I Will Learn to Speak Camel
[Source: Google search.]
The desert is a natural extension of the inner silence of the body.
~~Anon
On September 23, 2024, give or take a day or three, I will say “Bayokav” to a camel. The odd-shaped creature will stand from a kneeling position. I will be sitting, hopefully in comfort, on the gentle beast.
Only then I will say “Arrrrrr”. And off we go, Mariam, myself, our guide and perhaps other travelers will head into the Saraha Desert for a night under black skies and stars too numerous to count. When we arrive at our camp, I will say, with authority: “Shhhhhhh”. We will stop, I will say, “Jmell Bayokve”, and we will dismount and go off to dine on a Bedouin meal. That’s the plan.
It will be trite to many world explorers, but to me, it’s the fulfillment of a dream I’ve held within for much of my life.
The desert. The Empty Quarter. The great void. The birthplace of the major religions of the world. It will be an experience unlike most others that I’ve had. I’ve stood in Red Square, on The Great Wall, on the Acropolis and even inside a glacier in Alaska. I looked into the sad eyes of the Pope as he passed in front of Mariam and me in St. Peter’s Square. Likewise, I looked at the closed eyes of Lenin and Chairman Mao. We love to travel, and I have taken advantage of opportunities to do so.
But, while those experiences were exciting and important to me, the dunes of the Sahara will be an adventure that will be difficult to match.
Our flight from Paris will land in Tangier, Morocco on September 16. From there we will be driven to Fez and on to Marrakech. The trip will take 11 days. After the Bazaar in Marrakech, at the end of the trip, we fly to London. Clouds, likely rain and light pollution. I love England, but the ebony sky of the desert is something I want so very much to experience.
If there is wind, the quartz sand will sting my flesh. I will cover myself against the chill after sunset. My lips will crack in arid air. My sunglasses will protect me from the blinding glare of the sun on sand. I want to fully experience what it’s like to stand among the endless dunes. I want to feel real thirst (but I will drink a gallon of water a day if needed).
While reading about the desert, learning the poetry and listening to the music of the Bedouin culture, I am excited and full of apprehension. Here in Manhattan, I struggle to walk three blocks. But, I wonder…is this my swan song? Are my roaming days coming to an end?
I don’t pray anymore, for personal reasons, but I wonder. When I sit and contemplate my place in the world, in America, in Europe, and in the sand, what else is there to think about?
[Source: Google search.]
