All-nighter with Nassirou

I was sitting there by the side of the road considering how I might cut down the height of the nubs on this fat tire so that my wheel would fit, when all that gris-gris I bought in Agadez kicked in and a very big, very empty, lots of room for the bike Orange truck pulled up, the first in a very long time. Nassirou Aboubacar popped his head out of the window and said something like “What ya doin”? I explained my problem, and he offered me a ride to Abalak. I accepted.

People on the road

I had a steel frame for exactly this reason: any old welding shop on earth could fix it if necessary. Unfortunately, nothing doing in Abalak: weekend, off visiting someone, might be back in a few days, I have no idea what because my French is…poor. No bike shop to buy a different tire either. I bought eight very cold coca-colas and we headed for Tahoua. It got dark. I looked at Nassirou, he looked at me, and we decided I would stick with him until Konni.

People on the road

We got to Konni at 1am. The streets were totally alive with people and music and traffic of all sorts, but it felt like a village. I asked if we shouldn’t grab some food (my treat), but he said: “later”. I asked if he was spending the night where we were parked and he said: “Autre cote”.

People on the road

Nassirou got on the cell phone and made 10 or 12 calls. After 20 minutes a man pulled up on a motor scooter and held a brief discussion before taking off. More phone calls and another 20 minutes went by before two guys rolled a barrel up to the truck. Two other guys brought pails. While Nassirou stood in the shadow of the truck counting a huge wad of cash, these four guys filled the truck up with contraband diesel using the pails. They were laughing and joking and it didn’t take long, with Nassirou paying off the guy on the motor scooter and signaling that now, it was time for dinner. All “carburante” comes from Nigeria, the official and the unofficial kind, but there is a 17,000 CFA difference in price between a barrel of either. I asked Nassirou if the quality was the same, and he shrugged to say “The truck runs”. Of course it isn’t his truck.

We went to diner in a big hut with wrestling on the television and picnic tables for our convenience. I told Nassirou I would have whatever he was having (gulp!), and that turned out to be couscous with a side of meat and broth. I didn’t ask what kind of meat. Water and coca-cola and Nescafe came to the table in the hands of a woman who acted like she had an appointment elsewhere. I drank it all. I ate it all. I wasn’t going to do this just a little bit, and it turned out to be just fine.

I slipped Nassirou 5,000 CFA, he paid for dinner, he handed me back 2,500 CFA, and we headed back to the truck. When he didn’t stop the truck at the other side of town I asked Nassirou where exactly we were going. He said “Dosso”. I didn’t know where that was and my maps were in the back of the truck, but he knew I was headed for Cotonou so I wasn’t concerned.

We didn’t talk much. I found out he works for a “patron” who has three trucks, that he isn’t married but has a “copine” and a 7 year old son with an absolutely fabulous name I’m frustrated to have forgotton, that he travels all over West Africa delivering just about anything, and that his next delivery was to Cotonou. We drove all night, through towns that smelled of onions with streets stacked row upon row for hundreds of meters with sacks waiting for transport, through areas that smelled strongly of flowers, and through a countryside I could only hear and smell and feel. My contribution amounted to asking pertinent and engaging questions about once an hour just to be sure he was still awake. “Ca va”? “Oui, ca va”. “Tu veut du l’eau”? “Non”. “Tu dorme dans les hotels pendant une voyage”? “Non, pas des hotels. Sur le camion! C’est Afrique”!

Dosso

We arrived in Dosso as the first feeble glow of dawn (or was it the city lights?) suggested a horizon, we parked in an abandoned Texaco station, I was offered a cot under the truck, and we went to sleep. That was my all-nighter with Nassirou.

All-nighter with Nassirou

Dosso, Niger