Love in the Desert (part 2)

Interesting the feedback I had from my my first blog on this subject. I think most of you are

hoping to  hear the next part, and I hope u wont be too disappointed. You see it took me 2

months to sort out my personal life inEnglandin order to be able to return to my beloved Sinai.

Those two months were the longest I’ve ever had, I am not gifted with much patience, but that

was tested as I sat in the ‘tourist’ shop in Tintagel, where I worked. Going to this place every day, looking at the trinkets and plastic soulless junk made me realise my life sucked and my thoughts of the desert kept me

from running off the cliffs!

I flew intoCairowith such excitement and the 10 hour journey back to Dahab was painful,

I could feel my foot as if I were the driver of the bus, changing gear, putting on breaks. I was

on the edge of my seat until the sun  rose, a welcome glow from theRed Sea. I made my way to

the lodge I had stayed in before, threw my luggage on the floor and ran to the restaurant

perched on the edge of the sea. Bedouin style seating is a carpet on the desert floor, with

cushions on the ground and the back rests leaning on a palm tree. Exhausted by the journey,

but more from the baggage of my life, I spread myself on the cushions and stared out to sea,

past the rich blue waves that beckoned towards me, further out towards the spectacular

mountains of Saudi.

Forgot to mention that when I stayed at Alrheiba with Rachel (the Aussie) and Usama, we’d

share a ghosha at night as it was so cold and we got on so well. Many nights he asked me to

sleep next to him, to ‘snuggle up’ but I always refused and said I was warm enough! I loved

those nights, hot coals on a tray placed in the middle of the room where tea is made; lying in

our blankets protected from the cold. Usama’s stories fueled my interest in him, as he painted

a portrait of his life, the characters in the stories always with an agenda, friendship and love

missing in their hearts.

After our two months apart, I waited for Salman’s return to  RasAbagalum, so I could travel

with him. We set out in the morning, hardly early enough for me. After a 20 minute drive we

stopped at Blue Hole (a famous diving site), vehicles cant pass beyond here as the road narrows

into small paths of stone and coral that have been beaten down from centuries of people on

camel and foot. At parts its so slippery and tight that on some of the bends camels have fallen

over the edge and died on the rocks below. Where the rocks have formed holes and crevices,

you carefully place your foot and balance as waves crash beside you, on a hot day it is so

refreshing.

The first leg of the journey starts at Blue Hole, as the divers contemplate the great depths of

the caverns in their dive, we load our camels behind the restaurants, and begin our climb up

the first section of desert sand. When looking back you see the coast stretching south towards

Dahab and ahead the miles of shoreline stretching towardsIsrael. My heart, now racing from

excitement and the climb embraced the beauty of this diverse panoramic view and for the first

time in my life I felt welcomed. The walk takes 45 minutes, once committed there is no turning

back. Many camels pass by in both directions, some without their owners, at the end of the trek

they get thumped on their rumps and are turned back. Often we’d see them wondering down a

wadi, off the beaten track, nibbling on the odd leaf or coarse bush.

My favourite part of the journey is coming round the side of the mountain, high on the rocks

where I can get my first glimpse of  thebayofAlrheiba.  It must be about 500m away, I’d stand

and call ‘Alreheiba’, ‘Usama’ as the waves swept my words away. On this occasion, my first time

back after being in theUK, he already knew I was on my way, Salman had gone ahead on camel

and spoilt my surprise.  I wanted to arrive unannounced, but soon learnt ‘bush telegraph’ in

the desert, everybody passes messages on.

When we lived in the ghosha, just Usama and I, we’d send messages to people via the boys on

camels, ordering our supplies. This worked ok, though often we’d wait a bit longer for tomatoes

than we’d like. Many meals would be made from tinned fava beans (foul), bread made on the fire

(liba) and chai (rose tea and herbs). Nora was the first to teach me how to make bread, I am sure

she laughed at my clumsiness, as I lacked the grace and precision of Bedouin women. Once I got

the technique I could make tabana, (dough flattened out and placed under the coals), its crust

hard and soft inside, takes about 20 minutes. This spread with feta from a carton, melts in the

hot bread; soaked up with Bedouin tea whilst sitting under the night sky, and I know I’ve died

and gone to heaven. At the time I didn’t eat fish or meat, my own loss, as fish straight from the

sea onto the fire, is now the only way I’ll eat it.

I waved from the rocks, my spirit spilling onto the sand where it meets the mountain wall, and

I ran, as fast as I can, to the camp. I always felt I did that part of the journey too quick, as it is

has one of the most incredible views. Usama was waiting for me, he met me between the huts

and the rock walls and we hugged. Something I love about this culture, intimacy is private,

hiding many secrets. ’I thought you’d never come back’, he said.

Our abstinence didn’t last long. We would get up before sunrise, when the last star shone brightly on the horizon, I’m convinced it was Venus.

One night, on my first visit to the Sinai, Usama was staying in the mountains, I decided at night

I was going to visit him, though I had never travelled this route on my own in the dark, and this

one particularly had no light from the moon, and I didn’t have a torch. I decided to sneak out

the village without any one knowing, by going to bed before their party started and slipping

out on to the beach where the waves met the shore and people walked unnoticed. My heart

raced as I got out with out being seen, no-one knew we were together and I love secrets of this

kind. So I took the path near the last restaurant, without realizing how dark it would be, if you

saw how treacherous the path is you’d know I was driven by destiny. I walked with little help

from the starlight,  creating a slight glow on the path enough to follow it, I kept going for about

30 minutes. Luckily I didn’t bump into any scorpions or snakes, as I made a sharp right toward

the mountain, climbed the large rocks and then stopped, in the middle of no-where I called

‘Usama’.

I waited, listening to the silent waves breaking down by the sea, and wondered what

craziness had driven me to make this journey in this unknown land made worse by the fact I

couldn’t see. ‘Yes’, I heard his reply, right next to my feet. I had walked the whole way and

found him unassisted. That night we lay in the cave he had made from rocks, secure from the

icy wind and in the morning I  sneaked back to the village as the sun began to rise, unseen.