The small town on the plateau comes alive from the early hours of the morning, with dromedary caravans that appear from every corner like ghosts with their gaze lost in the distance.
We don’t know where they come from, but they continue to arrive, to fill the streets and then settle down on the bed of the old river, dry since time immemorial, laden with acacia branches to burn.
In front, the man wrapped in a white tunic leads them and makes them lie down with great mastery.
At the same time, another population is migrating towards the riverbed: colourful women accompanied by unusual umbrellas to protect themselves from the dazzling light.
A riot of colourful clothes surrounds their lovely spindle-shaped bodies and their long legs.
Only their eyes are visible – impenetrable eyes that stare at the world outside as if they did not belong to it.
They look on impassively and listen in silence.
Eyes sculpted, chiselled, drawn with such skill, so beautiful that they don’t seem real.
The sun continues its relentless journey towards Zenith.
The umbrellas are opened to protect the women and children.
The shore of the ancient river is a relentlessly swaying rainbow stripe.
The streets of the town come alive once again with dromedaries.
They will vanish into the high plains.
Eyes sculpted, chiselled, drawn with such skill, so beautiful that they don’t seem real
Every Monday, the town of Cheren hosts the largest market in the country. Since Sunday, caravans of dromedaries have come from distant villages and towns more than a day’s walk away. On Mondays, the shore of the ancient dry river becomes a symphony of beautiful women of different ethnic backgrounds. It is a riot of colours enclosed in a small space. It is a magical moment that must not be missed. For two days and two nights Cheren comes to life without a break.