They said, Thou art only one of those bewitched. Thou art no more than a mortal like us: then bring us a sign, if thou tellest the truth. He said, Here is a she-camel [naaqa]. She has a right of watering and ye have a right of watering, both on a day appointed.
-Sura 26 The Poets, Verse 153-155
‘Idd Ahmad. Two wells and two mud-made troughs after our long morning’s march on the wadi’s edge and a dry breakfast. Last night a scrap broke over low water, it touching on other complaints they have with me and David, about our constant queries- especially the names of landmarks they don’t know, only KhairAllah does- and that we write their answers in our books [to the illiterate a kind of bewitching].
But scarce water at bottom is the matter even though we’re never more than two days from a well. Yes we each have a priority for it- Muhammad his ablutions, Adam his washing of pots, Masood his sweet tea, in fact David and I want no sugar at all. Last night Masood said, Water finished, sugar finished, Khilis al mayya, khilis al sukr. I said, Ma’aleesh, mabahibbish sukr, So what, I don’t like sugar. This got his goat. Even the camels fight about water. Over my shoulder they growl at the trough. The wells are always poor…
-Day 14, Trail Diary on the Darb al-Arba’een from Kordofan to Cairo, February 1984
Thus the Prophet Salih was interrogated by the Thamudites, a tribe that later disappeared, perhaps swept away by flowing lava. And so too our ibl, camels in their collective plural, which in our dabouka included a naaqa, a she-camel or two, watered on their appointed day, before the drovers allowed themselves their appointed glass of tea. But everyone was grouchy because those wells were poor, their water muddy and sandy, some said even bitter. Sugar helped, but David and I preferred our tea unsweetened. They must be witches to dislike sugar, they said of us.