4th December 1985 : Shopping

Absolutely still this morning, very different from last night.

Few trees and not much change in the landscape on our 90km drive to Agadez.

Agadez is another mud town only marginally bigger than Arlit and swirling with dust. The bank had no cash – it was payday yesterday so no DFAs (Central African Francs) to be had. Did a shift as truck guard - the open sides make us vulnerable to hands and nimble bodies - before I managed to change travellers' cheques to Frend Frances cash and a few CFAs. Bob and I landed at a pub, where a large contingent of our group had settled, but then decided to go shopping instead. The dust was extremely unpleasant and photography dodgy because we needed a permit that we didn't have (another cost we were trying to avoid).

The market was disappointing after Arlit and the fabric stalls small. Didn’t find anywhere near the number we liked yesterday. The Tuareg street (a new tourist trap) tested our patience with sellers crowding our every step to try and entice us into a shop or sell us leather pouches, Tuareg knives, silver jewellery and small black carvings. Managed to buy a stranded camel leather cord for my silver Tuareg charm which a Nigerian plaited for me outside the pub and another fixed with the pliers back at camp.

There was no kebab square and not much of a vegetable section. Bob and I shared doughy cakes and a loaf of bread for lunch and bought two lengths of fabric. Our favourite fabric cost far more than we wanted to spend but what we could afford was beautiful if you didn’t compare it with the other. And some pieces didn’t look much hanging up but changed when worn by local women.

Went to the silver shop that Kel had recommended, Mohammed’s, which was filled with beautiful jewellery, but I began to think that I was being greedy buying another piece after what I had. No big earrings so still looking, determined to get a single, large, decorated ring because I want to go home ethnic.

Trucked to an oasis camp where we spent the rest of the day washing, with lines of clothes soon encircling the camp. I hand-washed my sleeping bag with liquid soap, hand soap and my scrubbing brush, which involved numerous trips to and from the swimming pool with buckets of water. Everything dried in a very short time in the wind except a tiny corner of my bag which was still wet by dark, so I dried it off beside the fire.

Hans and I chatted with a bloke from Glasgow who is travelling in a Land Rover with another mate. He was cooking up hot water and Marmite for his sick friend and we got talking about the “real” stuff, vegemite, and his visit to Australia.

Eventually I crashed but didn’t sleep well - perhaps because my sleeping bag was clean!