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Location: Dahab, Red Sea, Egypt
On an ochre desert moring in Dahab, we stood by our jeeps
in the shadows of the Sinai mountains, a motely bunch of eight
divers and two dive masters, waiting for the Bedouins who
would lead the way. After a while, a group of men in flowing
robes appeared between the rocks, accompanied by a small group
of children leading a train of majestically swaying camels.
Soon, over a dozen camels were kneeling on the flat stony
ground. We piled up our gear, tanks and provisions next to
them for the Bedouins to load up. One of the animals, placidly
chewing on a cardboard box, gazed at us through long-lashed,
droopy eyes. Pièrre, one of the French divers, caught
its gaze just as he lifted a bottle of water to his lips.
He lowered his bottle, walked over and held it out. The camel
dropped its snack and he inserted the bottle between its fleshy
lips. It tilted back its head and upended the bottle, sucking
out every last drop. Afterwards, it kept pursing and licking
its lips. I had found a soul-mate and chosen my mount.
We led the heavily loaded camels over a small hill and around
the rocks to the shore. There it was time to mount the animals,
a moment I had dreaded. I giggled nervously as I gracelessly
attempted to clamber aboard. One of the Bedouin kids gave
me a shove-up, much to my husband's amusement. I clung to
the saddle-horn as the boy commanded the animal to rise. To
my relief, I managed to stay on and soon settled into the
gentle swagger of my camel. It was slow. The French divers
had long since charged ahead and the rest of the group were
overtaking one-by-one. Soon, my husband had caught up with
me. More relaxed now, I began to crave a cigarette.
"John!" I shouted over to him, "are these non-smoking
camels?"
He grinned, shook his curly head and lit a roll-up.
Our dive-masters, seeing that the group was safely underway,
whooped and spurned on their camels to join the leaders far
ahead. I was convinced my mount would doze off in mid step.
John's camel, which trotted close behind, bumped into it more
than once. Periodically, one of the kids came up and whalloped
it with a thin stick, presumably to keep it awake. I felt
for the poor thing. It was hot and the load was heavy. Beady
sweat droplets formed in a tuft of hair just behind its head.
It was the first time I had seen a camel sweat.
After an hour's ride we arrived at our dive-site, a bay named
Gabr el Bint after the grave of a young girl. We kitted
up under the scorching sun. I hesitated before removing my
head-scarf, fearing that my brain might get poached. The Bedouins
draped heavy cloth over wooden frames to provide shade. The
children led the camels to the beach. It could not have been
the first time that the animals encountered the sea, but they
bent down and sniffed the salty water hesitantly. The kids
dragged the protesting beasts into the waves and splashed
them to cool them down, then bullied their favourites to kneel
so they could climb onto their humps and jump into the sea,
shrieking with pleasure. When we emerged from our first dive,
we handed them our masks and snorkles and they were off with
unbounded energy while we sought shade.
The men kept to themseves in a separate camp at the back of
our shelter, but they brought us strong, sweet tea and a delicious
lunch of chicken and rice mixed with pasta in the manner typical
for the region. We relaxed for our surface interval, chatting
and sharing the buzz which always follows a dive. Wahid's
group, on a shallower dive, had encountered a hawksbill turtle.
My jealousy did not last too long as we boasted of sheer drops
covered in spectacular coral, myriad reef-fish and tuna sihouetted
against the blue deep.
After our second dive we unkitted and piled our gear once
again next to the camels which knelt in anticipation of their
load, then waited in the shade while the Bedouins took over.
A joint was passed around surrepticiously. I took a quick
toke then it was time to go. We rode into the light of the
setting sun which painted the desert red-gold. I mellowed
on my swaying camel, looking out to sea, an Arabian melody
playing in my head in rythm with the camel's gait. |
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