Anachronism or concordance of times? Friday, April 21, a mounted patrol of Sultan’s Guards, out of another era, rubbed shoulders with roaring motorcycles loaded with passengers, in Agadez. For three days, the desert citadel in northern Niger celebrated Eid-el-Fitr, marking the end of Ramadan. “After thirty days, we can have fun, we can go out. Eid is recklessness,” said Ibrahim Mohamed, 21, a senior student, turban on his head.
After the 9 a.m. prayer, dozens of young men gathered in front of the large mud-brick mosque in the old town, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Everyone poses, “for Facebook and TikTok,” it says. Cigarettes are exchanged. Local rap star Ampi Naganka climbs a wall to share his new hit with the crowd. For many, the religious festival gives way to the party itself.
Ousmane Bianou, he returned immediately after the prayer, to prepare family visits and tea. “The first we’ve been drinking during the day for twenty-nine days,” smiles the Agadézien, sneaking into the heart of the old city. At 34, he is not part of the TikTok generation: while all the guides left the profession years ago, he organizes excursions in the historic city for the few foreigners passing through and a small class of well-to-do Nigeriens .
It is there, in this Saharan crossroads, that the Sultan of Aïr settled in the 15th century. His descendant, 52nd of the name, still reigns. He is the one we go to see to settle a land dispute or claim a due. At 4 p.m., when the temperature has finally dropped below 35 degrees, it is from his palace that the lament of the algaïta, a long traditional flute, escapes, calling on the crowd to gather for the horse races.
“There is nothing, nothing here. The state doesn’t help us.”
In the sweetness of Eid, Agadez seems to have found a balance between modernity and tradition. But the city has not been spared by the crises that have plagued the Sahel for the past thirty years. The rentier economy shaped by tourism dried up when the former guides took up arms against the power in Niamey, between 1991 and 1995 and between 2007 and 2009. Each rebellion died out after a peace agreement. Then the explosion of the Libyan regime in 2011 dumped a batch of additional weapons, sparking a new wave of insecurity in the region. The Nigerien Sahara has confirmed its pivotal place in drug and arms trafficking, on the road between Libya and Mali.
Migration to Europe has added to these upheavals, making Agadez a transit point for migrants reaching Libya. Finally, gold was discovered in 2014 in the vicinity, attracting tens of thousands of feverish people. Banditry flourished, like trafficking. “Between 2012 and 2021, Agadez doubled in size. The natives now represent only a third of the population of the city, the remaining two thirds being people from elsewhere in Niger or from abroad, ”says Mayor Abdourahamane Touraoua. A feeling of loss of bearings shared by an older generation who no longer recognizes their city.
And young people, do they find themselves there? Son of a former employee of the uranium mining company Cominak, a subsidiary of the French group Orano, Souleymane Mohamed does not stop cursing: “There is nothing, nothing, nothing here. The state does not help us. I have a diploma, but there is no job here. What can we do honestly? He tried the gold route that makes young Saharans dream. It did not work. For the party, he joined friends to hang out in the dusty streets and do the fada, a great chat over tea.
« I Love Agadez »
“There is a crucial lack of jobs that plagues young graduates in Agadez, confirms Abdouramane Koutata, president of the Regional Youth Council, while stressing that some jobs are shunned by locals. How is it that all the trades of shopkeepers, motorcycle taxis, street vendors are occupied by Nigeriens who are not from Agadez? “They will tell you,” replies Amoumoune Attaher, head of the Alliance Française, “that these are not dignified jobs in their culture. They are nomads. But does that same culture allow them to rob people in the desert? »
Basically, Eid is, for many, a parenthesis. Several dozen young people met this weekend on the new section of the “RTA” at the exit of Agadez, the best tarred road in the city, equipped with brand new lampposts. There is only sand and dust around, but dozens of motorcycles and pick-ups topped with as many chèches are parked. Ahmed and Fatima, a young couple in their thirties, take selfies there while sitting on their motorbike. Further on, Sidi Ahmed’s band smokes cigarette after cigarette while listening to the sizzling sound of Kader Tarhanine, the young Algerian star of Tuareg music, and watching those who make the tires of their motorbikes squeal.
Later in the evening, many will join Sahara Land, the cool new place in the Saharan city, an open-air space, part non-alcoholic bar, part play area. Children jump on a trampoline while their parents swallow a burger. There was nothing like this in Agadez before. Aziz, its manager, is overwhelmed by the crowds. It opened just before Ramadan and the enormous LED-mounted “I Love Agadez” structure, planted in the middle of the passageway and lit up in red and purple, attracts all the dolled-up young girls into the night. Gaisha, a Libyan, is on her iPhone looking for her friend on AirDrop. It seems that half of Sahara Land is connected: it’s time to flower the photo networks. Waiting for the next opportunity to dress up.
