a couple minutes to get the weight of the cart off of her, but even still, one of the straps lay under her, making it impossible for us to move the cart. Susan and I held the cart up, as Jonathan tried to move her, and check for injuries. It didn’t look like she had broken a leg, but we couldn’t be sure. After a few tense minutes, she seemed to have a sudden twitch, a brief moment of realizing what was going on around her. She looked around slowly, moved a little bit, and all of a sudden just hobbled back up onto her feet and started walking with only a slight limp. We were all too adrenaline-rushed and panic-stricken to jump in excitement, but just felt huge sighs of relief. As we tied her up and unloaded the cart, two goat herders appeared next to us. They didn’t speak French, but we were able to explain what had just happened and that we were trying to get to Tan Tan. They were friendly and seemed amused by us. They helped us carry our items through the rough section, and to rickshaw the cart to safety. They showed us that they had binoculars and that they had seen us from far away. We asked them about a well, and they said there was one in five kilometers. That would be our goal for the day.
When we reached the well at sunset, we didn’t even care that the water was brown. We deserved something to celebrate. At some point in the night, I woke up to Jonathan yelling, “Joey, Joey, Rough and Ready’s loose.” I jumped out of my tent just in time to see Rough jumping onto Shuwya Shuwya. She was giving him double back kicks, which were only a mild deterrent to his randiness. By the time we got a hold of his neck rope, he had pinned her down and had his teeth clamped firmly in her neck. It took a lot of punching and kicking, but we got him off before anything happened. The next morning we found two bloody wounds in Shuwya’s neck from Rough’s teeth. As if she hadn’t been through enough that day.
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