Day of firsts: first agriculture since entering the desert - millet, golden brown, shimmying in the gentle breeze (no harmattan today – another first), striped stubble left standing, perhaps to reduce wind erosion; first vultures - two birds hunched on a roadside carcass, their shape distinct even from a distance; and our first long-horned cattle, vast herds shepherded by men with the blackest skin we've seen so far.
After so long with our only water coming from below ground, it was a shock to see a huge lake, a vast blue/green body of water edged with a large mud village.
We stopped twice before turning off the asphalt: first to wander through an open-air village market populated by handsome men, women and children. The men wore all manner of dress, the toothy and gummy old men crowned with woven leather Felane hats, the women’s ears distended by multiple giant earrings. It was a kaleidoscope of colours and movement, of market stalls seling fabrics, spices, rubber thongs and other paraphernalia. I snapped close-up photos of stunning faces, again co concentrating more on the people than on the remarkable settings for their lives. I didn't get to the camel and goat market just yards from the market centre. Both visually assaulted and inspired by the whole place.
Our second stop was at a larger market where we found a wider variety of goods for sale, but much less atmosphere than its smaller predecessor and none of the intimacy of lean-to stalls backing onto each other in the more rural setting. Herre were permanent stalls and surrounding buildings.
Here too were our first tropical fruits but neither I nor the shopping team bought any mangoes or pineapples. I did, though, buy a huge bag of delicious chewy dates. Bob and I checked out the fabrics but were unusually restrained.
Turning off the main road then thrust us immediately into rural Niger, the road becoming tracks through hard soil and sand, that sometimes sent us ploughing through millet.
Kel stopped in a tiny village to refit the crankshaft for 4WD and we stepped from the truck into a swarm of children wanting cadeau (presents). Everyone wandered off with cameras and the odd bonbon, Pied Pipers trailing children, some just curious, others shoving their hands in front of our lenses to stop us taking pictures of women or girls who were not objecting at all. Strolled along alleys between house walls and studied the weird mud-and-straw structures we’ve seen so many of over the last few kilometres. These granaries were in two distinct shapes, one more rounded and all elevated off the ground on stones (see diary sketch).
Many of the village children were cross-eyed and lots had trachoma (damage caused by flies sitting directly on the eyes, Vicki told us). All the kids were very dark skinned, none of the paler (query, albino) children we've occasionally seen. We met mostly women and children, and then a few older men deeper in the village.
As we gathered around the truck again Bob used me as a decoy to take some photos. He gave me two bonbons in front of the black swarm and I had the unnerving sensation of being compressed from all sides and my hands being forced open to try and get the lollies. In the end I threw them skywards, ducking and backpedalling as the children scrambled over one another to get the treats.
Leaving the village, we passed the well, surrounded by women carrying large metal buckets. They splashed colour against the sand-hued village walls and Vicki wondered whether they wore bright colours, at least in part, because the surrounding country is so drab.
The road deteriorated and we almost bogged several times, even in four-wheel-drive. Still only a gentle breeze and at last warm in the back of the truck. Vicki lost her cap to a large thorn tree, that also cut her scalp, and Myrta went to her rescue.
We saw many more longhorn cattle before we camped beside a collection of mud storage jars, one with a gaping ceiling hole and strange seeded plants inside. Some of the larger ones had ceiling holes sealed with mud and wire so presumably full. One of three smaller ones contained millet and had a loose cap.
Fascinating place but swarming with flies. I helped make dinner, dodging the flyswat Kelvin wielded, occasionally fishing dead insects from cooking bowls. We still ended up with a sprinkle of dead bodies on the tables.
A beautiful ball of fire - orange through the haze - the sun sank rapidly beside two hills on the horizon, silhouetting thorns.
Smoked pot around the fire with Geoff, Ben, Vicki, and Adri-a long process with no effect on me.
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