Photographs by Rosemary

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We were between the salt mines of Taodenni and Tombouctou when we saw this Touareg man and his camel caravan. He ran about 1/2 mile in order to talk to our guide, Ali, who is widely respected among the caravan men for his knowledge of the desert and the work of the caravans. Here he searches the distance for his caravan which did not stop as he spoke to us. He would have to run after them but not before kneeling in the sand to say his prayers. He does not veil himself because at this moment, he is only with men who rank below him socially. When he spoke to Ali, he covered his mouth and nose.A Fulani woman on market day at a border town between Mali and Mauritania. She carries a calabash and a woven basket on her head. The Fulani women take pride in carving the calabash which they use to store and serve food. You can see the blue tatoo on her chin and lips which is thought to make her more beautiful. The basket is similar to the sea island baskets woven to this day in the area near Charleston, South Carolina.A young Fulani man. The men of this tribe are really peacocks as this portrait shows.A young Touareg boy helps to water the camels at a well in the Sahara. Although he is not very old, he is as responsible for his share of the work as any man in the caravan.Fulani men at the market on the border of Mali and Mauritania. The one in the red chech (turban) has a sweet expression, doesn't he? These young men are like young men anywhere, enjoying each other's company while the girls, women and older men carry on the business of market day.This is the desert village of Tjeka, Mauritania. This man is well dressed; he wears the typical indigo blue gandoura. He sits on the main street of the town and ponders his next move. The streets are made of dirt and litered with trash. Dust and heat assaulted us as we wandered through the market. The people of Tjeka kept to the shade and lay stretched out unless a customer approached them.A rare sight: a Fulani caravan of bullocks with howdahs carrying the womenfolk and children. Our guide, Alberto Nicheli, who has lived in Africa for more than 25 years had never seen this type of caravan before.The caravan is led by the man on the left front. His posture is upright and proud. From childhood, the people of Africa carry head loads and develop beautiful carriage.The caravan did not slow, nor did anyone speak to our men. They passed us in silence, our eyes on them, their eyes on us. Only the children seemed to acknowledge that we were there.A young Fulani woman holds her baby in the market place. The women wore the coin headresses. Most of them had not seen photographers before and they were not shy. The Italian men in our group flirted with the young girls and the girls flirted back. They enjoyed being admired.The market place in Tjeka. Here you see the women who have come to sell their onions and other vegetables lying in the shade of their tent. There was not much variety offered, squash, tomatoes, onions. The women were not unfriendly but did not seem to want to converse with us.A Fulani matron appears shy. Her lips were tattooed a bright blue and she was quite pretty.A modern Fulani girl who works in the Grand Marche in Bamako, Mali. She, too, has the blue lip tattoo. She wears modern clothing but keeps her head covered per Islamic custom.These men and one women were digging up salt deposits in the desert. The salt was not of good quality, but could be used for animals. While the men spoke to the men who worked for Alberto Nicheli of Transafrica, the woman never let up digging. She chopped away with her staff while the men enjoyed themselves.We met this couple soon after entering Mauritania. They are married although he is old enough to be her father. Their camp was a mile or so from where we camped for the night. She came to our camp first and later her husband came striding in looking for his beautiful young wife. She came to me and asked me in sigh language for some medicine for a headache. This is a common request from people who live in such desolation. They may not have a headache that day, but sooner or later they will and they have no access for aspirin or similar. I gave her some Mentos as well and she took them back to her tent to give to her children. She held my hand and called me 'Sadeeka' which means friend. So of course, I gave her the candy which I had been saving for my own dry mouth.Here is the woman who never stopped digging for salt while the men with her took time off to chat with our drivers and cooks. She never looked up. She may have been a slave as slavery is still practiced in Mauritania and other desert areas.The end of Ramadan and the men and women of Tjeka, Mauritania celebrate the end of the fast. From daylight to nightime, it is not allowed to eat or drink during Ramadan. This is really a penance during the long hot days.Near the border of Mali and Mauritania. A woman carrying a headload walks beneath a huge Baobab tree.
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We were between the salt mines of Taodenni and Tombouctou when we saw this Touareg man and his camel caravan. He ran about 1/2 mile in order to talk to our guide, Ali, who is widely respected among the caravan men for his knowledge of the desert and the work of the caravans. Here he searches the distance for his caravan which did not stop as he spoke to us. He would have to run after them but not before kneeling in the sand to say his prayers. He does not veil himself because at this moment, he is only with men who rank below him socially. When he spoke to Ali, he covered his mouth and nose.



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