Fulani Tribe Move Camp
Mauritania 2005…near the border with Mali
A Fulani caravan of bullocks carrying howdahs traveled toward us. The white tent-like coverings of the howdahs gleaming in the bright sun. Roughly thirty bullocks stolidly plodded west loaded with the tribe’s possessions: carved wooden bedsteads, sacks of grain, jerry cans of water and the Fulani themselves.
The Fulani did not acknowledge us as they passed. The adults looked straight ahead but the children cast fearful glances our way. The only sounds were the wind whipping through the brush, camera shutters clicking and the soft tread of the bullocks crunching over sandy soil. Usually an encounter like this would entail some greeting, followed by a request for cigarettes, medication for headache or just an exchange of the “news”.
To the Fulani, we were invisible.
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