NOUAKCHOTT

Saya tinggal di Nouakchott, a city that rose from the desert — built on sand yet filled with stories of endurance. Our nation stretches between the Arab north and the African south, a bridge between two worlds, bound together by the vastness of the Sahara and the rhythm of Islam. Nearly everyone here calls themselves Muslim; it is not just a faith but the fabric of identity and belonging.

Our people are proud, descended from the Moors — warriors and holy men. The old stories tell of two lineages: the Hassane, the fighters, and the Marabout, the teachers and spiritual guides. These roots run deep, shaping our culture, our honor, and our hope. But even with such heritage, many hearts wander thirsty across this spiritual desert, longing for water that truly satisfies.

Life in Mauritania is hard. The land is dry, and so too are many hearts. Yet I have seen God’s Spirit stir quietly here — in dreams, in secret conversations, in the courage of those who dare to believe. The Church is small, almost invisible, but it is alive. I believe the time has come for the Lord to raise up new warriors of faith dan holy men of the Spirit — true sons and daughters of Mauritania who will follow Jesus with strength and humility.

In this place once seen as barren ground, the seeds of revival are being planted. One day, I believe Mauritania will no longer be known for its deserts, but for the living streams of God’s presence flowing across its sands.