It’s not over until the fat lady sings… or you commit espionage. Its official: we’re not the three musketeers – we’re the three a-holes. We committed a big no-no. I hate to even admit it, as it was so incredibly inconsiderate, but I can assure you we meant no harm.
We thought it would be amusing to record our next discussion with Ahmed regarding upcoming travel plans. We just wanted a little memento – something to remind us of our constant struggles. Looking back, it was a stupid idea. Very stupid. If I could go back in time and change things, I would, but unfortunately it’s never that easy. Oh what I would do if it was…
On our hands and knees, the three of us scoured over a map while discussing our options. Once we were all in agreement, a camera was setup, and I went to fetch Ahmed. The four of us sat in a circle surrounding the map, but Ahmed noticed the camera immediately and went ballistic without letting us explain.
He’s a little guy, but when he’s upset, he might as well be a ten ton gorilla, huffing and puffing, and beating his chest. I had visions of him whipping out an AK and going to town – who knows what he keeps underneath that blue draw of his. He could hide an entire village and you wouldn’t have a clue.
He had every right to be upset, but his display of distrust was so completely over the top. He was practically spewing piss and vinegar, as he went off in French about espionage and other spy related things. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he had something to hide. Tour operator by day, who knows by night? After all, anything is possible.
We apologized over and over again, but he wanted none of it. We could have easily brought up his disrespectful actions, but alas, two wrongs don’t make a right — something I know very well. It was painfully obvious that our relationship was over. Our dreams of continuing to Tichit were gone – best to sever ties before we’re digging our own graves. So, with that in mind, we ended the conversation with a single word: Nouakchott.
Needless to say, we all slept with one eye open. The next morning, we said our goodbyes to Joris, as he decided to stay for another night, before attempting to hitchhike South. It took all day to reach our final destination, but by the time we arrived in Nouackhott, Ahmed was singing a different tune. Apparently he felt bad for the many hiccups we experienced along the way. He blamed it all on miscommunication due to the language barrier, which was a cop out, but we didn’t have the energy or desire to set him straight. We had our fill… and then some.
