On the edge of an oasis, almost engulfed by dunes where the rare caravan still passes, a desert landscape is pierced by holes.
The salt pans of Kalala near Bilma in northeastern Niger were once an essential stopping point for traders with their swaying rows of camels.
Salt mining, carried on from generation to generation, was a thriving business, involving a product so precious that it was bought and sold in the Sahara and beyond. Hundreds of pits have been dug by hand over the centuries and then filled with water to leach salt from the local rocks.
Today, in this isolated desert region plagued by armed gangs and smugglers, the diggers struggle to survive.
Standing in the black and ocher pits, Ibrahim Tagaji and a colleague wrestled with a crowbar to harvest the bounty — an extraction method that remains essentially unchanged over time.
A blistering hot day with temperatures reaching 45C (113F) in the shade came to an end.
Swimming barefoot in brine with crystals, the two men dug out salty chunks and pounded them into granules, which were then scooped out with a gourd.
They poured the salt into molds made from date palms and formed slabs ready for sale.
It’s hard work, rewarded with an income that fluctuates according to the buyers coming through town.
“If someone comes with money, you make a lot,” Tagaji said between shoves. “Otherwise it’s a lot of work and the money is bad.”
The local economy offers few alternatives and about half of Bilma’s population still work in the pits, according to local officials.
“As soon as you get out of school, you have to work here,” says Omar Kosso, an industry veteran.
“Every family has its own salt pan. You are with your wife, your children, you come to work.”