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.
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.
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.
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.
Sometimes, a gal's just got to get away from wedding madness and just hang with the guys.
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.
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 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.
The caravan continues, new traditions beckon, more firsts await.
© 2026 Saharan Susurrus