She Says

After 58 nights in our tent, something was bound to break at sometime.  As we were packing up, one of our 3 rods cracked and poked through the fabric.  It is still functional and should still last for a while but it may need to officially be retired after this trip.  We have enjoyed watching the pelicans, storks, and ospreys at the national park.  We were directed by the staff of the hotel at the national park for a more direct route to Mauritania.  We arrived to the Rosso ferry quickly but the chaos started immediately as we pulled in.  One guy starts attempting to direct the car where to go while another steps up to Peta’s side (which would be the driver’s side except for those on the British system) and yelling at us that we can’t go this way, it is prohibited and we must line up behind the trucks.  These trucks are shipping trucks mind you and looked as though they have been there for days.  We ignored both of those guys and pulled up to the immigration building.  Once again they were puzzled by Peta’s South African passport, as had been the case at several other crossings.  The officers have a list of countries that they require visas to enter, South Africa is not on the list but they never seem to believe it.  So we wait a while until the officer is able to confirm all of this, despite the fact that she has already entered Senegal twice with no visa, so exiting should be no problem…but that doesn’t matter I suppose.  Eventually it was all sorted and we were off to the next step.

After driving down the street to the ferry terminal we were approached as usual by the young guys who are always filled with stories, demands, and are allegedly there to offer assistance (although who their services will assist is another matter).  The bumsters (as they were called in the Gambia) state all of the documents that we will need and we muster them all up.  Of course, they want to carry them, which I refused and brought them to the window myself.  It isn’t that they would steal our documents necessarily but they will demand payment for their services.  I’d rather stand up and walk it myself and not pay these guys an exorbitant fee.  I get to the customs window and the officer tries to tell me that the carnet is no good for Senegal.  Obviously false since we have already entered twice and are actually leaving.  After telling him this then the carnet was perfectly acceptable and he stamped us out.

The next challenge was to find out how much this ferry should cost and who actually works there, not like there are any uniforms or id tags.  The bumsters were saying that we need to pay 22,000 CFA or 50 USD, this seemed too high.  I had asked one car that was boarding how much they paid and they replied 4,000 ougiyas, or 15 USD. I chased down the cop who had our documents and asked him who we should pay.  He told me that we pay on the other side.  So we now know not to pay attention to the bumsters and just wait until we actually cross to the Mauritanian side.

The man who accompanied us while we walked our papers was now demanding his payment for his services.  He asked “all my work, is that supposed to be for free?” trying to shame me into paying.  In the sweetest voice I could muster I replied, “I would be happy to help you for free and I can see that you are a very good person…a kind person (he is nodding in agreement), such a kind person wouldn’t ask for money for helping someone”.  He stammered and ran off only to come back shortly after, this time I gave him 1,000 CFA and told him that he was lucky to get that and only got it because he is a good man; which he was compared to the other crooks walking around.

Finally the ferry was in sight and approaching the dock.  A new guy now comes up to us and demands 5,000 CFA to get on the ferry.  I got curt and retorted, “ok, but who are you? Every person here tells us that we need to pay them and I still don’t know who works here.  I don’t trust anyone here”.  He leaves and returns shortly making the same demand and my reply is the same.  Finally we see him directing cars to load on the ferry and it was now clear that he is actually involved.  My refusal to initially pay anyone off led to us being overlooked for being loaded on to the first ferry.  There was only room for one or two more cars on what is now the last ferry of the day.  We gave him the money and within seconds we were on board.  The crossing is a ridiculous 15 minutes or so despite the several hours of evading extortion and bribery.  We reached the Mauritanian side only to start the fun all over again.  Some bumsters even followed us on the ferry to “assist” us on the other side also.

While on the ferry, Mauritanian officials collected the passports and driver’s license.  As soon as we were on shore, Bobby and I dashed off to find the office where our documents were being held.  We find the papers and greet “Salaam alykum” all around.  First guy inspects the carnet, stamps it, 5,000 CFA, DONE!  Next room views our papers, no money needed.  Run downstairs and the immigration tells us that it will be 10,000 CFA to process our passports BUT they are closing now until 3pm and need to wait until then.  A man claiming to work for the ferry tells me I need to go to another office, this one was the actual office for the ferry.  I was informed that I needed to pay for our ferry tickets now which will be another 10,000 CFA (the cop had informed me to pay on this side but we couldn’t get on board without the 5,000 CFA to the loader).  We don’t have any ougiyas at this point because all of the change bureaus are closed for lunch.  The officer is coaxing me to make the payment because I was just standing there dumbfounded.  I told him “Look, you say it will be 10,000 CFA for our passports, now this ferry ticket is another 10,000 CFA.  It is cheaper in ougiyas but we can’t get any because everyone is closed and I haven’t got anything other than this (showed my 10,000 CFA)”.  “Fine, just give it to him; you pay no more”.  I gladly forked over the 10,000 CFA note and even got a receipt and 500 ougiyas change!  The Mauritanian officer told me we will pay no more and to come back at 3pm to collect our passports but we must give him a good cadeau.  A bottle of Coca Cola worked.

We returned to collect our passports, a new officer arrived, not the one we gave the drink to.  He scribbled in our passports and asked us who we will vote for and we told him Obama.  The official informed that it is a bad idea to pull troops out and I said that I will make a note of that.  We were then whisked off to finally get our stamps so we can get the hell out of this place and the officer then asks me for 500 ougiyas. UG!!  I ran back to the car to get the sorry looking ougiya bill that I was given as change.  I was supposed to contest paying more but at this point I didn’t care and gave him the money, grabbed our documents and the receipt and ran as fast as I could to the car so we could bolt out of there before anymore payments are requested.  I literally had to push bumsters away from the car just in order to open the door to get in the car.  We got to the gate and one of the punk bumsters insists that he is customs (in an Emporio Armani logo t-shirt) and said that we didn’t complete the formalities on the Senegalese side and need to go back across.  David tells him “Piss off!” and drives past him.  We rush to the gate and find it closed.  Bumsters begin to gather once again.  I get out with our passports and receipts to find an official to let us out and I literally stepped out of the car onto the feet of one of the bumsters and stumble into him.  I unintelligibly start to rant at him but give up quickly since freedom is just a few feet away.  There were a few uniformed officers by the gate who Bobby and I approach and as if a miracle, the gates finally open.  Bobby and I literally race across the fence on foot with David and Peta following in the car.

We pulled into a Total gas station just near the border to ask about banks and everyone is asking us to change money.  Apparently it is everyone’s hobby in this country.  We got our money and carried on to Nouakchott.  There were several checkpoints along the way but they were all extremely nice and there wasn’t a single problem.  The desert began immediately; it is amazing how different the landscape can be after only traveling a short distance.  There were rolling dunes and khaima tents as houses.  Nouakchott was thankfully much more tranquil than Dakar and we found our auberge easily.  It was like a sanctuary after such a stressful day.  There were khaima tents on the roof for us to sleep in, wifi, the Belgian owner cooked us a marvelous dinner, and there was a delicious breeze.  It was the perfect reward for overcoming such a trying day.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 29th, 2008 at 7:04 am and is filed under Mauritania. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.