"The sun can clean away all the filth in the desert" - The last nomads in the Mauritanian Desert (Part 1)

Preface: A small white RV from France drove into the desert from the capital Nouakchott

Going to the desert was an extremely sudden decision. That night, Oumayma and I, who were originally planning to go to Senegal early the next morning, met French photographer Adrien, who drove all the way from France to Nouadhibou to complete an art project and then crossed the desert to the capital. He not only showed us the humanistic photography collection he took in West Africa more than 10 years ago,

He also recommended us a photo shared by a photographer - it was a self-sufficient oasis village in the Mauritanian Desert. They have their own sustainable agriculture, hospital and school, and are open to all visitors, and will warmly welcome all who come to visit. Seeing this description, Oumayma and I looked at each other for a few seconds, smiled, and hit it off. We decided to change our itinerary on the spot - isn't this the sustainable village we are both looking for!

The next day, we made some preparations for going deep into the desert: buying Mauritanian SIM cards, preparing enough passport copies, and bringing enough food. On the way, photographer Adrien also decided to go to the village on the spur of the moment, and he would drive us to explore together in his RV.

So, at 6 a.m. on the third day, a man, a woman and a non-binary person excitedly set out on a journey to find a village in the desert. They set out so early, not only to escape the heat, but also to drive into the desert area as soon as possible before the police at the checkpoints got up in the morning - there were too many checkpoints near the capital.

Hospitality in Islam

At 2pm, the outdoor temperature reached 46 degrees Celsius. We were almost dizzy from the heat as we squeezed into the front row of the second-hand RV without air conditioning and insulation. After arriving at a small village on the side of a large road, we unanimously agreed to get off the car and look for a place to escape the heat.

Amid everyone's curious gaze, an elderly man with great prestige in the village enthusiastically guided us to his home to escape the summer heat.

The old man happily let us rest as we pleased. "The Quran teaches that when guests come, we must entertain them without expecting anything in return. We are very happy to have guests like you!" he said.

The old man and his family wanted to prepare lunch for us, but we were too embarrassed to do so, and we also brought our own ingredients and stove. A boy brought tea sets and prepared Mauritanian tea for each of us.

In the desert country of Mauritania, a unique tea culture tradition continues to this day. People here have an unimaginable love and persistence for tea. A man in his forties can drink more than 40 cups of tea a day.

Their way of drinking tea is quite unique: a large amount of white sugar is dissolved in the teapot, and after boiling, three small cups are used to pour it repeatedly into each other (please look for this clip in the video) in order to make the sugar better blend into the tea. When a thick layer of foam is left in the teacup due to repeated pouring, it is the time for a good cup of tea to be born. It takes about 20 minutes to prepare a round of tea, and only three small cups of tea can be made, and one cup of tea can be drunk in two sips. Maybe this is how they use the large amount of free time in the desert. This tea drinking tradition can be seen in every family in Mauritania and has become an indispensable part of daily life.

The green tea they use mostly comes from China. The history of using Chinese green tea can be traced back to the 1860s. At that time, Chinese green tea began to be imported into North Africa in large quantities. It all started in 1854, when a British merchant ship originally bound for the Baltic Sea was forced to dock at the port of Tangier in Morocco due to the Crimean War. The merchants on the ship successfully persuaded the locals to add green tea to mint tea, thus opening up the unique tea culture tradition in this area. This custom was later spread to countries in the Maghreb region such as Mauritania.

Before the introduction of Chinese green tea, locals mainly drank local herbal tea. Today, this unique way of drinking tea that combines Chinese green tea and white sugar has become an indispensable part of Mauritanian life.

In the room, the old man was chatting with Oumayma, who could speak Arabic; children from the village were coming in and out. A mother sat with her child. She told us that the child's father was in the United States and would send them money and things. "Why don't you go with him?" "Wow, that's too difficult, we don't have the physical strength." She waved her hand. Yes, it's difficult to go through the heavy siege of the police, drift on the ocean, and wait for the opportunity to starve in the wild; it's difficult to take your wife with you on such a difficult attempt.

In the scorching heat, I slept and woke up, woke up and slept again. At about 5 pm, the fire outside was no longer as fierce as it was at noon. We expressed our gratitude and blessings to the old man's family, and a mother gave us a bag of dates as dry food.

At night, when we thought we would not see Abdul, who was supposed to receive us, a car caught up with us and Abdul shouted hello from the car window. We were relieved because we had already encountered 8 checkpoints and used up 8 passport copies today; I couldn't handle encountering the police again.

Abdul said that it was too late tonight and he couldn't take you to his camp, so you had to spend the night in the nomadic family's village nearby.

First night sleeping under the stars

In the pitch-black desert, I vaguely saw a few flashlights, illuminating a few half-open huts made of palm leaves and mud bricks. A woman was cooking food in a pot with a flashlight.

Abdul spreads a rug and some thin mattresses on the sand, lies on his side and starts chatting with us. He is the younger brother of Menne, who took us in at the campsite in Nouakchott; although his family has moved to the city, he still likes living in the desert. As part of his family business, he builds and runs several campsites that host tourists in the desert.

Around 10pm, a plate of dates was served, a traditional appetizer for nomadic people. "Dates are good for your health, as long as you eat an odd number," Abdul told us. Although I didn't understand the reasoning behind the odd number, I ate 13 at once. Freshly picked dates are so delicious!!

The main course was lamb, onions, potatoes and carrots cooked in a water and salt broth served over couscous; a stark contrast to the heavily spiced Moroccan cuisine. But despite the simplicity of the ingredients, and probably because the meat was so fresh, it was delicious; after the city’s junk food torture, my stomach cheered with joy.

After dinner, everyone was still chatting. I, who was used to going to bed early and getting up early, had already stepped into the door of dreams in a daze. After knowing that we would sleep on this carpet tonight, I listened to Adbul making tea and talking, looked at the starry sky, and fell asleep unknowingly.

This sleep unexpectedly took me straight to the early morning. After waking up, I found that although I had no pillow, no mattress, and no quilt, I slept quite comfortably. I guess it was the softness and warmth of the sand, as well as the very suitable temperature at night, which created a natural environment suitable for sleeping outdoors.

Looking around, we saw that not only the four of us, but also the nomadic families around us were not sleeping inside the house, but on blankets outside.

It was too dark last night so I couldn’t see anything. But when I climbed up the sand dunes in the early morning, I found that there were so many houses of different sizes around me, and people who had not yet woken up.

As I practiced yoga and Vajra Gong with my back to the sun, the nomads gradually woke up. A woman got up to prepare breakfast - they seemed to have placed all the tableware on the low roof.

Breakfast is milk mixed with wheat flour, with bread dipped in honey and olive oil.

As a thank you and reward for guiding us through the desert, we agreed to volunteer for Abdul’s camp in the desert. Adrien was responsible for taking photos of the camp, Oumayma, who had worked in the marketing industry, wrote a proposal for them to improve sustainable tourism, and I used my architectural education and permaculture design experience to plan a new camp they were going to build on a vacant land.

After measuring the construction land, Abdul took us to another place to work and draw the blueprints - after all, there was no water or shade in the planned land. Sitting in the assembled car he drove, we saw that the car window glass looked precarious and seemed to be about to break if touched.

The oasis was even more secluded than we thought, surrounded by streams and lush palm trees, the desert heat seemed nonexistent here (please look for this clip in the video). Although many families rested here for this reason, the spring water was not cool enough to make people want to swim in it.

Lunch in the oasis, we shared a few lamb legs among the 5 of us. I drew on my iPad until it ran out of battery.

We spent another long wait in the oasis. Abdul had no intention of leaving and fell asleep without knowing when. We were too embarrassed to leave without permission, so we started playing English word chain games out of boredom. The interesting thing was that the three people who played this game were not native English speakers.

After Abdul woke up, he slowly made another pot of tea and finally took us out of the oasis.

Semi-nomadic families without adult males

At night, we came to a settlement in the canyon and lived there.

The whole village was shrouded in darkness. We climbed the boulders with flashlights and saw a family that now lives in Nouadhibou and returns to the desert for nomadic summers. There was only the mother, the boy, the girl and the grandmother, but no adult male was seen; I guess he stayed at home in the city.

Mauritania was a latecomer to urbanization; the capital, Nouakchott, was little more than a quiet fishing village in 1958. After Mauritania gained independence from France in 1960, Nouakchott was chosen as the capital and has undergone a phenomenal urbanization process.

The nomadic people who once roamed the desert are now experiencing a change in their lifestyle. The wave of modernization has swept across the country, and some people have chosen the prosperity of the city, leaving behind vacant houses.

Despite this, nomadic life is still rooted in people's hearts. Many people have begun to try a new lifestyle - half nomadic and half settled, just like this family. Now is the season for the date harvest, and this family returns to the desert to pick dates to sell in the city.

Interestingly, in nomadic culture, people believe that the sun and wind can remove all filth and keep the earth in its purest state. Therefore, they have formed a habit of leaving waste in the desert at will, believing that nature will help clean it up. Of course, the items people used in the past were all degradable natural materials, but now it is different.

Many young people living in Mauritanian cities are now "second-generation urbanites", but most are still nomads who migrated from desert villages. Today, this desert nomadic lifestyle engraved in the bones of Mauritanians has led to serious environmental problems - plastic garbage can be seen everywhere on the streets, and few people have the habit of cleaning and sweeping. This behavior inherited from nomadic culture has caused significant health risks in the urban environment.

But in the desert, we really don't see any traces of trash, although we know that a lot of plastic trash is just buried under the sand dunes.

The sister who was in charge of preparing dinner got along very well with Oumayma. Under the light of the flashlight, the two happily cut onions, carrots, and eggplants, and watched the pot bubbling on the gas stove.

I watched the little boy's skillful tea-making skills patiently as he made pot after pot of Maota tea for everyone.

Another sister is picking dates and gassoul from the palm branches she has gathered. In Mauritania, the reddish fruit from the same palm tree as dates is called "ghassoul" or "gassoul". The fruit is commonly known as the fruit of the date palm and is smaller and reddish in color compared to the well-known date.

Unlike dates, which are extremely sweet, gassoul is sweet at first, but then the astringency sets in. You will feel dry in the mouth after eating dates and gassoul.

After the main course, a large family gathered with us. Tonight, there were no spoons, so we all ate couscous with our hands, the traditional nomadic way. After grabbing a fistful of couscous, we twisted it in the palm of our hands a few times like we would knead a rice ball, squeezed it hard, kneaded it into a ball, and ate it in one bite. Unfortunately, we were new to this method and didn't know how to knead it well, so the couscous was scattered all over the floor. What's more, everyone had a ruthless hand, and I rolled on the floor because of the burn.

After dinner, everyone gathered in a small square in the center of the village, spread out blankets and started playing games with Sig sticks (described later). Since it was the first day of my period, I was so sleepy that I actually fell asleep on the edge of the blanket while everyone in the village was talking and laughing loudly.

At two o'clock in the middle of the night, I suddenly woke up from my sleep. It was pitch black around me, with only the whistling of the wind across the sand and the low thunder in the clouds. I turned on the headlight and looked around. There was no one. The big carpet that could accommodate the whole village was rolled up next to me. I don't know who left a mattress for me (please look for this clip in the video).

"No way, everyone is sleeping somewhere else, leaving me alone in the middle of a circle of empty houses?" I shuddered in my heart, "Am I being sacrificed? Am I a sacrifice for rain?"

Although I was used to sleeping in the wild without a blanket, I still wanted to sleep in a less conspicuous place. I stood up and looked for where everyone was sleeping.

Feeling my way along the stones in the dark, I found Adrien and Adbul sleeping next to the car, and Oumayma and the girls on the carpet where we had dinner. But tonight the men and women slept separately. Was it to accommodate me as a non-binary person, so that I could have a large empty square to myself?

Just when I was wondering whether to go back to the square to sleep, it actually started to rain. Oh my god, it's raining in the desert! It seems that my sacrifice really came in handy!

Seeing Adbul drowsily rolling up the carpet and moving it into a larger house next to the square, I also moved my mattress into that room and continued to sleep until dawn.

Nomadic housing as a shared resource

I seemed to be the first one to wake up in the settlement. In the morning, I walked through the empty houses in the canyon, recalling what Abdul told us.

In the vast desert of Mauritania, nomads' concept of housing is very different from that in cities.

The government has an open attitude towards housing construction in desert areas, and local residents can freely choose where to build their homes. There is no cumbersome property rights certification, nor does it require complicated approval procedures. The builder has the right to live there naturally after putting in the work and effort. However, this ownership is fluid and open: when the owner of the house nomadically moves to another place, if other people move into the vacant house, they will have the right to live there by default. However, if the owner of the house comes back, the residents need to move out.

Perhaps it is due to the open-minded nature of nomadic people, or the influence of Islamic beliefs, or perhaps because there are too many vacant houses left in the desert during the semi-settled era. This unique nomadic living culture rarely causes disputes - people generally believe that it is not worth arguing over a residence.

In this vast desert, houses are not a symbol of private property, but a shared resource, demonstrating a survival wisdom that transcends modern concepts of property rights.

At some point, a woman woke up to milk her goats, and then a few children appeared in the settlement. They looked at me curiously as I wandered around in the canyon.

Oumayma also woke up. It turned out that she and her sister did not go into the house to avoid the rain in the middle of the night.

The girl woke up and played with us. She was not shy at all and took me around the village confidently and cleverly.

Before leaving, my sister was particularly reluctant to leave Oumayma: they had established a deep friendship in just one night. After countless hugs, the whole family held our hands and watched us leave the canyon.

The people of Mauritania are experiencing a choice of lifestyle between desert nomadism and urban settlement. However, in the vast desert, there are still many families who stick to the traditional nomadic life.

"I freely gallop in the desert every day, in the wilderness or in a village, spread a carpet, smoke a cigarette, drink a cup of tea, and fall asleep looking at the stars. This is a lifestyle I don't want to change." Abdul told us. They are deeply attached to this free sky and continue the life wisdom of their ancestors among the undulating sand dunes. For these families, nomadism is not only a way of survival, but also a spiritual sustenance that is difficult to give up. And the family we are going to visit tomorrow is such a family.

(To be continued)

(Quiet shout-out, welcome to the sharing session on the evening of October 23~ Details: What the tribes taught me: Singing in a complex and turbulent reality... )