What happens when Jonnie goes to the bank (or why you must always buy insurance as soon as you enter a country)
We had been in Mauritania for only an hour when we pulled up in Ayoun el Atrous, a typically sandy Sahelian border town, in order to change some euros into ougiya. Jonnie pulled over to the left hand side of the road to leave me parked in the shade while he popped into the bank. I was cheerfully and steadfastly ignoring the boy by my window who was trying to sell me a phone card whilst he was equally cheerfully and steadfastly ignoring me ignoring him when suddenly he uttered a cry of horror and leapt back into the shelter of a nearby shop doorway.
There was a shriek of brakes, the high pitched screech of tyres and a sickening crunch as a white Mercedes crashed into the back of Jemima. The boy in his doorway rapidly disappeared out of view as Jemima and I careered forward at a rate of knots finally coming to a halt inches from another Mercedes parked a few metres down the road.
I leapt out of the car (having first remembered, bizarrely, to lock all the doors) shouting and gesticulating wildly at the dazed Mercedes driver (who luckily didn’t understand English) while a crowd rapidly gathered most of whom were also gesticulating at random, more due to their love of drama than for any specific reason.
The police were quickly on the scene which was lucky because the driver was now trying to reverse his car out of Jemima’s rear and disappear off down the road until I rushed over and, now speaking in more coherent French, asked him what on earth he thought he was doing. Amid the craziness I looked up and saw Jonnie strolling back from the back serenely unaware of Jemima’s newly designed behind.
Somehow Jonnie had also picked up a policeman along the way, or more accurately had been picked up by a policeman, called ‘General Hassein’ (who we later found out was a bit mad, but who was still allowed to wander round the streets of Ayoun el Atrous in uniform and misinform tourists). General Hassein had assured Jonnie he could change money at the Western Union bank which turned out not to be possible; he then assured Jonnie he could definitely change money at the insurance office which also turned out not to be possible. Jonnie finally lost patience and was on his way back to the car when he looked up to see me waving less than serenely and gathered all was not well.
He immediately grabbed his camera and started photographing the accident site (see pic 1) while I produced the relevant documents for a new, rather large, policeman who had just arrived on the scene. We then all decamped to the Commissariat, with the rather large policeman squashed into our front seat, where Jonnie and I hoped to get a ‘declaration’ for insurance purposes.
And this is where African bureaucracy and confused reasoning kicked in. When we asked for a written statement of what had happened we were told that ‘in Mauritania’ accidents are dealt with orally and no written declaration is made. When we pushed them to write at least something and then stamp it with their official stamp we were taken to the office of the Commissar who informed us that our insurance (which we had luckily bought at the border instead of Ayoun el Atrous which had been our plan) did not come into effect until the following day. We pointed out that the valid from date and time was 2 hours prior to the accident, but he insisted that the insurance dealer had made a mistake. We pointed out that, even if it was the case that ‘in Mauritania’ insurance comes into effect 24 hours after buying it, it was still not our fault, but the fault of the insurance dealer. Much more pointing out on both sides terminated with Jonnie telling the Commissar in very clear English that he was plainly incorrect.
The Commissar, not to be outsmarted, then demanded to know why we had parked on the wrong side of the road. We queried which side of the road one was supposed to park on since we had just parked behind another car facing the same way and were informed that ‘in Mauritania’ one was only allowed to park on the side of the road that you were driving along. We had apparently contravened this very important part of the Mauritanian highway code and had therefore invalidated our insurance anyway and were also potentially liable to be sanctioned (presumably in the form of a large fine). Aware that pointing out that every other car on the road outside the Commissariat was also contravening this rule would probably not have the desired effect, it dawned upon us that it would hasten proceedings considerably if we just told the Commissar that we had no intention of making a claim against the driver or for damage to Jemima. The reason, I informed him, that we needed the declaration was in order to claim off our insurance when we returned to England. Jonnie then apologized for parking on the wrong side of the road and the Commissar broke into a broad smile and ordered the rather large policeman to go off and write our declaration albeit stating clearly that we were parked on the left of the road.
After a little gentle persuasion with a blow torch and lump hammer Jemima made a full recovery (see pics 2 & 3) and Jonnie now has a smile back on his face again!
Just when we thought all the excitement was over and all that remained was a steady drive north....enter the Pyrenees. As we climbed to 1500 metres on the Spanish side we encountered a light dusting of snow, but after passing through the 3km Bielsa tunnel we felt we'd been transported into a snowy Narnia!
As always it is the people who have made this trip so special for us and the last 2 weeks have given us the opportunity to meet up with friends, family and family friends who, in some cases, had at least 10 years of catching up!
