The Protectors
Somewhere in the Sahara Desert… 2005
Empty. Sand and sky. Now and then a soft dune as you see here. Sometimes a dune the size of a mountain. It could get boring, sitting in the car mile after mile, drinking water that tasted like the fuel can container it was stored in. (There was an Italian syrup to flavor the water, but one of the Italians hogged it all for himself and then he had the nerve to ask me for a peppermint…he could smell them. I don’t think so!!)
If we saw evidence of another vehicle, we knew it would be smugglers or bandits. Our men, these you see in the photo, would immediately cover their face with their tagelmoust (Touareg turban/veil) and ready their guns. The Sahara is dangerous in many ways. Once, when I spotted a vehicle in the distance, I became frightened, remembering the time when my husband and I were captured by bandits in Niger. I didn’t want to go through that again.
We were the only non-Italians and they were a fussy bunch. They needed to know where the border between Mali and Mauritania was and pestered our guide about it. Finally, he stopped the vehicle, got out and drew a line in the sand. Then he wrote Mali on one side and Mauritania on the other. For some reason this satisfied them and they spent the next ten minutes photographing the line and themselves.