Sunday, 28 January 2018
After 8.5 hours, we finally reached Ghardaïa. Ghardaïa is
the largest of the five towns (others are Melika, Beni Isguen, Bou Noura and
El-Atteuf) that are often collectively referred to as Ghardaïa. This cluster of
five towns is in the river valley of the Oued M’Zab, in a long valley on the
edge of the Sahara. M’Zab Valley is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. You could opt
to fly here but the flights are usually in the evening and I didn’t want to
travel into the city and return back to the airport to fly out to Ghardaïa and
then make my way into Ghardaïa late at night. Sure it was still dark when we
arrived but dawn was about to break.
We asked the friendly guy if he could recommend or show
us the way to the nearest hotel. I had discussed this with CT before we left
and we agreed we would not make any prior booking. First off, there are not
many hotels listed in booking.com or hotels.com. While the Airbnb shows there
are hosts in Ghardaïa, they are mainly in the other towns and we agreed we
would stay in Ghardaïa as we wanted to be close to the bus stop. Wait, let me
mention briefly about the bus station. I had read bad reviews about the bus
station on Tripadvisor etc. Well, what I saw was not so much a bus station but
more like a compound for buses to park. There are no seats or waiting room that
I could see. There are some bus operator offices at the bus station from where
you can buy tickets to other cities. We also asked if he could help us buy bus
tickets for the following evening to Sétif.
The guy frowned and said the hotels in the area were not
good. Then he seemed to make up his mind and suggested we go to his family home
instead. We refused at first because we were still total strangers and didn’t
feel we should impose but he insisted. I even told him to ring his mum first
and ask her permission but he continued to insist and said as a Muslim, it was
his duty to help fellow Muslims in need. We were so touched by this gesture of
kindness. I mean, would you open your door and offer your house to a couple of
total strangers? I’m sure you would need to think over it for a while but this
guy impulsively offered us and while reluctant to accept, we felt it would be
rude to refuse and we certainly didn’t want to offend any local custom either.
We then introduced ourselves and Faisal (that’s the guy) hailed a cab and we
all got in.
It was a brief ride and we were at his family home in
less than ten minutes. I wanted to pay but the cabbie didn’t speak English and
when Faizal saw this, he waved my offer away. I didn’t want to offend an local
custom further and stopped insisting on paying. The morning was starting to get
bright then and we went in and met his mother (who spoke only Arabic and
French), his sister Widad, his nephew Shaheen who was preparing to go to his
kindergarten, and after a while, his youngest brother, Ibrahim (Widad and
Ibrahim speak good English, just like Faisal). We were so touched and
overwhelmed by the kindness of this family who had two strangers suddenly
thrust upon them and yet they overcame any surprise or suspicion and welcomed
us into their house and lives with open arms and hearts. Shortly after, another
brother came with his wife and son (I can’t recall their names now) and upon
seeing me, exclaimed, ‘Nihao, nihao!’ I laughed out in surprise at this. While
I’m used to being asked if I was from Korea, Japan and of course China, it does
get a little stale after a while (Ibrahim continually teased me throughout my
stay saying I’m from China and calling me Sumaiyya (spelling?) after their
cousin who has slanted eyes).
After breakfast, we excused ourselves and went to bathe.
We were told to go to a room in the upper level so we brought our bags up and
used the room to change and freshen up. When we went down again, Ibrahim took
us by a shared cab to the centre of Ghardaïa. We walked to the market
square then to through the nearby souk and on to shops on the main street. We
also climbed up a hill to a hotel from where we enjoyed a bird’s eye view of
Ghardaïa and Melika. Then we went to Sidi Abaz Monument and spent some time
there.
In the centre of Ghardaïa. The man there is wearing saroual loubia
After that, we walked back to the house for lunch. The
mother or Mama as we called her had prepared cous cous lunch and everyone was
there: Faisal; Widad, back from her hospital job; the brother and sister-in-law
and their son; Mama and Ibrahim of course; and CT and I. Only person absent was
Widad’s son, Shaheen. The family was indeed close knit and we had good fun and
laugh over our meal. Another sister in Laghouat Faisal’s wife back in Algiers
rang in the midst of our lunch to find out about the two visitors from Malaysia.
After afternoon prayers, Faisal took us for a ride around
Ghardaïa then we drove through Beni Isguen before going to a wadi where he
showed us some bir (well) where they draw water from. He then showed us
Bounoura from afar. We returned in the evening.
Beni Isguen
Bounoura
We had a late dinner and after dinner, we walked to an
uncle’s family house nearby. Yes, everyone was excited and curious to meet the
two visitors alright. We came back after 11 p.m. and CT and I slept in the
living room together with Mama.
Monday, 29 January 2018
I woke up at 4 from some noise from the kitchen. As tired
and sleepy as I was, sleep was elusive. I got up after 6 to perform prayers
before heading up to bathe and change. Breakfast was waiting when we went down
again. I asked Mama if she wasn’t eating and she made a gesture to which I
asked, ‘Saum?’ She nodded. OK, so that was why she got up early: to have her
pre-dawn meal.
After breakfast, Faisal drove us to El Atteuf. You need a
guide if you want to visit Beni Isguen and El Atteuf (I’m not sure about Melika
and Bounoura) and we had to wait before the guide arrived. He spoke only French
(and Arabic I’m sure) so Faisal had to act as translator for us. El Atteuf is a
pretty hilly town with narrow corridors. We also saw some local women all covered
up in haik, a head to toe wool wrap that only exposes a single eye (some of the
men meanwhile sport extravagantly pleated baggy trousers called saroual loubia
– I wanted to buy a pair or two for my dad and nephew but didn’t manage to). In
general, you’re not allowed to take pictures of the locals (even in Algiers,
Nadjib warned me of this, what more in Ghardaïa which is more conservative) but
CT and I managed to get a photo of a woman and a man in their traditional garb
respectively.
Old market square of El Atteuf
A local woman in haik
After the tour, we left and drove to a restaurant which
served sumptuous chicken meals for an early lunch. It seemed normal for the
locals to just leave the meat bones on the table top and the restaurant staff
would clear them all without grumbling. I noticed the same at Faisal’s house
too. They would happily eat and leave the meat bones on the table top and only
clear them away after the meal.
We drove to the bus station after lunch and Faisal helped
buy us the tickets to Sétif. I must also mention here that both Nadjib and
Faisal discouraged us from going to Sétif and Djémila, saying that these places
in the mountains were where the rebels hid way back then. Still, we were
determined to stick to our plan. We decided to take the 22:00 bus instead of
the 20:00 bus as the latter would mean we’d arrive too early. We then went to
have some tea – frothy tea for CT and me – a regular tea for Faisal before
returning to the house. CT and I finally succumbed to a siesta.
We woke up and Wadid served us tea. Then we were informed
that another aunt wanted to meet us so off we walked with Mama to this aunt’s
house. She has three daughters (only one could speak some English) and a few
granddaughters who were clearly fascinated to see us foreigners. We left just
before Maghrib so that Mama could break her fast.
After dinner, we packed up – Widad
gave us a jacket each (one is leather but oh so heavy) and a scarf each,
insisting that we needed them as Sétif is very cold
- and after more Kodak moments,
Faisal drove us to the bus station. He stayed to ascertain we got on the right
bus, ensured we had our seats, helped hauled our bags out of the car boot and
into the bus storage area before leaving. He also
talked to the driver and conductor and told them to help us get the bus to Djémila when we
reached Sétif. What a kind soul and we were ever so
lucky to have had our paths crossed with him. Syukur alhamdulillah. I always believe we are meant to
be where we are at any particular time. There is a reason for everything as
determined by Allah.
The bus left on time and we settled into our seats.
To be continued
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