The Man Who Vanished in front of 134 People in Sahara part 2

The sun of the fifth day was about to set when suddenly a sound hit his ears—the sound of a helicopter. He felt his prayers had been answered. Without wasting time, Prosperi took out his flare gun and fired a signal to get the pilot's attention. But perhaps nature had other plans. The light of the setting sun was so bright that the flash of the flare was drowned out. The pilot didn't see him, and the helicopter vanished from sight.

Prosperi was once again alone in that silent sea of death. He realized that no one was coming to find him now. This was now a war between his own courage and the merciless weather of the Sahara. On the sixth day, after walking for hours in the scorching sun, he saw an old, dilapidated building on the distant horizon. It was an ancient marabout (shrine) that had been empty for centuries. Prosperi felt a surge of hope, thinking he might find local people or a water well there. But when he entered with staggering steps, there was no living soul—only an old grave where silence welcomed him.

Prosperi did not lose heart. He took a small Italian flag from his backpack and placed it on the roof of the shrine, hoping a passing aircraft might see it. But the real problem was hunger and thirst. His body had become shriveled. Just then, his eyes fell on bats hanging from the ceiling of the shrine. The struggle to stay alive makes a human do unimaginable things. Prosperi caught those bats, cut their necks with his pocket knife, and drank their warm blood to maintain moisture in his body.

For the next few days, his survival depended solely on these bats, lizards found along the way, and small insects. At one point, he saw a plane far away. To get the pilot's attention, he had nothing left to light a fire. Forced, he burned his own backpack. But fate had other plans; the smoke that rose was immediately scattered by the strong Sahara winds, and once again, the pilot couldn't see him.

It was his seventh day in the Sahara. The setting sun and loneliness were destroying his mental capacity. He was convinced he wouldn't make it out alive. That was the point when a terrifying idea came to his mind. He didn't want to wait any longer for his death. With the help of a piece of charcoal, he wrote a farewell message to his family and slit his wrists to embrace death. He lay down in that old shrine and closed his eyes, waiting for the morning sun to find him dead.

But even death turned its face away from him. Yes, due to extreme dehydration, his blood had become so thick that instead of flowing, it clotted on the wound itself. When Prosperi opened his eyes, he was astonished by the sight. After this incident, he understood that even death had rejected him—meaning his destination lay elsewhere. He bandaged his wounds and emerged from the shrine with a new resolve.

After seeing death closely in the shrine, a new strength was born within Prosperi. He took out his compass and headed toward the distant mountains. He traveled only in the early morning and evening, resting under a bush during the scorching afternoon sun. At night, he would bury himself in the sand to maintain body heat. Whatever bush or plant he found along the way, he would squeeze its roots and drink the bitter drops of juice to survive. For food, he chewed raw snake meat and small insects. His body was now a skeleton, and he had lost about 15 kg.

On the eighth day, he saw some greenery in the distance. It was a small oasis where there was a muddy pool of water. He wanted to drink that muddy water, but his throat was so swollen that every gulp felt like thorns going down. Somehow, drop by drop, he drank the water and spent the whole day quenching his thirst.

On the ninth day, when he was completely exhausted while walking, he saw some goat droppings in the sand. Following the droppings, he reached the goats, where a young girl was grazing them. For the first time in nine days, he was seeing another human being. Prosperi immediately ran toward the girl, but his appearance was so terrifying that she ran away. Fortunately, the girl returned with her grandmother. The desert people took pity on Prosperi's condition, gave him shelter, and offered him food. But his stomach was so weak that he would vomit as soon as he ate anything.

The villagers put Prosperi on a camel and sent him to a nearby military camp, where he was arrested on suspicion of being a spy. When his identification was completed, it was discovered that while wandering, Mauro Prosperi had crossed out of Morocco and entered Algeria. He had drifted nearly 291 km away from his race track.

His wife and family had given up hope, thinking him dead. But when his first call reached home after 9 days, there was a celebration throughout Italy. Prosperi was kept in the hospital for many days. Doctors said that Prosperi's organs were so damaged that death was certain, but his courage didn't let him die.

The amazing thing is that even after such a terrifying experience, Prosperi's love for the Sahara did not end. He later participated in this race six more times and even achieved 13th position once. Today, Mauro Prosperi is 70 years old, but his passion is still the same. He says that the same Sahara that tried to take his life taught him the true meaning of life.