It’s December, the final week of 2002. The United States is still reeling from the events of 9/11. It’s my third trip to Egypt in 12 months. I’ve returned to reunite with Azim, my Egyptian husband who lives in Cairo; I live in Southern California. We are in the Sinai. I am the only American and Azim is the only Egyptian in a group of German, Russian, Canadian and Italian tourists who have come to participate in a Bedouin Dinner Safari and Star Gazing Tour.
Our rickety tour bus has brought us from our hotel in Sharm el Sheik and sped us an hour into the vast desert. We had come first to a place where the Bedouins waited for us with camels. We would ride the camels to the tents where our dinner would be served. The camels are on the ground, with their legs tucked under their bellies. To mount the camel, one straddles a saddle covered with colorful blankets. The saddle has two horns – one in the front to hold onto and one behind, the purpose of which I could not determine.
I’d ridden a camel for the first time a year earlier, at the pyramids in Giza. I am not a fan of camel rides. I am nervous about getting onto the camel, and I do not feel safely tethered once the camel starts moving. A fall from a camel would be dangerous, giving the camel’s height once it is standing.
Mounting a camel is similar to getting onto a boy’s bicycle. You hang onto the handlebars and swing your leg over the bar, put your foot onto the peddal, then lift yourself up onto the seat. Only a bicycle is made for your height so you still have your feet on the ground once the bike is between your legs. A sitting camel is still about four feet high. Also, a camel is wide. So while you’re trying to straddle the camel and settle into the saddle your feet are off the ground. It was not a movement that I found graceful or feminine.
The distance between the saddle horns was narrow, probably more appropriate for a child. It was difficult for me to hold onto the front horn, which was protruding into my belly. I finally got myself situated precariously in the saddle, my feet dangling on either side of the gentle beast. The camel owner grabbed the colorful reins attached to the bit with his left hand, and tapped the camel with a switch he held in his right hand, signaling the camel to stand up. The camel does this by first raising its back end. The rider must lean back and keep his/her body parallel to the camel’s back while holding on to the front horn of the saddle. It’s awkward and unsteady, as the camel raises one back leg and then the other. Once the two back legs are free, the camel raises its two front legs one at a time. The sensation is like being rocked by ocean waves while in a small boat.
As I held on for dear life, my camel leaned forward and began to lift his back end. Suddenly, my saddle came loose and I began to fall off the camel. Azim came quickly to my rescue, as did several of the Bedouin. The owner began shouting at the camel and tapped its rear end with the switch. Azim, other Bedouin, and the tour guide ran quickly to my aid, gathered around me to hold me and to keep me from falling off the camel. Voices were raised, arms gesticulating. I was terrified and mortified.
Finally I was off the camel, my two feet back on terra firma. Azim was yelling at the Bedouin who had put me on the camel. There was much shouting, all in Arabic. The Bedouins brought another camel. But I was done with camels.
“Can’t we walk to the tents?” I asked Azim.
Azim wasn’t that crazy about camel rides either. He agreed it was a good idea to walk.
As the other tourists rode their camels, Azim and I walked across the Siani. It was a beautiful evening. Soon the camels and their riders became silhouettes against a brilliant red-orange sky. We reached the Bedouin tents as the Egyptian sun god Aton Ra relinquished the daylight to the darkness as he travelled as he had since the beginning of time to the other side of the world.
As the streaks of red and orange and yellow melded into pink and apricot and black, the stars began to emerge. Stars touched the tops of the mountain peaks behind us; stars touched the desert floor on the horizon before us. It was a waning crescent moon that night, and it would not rise until after midnight. All the brilliant light that shone on us that night came solely from the stars. I heard the voice of Carl Sagan. “100 billion galaxies, each of which contain something like 100 billion stars . . . billions and billions and billions of stars.”
I thought of how insignificant I was. I thought of how insignificant the petty tribulations of life are, even in the aftermath of 9/11. I thought of all the grains of sands in the Siani, and how even they were outnumbered and would be outlived by the stars.
Living in suburbia makes it easyto find the brightest constellations. Orion’s Belt. Cassiopiea. The Big Dipper. But in the brilliance available to one in the Siani, it was impossible for me to find my favorite constellations.
How were the ancients able to find patterns? It was easy to see how the ancients were so attracted to the skies. Maybe they were luckier than we. They were in concert with all of Mother Nature.
I thought about the Jews wandering around for 40 years.
I remembered all the Bible stories I had heard.
I remembered the words of Isaiah: Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these? He who brings out their host by number, calling them all by name, by the greatness of his might, and because he is strong in power not one is missing.
The greatness of God, the expanse of His universe, the plethora of His mysteries, the depth of our insignificance – all these thoughts filled my head.
The tour group had set up a telescope for us to look through. The other tourists scrambled for a look at the planets. We only had an hour to gaze at the stars before it would be time to return to our hotel. I didn’t want to waste it fighting for a chance to look briefly through a telescope.
Azim I walked away from the telescope and the crown of tourists and found our own place in the desert. We sat quietly next to each, holding hands, my head on his shoulder, lost in our own thoughts. There was nothing unique about our time with the Siani night sky. It was a moment shared by millions of couples before us. But it was still our moment – a moment not shared by everyone who had lived or who lived or who would live. I’ve never felt so small; I’ve never felt so connected to the infinity of time.
Tour Itinerary:
Escape from the noisy city to the serenity of the desert & enjoy the atmosphere of the desert at Wadi Mandar. Start your trip when Memphis Tours representative pick you up from your hotel (at 3:00 pm) and get excited with the camel riding for approximately 20 minutes through the Desert, where you can experience the real Bedouin life and watch the sunset. Enjoy the welcoming Bedouin tea with herbs (Habak) upon arrival at the tent, bedouin bread will be made and guests can try their bread making skills too! Dinner will be served in a buffet style under the candles light in the middle of the desert, followed by an oriental party with belly dancer, fire show and enjoying the Egyptian traditional shisha (water pipe with apple flavoured tobacco). After that heading with the astronomy guide to the telescope area, approximately about 30 to 45 minutes watching the stars and planet(s) through the telescopes with a chance to take photographs.
Finally drive back to your hotel.
No comments:
Post a Comment