When I started searching for my trip to Mauritania a few months ago, my eyes fell on the name “No Man’s Land“. I couldn’t understand exactly what this place was, since it can’t be found on a map or any official website. Looking for more information, I discovered that in order to go from Morocco to Mauritania, I had to cross a piece of desert about 5 km long, which does not belong to any country, it has no permanent residents and it is a huge minefield. Okay, theoretically, that would be easy to do by bus.
My journey would start from Dakhla, a small coastal town in the Western Sahara. Using a local bus of the Moroccan company “Supratours”, I would reach the border in the village of Guerguerat. At that point, I would change buses to enter Mauritania by their own local van of the company “El Moussavir”. I couldn’t find any information on how I was going to cross “No Man’s Land” for the Mauritanian border, so I just left it to luck. The only information I could find in various forums was that on this piece of land there are no laws, no villages, nothing at all. Only some trapped migrants from African countries who cannot either enter Morocco, or return to their countries. Moreover, there are no roads, only desert and buried mines. When you travel by your own vehicle, you have to follow the locals who know exactly the safe route, unless you want to sink into the soft sand or hit a mine. Under those circumstances, it is better not to get stuck there during the night. Something that almost happened in my case…
We departed from Dakhla by the local bus at 8.00am, and after crossing the entire southern coastal part of the Western Sahara, we arrived in the small, depressing village of Guerguerat. A village with few houses, a miserable hotel on the main street, a gas station, some small shops and many street vendors. Well, welcome to the last point of Morocco! We got off the bus, passed the relevant border controls and got out of the country. And now, what?
“Now you are in No Man’s Land, you have to go over there, can you see the Mauritanian border? Let me take you”, someone told us.
Most of the passengers of the Moroccan bus got into private cars and left. Me, and an elderly French couple, had no idea what we were going to do. I told that man we had already tickets for the Mauritanian bus and he showed us where we would have to wait for it. The time was almost 15.00 hrs, it was very hot and the desert dust made the landscape dull and the sky grey. The spot we had to wait for the bus was paved. There were only cars around, most of them running as taxis to transport passengers to the opposite side. As for the tourists, we were just a few. The rest of the people were local Moroccans and Mauritanians, or immigrants from Algeria, Senegal, Tunisia and Mali. Those who were not taxi drivers, were selling soft drinks, water, food, clothes, sim cards and currency. There were no houses or buildings around; who knows where all those people were staying after sunset.
The van arrived half an hour later. We gave our tickets, loaded our luggage and departed for Mauritania. The only foreigners, me and the French couple… “Goodbye Morocco, see you again in two weeks!”
Τhe people who are stuck between Morocco and Mauritania try to make some money by selling food, sim cards and transfer services to the next border
Waiting for the bus to Mauritania
Riding the local Mauritanian bus to the border
The road was paved only for a few meters more. After that, there was nothing but the desert! Suddenly, I felt like I was in the sci-fi movie “Mad Max”! If you have seen it, you know exactly what I mean while looking at the following photos. This part of the Sahara desert was a vast car graveyard and an endless minefield!
The wild and arid landscape looked like coming out of a war zone: garbage everywhere, blown up and overturned cars, thrown car tires all around the place, half-demolished stone houses.
The van was running like crazy and the driver hadn’t left a single stone without stepping on! “The desert sand is soft, they told us, and if the vehicle sinks it is hard to take it out, so everyone tries to drive on rocks and not straight up the sand.” This area has been a battleground for years between the Moroccans and the desert Sahrawi tribe. Since then, buried mines have been left and at times, a tourist loses his life trying to make a road trip to West Africa. I tried to take as many photos as I could through the dark window of the van, although it was quite difficult due to the bumpy ride, as well. 15 minutes later, while arriving at the border that looked like a fortress in the middle of nowhere, I had to hide the camera, as we were entering a military zone.
Car wrecks all over the place, as the No Man’s land is an endless landmine field
The Mauritanian borders in the middle of nowhere
At the entrance, we had to wait in line, since a doctor had to check our temperature because of the coronavirus outbreak. Oh, yes, the first case of coronavirus emerged in Mauritania the previous day, and the locals were totally upset. The Africans could enter immediately, however, there was an issue with the European citizens. Although we had already given our passports to the bus driver in order for the authorities to issue our visas, they had not approved our entry yet, even though our temperature was normal. So while the rest of them were waiting in front of the door, I took a little walk around for pictures.
The place though, wasn’t picturesque at all: garbage and old electrical appliances scattered around and cars, wrecks, abandoned new ones, others overturned by explosions and others buried under the desert.
A huge dump and the Moroccan outpost faded in the background. The atmosphere became even stuffier, when a sudden sandstorm arose and the dust forced me to wear the typical blue turban of the desert people, I had bought from Marrakech.
After almost 2 hours of waiting, we were transferred to the computer room for the visa. Since we had already given the whole schedule of our trip in every detail, the places we were about to visit, the hotels we were going to stay and paid for the visa, it was time to give our fingerprints. While I was sitting in front of the clerk issuing my visa, a military man came in, starting an intense conversation with the French couple.
Although I don’t speak French fluently, I understood every single word: they should stay quarantined for 14 days in their first destination or return to Morocco right away!!! The French grabbed their passports and the visa money and left.
– But, I’m not French, what am I supposed to do?
– We know you’re from Greece, you’re going to be quarantined for a month, he replied smiling…
The truth is that in general the military men were more abrupt to the French, while they were kidding me. Apparently, it wasn’t the right time for humor, so following my frightened face he replied:
– You will arrive to Nouakchott and the persons in charge will tell you what you’re going to do there.
Nouakchott is the capital of Mauritania, my first destination, 500km from the border I was standing at that moment. The visa costed 55€ and the time had already passed.
– So, I’m going to pay for the visa, ride for 500km more to get to the capital at 1:00 p.m. and tomorrow I might stay in quarantine or go back to Morocco? Can’t you give me more information now?
– We are not in change for Nouakchott, you might be quarantined or maybe not! You probably have to stay in your room for 14 days because you are from Europe. Otherwise, yes, you will have to go back to Morocco! These are the instructions of our government. What do you want to do?
Welcome to Mauritania
What I was supposed to do, like I had another choice! I took my passport, the visa money and left. Within seconds, my trip to Mauritania was over before it even began!
So I went outside, took my stuff off the bus and proceeded to the exit. The two French were fighting, as they had already started looking for a way back to Morocco. However, there was no other bus transfer for that day and the taxis had already stopped. The Moroccan border was about to close in 30’, and we were just standing outside the Mauritanian outpost, trapped in No Man’s Land, wondering where we would sleep at night! Suddenly, my favorite adventure movie started to look like a horror one…
The private cars that had just returned, were asking for a huge amount of money to take us back: 100€ for 5km without bargain, it was totally crazy! We put in and out our stuff in different cars twice. After a while and lots of discussions with people from the border, someone agreed on 7€. What a great relief, as we would catch up the border of Morocco at the last minute and get out of the desert!
Leaving No Man’s Land behind, being a part of the “Max Max” movie for the last time, I was feeling totally disappointed…. I had never thought I’d go the same route again a few hours instead of two weeks later. At that moment, only one thought was spinning in my mind: how I would spend my time during the next days in Morocco. I had already prepared the backup plan. But when man makes plans, God laughs. That’s what they say, right?
Approaching the Moroccan border, my Moroccan mobile phone started receiving messages and calls. I didn’t pay any attention, as we had to run to get into the country. Lucky us, the doors closed just after our entrance!
The cell phone rang again a few minutes later, so I replied. It was someone from our Greek Embassy in Morocco:
– Where are you? You must leave immediately because today Morocco will close its air borders to Greece! Flights will be cancelled, as they have already been cancelled for many European countries. You’re going to stay stranded here!
– Um, I’m almost 2,000 km far from Marrakech, in the borders of the Western Sahara and Mauritania! I need 3 days to arrive in Marrakech!
– Do your best and we’ll keep in touch…
……………to be continued