Nouakchott too got the one-night treatment.
We took a cab to the “garage” where the bush taxis to the Senegalese border take off from.
I remember it as a regular street somewhere except for the numerous sept-places chasing the customers getting out of cabs.
There were literally station wagons chasing after us our cab slowed down.
Even though it was a sept-place we had to wait to have nine passengers before taking off.
Our driver even took a tenth passenger on, in the form of a moped that ended up on the roof of our ride.
A police officer saw this and chased the car down on foot as the driver and his assistant weaved through people, cars, tires, construction materials, incoming traffic and the gas station toward freedom before resuming the chase for the elusive eighth and ninth passengers.
I love that these dudes are driving around these tore up old cars and yet still trying to make moves like NASCAR drivers.
Fortunately we didn’t get caught and we were able to drive—calmly—for several hours to the Senegalese border through territory that looks just like
Northern Senegal only drier.
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