Tuareg

The sun was already high in the sky by the time he had reached the edge of the salt lake and the ground was getting hotter, forcing the mosquitoes to seek refuge under the stones and bushes.

He stopped and looked across at the white expanse that glistened like a mirror some twenty meters below his feet. The white of the salt threw the harsh light back aggressively and even though he was accustomed to the blinding light of the desert sands, this was a different kind of glare that hurt his eyes and forced him to squint as it almost burnt his pupils.

He looked for a big stone and threw it in using both hands and waited as it sunk to the bottom. As he had expected the stone broke up the crust that had been dried by the sun on impact and almost immediately afterwards a creamy, brown liquid filled up the hole.

He carried on throwing stones onto it, each time a little further away, until they started to bounce off the surface without piercing it. He then leaned over the bank carefully and looked for areas that might be damp. He stayed there studying the edge of the saltpan meticulously for some time, trying to work out which bit would be the safest to climb down on to.

Once he was totally sure that he had chosen the correct spot, he made the camel get down on to its knees, put three handfuls of barley in front of him, set up camp and went straight to sleep.

Four hours later, as the sun began its timid descent, he opened his eyes as if an alarm clock had gone off suddenly at his side.

A few minutes later he was up and standing firmly on the camel’s back, surveying the desert behind him. This time he did not make out any column of smoke rising into the air, but he knew that the heavy gravel in the erg would remain undisturbed as the vehicles struggled slowly through that rocky terrain.

He stayed there watching patiently and his patience was rewarded as soon enough he saw a sun’s ray reflected off a metal object that was, he calculated, still very far away. He guessed it would take them about six hours to reach his current location.

He jumped down and took the animal’s halter, despite his grunts of protest and led him to the edge of the saltpan, where they climbed down very carefully, step by step, paying attention so as not to fall, but also watching every stone and slab of rock with caution, because he knew that hidden underneath them were thousands of scorpion nests.

He let out a sigh of relief as he reached the bottom, then stopped and studied the crust that was some four meters away from him. He went over to it and tested it with his foot. It seemed hard enough so he let the halter out as much as possible, tying the end of it round his wrist, aware that if he were to sink, the camel would pull him to safety.

He felt the first mosquito bite his ankle. The heat was diminishing with the setting sun and soon the place would become unbearable.

He started to walk on it and the salt crust creaked under his weight as bits and pieces sunk beneath him, but it held from giving way completely.

The mehari followed him obediently, but after four meters it smelt danger and stopped indecisively, bellowing angrily, clearly reluctant to cross the never-ending expanse of salt that lay before them, with not a bush in sight.

‘Come on you stupid creature!’ he growled.

‘Don’t stop here!’

The animal bellowed once more, but a sharp tug and a few curses soon had it moving again. They walked for another ten meters and the animal seemed to calm down as the crust hardened and they were firm of foot once again.

They carried on walking slowly, always towards the setting sun. When night fell he mounted the camel, aware that he would not stray from their route now. He fell asleep there, curled up on the high seat, swaying around like a ship on a stormy sea, but as safe and happy as he would have been were he asleep under the ceiling of his jaima, next to Laila.

It was the quietest of nights. The wind did not howl, the camel’s padded feet made no sound as they stepped across the salt flat and there were no hyenas or jackals howling for their prey to break the silence out there in the middle of the sebhka. The moon rose, full, bright and clean, making the endless plain sparkle with a million silvery mirrors, as the mehari and its rider glided over it, like an unreal and ghostly apparition that would appear out of nowhere only to disappear back into the night again. There was surely not another human being more alone in the world at that moment than the Targui, whose image, crossing the saltpan in the thick of night, was one of utter solitude.