(GROANS OF EFFORT)
(LABOURED BREATHING)
The Niger River has brought me to the heart of the Sahara, and can take me no further.
From here on, the only ships I'm likely to see are ships of the desert,
and where better to get acquainted with them
than the legendary city of Timbuktu?
(CAMEL BRAYS)
Well, I've reached Timbuktu.
(CAMEL GRUNTS) I said I've reached Timbuktu!
I can't say it again!
And back in the Sahara,
the first time in the land of the Touareg,
the Saharan nomad traders
who founded Timbuktu about 800 years ago as a trading post
for that most precious commodity in the Sahara, the salt,
and the extraordinary thing is, that still today,
the salt is brought down on camels in these great tablets,
as it was all those years ago,
from the mines 800ks up into the desert.
So nothing's really changed, has it?
You've changed, but, basically, you look the same
as the original camel herds, don't you?
How is it, lugging all that salt around? It must be sheer hell!
Is it nice now it's finished?
(CAMEL GRUNTS) Yeah!
But things HAVE changed.
In Timbuktu today, the Touareg are camped against the walls,
sheltering from the desert rather than crossing it,
and the walls are not what they used to be.
Once inside the crumbling ramparts,
it's hard to tell what it is about this desert city
that has enthralled travellers for so long,
and why it is that so many risked their lives
to reach streets like these.
This mosque is evidence of the golden age of Timbuktu.
El-Saheli, the man said to have invented mudbrick architecture,
designed and built it for Mansa Musa,
the immensely rich emperor,
at a time when Mali was the greatest empire in Africa.
It's a great mosque here in Timbuktu.
It's an extraordinarily powerful and quietly affecting building.
It's built on almost 100 columns,
and it creates a sort of forest of coolness in the cauldron of heat outside.
It was originally constructed in 1325,
and just the sheer scale of the place is testimony
to the power of the Islamic presence here in the Middle Ages.
(MAN CHANTS)
(MAN SPEAKS IN ARABIC OVER TANNOY)
It's Friday in Timbuktu,
the holiest day of the week for Muslims,
and after prayers, the imam invites me back to his house.
The 16th century...
Alors, la lune, le soleil, on explique tout ça ici.
The imam has scientific texts
that show the planets circling the sun.
They date back hundreds of years,
preserved, I assume, by the dry desert air.
It's convincing evidence that the scholars of Timbuktu
knew a lot more than those in Europe.
In 15th-century Timbuktu, the mathematicians
knew about the rotation of the planets and about the eclipse.
They knew things
which we had to wait almost 200 years to know in Europe
when Galileo and Copernicus
came up with these same calculations...
...and were given a very hard time for it!
(CHILDREN CHANT)
In his house, the imam runs a school
where local children learn the Koran.
(IMAM) On est en train de lutter
afin que Timbuktu retrouve son visage d'avant.
He explained that he hopes that Timbuktu can regain some of its former glory,
and become once again the great centre of scholarship.
(CHILDREN CHANT)
After the Middle Ages, Timbuktu slid into decline,
but its mystique grew,
stoked by the fact that no one could get to it. Then, in 1826,
a Scotsman, Alexander Laing, rediscovered Timbuktu.
His house is for sale if you fancy a weekend hideaway!
Over a period of about 350 years,
43 people tried to get to Timbuktu,
only four succeeded, of which Laing was the first.
When he got here, it looked pretty much like this.
He wasn't greatly impressed.
It wasn't the fabled city of wealth that he'd expected.
Anyway, they were very hospitable, and as he went home,
he fell out with the people who were taking him back across the Sahara.
He refused to convert to Islam
so they cut his head off at the age of 33.
That was the end of Laing, but his house is remembered here.
I can see myself festering here, gazing mournfully at the past,
but the desert beckons!
East of Timbuktu, the Sahara is virtually inaccessible
to all but the nomads who move their cattle across it.
Once a year they get together at Ingal in the Republic of Niger.
These are the Wodaabe, a tall, elegant people
thought to originate from Ethiopia.
They walk and ride hundreds of miles every year,
seeking pasture for their cattle.
They move camp every six or seven days,
so all they own must be portable.
Recent rains have brought food and water,
and they must take every advantage of these conditions
to fatten their cattle.
The Wodaabe grow no food,
so without the animals they would not survive.
The fattening of the animals on the salt grass
is celebrated at an annual festival called Cure Salée -
the Salt Cure.
This great gathering of the nomadic clans is only days away.
One of their spokesmen - they don't have chiefs -
is Doulla.
Tous les gens de la même famille?
- Le père et la mère. - Ah, oui, oui.
Using French and English, he says that everyone in the group
comes from the same family line.
- Perri! - Ah, Perri.
Je te présente Perri.
- Ah, Perri. - Oui.
He introduces me to Perri,
who sports a heavy-duty pair of Austrian sunglasses
which I never see him remove.
Though Perri looks like the Godfather,
Doulla assures me he's only the brother-in-law.
Ah, yes.
The obvious non-family member
is a French student, Celine, who's been living with the group
and working with the women. She shares everything,
including medicine, which is much in demand.
What are the relationships like between the men and the women?
I know that some of them have three or four wives.
Are there problems there?
It's a free life here.
The woman is...
Well, I can't say free, but more or less free,
like all around the world, a free woman.
- So she can... - She is with her husband,
but if she wants, she can leave him.
She can go to...
She can go with another man.
They're quite liberated sexually.
More or less, yes.
(MICHAEL) It's important for them to look beautiful?
(CELINE) Yes, very important.
When a man chooses a woman or a woman chooses a man,
the first thing they look for is the beauty of the person.
(MEN CHANT)
This is the most extraordinary beauty contest I've ever seen!
This is the gerewol -
a Wodaabe equivalent of the high school hop.
The young men go to enormous lengths
to make themselves irresistible.
This means plenty of make-up, exotic hairdressing,
the ability to repeat the same song and movement for hours,
and some fancy eye work!
How long do they dance for?
- They dance for seven days. - Seven days?
- Yes. - Seven days?
Now it's the girls' turn.
Once decked out in all their finery
by doting mothers, aunts and grannies,
they will parade in front of the boys and choose their partner.
They look very beautiful, very young
and rather frightened.
(SINGING CONTINUES)
Now comes the time for the girls to play their part in the ceremony.
(SINGING CONTINUES)
- Do they come forward? - Yes.
People like the women want to swear this.
Though the girls have the right to choose -
it looks more like an ordeal than a privilege -
their choice must be made for everyone to see.
Nerves are beginning to show.
(SINGING CONTINUES)
(MICHAEL) Do the girls choose one boy?
(DOULLA) Yes.
They go up and put their hand on them?
Yes, maybe one woman, maybe two.
Guided by the mistress of ceremonies,
each girl walks the line until contact is made
and the choice announced in the traditional way.
(SHRILL WHOOP)
Now, the worst is over.
Her chosen one will meet up with her later.
He's hers for the night.
Next morning, I meet a boy and a girl who got together
at last year's gerewol.
Rainey, tucking into millet porridge,
was chosen by Gooday,
and they now have to decide if they want to get married.
This is not a marriage for the parents.
Non, ce n'est pas un mariage pour les parents.
- So they love each other and... - Voilà, voilà.
C'est le mariage pour I'amour.
Doulla explains that although they've been lovers for a year,
Gooday wants to go to Cure Salée
and see how Rainey shapes up in the big gerewol dance.
...qu'il danse bien...
If he dances well, sings well and looks good,
she'll very likely decide to be his wife.
...et après ils vont faire le mariage.
Then they can claim the family bed,
the most important of all Wodaabe status symbols.
But until Cure Salée's over,
Gooday's keeping everyone guessing.
Well, we're on our way.
The great Wodaabe family outing has begun to Cure Salée,
an enormous festival
where all the nomads come together
for this great once-yearly event.
I'm not quite sure what goes on,
but all sorts of festivities - dancing, whatever.
It's just a bit of a long walk!
Coming!
(INAUDIBLE)
The town where Cure Salée is celebrated
is 60 miles from the camp,
and no, I don't walk the whole way.
I ride to Ingal in a bush taxi
with 15 Wodaabe crammed on board,
reducing their travelling time from two days to two hours.
We've now reached... Foma!
Foma.
That means hello in Wodaabe.
We've finally reached the big city -
it isn't a big city at all.
This is Ingal and it's quite small.
It's where Cure Salée takes place,
and after where we were, it's a big shock.
Suddenly, there's walls, cars and police.
There are people looking to rent out property.
They've got this courtyard here
probably at a bit of a high rent!
It doesn't feel totally comfortable here.
You know, country boys come to the big city.
There are lots of their families out there,
but they haven't found them yet and are making a base here.
There's a slightly hostile, cautious feeling.
Hello. Foma! Foma! How are you?
They're so lovely! They just walk at this very gentle pace,
and out there is complete mayhem!
Cure Salée is everything - a grand party, trade fair,
highland games, sports day and agricultural show.
For one week a year, this little backwater is filled to bursting
as thousands of nomads come to eat and drink, buy and sell,
see and be seen, race their camels,
and celebrate the joys of living
in a land without boundaries.
(THEY WHOOP)
For Doulla and Perri,
it's also a chance to catch up on the shopping.
(THEY GREET EACH OTHER)
I don't know all the rest! I only know the start!
There are 17 different things we have to say!
So what are we going to buy?
- I want to buy the sucre. - Sugar. Sucre.
(MICHAEL) For quatre-vingt personnes.
So that's 80 people we're getting the provisions for.
Will you stay four days here?
I don't know. I want to dancing, I want to see many people...
...from my family.
(MICHAEL) Are you going to buy new clothes?
(DOULLA) Yes, I want to see this man.
Perri's a bit of a dude, isn't he?
He always looks rather dashing!
- Is this new, too? - Oui.
(DOULLA) This is very old.
That's old, yeah.
Oh, yes, look at that.
The clothes are so much more interesting than mine!
These trousers, they are in beige (!)
- But I like these. - Me, too.
- You like that? - Every people like these.
(MAN) Bonjour!
Qu'est-ce que ces choses ici?
Ça c'est... C'est du sel.
Oh, that's salt!
- Ça c'est du sel. - It looks like solid rock.
Ça vient de Bilma.
This is salt from Bilma.
Where the caravans go.
The salt trade is the oldest in the Sahara,
but Cure Salée is not stuck in the past. If you've a new idea, flaunt it!
It's a bit hot for skiing!
(INDISTINCT)
- Do you ski on sand? - Yeah. Ski from desert.
- Do you sink into the sand? - It's very good, yes.
I have picture for this ski.
- Have you got one? All right. - Let me show you first.
These are European skis, the same as snow skis?
- Yes. - Comment tu t'appelles?
Mon nom c'est Abdul Khadir Danger.
Abdul Khadir Danger, as in danger?
- Yeah. - Abdul Khadir Danger!
(MAN) I've been to Joe magazine, too.
Ah, yes, a very good French magazine for travellers.
- I have picture in there. - Abdul Danger!
I'm not sure that gives me confidence!
- That's right. - I am Michael Cowardly!
- Michael Cowardly? - Yes, Michael Highly Cowardly.
- Michael Howly Cowardly. - Yes.
Oh, well, let's think about it.
It's just so amazing!
Two African masks and a course of skiing lessons, please!
(MEN SING)
As evening approaches, crowds gather to watch
one of the day's highlights - a mass gerewol.
Back at base, Rainey and the other Wodaabe
prepare to join the dance.
(MEN SING)
They'll be facing some strong competition.
Rainey and the boys make final checks in the hand mirrors
that every self-respecting Wodaabe lad carries with him.
With ostrich headdresses rounding off the outfit,
they're ready for the big time.
(THEY SING AND CHANT)
Rainey's already looking around,
maybe wondering where Gooday is
or on the lookout for some action himself.
This is what Cure Salée is all about -
the one time in a hard year when tribes who live on the move
can stop in the same place at the same time
to exchange contacts, advice,
and, of course, widen the waters of the gene pool.
I've benefited from Cure Salée as well -
a group of Touareg have agreed to take us
on a salt caravan leaving from a nearby village.
The journey will take us across an arid furnace of desert,
but then the unbelievable happens.
(THUNDERCLAP)
There IS water in the Sahara!
When the rainy season hits, it's pretty dramatic.
This morning, this would have just been like a beach anywhere.
This has happened within one day. This will continue to grow.
Rains have fallen somewhere, I don't know quite where.
This will come up to my waist,
and in a week, it will be dry again.
At the oasis of Tabelot,
this precious water stays close enough to the surface
to create a minor miracle.
This is like the Garden of Eden, Omar!
And this is Omar,
the man who will soon be leading me and the camel train
across the burning sands.
- Ça c'est le puits? - Oui, c'est le puits.
All the water has to be brought up from below.
This well is some 50 feet deep.
A camel works the wooden winch,
and a goatskin bag spills the water
into a network of irrigation channels.
It's a method as old as the Bible, probably older.
(WARBLING BIRDCALL)
And it works.
The fields are rich in onions, carrots, maize and millet,
whilst the trees provide orange, fig, pomegranate,
and, of course, dates,
which when ripe are wrapped in bags to keep the birds off them.
(MICHAEL) Quelle est la plus grande?
- C'est vingt metres. - Vingt metres. 60 feet up.
- Il monte vingt metres? - Il monte, oui.
So he gets up 60 feet to get the... dates.
He's dropped his load.
I only wanted three!
(MICHAEL) Mmm... Ah, oui...
Merci!
Merci beaucoup!
Omar's home is in the centre of the village,
a mile or so away from the well.
He's taking me to meet his family.
They speak only Arabic
or Tamahaq, the language of the Touareg,
but Omar has French which is a lot better than mine.
He tells me he has four wives and 15 children.
- 15 children? - Oui.
Ooh, tu es riche!
Non - en enfants, oui!
C'est un problème d'avoir quatre femmes?
Although he smiles easily enough,
things are clearly not as rosy as they look.
He has a problem finding enough money
to buy food and medicine for all the children,
particularly the little ones who cannot work.
- C'est un peu dur. - Yeah.
Il y a des enfants, il y a des petits enfants.
- So... C'est difficile? - C'est très difficile.
His wives seem to be of all different ages,
and I ask him if there are problems
having all four under the same roof at the same time.
- Beaucoup de problèmes. - They agree!
Yes, he says, there are many, many problems.
They all seem to boil down to the same thing - jealousy.
(OMAR) Jalousie. (MICHAEL) Jealousy, you say?
(MICHAEL) Peut-être, um...
...si vous... si tu as...
"Wouldn't it be easier", I ask in my impertinent Western way,
"to have just one wife?"
With one woman, it's not difficult.
One wife, pas difficile!
Mais avec quatre femmes c'est très difficile!
(MICHAEL) Pourquoi...
Pourquoi...
Omar agrees that it would be much easier,
but then, as he puts it,
he wants lots of children so he needs lots of wives.
Je veux beaucoup d'enfants.
I think in his own modest way,
Omar rather likes the idea of starting a dynasty.
(WOMEN SING AND ULLULATE)
The night before the camel train leaves
for the salt pans of Bilma, there's a big party.
The dancing gets wilder and wilder as the men strut
every step they know
to impress the women, and there's no sitting it out!
(BEATING DRUMS AND WOMEN SINGING)
The local boys are tireless, happy to raise the sand
all night long, but for us oldies, it's time for bed.
There's a long hard journey ahead.
Early morning in Tabelot,
and the day of departure has arrived.
These are the men and the beasts
with whom I'll share the most desolate corners of the Sahara.
(MICHAEL) Sur le chameau?
Oui, oui.
Merci.
They've got more important things to put on first.
This is straw in here.
I asked if it's for the camel to eat, he said, "No, no!"
It's for us (!) You don't get much to eat, mate. I'm sorry.
We have nine chameliers or cameleers, and 30 camels.
Most are of the white docile variety
beloved by the Touareg of the Aïr mountains.
(CAMEL BRAYS)
My camel, I notice, is neither white nor docile,
but brown and rather stroppy!
It's so excited to have my bag on board,
it's going to make off with it!
- Il a un nom? - Oui. Est Ekowik.
- Ekowik? - Est Ekowik.
Ekowik.
Ekowik, I think means, "He who takes foreigners" (!)
(OMAR) Est Ekowik. (MICHAEL) Ekowik.
(MICHAEL) Est Ekowik.
We're ready to go. Everything we need for the journey
has to be carried on the backs of the camels,
except, of course, fresh food - which walks alongside.
Well, here we go.
Not quite sure about me yet.
Come on.
Well, this is it.
It's not quite what I expected -
camel rides on the beach or once round the pyramids -
this is the real thing, the start of the train.
I've failed already! I got him a few yards anyway.
So we leave Tabelot.
A modest caravan compared to the one which left here in 1922,
observed by one Captain Buchanan
who estimated it to be six miles long.
Come on, Ekowik!
It's 350 miles across the desert to Bilma,
but I shall be leaving before that
and branching north towards the Algerian border.
As we pass out of the mountains,
Omar shows me some of the extraordinary rock art
that covers this part of the Sahara.
- Il a quel age? - Vers six mille.
- Hmm? - Six mille.
Six mille. 6,000 years.
6,000 years old?
Some say they're men from outer space,
others believe they're ancestors of the Wodaabe,
but the wild animals they depict
are taken as proof that not that long ago
the Sahara was a green and fertile place.
Since the last Ice Age ended, the Sahara and its wildlife
have borne the brunt of the long process of global warming.
Now the camel, introduced from Arabia about the time of Christ,
has this parched wilderness almost to itself.
It looks rather pleasant and gentle, this pace,
ambling through the sand,
but it's very deceptive, because this is really stark desert.
This is killer landscape because there is no water here,
there's no shelter anywhere around.
And so you go slowly because it's the only way to survive,
and if you didn't have water and friends with you,
that would be it within 24 hours.
The camel - or dromedary as the single-humped animals are called -
is a marvellous desert machine.
Their weight is so finely distributed
that they leave barely a mark in the sand.
Provided they have somewhere to graze,
they can last two weeks without water,
and can carry loads of up to 500lbs over enormous distances.
Camels changed the history of the Sahara.
Without them, 2,000 years of trade, war,
expansion and exploration
would never have happened.
It's midday, the peak of heat,
and we're seeking a tree.
You just have to keep drinking lots and lots of water.
The other thing that's nice about it
is that the camels dictate the pace,
but also the mood.
It's a sort of continuous, sort of unchanging rhythm
which is the way I think you survive this sort of thing.
Once you keep stopping and starting, that's more difficult.
I know you've got to have shelter and all that,
but the camels are reassuring presences
because they just keep going.
Oh, you don't want to be patted.
But, you know, there are good things about it!
There are no flies!
You can't get bitten by anything,
and there's no undergrowth to catch your clothing on!
But there's very little scope for action -
more scope for imagination - so you think a lot
like why did they even suggest doing this in the first place?!
Just a joke!
Oh, a tree!
- Omar, un arbre! - C'est un arbre.
- Un arbre pour nous? - Oui.
(MICHAEL CHEERS)
This is where we're going to stop next.
It's two-star, I think.
No lifts, no swimming pool.
No room service.
No roof. No stairs,
and no room, actually, but it sounds jolly good!
How much is in the water?
Merci.
Merci, Omar!
(CAMELS BRAY)
It's lovely the way they go down and sort of fold up like...
...collapsible tables.
This is what they actually eat off the acacia tree.
To get at the greenery, which I suppose they want,
there are these amazingly long, very sharp thorns.
That's a couple of inches long. Incredibly sharp.
They chomp that off. What must go on between their tongue
and the side of the mouth and the gullet?
I wouldn't eat this!
Not even in a sandwich!
Well, possibly a sandwich.
I'd eat anything at the moment!
OK.
- C'est bon. - C'est bon?
The midday temperatures peak at around 56 Celsius,
and only in late afternoon when it begins to cool off
is it safe to set out again.
The heat dictates everything. Because of it,
Omar and his men sometimes leave at four in the morning,
but despite it, they still aim to walk 14 or 15 hours a day.
(MAN WHOOPS AND SINGS)
I don't know about the camels,
but I find walking in this soft sand is the most tiring of all.
But Izambar Mohammed, the camel singer,
keeps a beady eye out for flagging spirits.
(IZAMBAR SINGS)
There's a tree over there.
Your expectations on this become so low
that one tree becomes a wonderful luxury object.
You can understand what coming to an oasis
means to these people.
Everything's just pared down.
You have very minimal expectations.
(HE SINGS)
The main social event of the day
is the evening meal, usually bread, dates and cheese,
but tonight, in my honour, there'll be a stew as well.
Everyone has a job to do.
(RASPING CRY)
Omar and Izambar slaughter the sheep,
Osman bakes bread in a sand oven and Moussa plaits fresh twine
to secure the camel loads.
I'm still recovering.
There's nowhere to sit.
That's what I really miss most.
I mean, I can sit here, but this is actually their bedding
and food for the animals.
I can't sit here for long. They don't believe in chairs.
I do find that at the end of a long walk,
it would be nice to just flop down on a chaise longue.
That's what I'd bring if I had a camel train of my own -
I'd just have a camel stacked with chairs of various kinds,
reading lamps and perhaps a television,
possibly a small bar and a fridge,
a front doorbell, some stairs, maybe a couple of friends...
It's very thick and coarse and heavy and...
Tagilla. Tagilla.
- Terwa? - Tagilla.
- Gogowan? - Tagilla.
- Ça c'est le Tagilla. - Tagoola.
- Tergulla? - Tagilla.
It's more like cake really.
It's like a chunk of cake we used to have at school.
A nice hard crispy outside. Very good.
- Tagil-la. - Tagil-la!
You have to get the emphasis right.
Tagoo-la probably means buttock!
Tagil-la! It means this lovely cake.
(MICHAEL) Tergulla.
(MAN) "Tergulla" (!)
You're a great audience!
I think I'm doing something wrong here
because they seem to be breaking up the Tagilla...
...le Tagilla into the bowl, so I suppose they'll put sauce on it,
but you're popping a bit in your mouth at the same time,
so I'll do a bit of that.
(MAN) Un peu Tagilla.
(MICHAEL) Un peu tadula.
Tagilla.
- Tagilla. - Dogoola.
They're probably teaching me all the wrong words!
I'm probably saying...
Tagilla. Tagilla. Tagilla.
(THEY LAUGH)
It's a minimalist joke but it's serving me well.
Ah, this looks like the...
...the meat.
It's odd to be eating one of the creatures I've got to know quite well as we walk along.
The camels are up there, and the two little sheep and the goat
we've walked with are rather sweet.
They get kicked about and no one seems to care
and I rather identify with them.
One of them has now been dispatched,
and the others are swinging on the bush,
and the other two are sort of looking around,
obviously sort of, "Look what happened to Bert!"
They don't seem too concerned.
I think he laid down his life for a good cause.
This is for Touaregs, a banquet
because they very rarely have meat on a journey.
I think they just have couscous.
There'll be a lot of sand in it,
especially with the wind blowing.
It gets everywhere.
For me? Ah, thank you!
(THEY LAUGH)
- Izzot? - Izzot!
It's very 'ot! It's good!
It's lovely!
- Mmm! It's 'ot! - Izzot!
(CAMEL BRAYS)
This is much more sensible...
...than any hat you could buy...
...because... it's really cool.
You have to tie it securely 'cause walking loosens it,
but it keeps the dust off. You pull it right over?
- Après. - Après, yes.
Sorry. My dresser and general looker-after...
I'd like to be able to see out a bit,
or else I might walk into a camel.
That's it, see? Brilliant! And this can go up...
Voilà!
- Et tu fais ça... - Thank you.
- Ça va? - Merci. Merci.
(THEY LAUGH)
There! Ready for the route!
Dust... And it's very, very cool.
It's just excellent, yeah. Merci.
One thing I've really got rather used to now about the camels
is the strange rumblings that go round the camp
whenever they're being loaded up or being put down.
(CAMEL BRAYS) It's like a sort of language,
and I'm not sure what it is when they're going to start off.
Is it anger? Is it protest?
Or is it, "Here we go again - another day at the office!"
Some sort of communication goes on
like "We're not meant to do this!
"We're not meant to be beasts of burden!"
I shall develop a noise of my own, I think, to go with it.
Let's try one. Nee-ert! Noi-oy-oy!
(LAUGHTER) Good!
It works!
We're now into what my French guidebook calls "désert absolu",
absolute desert,
the earth stripped clean, as bare as a glacier,
as featureless as the sea.
The outside world is so far away as to be almost irrelevant.
I can understand
why so many religions were born in the desert.
The outside is so hostile, you have to look inside.
Just as I achieve a little spiritual harmony with this great emptiness,
I'm reminded that in the 21st century,
the outside world is always closer than you think.
We don't have the desert to ourselves after all.
(WHINING MOTOR)
A French paraglider swoops down over us,
an all-seeing video camera at the ready.
I feel he's intruding on our space,
but deep down, I'm probably just jealous!
You've been to many deserts in the world.
Do you have a favourite, one place that is most rewarding?
I've been, yes, to different places.
I like this because the Sahara, there is an authentic life here.
It's still alive.
(MICHAEL) Well, it's a great machine.
Can you do some work with us?
Just get up in the air and we have our boys walking along?
Is that all right to have another camera, Nigel?
Oh, sorry! A few sweeties, something like that,
and he'll be all right!
(MUSIC)
This might be just a streak of Yorkshire puritanism,
but I don't want the Sahara to become an adventure playground,
and after all the excitement,
I'm glad to be back with the people who live here.
(CAMELS BRAY)
It seems a bit bizarre having a fire in the Sahara
after it's been 132 degrees Fahrenheit this afternoon -
56 centigrade -
but it gets quite cold at night.
It goes down to about... It can get as low as the high 80s...
...you know, sort of 40 degrees, well, 38 degrees at night,
and, oddly enough, it seems cold!
Anyway, it's just nice to have a fire -
very friendly, companionable.
And I can make my joke about... It's 'ot!
(MEN) Izzot! (MICHAEL) Goes down a bomb!
(MICHAEL) It's 'ot! (MEN) Izzot!
- Le thé. - Oh, pour moi? Merci!
Oh, this is a bit of the cheese.
- Mmm... - Tacoma.
- Mmm! - Tacoma.
- Mmm! "Goma." - Tacoma.
You're going to teach me another word, aren't you?!
- Tacoma. - Tacoma.
- A la vôtre! - A la vôtre!
- Sha-hee! - Sha-hee!
(MEN LAUGH) They're teaching me rude words!
(LAUGHTER CONTINUES)
Ah! These little Touareg soirées (!)
Mmm! Cheese is nice!
Cheers!
En anglais, nous disons "Cheers!"
Cheers! Down the hatch!
Bottoms up! Bottoms... up.
(MICHAEL) Bottoms up? Bottoms... - Bottom.
(MICHAEL) Bottoms... - Bottoms...
(MICHAEL) Up. - Up.
Yeah! Great! Bottoms up!
- Bottoms up. (MICHAEL) Bottoms up.
(THEY LAUGH)
Very good.
(MICHAEL) Bottoms up. - Bottoms up.
- Sha-hee. (MICHAEL) Sha-hee.
- Izzot! - It's 'ot!
- A la vôtre. (MICHAEL) A la vôtre.
- Tacoma! (MICHAEL) Tacoma!
(THEY LAUGH)
Tacoma!
(MICHAEL) Not again! Tacoma. - A la vôtre.
- Sha-hee.
- Izzot!
(MICHAEL) It's 'ot!
(THEY LAUGH)
(MICHAEL) Bottoms up! - Bottoms up!
God bless Her Majesty!
(THEY LAUGH)
- Bottoms up. - Bottoms up.
(CAMELS BRAY)
Omar helps me load up for the last time.
Later today, our ways will part,
and already they've got someone new to look after.
This little gazelle was found abandoned at the camp site,
and they're going to keep it and look after it.
This will be a pet. It's not for the pot.
There are gazelles in the Sahara Desert! It's amazing!
I know there are camels,
and smaller animals, but there are gazelles as well.
Even in the depths of desert there's life.
And this one will, hopefully, survive.
Amazing ears!
Yes...
...they'll look after you, won't they?
It's always the way, isn't it?
Just as I'm learning how to cope, it's time to move on.
I shall miss all this - the regular rhythm of the day,
the reassuring pattern of life on the move.
I shall miss Omar and Izambar,
and all the team who've looked after me,
even Ekowik and the camels, though they won't miss me.
I've learnt a lot, maybe not enough to start a religion,
but certainly a clearer view of basic truths -
if you don't respect your environment, then you die.
It's as simple as that.
Omar will doubtless be delighted to see the back of us!
Once we've gone, he can get back to the serious business
of bringing the salt back from Bilma.
Au revoir! Merci. Merci, Omar, pour tout!
Bon voyage.
Hey, bye. Merci! Merci!
Merci! Merci! Merci!
Merci pour tout.
Hey, hey! You like my shirt, don't you!
OK, au revoir, merci!
Ah, bottoms up!
(MAN WAILS)
He's going to win the Oscar for this, isn't he!
Stop it! It's my show, dammit! It's my show!
II vient avec moi!
Merci! Au revoir. Merci! Très, très bon! Bon voyage! OK!
Now, then, which way? Yes...
OK, au revoir!
(MICHAEL) Tacoma. Bottom up. (MAN) Bottom up.
(MICHAEL) Bottom up! (MAN) Bottom up. Izzot!
- It's 'ot! - Izzot!
Izzot!
Au revoir!
Right, let me see... Algeria. Bear right over the mountain,
left at the oasis, fork left at the volcano,
across the lake and sharp right. Should be there by Tuesday week.