Traveling with a Military Escort to Attend a Gerewol Festival of the Wodaabe Tribe-A Beauty Competition to Attract Women

Experiencing the Gerewol Festival: A Journey into the Heart of the Wodaabe Culture

📍 September 2015 – Niger

Attending a Gerewol festival of the Wodaabe tribe had long been a bucket list experience for me. Ever since watching documentaries about their unique customs, I was fascinated by this extraordinary tribal tradition and knew I had to witness it before it disappears forever.

What is a Gerewol?

A Gerewol festival is an elaborate courtship ritual where handsome Wodaabe warrior men compete to be chosen by women.

✔ Men enhance their looks with effeminate clothing and intricate makeup, highlighting their most desirable features
✔ They dance, sing, and perform for the women, showcasing charm, stamina, and beauty
✔ The prize? The most desirable men are selected by women and rewarded with a night of passion

This fascinating ritual is not just about beauty and attraction, but a deep cultural tradition that has existed for centuries.

Setting Out for the Gerewol

To witness this rare spectacle, my friend Daniela and I traveled independently to Niger for a week, hiring a car and driver with the sole mission of finding and attending a Gerewol.

What followed was a journey filled with trials, surprises, and unforgettable moments—one that would take us deep into the Sahel, where time-honored traditions continue to thrive, for now.

Niger: A Land of Harsh Beauty and Rich Traditions

Niger, a landlocked nation dominated by the Sahara Desert, is one of the poorest countries in the world, yet it holds immense cultural and natural significance.

Geography & People

• The south – A semi-arid Sahel grassland, where the Niger River sustains agriculture.
• The north – Vast sand dunes and desert landscapes, home to nomadic tribes.
• Languages – French (colonial legacy) and numerous indigenous tongues.

Nomadic Tribes: The Tuareg & Wodaabe

Two of Niger’s most fascinating groups:

• The Tuareg – The legendary “Blue Men of the Sahara,” known for their camel caravans and indigo-dyed robes.
• The Wodaabe – Nomadic herders famous for their Gerewol courtship festival, where men compete for women’s attention through elaborate beauty rituals and performances.

Political Instability & Security Risks

Niger, like much of the Sahel region, has struggled with:

• Military coups and political turmoil – Repeated overthrows of the government.
• Terrorist threats – Insurgent attacks and kidnappings by Islamic militants from Mali, Libya, and Nigeria.
• Restricted travel – Much of the stunning Sahara scenery was off-limits due to security concerns.

Foreign Military Presence

At the time of my visit:

• A U.S. drone base in the north provided counterterrorism support.
• The region also housed one of the world’s largest uranium mines, a strategic resource closely monitored.

Despite these challenges, Niger’s rich cultural heritage and breathtaking landscapes made it an unforgettable destination—especially as I pursued my goal of attending the Gerewol festival.

Our route in Niger

Navigating Niger’s Challenges: Planning an Independent Gerewol Expedition

Given Niger’s security risks and the government’s paranoia over foreigner abductions, I knew independent travel would be difficult—but joining a tour wasn’t an option.

• Tours were outrageously expensive, with permits and security pre-arranged.
• Renting our own 4×4 vehicle and driver was the only feasible way.

The Struggle to Secure a 4×4

Since Gerewols take place deep in the bush, a 4×4 vehicle was essential—but securing one was a challenge:

• Most 4x4s were being used to smuggle migrants north to Libya and Europe.
• After multiple calls, I finally found one available in Niamey.
• I had to pay a 100% deposit via wire transfer—something I almost never do.

Finding the Gerewol Festival

A Gerewol is a nomadic event with no set schedule or exact location, making it difficult to track down.

• I reached out to a local travel agency and my rental car provider for leads.
• The car rental owner claimed to have contacts who knew where the festival was.
• We identified a likely Gerewol north of Abalak and hoped for the best.
• He also assured us we wouldn’t need a security escort—this later proved to be false.

Arrival in Niamey: The Journey Begins

• Flew to Niamey via Casablanca, Morocco.
• Spent one night at the Gaweye Niamey Hotel.
• Organized last-minute provisions for the trip.
• Captured stunning sunset photos along the Niger River.

With no guarantees and only vague information, Daniella and I set off—armed with hope, determination, and a bit of blind faith—to track down a Gerewol festival deep in the Nigerien bush.

Niger River

Niger River Sunset

Cow on top of a minibus

Goats transported on top of a minibus

Exploring W National Park: A Remote Wilderness

We checked into the rustic W National Park Headquarters, a simple outpost on the edge of one of West Africa’s last great wildernesses. The park, which borders Benin and Mali, covers a vast expanse of land, much of it inaccessible without a rugged vehicle and plenty of time.

A Missed Opportunity for Deeper Exploration

The map showed numerous remote campsites, which looked appealing for a multi-day adventure, but with limited time, we could only manage a day trip into the reserve.

Into the Wild: A Solitary Journey

Driving through the park felt like stepping into a lost world. The narrow dirt roads were overgrown, cutting through dense forest where it seemed no other visitors had passed in ages. The isolation was both exhilarating and eerie—there wasn’t another soul in sight.

Despite the park’s reputation for lions and elephants, thick vegetation limited visibility, and we only managed to spot antelope, birdlife, and crocodiles lurking in the waterways. Even though we didn’t find the elusive big game, simply being in such an untouched, wild place made the trip worthwhile.

Guinea fown on the road into the reserve

Antelope in W reserve

Nile Crocodile

Encounters on the Road to Niamey

On the way back to Niamey, curious locals greeted us at every stop. Foreign visitors were rare, and their warmth made the journey unforgettable.

Along the road, we picked up an old man in a straw hat hitchhiking to his village. Though we shared little language, his gratitude and smiles spoke volumes—a reminder that the heart of travel lies in human connection.

Village market on the way to Niamey

Village man we gave a rise to

Visiting Kouré Reserve: West Africa’s Last Giraffes

On our way to Tahoua, where we planned to spend the night, we stopped at Kouré Reserve, home to West Africa’s last remaining wild giraffes. Unlike East and Southern Africa, where giraffes are still abundant, West and Central Africa have lost most of their large wildlife due to hunting and habitat destruction.

The West African giraffe was nearly wiped out, and only a few isolated populations remain. Kouré protects around 400 giraffes, and its conservation success has led to repopulation efforts in other parts of Central Africa.

After paying the entrance fee, we were left to explore on our own, driving through the reserve until we spotted a small herd. We were free to approach on foot from a safe distance, giving us an up-close view of these rare creatures. Their lighter, almost white coloring set them apart from the giraffes I had seen in other parts of Africa, making the experience even more special.

Wesy African giraffe 

A Stroke of Luck: Overcoming Military Roadblocks to Reach the Gerewol

After arriving in Tahoua in the early afternoon, we planned to spend the night before continuing north to Abalak, our turn-off point for the Gerewol festival. By pure luck, we chose the Tarka Hotel, where we met its kind Tuareg owner, Saleh—a man who would unknowingly become instrumental in saving our trip.

Roadblock at the Military Checkpoint

The next morning, we attempted to leave Tahoua but were stopped at a military checkpoint on the only road north toward Abalak and Agadez. The officer was firm—no foreigners were allowed to continue north. Even with Daniella pleading in her limited French, they refused. Discouraged, we returned to Tahoua, hoping to find a solution.

Our driver did everything he could, and the rental car agency owner reached out to his local contacts, but every lead failed. We spent the entire day visiting police, military, and security offices, only to be told the same thing: Travel north was not permitted.

We went to bed in Tahoua for a second night, now deeply concerned that our dream of witnessing a Gerewol was slipping away.

A Last Hope: Saleh’s Unexpected Connection

The next morning, while we were sulking at the hotel, Saleh overheard us and offered to help. He claimed to have friends in the military, but by now, we were used to hearing empty promises. Time was running out—if we didn’t leave today, the Gerewol would happen without us.

Unfortunately, Saleh returned later with bad news—his military contacts were unreachable. With no other choice, Daniella and I reluctantly decided to return to Niamey and pivot to visiting other Wodaabe villages instead.

A Visit to a Wodaabe Village

We learned of a Wodaabe village near Tahoua, so we spent a few hours there, at least to meet some Wodaabe people. The village was made of mudbrick huts, had no electricity, and its people were incredibly warm and welcoming. They all knew about the Gerewol near Abalak and confirmed that it would take place in the next few days.

During our visit, the men were busy preparing for Eid al-Adha, the Islamic holiday of sacrifice. We watched as dozens of goats were lined up and slaughtered, their throats slit in a ritual manner—certainly not an ideal day to be a goat.

A Last-Minute Miracle: A Military Escort

Just as we were about to leave the Wodaabe village, my phone rang—it was Saleh. He had great news. While at the mosque, he happened to be praying next to a military general. He asked the general if he could help, and the general agreed to assist us.

The deal was this:

• We would hire military personnel as our escorts.
• We would join a convoy of other tourists traveling to Abalak for the Gerewol.
• The cost was a few hundred dollars, covering three armed soldiers in our vehicle and an escort jeep alongside us.

We didn’t hesitate. This was our one chance to reach the Gerewol, and we were taking it. By the afternoon, we set off for Abalak, where we would camp overnight in a secured compound before heading into the bush to witness one of the most spectacular tribal festivals in Africa.

Me being fitted for a Tuareg booboo in the local market

Wodabe village in Tuoua 

Carcasses of slughtered goats being prepared for the Eid al-Adha  festival

Village Lady

Me photgraphing kids in the Wodabe village

Joining the Convoy to Abalak: A Mix of Surprise and Suspicion

We waited at our hotel in Tahoua for the arrival of a group of six foreign tourists who had traveled from Niamey. These were the type of intrepid travelers drawn to remote and challenging destinations—the kind who sought experiences few others dared to attempt.

As we exchanged introductions, one member of the group was surprised to learn that Daniella and I were traveling independently, without the expensive, pre-arranged tour package that they had paid for. Another traveler, a man who had also been to the Yamal Peninsula and stayed with the Nenets reindeer herders, was intrigued by our approach. However, one member of the group was not pleased that we were joining them, expressing irritation that we were not officially part of their tour.

But our presence didn’t depend on their approval—the Gerewol was an open event, and while we were sharing the military escort, we had paid for our own security, vehicle, and provisions. Whether they liked it or not, we were headed to the same destination.

Setting Off Into the Night

In the late afternoon, we departed Tahoua, heading north toward Abalak. The road was lonely and desolate, stretching through an expanse of Saharan wilderness. Lightning flickered in the distant sky, illuminating the desert with ghostly flashes—a surreal and dramatic backdrop for our journey.

Normally, driving at night in this region was highly discouraged due to the risk of bandit or terrorist ambushes. But tonight was different. We were escorted by dozens of armed military personnel, and riding with us was one very, very large mounted gun attached to the back of a military jeep. If anyone planned an ambush, they would be in for a serious fight.

With our convoy pressing deeper into the Sahel, we were finally on the final stretch to Abalak, bringing us closer to the Wodaabe Gerewol festival—an event that had felt almost impossible to reach just hours earlier.

Me with our military escort

Daniella with one of the commanding soldiers

Our driver had one mixed tape of music and he and I liked the song, “Just Breathe” by Pearl Jam, and we played this song at least 100 times during the week in Niger. In this video, we started our drive, finally passing the military checkpoint with soldiers in our vehicle listening to Just Breathe. 

The soldiers escorting us definitely weren’t lacking in the ego catagory 

A Night in Abalak: Temptation and Restriction

We arrived in Abalak after dark, a small Tuareg village surrounded by mud-brick walls. It was miserably hot, and we spent the night in our tents inside a secure compound. As we settled in, the distant sound of drumming and Arabic ululation—a wedding celebration—filled the air.

Daniella and I desperately wanted to attend, drawn to the energy of the celebration, but our military escorts refused to allow it. They were responsible for our safety, and if anything happened, they would be held accountable—even to the point of sacrificing their lives. Frustrated, we tried sneaking toward the other end of the compound to see if we could slip out unnoticed, but one of the soldiers shadowed us closely. We weren’t going anywhere.

In hindsight, their strict vigilance was justified. While Abalak appeared peaceful, it sat near the remote Malian border, where insurgents were active. Not long after our visit, I learned that an American missionary who had been living in Abalak and running a medical clinic was kidnapped in a brazen night raid, with several of his bodyguards killed.

Meeting the Tuareg and the Wodaabe Chief

The next morning, under escort, we explored Abalak, meeting the Tuareg people—semi-nomadic desert dwellers famed for their hospitality and resilience.

More importantly, we met the Wodaabe chief, who would guide us to the Gerewol festival. Without him, we had no way of knowing its exact location in the remote bush. With anticipation building, we prepared to set off, finally within reach of the elusive and legendary Wodaabe Gerewol.

Me and the Wodabae Chief. The Chief presented me with a gift, a kind gesture on his part, and I presented him with a Polaroid photo of himself

Tuereg children with their customary camel leather necklaces of beautiful colors and beadery

Arriving at the Gerewol Festival: A Journey into the Desert

We set off into the remote bush, beyond any roads, navigating 4×4 tracks through a landscape of thorn forests, sand dunes, and muddy lake beds—the remnants of the rainy season. The sun was blazing, with temperatures easily soaring past 110°F, and we drove for several hours before arriving at what seemed like the middle of nowhere.

Scattered Wodaabe camps, along with livestock and camels, clustered near a muddy drinking pool. The location was so isolated that, without the Wodaabe, we would have had no way of finding our way back out.

The Gerewol: A Contest of Beauty and Passion

The Gerewol festival is a rare occasion when nomadic Wodaabe clans gather, marking one of the few times in the year when they see each other, socialize, and compete. For the Wodaabe, beauty is everything—they consider themselves to be the most attractive people on the planet.

Their distinctive features—a striking blend of Arab and Sub-Saharan African traits—often include green eyes, facial tattoos, and elegant angular faces. The Gerewol serves as both a celebration and a beauty contest for men.

• Men decorate themselves with makeup derived from natural plant dyes to highlight their sharp features, pearly white teeth, and the whites of their eyes.
• They perform ritual dances and songs, exaggeratedly widening their eyes and baring their teeth in rhythmic displays.
• The judges are young women, some just past puberty, who choose the most desirable men to spend the night with.

This night of passion is one of the only exceptions to the strict Wodaabe marriage customs—a culturally sanctioned moment of freedom.

A Fleeting Experience

The Gerewol lasts anywhere from several days to a week, with bonfires, camel-riding competitions, and endless singing and dancing. While foreign visitors are expected to pay a fee to the Wodaabe chief, it was clear that the festival was not merely for tourists—it was a true cultural gathering.

Unlike the other foreigners who planned to stay at least two nights, Daniella and I had to leave by late afternoon. With our trip nearing its end and a long drive back to Niamey ahead, we couldn’t stay overnight.

Still, we spent the day immersed in the Gerewol, witnessing the preparations, meeting the Wodaabe, and watching the mesmerizing dances before heading back to Tahoua with our military escort. It was a brief but unforgettable glimpse into one of the most unique cultural festivals in the world.

Wodabe men with their swords gathering in attendance for the gerewol

Wodabe boy

Wodabe boy

Wodabe Boy

Arriving Wodabe men in their tradition Fulu Bowl hats

Wodabe woman

Wodabe man with a turban

Young Tuereg boy

A Harsh Reality Amidst Celebration

As groups of nomadic Tuareg and Wodaabe arrived for the Gerewol, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation and preparation. However, amid the vibrant celebrations, we were reminded of the harsh realities these people endure.

Daniella, while visiting a Wodaabe women’s camp, was met with a heartbreaking sight—a group of wailing women cradling the lifeless body of a newborn baby. In that moment, it was essential to set aside our roles as visitors and simply be human—to recognize the profound hardships of nomadic life.

The Wodaabe face extreme medical challenges, with limited access to healthcare and clean water. Many suffer from waterborne illnesses, and several approached us desperately asking for medicine. I shared what little medicine I had, though it felt insufficient in the face of their immense struggles.

The Ritual of Beauty: A Serious Preparation

Meanwhile, in the shade of a lone desert tree, Wodaabe men meticulously prepared for the Gerewol. Their beauty preparations were a solemn, almost sacred process, and I took care not to disrupt them.

• Using traditional flowers and seeds, they painted their faces, carefully accentuating their features.
• The application of makeup and dressing in ceremonial clothing took several hours.
• Each man inspected himself in a small handheld mirror, ensuring he looked his best for the upcoming competition.

As a token of appreciation, I gifted them Polaroid photos of themselves—capturing their elegant transformation. They were genuinely grateful, admiring their reflections with pride and satisfaction.

This juxtaposition of hardship and celebration made the Gerewol all the more powerful. It wasn’t just a festival—it was a rare moment of joy and escape in a life of relentless struggle.

Wodabe men preparing make-up for gerewol

Wodabe men preparing make-up for gerewol

Wodabe men preparing for Gerewol

Wodabe men preparing for Gerewol

Daniella with one of the gerewol dancers

The Paradox of Strength and Beauty: Wodaabe Men’s Dance

As the Wodaabe men began their dance, a crowd of Tuareg and Wodaabe men gathered to watch. The elaborate performance was unlike any traditional displays of masculinity.

• Adorned in intricate makeup, their faces were painted to enhance their brightest features—the whiteness of their eyes and teeth, symbols of beauty in Wodaabe culture.
• Their movements were fluid and exaggerated, almost effeminate, but this was not an attempt to mimic women. Instead, every gesture, expression, and posture was carefully designed to accentuate their attractiveness.
• The goal was not physical dominance but rather to seduce and impress the female judges, who would later select their preferred partner for a night of intimacy.

Warriors in Dance, Not Battle

The Wodaabe men, despite their delicate performance, were not weak by any measure. They were renowned warriors, feared and respected across the Sahel.

• Ironically, their competition was not based on traditional acts of masculinity—strength, muscle, or bravery.
• Instead, they competed through grace, beauty, and artistic expression.
• In this unique cultural paradox, their ability to win over a woman’s desire through movement and charm was just as significant as their prowess in battle.

The contrast was striking—fierce warriors, whose survival depended on strength and resilience, now engaging in a ritual of seduction through delicate, feminine-like movements. It was a testament to the depth and complexity of Wodaabe traditions—where both power and beauty played crucial roles in defining a man’s worth.

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Audiance of Wodabe and Turage Men

Audiance of Wodabe and Turage Men

Wodabe man

A Spectacle Cut Short by the Desert’s Fury

For about 30 minutes, we stood mesmerized, watching the Wodaabe men dance in rhythmic unison, their painted faces illuminated by the fading desert light. The hypnotic chanting, synchronized movements, and intense expressions created an otherworldly spectacle—a tradition that had likely remained unchanged for centuries.

Then, nature intervened.

• Dark clouds rolled in, and within minutes, the calm desert turned chaotic.
• A sandstorm whipped through the camp, sending wind and grit tearing through the air.
• Dancers and spectators scrambled for cover, retreating under scattered trees and makeshift tents.
• The sky cracked with lightning, followed by torrential rain—a rare and powerful desert storm.

Despite the abrupt end, we had witnessed something extraordinary—a fleeting glimpse into one of the most unique courtship rituals on Earth, unfolding in the harsh yet beautiful landscape of the Sahel.

Wodabe man

Dancing as the sandstorm approached

Gerewol Dance

Gerewol Dance

Wodabe men dancing showing off the whites of their eyes by rolling the eyes and grimacing their teeth to show off the white of their teeth

Women judging the men. Each woman will select a man to sleep with at the end of the night

The Judges of the Gerewol: A Silent Power

At the Gerewol festival, the women who judge the men remain separate from the spectacle, observing with an air of quiet authority. Their faces adorned with intricate tattoos, they carry themselves with intense confidence, making it clear they are the ones in control. No one is allowed to speak with them, and their detached demeanor suggests they have little interest in outsiders.

Many of these women are young, some barely past puberty, yet in a world where life expectancy is short, they take on adult roles early. Some are here to select a partner, and have sex with the winner of the gerewol, while others—too young to participate—are simply learning the traditions, watching their older sisters as they prepare for the night’s choices.

The men may be the ones dancing and displaying their beauty, but the real power lies with the women. It is their decision that determines who wins, who is chosen, and who earns a fleeting moment of romance in the desert night.

Female judge

Female judge

Female judge

Female judge

Sandstorm

Escaping the Storm: A Final Journey Through the Sahel

With the sandstorm intensifying, we had no choice but to cut our time at the Gerewol short and begin the treacherous journey back. The weather threatened to turn the already challenging terrain into an impassable quagmire, making our escape urgent.

Navigating the Desert Back to Abalak

To find our way through the desolate, unmarked bush, we hired a Wodaabe guide, squeezing him into our already packed 4×4 alongside our armed escorts. The drive was a test of endurance—remote, disorienting, and fraught with obstacles.

At one point, our jeep became mired in the thick mud of a dried lakebed. For several tense moments, we feared we’d be stuck overnight, miles from the nearest settlement. After several attempts, we managed to break free and continue on.

By the time we reached Abalak, exhaustion had overtaken us, and we collapsed into a restless sleep.

The Gerewol Lives On

From Touha, we continued the long drive back to Niamey and eventually home. Later, we heard from the tourists who had stayed behind—the Gerewol had lasted for many more days.

They described more dancing, competitions, and camel races, with bonfires lighting up the desert nights. Even after the foreigners departed, the Wodaabe carried on, immersed in their ancient traditions, untouched by the outside world.

Though we had to leave early, we felt privileged to have witnessed one of Africa’s last great nomadic ceremonies, a ritual that continues in the heart of the Sahel long after the spectators are gone.