The Iron Ore Express
by Joanne Lane You can't see it but somewhere in the approaching sand cloud is the longest train in the world and it's 2.5km of wagons. It's impossible to discern anything in the jostle of passengers and rasping dust the train has kicked up as it rolls towards us through the Sahara desert in Mauritania. The 163 wagons pass for what seems an eternity, the train gradually slowing until at last, with a shuddering halt, the two passenger carriages reach the station. Those that have not yet jumped into the passing wagons stake their claim on the last of them while the others mass outside the passenger carriages. There are men in turbans, women in billowing dresses, young children, enormous bundles, rugs, bleating goats and enough pushing and shoving for a rock concert. They all want to board at the same time ... through the same door. I make the mistake of stepping back to take photographs and escape the bedlam and am hopelessly shunted to the end of the queue. It soon becomes clear that many of these people are not embarking. They are husbands, family or friends assisting others to get on but inadvertently adding to the confusion. And I cannot get past them. They also have every reason to panic - the train only stops for a few minutes. A woman in a pink dress finally hauls me into the carriage by seizing my backpack while her husband pushes me by my buttocks from behind. Just as I am launched inside the train lurches violently and we plod off into the heart of the Sahara. The Iron Ore Express shunts people and ore from the desert to the coast on a single-track railway line of 675km. The ore is the bedrock of the Mauritanian economy but the train is just as important to the people, providing a means of transport out of remote communities and access to the outside world. Three trains run daily between the mines in Zouerat to the Atlantic port of Nouadhibou and one of these carries passengers. It is possible to ride for free on the iron ore or pay a few dollars for the 'luxury' of a hard wooden seat in the carriages. These can be hopelessly overcrowded. Once the train picks up speed to a maximum shunt of 50km/hour it also gathers the sand from the desert. Which explains why we could hardly see it until it was right in the station. There is not a single foreigner on the train and only four other women. I am the object of much interest although the men visibly relax when I say I am meeting my 'husband' in a few days time. I sit with the lady in the pink dress share her biscuits and the drool of her one-year-old son. I can only communicate with her by smiles and nods. Outside is frontier country. It's hard to believe this lunar-like landscape was once full of lakes, rivers and vegetation. We pass the odd herd of goats but our only other company is a sandy track that occasionally appears to follow the railway line. 'La Mauritanie', the land of the Moors, claimed independence from its French colonial rulers in 1960. While you can still find baguettes and croissants at the breakfast table and children who will ask "Donnez-moi un cadeau" (give me a present), the Moorish culture is still by far the more dominant. Mauritania is twice as big as France. But three-quarters of it is desert and the population barely reaches that of Paris at only 2.3 million persons. The railway line was built about the same time as independence to take advantage of the sizeable iron-ore deposits in Zouerat. The railway line and the port run close to the disputed territory of Western Sahara and the Polisario Front (inhabitants of the territory) sabotaged it continually until the Mauritanian government renounced their claims to the land in 1970. For this I am grateful as there might have been more than a fine dust blowing through the window right now. The dust is so continuous I soon follow the other passengers example and adjust my scarf into a makeshift turban. Within the first hour a gas burner is produced and tea brewed, the first of many. Biscuits, lollies, gum and babies are passed around communally. Blankets cover the floor where some of the passengers lounge. The rest of us make do on the rattling benches. A ghetto blaster provides a steady stream of the latest Mauritanian, African and even Hindi music until it thankfully jams and two of the men spend hours unreeling the cassette tape and spare our ears from the constant barrage. Just before sunset the train slows and jeeps appear out of nowhere to ferry passengers to unknown destinations in the dunes. Unfortunately my pink robed friend is one of them. She waves to me when I poke my head out of the window. We rattle off again and as the last of the suns rays stream through the window the entire carriage stands to face Mecca, bow and pray. I feel left out sitting alone on my seat and the setting sun is so dramatic I can understand why they are thankful. Night falls and torches are produced. A candle is hung from the ceiling in a cracked plastic bottle. Every drag on a cigarette or pipe lights up the smokers features in the gathering gloom. Tea is brewed again and groups eat by the flickering light. We have another stop at 9pm. Many get off to 'toilette', pray and rest in the sand. Card games, music, conversation, snoring and a crying baby provide accompanying noise to the constant rattle of the carriages when we continue. After 12 hours of travel we slow again as we near Choum at 2am. The carriage comes to life as sleeping bodies are awakened and baggage gathered. Two of the women are heading to Atar and they shepherd me into a waiting jeep with them. The train pulls off into the night to its final destination Zouerat. Despite its lack of comfort I feel sad to see it rattle away. Our journey is not yet over and it's another 4 hours by jeep until we reach Atar along desolate roads, stalling continually. Atar is the real heart of the Sahara and it seems fitting to arrive wrapped in turban and scarfs with the dirt, dust and iron ore of the desert upon us. HOW TO DO IT
Buy tickets at the station before departure. Ask around or look out for someone in a SNIM railway shirt carrying a briefcase. Make sure you buy the ticket before you board the train as you will pay more. Tickets are 1000CFM (2.20 euro) for a carriage seat or 3000 CFM (6.60 euro) for first class. First class seats are limited but allow you access to a smaller room with bunk beds. It does not necessarily assure more comfort. It is free to ride on the iron ore but it can be very cold at night exposed in the wagons and the blowing desert sand and dust make it a dirty trip. You may consider it if you have a sleeping bag. Check the departure times on arrival. The train leaves the Nouadhibou station daily about 3pm. The station is approximately 2km out of town. WHEN TO GO
The winter season from November through to March is the best time to visit Mauritania when the weather is quite pleasant. OTHER THINGS TO SEE
Atar is the starting point for many interesting trips in the Adrar region. To get there leave the train at Choum and get a shared jeep to Atar (4 hours). You can visit the ruins of Azougui, 10km north-west, with a fort and mausoleum of the warrior heroImam Hadrami. There is also the pleasant oasis at Terjit that is only 20km away. If you have more time considering getting to Chinguetti, the seventh holiest city of Islam. You can see the old Foreign Legion fort, a 16th century stone mosque and a Quranic library with 1300 ancient manuscripts. Ouadane is another 140km north-east of here and sits on the edge of the Adrar plateau. It was founded in 1147 by Berbers. BOOK HERE |
