Note- transcribed from my notebook, as written in pencil in February 1984 on my first trail on the Darb al-Arba’in, the Way of the Forty Days, with a herd of camels from Sudan to Egypt, at the invitation of Bashir Abu Jaib, a Sudanese trader I had first met in Cairo in 1979
Key Persons- KhairAllah (aka Khair), the trail boss; Masood, Adam, and Muhammad (aka M, Md., etc.), KhairAllah’s drovers with varying years of experience and maturity; Muhammad the Khabir (aka M, Md. etc), a trail boss accompanying us with his own herd; Nasir, Saeed, and KhairAllah (aka Skullface), Muhammad’s drovers; Billa Ali, a camel thief; Sadiq abd al Wahab and Ahmad Hassan, Bashir Abu Jaib’s agents in al-Nahud, Sudan and Binban, Egypt, the drives start and end points.
Day 3 on the Trail
Predawn. 100 camels kneeling and rechewing yesterday's grass and leaves. No wind now, so they lie helter skelter. Last night in the wind they were aligned like small craft swinging at their moorings, noses leeward.
First coffee of the trip last night, 2 cups. Such a relief from the over sweet tea. Yesterday, a full day driving camels, eating their dust and sand, smelling farts, passing Hamari villages, Shiraat and Bulaad where we slept.
Fresh clear water here, trucked in and stored in the village cistern.
At Shiraat met by men boying and clowning for the camera, we left one instant photo and I did a sommersault on my first attempt to mount. The landscape changes from thick savannah grasses, red loose sands, thin overgraze, millet and melon fields. White melons a treat at yesterday's midday break. I nearly died when it came, our rest. I had driven much too hard for a khawaaja, getting them out of thorn trees, low leafy bush, and clumps of dried grass. Breaking up mating dances, urine drinking parties (flaming gimacing?), stud bravado, hump biting, and neck wrestling. Arms sore from rump wacking with my stick, always too short for a full smack.
KhairAllah brushes his teeth with an aromatic twig, he rides right point, maddagha, choosing the route and campsites, in charge of camel counts, married, Kabbashi.
Adam rides left point, makhrouga, on the tallest camel, has a nice tooled leather camel shoulder skirt to cover its withers, makes our tea· and 'aseeda fires, 29 years old, bachelor Hamari.
Muhammad, the wild man, Kabbashi, married, sons Hassan Ali and Hamid, skull cap and dirty araagi (riding tunic), picks up the strays, hardest working always at a trot, scavenges cans from the desert, Irish tobacco tin, "Wallahi?"
Lying 4 feet now from a nibbling camel, knee bent and tied with an 'agala (hobble)
To quiet a camel- rolled tongue cluck, hollow sounded
To rise a camel- KhKhKh KhKhKh KhKhKhKh KhKhKh KhKhKh KhKh
To trot a camel- like a horse, flat tongue cluck off roof of mouth
The day We pushed off. Sheep slaughter BarBQue, took hindquarters with us, Muhammad Ali was there, Sadiq the agent of abu Jaib, and John the Christian driver from Wau. John is the outsider, dressed in Western clothes, listened to Motown and Sarah Vaughn and Mahalia Jackson with interest, sitting apart on the pickup hood. Nahud is on the Sudan's Mason Dixon Line, just a border town.
North and South, Arab and Black.
Hussein had 4 servants, all Southerners. Gom, old and aragi-drunk, wizened. "Donkey", young and smiley. Nagwa, Somali refugee girl, precocious.
Desert and Grass.
Sadiq did last minute figuring with KhairAllah, he has such a sly ignorant grin, nice to us only to gain favor with Bashir?
Visit to Police HQ, painting on wall of green uniformed cop shaking hands with white gallabiyya-dressed local, 2 district football teams.
Add that to El Obeid's team rivalry, Mireekh and Fulaata (Nigerians) who won 2-1 in the night game Sayyid Bashir took us to.
My bones still creaking this morn. And my anus raw, a dose of vaseline last night helped somewhat, I'll have to ride easy today, hands and nose sunburned.
Tea brought to me in bed by Khair, he wants me to take it easy too!
Promises to drink aragi with me in a few days, still in Dar al-Hamar, round thatched huts and goat herds, humpless camels last night in Bulaad our stoppirg place.
Dar al-Kababish up ahead in 3 days. Midday camp due east of Jebel Gharib.
our landmark all day yesterday, nothing up ahead to go by, breakfast with 2 locals in Bulaad, filled up skins at their well, paid up a few LS. The water is trucked up from Nahud, lady banker in black thaub takes the cash.
The camels stampede this morn upon setting off. All at a silly trot. Some paired off in amorous chase, Khair says Aneeq Kabeer, Big Sex.
Looks like we finished our mutton at breakfast, Khair now making up lemonade from today's water, our skins are new and they blacken it quickly, and ripen its taste, but the color! Lemonade the color of Coffee?
Muhammad out in the field keeping the camels in close, without hobbles they wander.
He really picks the hoof and lamb's head clean, pried off the horny part and sucked the cavity, peeled the skin off the head and diced up the sweets- tongue, brain, eye balls-we all dove in hands first.
Dust in the air, wind up high today, that plus a good shade tree, I need a long break today, anus still on the raw side.
Smoky flavor to that goatskin lemonade, I've come to ignore the color of what ever I eat or drink, viz. white watermelon, tawny coffee. Nope, there's meat after all, Adam is chopping up something on the yellow side, at least the onions are red, and they add the extra taste too.
Baobab trees are wells, climb a branch and drop a bucket down the hollow trunk.
Khair says we went 30 km yesterday, might make 40 today, even better distance in the desert. Jebel Gharib has thieves, have to watch out.
Muhammad and Adam have camel driving Songs they sing to themselves, Bashir's fresh roast jebena on to boil, hope its better than store bought.
Day 4
Predawn, quarter moon and Venus rising in the east. Dave out with the tripod, met another drive yesterday afternoon, 7 men including Khair's cousin with the silver teeth, 160 camels belonging to Sadiq's maternal uncle. They left Nahud the day after us, slept first night in Shiraat, moving faster but they say we'll travel together, as they closed in on us from the rear their dust kicked up, riding rear guard as I do really dirties the face.
Camels turning golden as the sun creeps up, chewing all night, some sleep with necks stretched out front on the ground, butts windward, a drive-in movie with popcorn all round, dung dropping pitter-patter, after a sip of urine they put their heads straight in the air with necks sharply bent and show teeth (flaming grimace).
Baobab wells, we finally saw in use, many have old limbs propped up, that hollow way high and the dish-like depression 50 foot radius at its base. When rain falls it collects there, people raise it in buckets to the hollow, and store it there, saw 2 girls pulling out a bucket as we went by a village.
Aragi still promised up ahead, Adam Hamid Adam Hamid Adam-3 trips, Muhammad Ali Hassan-3 trips, Masood abu Dood Abdullah-36 trips?
Noonbreak. Wind and dust up strong all round, blowing from due north, heading right into it, camels don't seem to mind, moving steady pace, grass and green thorn trees thinned out, baobabs disappearing, nothing much to eat.
Adam just disappeared behind a tree to crap, now cutting up onions to mix our milaah, no tribal taboos against cutting with left hands I presume, Khair and Muhammad were behind us all morning, M. finally caught up during our impromptu 15 minute tea break. He wouldn't miss a spot of tea if his life depended on it. Shay abu Nuwaas, Tea of the 8th C poet Abu Nuwaas. We're filling skins in the first village we passed through driving the camels with just Adam and Masood, they were at a trot nonstop picking up strays, I was hurtin' in the saddle this morn so wasn't much help, feel better now.
The other group's right behind us, we coordinate our stops, sentries posted between herds to keep from mixing.
Sesame oil kept in a 5 liter Mobil oil plastic jug, aseeda on to boil, whips and camel gear hanging from the tree limbs, shadows somewhat dim for all the dust in the air, blue sky only overhead, haven't seen this much wind since the big blow at the Souk Sha'bi in Omdurman.
Haven't passed as many villages today as yesterday, what we do are small and semi-abandoned, always a few toddlers out to wave us by, from a distance they are so black and small and low to the ground almost look like insects on their unsteady feet. looks like we're on our way out of Dar al-Hamar and into Dar al-Kababish. The tracks we were following are gone, the wind is at a steady compass point, just keep our noses straight into the blow.
Can feel the heat of the fire from 15 feet, and I'm upwind, my hands are pretty burned, I guess I've been giving them and my sore ass the old vaseline treatments to no avail.
The fine dust between my teeth, even after a drink and keeping my mouth closed is gritty 5 minutes later, must come down through my nose.
Day 5
Noonbreak. Finally caught up with the other drive, they took the lead this morn when we broke camp, wind still howling from the north but we seem to be headed into it off a few points west, very chilly this morn, blew all night, Dave caught cold and didn't get a wink, wrapped up in the sleeping bag and extra sweaters, I tried walking a bit, felt good to stretch the legs but the wind drives hard.
Had a midmorning tea break and remounted, the sun was finally warming, Khair came back to camp last night with a bag of sesame seeds for tea, a mild antidote to the sugar.
M. the Khabir was drunk at our fire last night, a long discussion over how many camels we had, finally added up to 109 through some back door calculus, also a discussion over males and females, 8 or 9 mares finally agreed to.
Names of camels, after their color:
kharsha- black
hamara or humeira- red
shajara or shujeira- yellow
beida- white
dabsa- blackish
M. out running down camels again always on the move with a “heh, hut, oink”. Rode through the high prairies today, lion country, came across stunted melon patch and a cow skull, man in a baobab tree drawing water with a skin, lowering it to girls with tightly braided hair, donkey awaiting his burden, introduced ourselves as professional photographers and got his okay to shoot, asked his address so we could send him one and drew a blank.
Tumbled out of the saddle again at noon time, rolled right down his neck, heard him growl underneath my belly, kept rolling, almost busted my glasses, bent 'em.
Shau-toothbrush tree.
Abdullah from Fawja of the Hawawir tribe says Sodiri town is 3 days ahead. Now Khair says Abdullah was a thief casing our herd. Said in May that 11 camels were stolen near Dongola by men from the Hawawir. Said I should not have invited him to lunch, but since I had gotten the itfaddil - the “if you please”- out before knowing this, he sat down.
He took off on a very small fast camel, good for thieving, after riding with us a half mile. He had been surprised when I asked him to tell me about himself because I was a mu'allim (scholar), now I know why.
All afternoon grass thinned out, wind didn't die. Stopped very early for the night, camels looking in vain for a bite. Muhammad rode off to Maraheet for fresh water. Saw a water truck go by in that direction just as we stopped the herd. Hope it made it to the well before M. Didn't feel like drinking stagnant H20. The skins make it smoky enough.
2 days from Sodiri we're told. At this pace we'll make Dongola in 40. Past sheep and cattle herds this afternoon, and Masood had to chase 5 kids out of our way on foot so we wouldn't trample them, camels will walk over anything. If their belly itches they walk right into the thorniest thorn tree they can find. I don't feel so bad that I've rubbed the bloody spot with my shoe right on top of his neck. Probably doesn't even feel it.
Camped again in the barest windiest part of the plain we could find. Under the smallest tree. The point is I guess to make our campsite as unappetizing as possible.
One white camel was very lame today, even worse now at pasture, a Kabbashi.
Day 6
Noonbreak east of Jebel Mandara, heading for Jebel Shudeira. Not much progress this morn with midmorn tea and grazing breaks. M. went back into Maraheet to get more water, what he brought back last night was clear and sweet when we poured it from the skin. And plenty of aseeda for dinner, good and hungry.
Day after tomorrow we're to pass Um Kheirwa' and bread is promised, no bakery in Maraheet after a lot of talk. Khair went off this morn to buy a haashi camel for LS 400, the owner wanted LS 600 so he came back empty-handed.
Camel names by age:
haashi- 2 yrs
ga'uud- 3 yrs
hawaar- 1 yr
The other group is keeping pace with us, now lunching too, but we lead today.
Jebel Mandara turns out to be a small system of hills, we camp just to the west of the largest. Nasir from the other herd fell sick, "skin on fire", Khair asked us for pills, very early camp tonight, sun still high and hot, Dave and I reconnoiter.
Baobabs have disappeared, few thorn trees left, landscape filled by short green multi-branched bushes growing all on the vertical, sparse dried grass.
Passed a man and woman on donkey back, the mountain due north is abu Qadeed, Dar al Kababish territory begins at Jebel Shudeira. Still pointed due into wind, easy to steer with the wind, letting it blow at same volume into both ears.
More birds today, a large whiteish grey with black wingtips, a medium royal blue with long tail, black wingtips and bellyband. Petrified camel, dead dog.
Khair after another haashi. Hamid al-Nile, herd's owner, won't sell. Tomorrow we come to Jebel Kugum, very big wells there, so they say.
Abu Jurman, dung beetle
Day 7
Midday break, early again, just past abu Qadeed, a granitic upthrust with verticle cleavages, and Silsila Hafara chain, strung out to the east headed north, tomorrow water is promised at Um Kheirwa'.
Walked this morn, slight rolling ups and downs, the mts on the horizon in and out of sight. Waited last night for the crescent moon, Milky way over the Southern Cross all the way to the Dog Star. Recognized Deneb and thought I found Jupiter up there. 5 minute midmorning tea break!
Learned names of Masood's kids, Zeinab, KhadimatAllah, and a boy Tighy.
He wants to come work in my house, I said he'd have to wear a pink dress, no thanks. In Dave's house? He'd have to wear a blue dress.
Muhammad, an angel? His once white skull cap now as dark as his black face, dirty tunic robes tattered and flapping in the breeze, his whip a celestial harp? or lightning bolt.
Camels are their children, leading them to school. I can't discipline them, they're bothered when I kick or whip, Khair insisted I take a smaller stick to their butts.
Day 8
2nd tea break of the morning, east of Jebel Kugum. The enormous beach begins, with white melon patches we do our best to bypass, but not all are visible to the naked eye, much like the invisible bird sings all morning before the beach began, emanating from lifeless trees.
Last night Khair asked to no one in particular while we all semi-slept, "al laila taweela, kam yom al laila?" The night is long, how many days long is the night?
Still riding to the west of a chain of rock mts, abu Idaad, and Jebel Um Kheirwa' is visible in the northeast.
We talked about dreams this morning. Masood said he used to dream about his prayers, Muh said he'd never dreamt.
They have ridden together three times, all from Um Badr except Adam, he's from Bakheet, near Nahud.
The tremendous sands have begun, treeless but with donkey movements across the horizon and irregular agriculture. Tomorrow Um Kheirwa', the camels must have full bellies in order to drink a quantity sufficient for the desert crossing, Khair says we must work the buckets at the wells, he's gone up ahead with M. the Khabir to make arrangements there.
Muhammad circles the horizon, rounding camels that may stray upon a melon patch. I had a sound sleep last night, dreamt of horseracing in Ethiopia. As we ate our melons, the camels nosed in, hungry or thirsty, they've become bolder as their stomachs begin to ache, last night one came into camp and drank from our aseeda mixing bowl.
Toum Hassan came in on his donkey, with a sleepy dog and shotgun, to speak of Allah and ask for sugar and tea, Adam gave him one LS from his own pocket and hoped for him to leave quickly. With the money he rode off southwest to his hut in the trees.
In the night the camels growl, roll, regurgitate, burp, chew, fart, urinate, pop feces, all overhead or not more that 10 feet away, in my direction.
Taking hobbles off in the morning, they're stiff-legged, some like to play, chase and frolic, to loosen up, especially when the wind blows on the desert.
Yesterday, a veterinary diagnosis, brought in 2 consulting Kababish who happened by, found the limp stemming from a sore muscle high in the shoulder, right side, forced a growl when fingered, slapped water on it to moisten the hair, and we moved out.
Day 9
Evening. Outside of Um Kheirwa', after a day at the water wells for camels and pineapple for us, tea the way we like it, and ful with bread. Last night ran into trouble with Md and Masood, we had ridden hard till late in the evening, still not arriving. Khair had gone ahead to bring water, but he hadn't met us on the trail when we made camp in darkness.
Late golden west darkening on our left made pretty silhouettes of the 109.
Dave and I let our camels loose while the others hobbled, Dave's got away, then I commented about our many tea breaks and the delays, asking Adam, Where's Khair? And said we were tired, that's why we let our camels go. He got angry, told us to take a car if we were tired, and gave his usual rapid-fire replies. Heard him talking about us when we went to bed, M. rode into town for water and they woke us when the food and tea were finally ready.
Still angry in the morning, Masood said he'd found Dave's camel way off in the middle of the night, so we rode into Um Kheirwa' early for watering, waited on the hillside overlooking town and heard barking, eerie, later found not dogs but camels and donkeys howling at the water. Saw a lake in the middle of town later found to be the well flats, 'Idd, with mud pits and water raised single-handed in small leather buckets. water troughs were shallow mud dishes, one small trough raised on a mud pedestal as a salt box. That's why they pick up bleached bones in their teeth, for the salts. Idris abd ar-Rahman was our watering agent, organized the troughs and our camels' circulation between the pits. Women were filling skins and loading donkeys, still no sign of Khair. Finally moved our group aside to wait and we hit town, with pineapple and talk of photo portraiture over fly-bitten ful.
Khair finally arrived at the store to buy sugar, tea, and a new araagi for M. Returned to the group, he was put out about our delay, I said because of the hot sun yesterday, "look at my sunburned skin", Masood pulled up his sleeves to corroborate. Khair knew better, he said because of our tea breaks.
And we moved out of town while Khair and M. visited "relatives", the patience of everyone being frayed due to Khair's repeated absences and ensuing lack of direction and authority.
Still aiming for 40 days, wish we could sneak back to town for more pineapple, too bad the melons weren't ripe. Must check out the tribal brands on various parts of the camel, what do they all mean?
Day 11
Early tea break. Rode late last night, 2 hours past dark following the north star, al-Jeddi. I walked, lucky sand was firm. Camels bunched together, descending dunes at fast trots, none lost, finally camped exhausted, and the following group arrived out of the dark, camels too tired to wander but all hobbled anyway.
At our long midday break yesterday, lemonade, goat stew and gravy. M. the Khabir was over, talking camel prices with Khair. And Nasir too, the handsome one, easily pictured in the movies or in a business suit. And the Smiling Skull, must get his name.
Khair makes 2-3 trips per year, last year made trips back to back with 2 days rest in between. His father breeds camels in Um Badr, with good grass they get 20 newborns in a season. Camels need help with first deliveries. Khair's brand is along the front shoulder.
Wadi al-Milk promised tomorrow. Khair seems to recognize the names of landmarks from the map, like Jebel Asfar, Karabat As-Sereer, Wadi abu La'ot. Rain crows now in thin thicket, camels feasting nearby on low woody bushes, many twisted limbs, hydra-headed and leafless as bleached driftwood, sculptural.
Feb 1- Um Kheirwa'
Feb 2- long night ride
Feb 3- camp beside Jebel Safrat al Baraqiyya Feb 4- today
Day 12
Midday break. Bint Um Bahr, Daughter of the Mother of the Sea, due east.
Rode all morn past Baqariyya al-Taweel, Masood filled up one skin with decently clear water. At camp this morn, baby camel was born in the other herd sometime overnight. Died 2 months premature, now lying in damp spot of sand with red afterbirth gooey like slow jelly nearby, with soft white kinky hair and legs folded. Haraam, sinful, to eat; jild, skin, too thin to use. Its mother returned from the drive at a gallop for last sniffs and tears, whipped off by M. the Younger.
Medusa hair trees are gafala, like upturned apple bonsais, the Kababish's baobab.Yesterday surprised to find Wadi al-Milk to our left. Seems to have snuck up on us just before Zureit, Masood filled up a skin there with dirty water. Last night saw the new crescent moon in the west 2 hours before setting.
Wadi al-Milk from a distance, a green flow with thorn trees and frequent wells, like river ports. We stop in for water. Strings of mountains to the west, sentinels, easy landmarks, we're finally on the map, 15' 30" and counting.
Passed camel tracks this morn, 3 days old, 100 camels from Um Badr by the drivers' reckoning. And aseeda has been tastier lately, more pepper making an after-burn on cracked lips.
When camels are driven hard and we stop, cloudbursts! 109 bladders turned loose. Heavy flows, and when caught downwind, an acrid ammonia odor passes by. Wind and rain on a still and cloudless day.
But more winds, north wind, north star, we nose into the breeze, but now Wadi al-Milk is our better mark, lucky its been warmer.
Very pleasant sunset last night, camels passing and repassing before the orange glow, finally called into camp for hobbling as shadows, colors gone. Moon fallen, dinner, coffee, sleep.
Day 13
Midday break. Where are we? Seem to have left the map, M. was pointing out Jebel abu Fas, which I thought we'd passed long ago, another jebel by the same name up ahead. Long night march last night.
Passed newlywed honeymooners tents, 3 white canvas flies beside the main tracks, Adam pointed them out from a distance, 'arees, groom. Running joke about going over to eat shiyya, barbecue, with the couple.
The crescent moon appeared higher in the dusk sky, watched it fall, its bottom honey dipped. The beach is barer, cleaner, some rocky patches and white slabs with a greasy feel to them.
KhairAllah followed our tracks of last night in search of a stray, rode with Skull Face, but its easy to drive camels along he sand
Another delivery last night in the other camp, but very premature, a 3 month fetus, cut open the sack and the juices spilled, huge empty socket eyes. I understand their diet. Just when I tell of Saudi fetus eating practices, human like, all fetuses came from the same source-proteins- and diverge during gestation, limbs tucked under flesh pink and smooth, out-sized head, lying in a wet stain on the sand.
Riding without a girth today, feels tippy, the saddle slipped forward just as we stopped, a flying bailout. Learned the rein and crop trick, makes a handy whip-the sound-the voice-gets results.
Day 14
Well break at 'Idd Ahmad. 2 wells, watering camels after our morn march on the edge of the wadi, after a waterless breakfast. last night another scrap broke out over water which led to their deeper problems with our questions and note taking. Water is the source of tension for all involved, even though we're never more than 2 days from a well.
We each have our priorities, Muhammad his ablutions, Adam his sugared tea, Dave and I would prefer our water straight. said, water ran out, sugar ran out. I said, so what, I don’t like sugar anyway, which really got his goat.
Even the camels are fighting aver water. Over my shoulder there are growls and nips. The wells are :p::,or, one guy on the inside is dredging the bottom and lining the sides with branches, ladling the muddy water out by hand.
Our boys are cutting the camels out, into watering parties.
On our night marches we always make a sunset prayer stop, the boys are praying more often now, even Khair, sweeping the sand with their hands for their prayer places, making ablutions with the sand.
The wells are in a dry shallow pan, the surface mud cracked into pieces, last year's water runoff. I try to explain our purpose to Masood, he's touchy about our questioning, especially the names of landmarks he doesn't know. Last night got animated when I geared easy questions his way, told him he's the expert, and people want to know about his work. He doesn't seem to mind when he knows what we're writing, and why we want to know.
Fighting off hungry ticks as I write this, a few fat ones lazing around. Yesterday trying to keep my mouth moist and bottom comfortable, as futile as throwing sand at a camel.
One of the folds in my camel's neck has split open, too much pressure from my shoe? Doesn't bleed much.
Skull Face is also a KhairAllah, that makes 3 out of 11, and 3 Muhammads too. 2 ladies in black thaubs walk across the pan, 5 donkeys sulk beside dry wells.
The wadi has some large shade trees, seem inviting after 3 blank days on the sand, naturally we do not stop underneath. The wind has shifted 90° this morn, now cool and from the west.
My back is killing me, top vertebra throbs the minute I mount, don't feel a thing when I walk luckily. Passed a few camel carcasses, half buried, and much white dried dung, Adam got a laugh saying all the dung belonged to abu Jaib.
our morning walks are enjoyable, full of cheer and conversation, afternoons are a burn-out, a test of survival, and evenings are cooling, bringing back talk and interest. The bright middays are as constricting, as total, as psychologically long and trying as sleepless nights in an unyielding bed, with a long wait for the dawn, or the sunset, then one good hour of light, with the dangling crescent moon picking up from the sinking cooling sun, and illuminating the empty flat surfaces of the desert.
Sahara Deserta, Terra Finna, Fata Morgana, Corpus Infinnus
siraab-mirage
zurra- chest callous on a camel
Post-slaughter bliss post meridian. Khair and Khair returned empty-handed this afternoon, tired after a full night ride back to the newlyweds' tent, couldn't find the camel.
We meanwhile were drinking deep from dirty water and eyeing the man with the silver earring pierced through the top. With a fancy cartridge/money belt buckled twice from behind, silky sidri (vest), leather saddle apron and platform style saddle, basuur, draped in a red and black patterned blanket(diamonds and spades?)
Earlier, while coming into the wells, he had accosted me. I couldn't understand his speech, something about thieves being everywhere, IS 100, and a stolen camel. I made it clear we were riding with Muhamnad's bunch, under the authority and hospitality of abu Jaib, safety in numbers and behind a big name, and he walked on.
Later reappeared on a camel, and soon got into long winded discussions with everyone, water drawers, drovers, whoever would listen, even though no one seemed really to want to.
Khair then showed up. Gave him a 5 minute soul shake, touching right shoulders, then shaking and reshaking and reshaking, mumbling bismillahs, hamdillahs, Allah yibaarik feeks, and Salimaats.
He called me over to scribe a letter. His name: Billa Ali Hamid. The news: Khair lost a camel, color blue, azraq, went towards al Baqariyya, belongs to abu Jaib, Mark 18, if found please deliver to Billa Ali. He folded the note, stuffed his money belt, and rode off.
We ate big, drank more dirty water and rode off slow paced, a grazing march in the wadi, Khair fell behind and caught up packing a castrated sheep, tess, and he slaughtered with help from his cousin Khair and Nasir.
The wind and sand were up early, making the sunset dull, the guts hang from the bush we camped under, the stomach emptied and skinned.
And Billa Ali hangs around too, asking me to write another letter. I didn't know what the hell I wrote, taking unintelligible dictation, something about the camel he rides having a certain brand, and give it to someone somewhere.
Always nice for Khair to return. The herd doesn't really stay together any better but the cheer is up, and the boys seem to relax more, and just do their jobs. No decisions to make, no thinking for themselves to do, and it gets Masood off the hook of being 2nd in command acting in charge.
Day 15
Sandblown midday break past abu Fas al-Kabeer and the agricultural hamlet Buqaan. From the blood from the neck of the castrated sheep spilled in a pool in the sand, Khair wetted his knife and printed the sign of the hand of Fatima on the neck of the camel. Billa Ali did the same. Even a man who lived by deceit and trickery would invoke the help of the divine for protection on the trail.
Muhammad slid off the horn of his saddle and down the neck of his camel and swung to the ground like an ape from a limb to chase after a stray.
Basuur, carved angled wooden camel saddle in the shape of a dish, to cup sore buttocks of a long distance rider.
Wind is up strong from the northwest finally warming with the filtered sun, following Muhammad's lead.
Billa Ali Hamid, the truth finally comes out, is a well-known thief. Go LS 100 bounty out of Khair to track down the lost blue in al-Baqariyya. Khair said if found he'll slaughter it and sell the meat. Still can't fit the story together, Khair seemed amused by the whole thing.
Lively campfire last night, quick gesticulations and sketching in the sand to make his points. After dinner he disappeared to the other camp, -woke up this morn wrapped in his blanket next to me, set his carbine up on the tripod to show off, the bolt action and trigger wrapped in a rag. Loaded with his gear I photographed and he went off for the lost camel. With a handshake at breakfast he's already scanning the horizon for his next scam and meal of fresh meat.
The castrated sheep, LS 55, 25 kg, we had stomach stew, raw red onions to bite, lucky the fire was low so we couldn't see what we ate.
In Buqaan, an old man in tattered black longcoat patched with white thread asked for sugar and our form of government in America, said one ripe watermelon was somewhere up ahead that we could take. His parting words, Why don't you take a car?
Miracle- Adam got the fire started in a full gale.
Day 16
Lunch break in a black rock-strewn plain just east of Jebel al-Ain in all its longitudinal mass, mostly black with yellow sand-drifted faces.
The wind up and cold, less sand blowing than yesterday because of the gravel. passed over stony ground, wind smoothed stones of pocket-keeping quality,
and granite outcrops with boulders. One stony mount half drifted in, westerly as the sun set, seemed an illustration of some waterless planet.
Rocky stretches of the imagination, sun glowed out quickly and quietly, crescent moon now first quarter casting a walkable shadow. We walked 2 more hours in the dark, slept in the open on good sand and ate more meat stew.
Day 17
Mid-day break under a spreading 3-trunked many-branched good shade tree. Skins hung. Camels feeding on the far side. Ticks crawling. A long morning across the enormous yellow beach. Masood rode east for water to Jebel al Ahraq.
Don't know where nagashush is leading us. The map's Awadun Hills, Jebel abu Dum to the boys, appeared to the east. A long distant escarpment. Gravel pans disrupt the pure sand, black trouble under the camels' feet.
Yesterday afternoon and into evening under the moon;1low long broad sand stretch wind blew all night, but dawned warmer, no need for the cashmere after all stripped down to brown sweater and blue shirt for the rest of the day.
Last night at the fire, Saeed and Muhammad the Younger came by and we recorded their poetic spontaneous recitations. They liked the limelight, Muhammad must know more, and we played Muhammad Wardi from Al Jezira.
The fire ants are on our side, there goes one with a tick in his mouth. The meat gets better each night as we near the leg of lamb. First night stomach stew, second night first joint, third night second joint, fourth finally to the tenderloin.
Adam spotted two gazelles in the distance. They blink white and black as they turn into the sun, but run swiftly.
Day 18
Early lunch break. Late last night rode until 9 PM, dead beat, full half moon shadow plenty. Over mixed ground, yellow sands, black rock fields, lizard skin ground (yellow sand with embedded tiny black pebbles). Firm footing, long morning walk found petrified forests, fallen trunks, bits and pieces wind smoothed, ostrich nests, smashed egg shells, gazelles feeding, in the west appear white, in the east into the sun black silhouettes.
Still following Jebel al Ain. Water from Hiraq is black cold sweet. Skimpy breakfast. Meat we missed last night by turning in early. 1 1/2 glasses tea.
Muhammad's group split up. Don't know why, catch glimpses of them ahead. Different cruising speeds? Stitching leather patches onto camel pads. Sewing through the pad with leather strips, hobble both front legs, rope up the rear to immobilize, the growling tells the hurt.
Day 19 Morning
Long march last night over varied terrain, narrow passes, rolling over dunes and sand ridges, steep inclines and descents, tall bush trees in the darkness, rocky pans, and flat out sand floor moving past car tracks, cairns, huge sand dunes on the black rock floor.
More on to boil now for lunch. Adam spotted a gazelle skull from a distance with 20 rings on the horn, 20 years old, and ostrich egg bits in old nests.
Cold and sore riding this morn, finally chanced upon a comfort, wrap up in my saddle pad, under a sweater, fat man's bliss on a cold day.
Map reading, just past one third of the way, according to Khair 6 more days to the Nile, much talk of R and R in Dongola, I wonder if they mean it.
Shopping list for the souk there:
1. tapes of Hanaan al BuluBulu
2. donkey saddle pad in leather
3. wheat flour, Adam promises pan bread on the trail
4. fresh fruits
5. date paste and dried dates, agwa and balah!
Rode until breaking point. Afternoon past sawed-off cones of Ma'ariz,
saw tawny vulture marghim. Pointed out well at Ash shabiik. Today morning promised a stop at Kafariyya wells and I count three days to Al Bahr.
Midday break at Ma'toul. The count seems correct after further questioning Khair, "the day after the day after tomorrow". Ma'toul, where the wadi bulges, trees thrive green shooting, under a good shade tree, skins dangling, water on the clear side, gathering firewood for the final push to Khileawa across barren country.
We passed Kafariyya last night in our hurry to arrive bright and early today.
So we plan a stop at B'ir Adam late in the afternoon to fill skins.
Long easy walk this morning, passed by a speeding Mercedes truck jammed with standees, going to Debba. After it was well past Khair asked if we wanted to ride, cruel joke? But finally getting up for the final push to the river. Mentally in view already, palms dates oranges kebab.
Last night's strategies for staying in the saddle until our 11 PM dismount, cooking up ways to be especially good to Elena, all revolving around food preparation, fresh vegetables, Zabar's delicatesse, roasts ringed with carrots onions stuffed with garlic cloves, rubbed with black pepper.
Snacking on French bread, time to case the neighborhood for a good bakery, croissant breakfasts, grab a baguette on the way home each evening, red table wine, stained white linen table cloth, afterwards lounge on the living room sofa, can't wait to try out my new psychic recipes.
Passed many tracks this morn, main route, amazed to find them after so much turning around last night every direction from west of north star to east of Castor and Pollux.
Khair says from here we keep north star on our left cheek and we arrive Khileawa, knows the route by night by small signs and the sound of the ground under foot. Ostriches left the north in the last few years, no rain no grass, went south of Dilling, eggs and meat good eating, shooting from blinds, 50 eggs buried in one place.