2005-12-01 - 9:38 a.m.

2nd entry in 24hrs:

I spent the end of Ramadan in Chinguetti with Jeff’s host family. It was a great time, especially after I brought up my favorite Mauritanian subject, jiins (aka genies). I wrote about them before, but in recap, they are like ghosts, evil spirits that live in the desert or unclean places. Jeff’s host mom is a medicine women and the rest of the family are fervent Muslims. Having lived in Chinguetti, the oldest city in Mauritania, all their lives, I knew they would have good stories. The following came from the 40 yr old sister:

A rich man was travelling to Nouakchott from Atar at night. Half way between Akjoujet and Nouakchott he saw a woman flagging him down on the side of the road. He pulled off and picked her up. On the way in they began talking. She was very beautiful. Getting closer to Nouakchott, he asked her where she lived so that he could drop her off. She told him to go to an area of the city that has lots of really nice houses. When they arrived she directed him to a really nice house. They went in and no one was there. She explained she had no family and lived there alone. The man confessed his love for the woman and said he wished to marry her. He himself was already married, but was willing to take a second wife, or leave his first if necessary. They went to bed together, and the next morning the police found him in a garbage dump holding a donkey. When he woke up he went insane.

My uncle was sitting in his house at night. He was about to fall asleep when he heard a goat crying from just outside of his house. He was confused because he had already brought all the goats in, but went out front to check. Upon arriving the crying stopped and there was no goat there. Puzzled he went back in, but before he could even sit down the goat began crying again. Again, he went outside and found nothing, but this time the crying stopped and started up again 50 yards away. He moved toward the sound, but when he got near it stopped again and started 50 yards further out. He kept going for 10 minutes like this, then realized that the cries were leading him into the desert. He got scared, and turned back. As soon as his back was turned the cries came from directly behind him. He turned and nothing was there. The entire way home he heard the cries as if the goat was following him home.

My uncle was travelling home from Tuinzit a town 7 km away through the desert. With him he had brought a Donkey that was carrying a large pole for a khyma (large tent). He needed to head out to another village on the same route later, so he decided to tie up his donkey, go into Chinguetti quickly to do his business there, then come back the same night, pick up his donkey and continue on. When he got to Chinguetti, however, he realized he was very tired. He lay down and took a nap. After a while my father woke him up to ask where his donkey was. He explained how he had left it in the desert. My father scolded him, warning someone would come along and steal the animal. My uncle was convinced, so he got up to fetch his donkey and bring it back. It took half an hour to get back, but when he got to the place he had tied it up, her found 100s of donkeys with khyma poles on their backs. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He searched between them trying to find which one was his. At one point he saw the one he thought was his own. He chased after it, but it got lost in the crowd. Over and over he would see his own donkey in the crowd, then lose it again.
After my uncle had been gone an hour and a half, my father got nervous and went out after him. He finally found him near the place he had said he’d left his donkey. He was running around like a madman back and forth across the baha. My father finally caught him and asked him what he was doing. “I don’t know which donkey is mine.” My father said, “say bismillah raqmani raheem, there is only one donkey here and it is tied to the tree over there where you left it.”

I was ten years old and very sick. My mother had gone out to a party for the evening and left me alone with my father. In the middle of the night I heard her working next to me preparing some medicines. She was talking softly to me trying to comfort me. She lifted the medicines to my lips and I began to drink. My father woke up when he heard her telling me to drink, so he turned lit the lantern. There was no one in the room, but me and my father. My father checked me, and saw that I was alright. Then we heard my mothers voice coming from outside telling us to turn off the lantern or the room would burn down. My father went outside and found nobody there. He came back in the room and locked it up. My mothers voice came from outside again. She was telling me to finish my medicine. We kept the light on, until a knock came at the front door. It was my mother. She had been across town all night.
After that my brothers and I would hear the voices of our parents all the time when they were nowhere around. When we asked our parents about it they told us that they had been there, but hiding so we wouldn’t be scared. When we go older they told us the truth. My father finally went to a marabou (Islamic wiseman with paranormal abilities). We were told our house was haunted with jiin’s. My father came back and read the Koran at each corner of the house. After that we never had any problems.

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