MARATHON TO AGADEZ

The Niger bug bites hard and ohh so sweet

By Saharan Susurrus

January 5^th, 2015

on the pockmarked road again

Not 2 months after putting down a mattress in Mali, I scratched the nomadic itch to explore more of the Sahel.

From across the Atlantic, I had gotten involved with 2 inauguration projects in Agadez, Niger: 1) a first ever marathon (slightly less than half for the first round) and 2) a music festival. Both were being organized by Kel Tamasheq diaspora in Europe, both Nigeriens who wanted to give back to their communities in the name of peace, unity, and a sense of revival to the region, especially the youth.

I couldn't have been more on board. I had been training for the LA marathon, and of course music was the very conduit that had shaken my senses to the core, and why I found myself able to finally call a place Home.

Bus ride from Ouagadougou to Niamey. This was my VIP seating. Don't let it fool you

And the start of the trip from Niamey to Agadez. Nothing starts without tea

family, lost and found

Feeling so tied to a place that you taste sand your mouth, a homeland is however nothing without the family ties, stories, legends, that it comes with. I had not expected to find it in such depth, breadth, girth and mirth.

Bodyguards... of sweetness. What a lucky Tantie I am!

The legend of the Kel Tamasheq people start with Queen Tin Hinan. And I believe we have found her descendant princess

My Nigerien nephew and fellow traveller. He tied on my first "tagelmoust"!

Now THIS is how you ride through the rough tracks to Agadez

agadez, on est ensemble!

The roughly 1,000 km of Niamey-Agadez road (or lack thereof), also known as Uranium Highway, isn't too gentle on the bum, but add the unexpected chill and being flanked by two bobbing heads on both my shoulders, well, you're thrilled when you get to your destination.

Hello brother! So very humbled to meet you! Photo by Tumast

The historic Agadez Mosque, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Tallest adobe structure in the world. Photo by Tumast

wedding whisperer

By this time, from Ouaga to Niamey to Agadez, the fact that every time I arrived in a new city, I was whisked away to a wedding (sometimes bathed and sometimes not) became commonplace to me. But this was the first time I was amid the family preparing the wedding. The matriarch's son was the groom.

I witnessed the various families arriving into town (many along the same route I took); women trying on various bazin and sahari outfits; the gifts of cows and goats being brought in and whisked away; the trail of beet blood in the sand as salads were being prepped. The wedding day started with various cortège visits to the families, each followed by a meal of bread and meat.

I never saw the couple until all the pomp and circumstance was over a few days later. I didn't actually make it to the guitare party itself, as I was anxious for the following day's 6 a.m. marathon call.

Wedding preparations begin... Without the "unseen" women, the show would not go on

More preparations, of the beautification kind. Traditional braids

My Tamasheq teacher for the duration of my Agadez stay, and fellow giggler

These kids of the Sahara know how to take a mean selfie, I couldn't resist

The first of many "cortege" stops, and meals

This "tende" took a beating, quite literally, and had to be retied several times before its retirement

Sometimes, a gal's just got to get away from wedding madness and just hang with the guys.

I had seen many such photos prior to moving to the Sahara region, and finally I have one of my own, with my own escapade cortege!

Random remnants of cotton buds, proving that survival is possible

two by two

More family, more meeting folks after a virtual friendship, more laughs.

In between the games, beauty tips and sightseeing, you learn the subtle ways of humility, connecting with nature, the origins of less is more living.

on your mark!

I was told I was crazy to do this. Well, I was in good company! For a first ever effort, I was terribly impressed with the organisation: the water stations along with way, the ambulance following along, the mayor of Agadez running alongside us (for the first several km, anyway), and the hooplah when we crossed the finish line.

The not too worse-for-wear "after", with a couple of other brave ladies

THIS is how all post-marathons should be celebrated! Boston, LA?!!

One of the many dancers and merry-makers: tradition Kel Tamasheq garb, the dyed "tagelmoust" making them the Blue Men

The culminating event: Festival Jam for Peace. The dancing I could not partake in due to wobbly legs, the youth made up for. There was a sense of electricity in the air. The Kel Tamasheq having long put their brand of music on the international map, they rarely got to see their heroes live.