Morocco: Desert Nights

Continued from my last Moroccan entry:

Once I was mounted atop Coco the Camel, and my new friends were situated on theirs (which included the likes of Harold, Kumar, and Madame), our guides began leading us from Zagora to our Saharan campsite. In total, the trip took about an hour to an hour-and-a-half (if I recall correctly). It may have just felt like that’s how long it took…

Allow me to digress for a moment here: much like the act or riding an elephant—which I've done twice in my lifetime—riding a camel is not fun. Oh, it’s a novelty (from our Westernized perspective) to be sure, and it’s an experience that I’m thrilled to have tucked under my belt...but in practice, it’s quite painful. 

And while I have no first-hand knowledge for making the following comparison, I would suggest that it’s probably at least a bit more painful for men than women, as there is the additional problem of pinching in addition to bruising. Especially for those of us—like me—who may have been wearing jeans that were slightly too tight. 

Ouchy-Pinchy-Hurty!

That's me sitting behind SP (the woman in the blue coat).
[Image Courtesy of: OS]

Regardless, most of us eventually figured out the least-problematic ways of riding our camels according to our varied…physical needs. This process, of course, involved a lot of laughing at one another (which undoubtedly created an even deeper level of intimacy amongst the group), and zero input from our guides (who probably derive amusement from watching tourists undergo this learning process on their own). 

So anyway, we continued plodding deeper into the Sahara (though sadly we never made it deep enough into the desert to completely lose sight of ‘civilization’). 

Gradually, the sun was setting quite spectacularly to our left.

Sunset in the Sahara

And yet, there was no sign of the moon. Just stars. Millions of stars—most stationary but some falling. More stars than I’ve ever seen before. 

The camera wasn’t able to capture it, unfortunately, so I can’t share it with you, but the memory of all of those stars will remain forever etched into my memory. This was also the first time where I was able to clearly understand the whole constellations thing. In the past, it’s always seemed like a dodgy concept to me, probably because I didn’t have access to so much of the celestial tapestry—but that night, 9 March, I was clearly able to make out Orion, the Dippers (which were on their sides, compared to what I’m used to), and even Scorpius. I suddenly understood how people living in ancient times could effectively navigate just by following the stars.

And the stars weren’t all that was in the heavens above. It was so clear that we were actually able to make out the man-made satellites hurtling around the Earth at breathtaking speeds. And planets, too: three of them! One of the planets, to the northeast (I think) possessed a distinctive reddish-brown glow, and we were all pretty convinced that this one was Mars. The other two planets, to the southwest (I think), were positioned fairly closely to one another from our perspective, and we decided that they were probably Venus and Jupiter. 

It was all quite breathtaking…and humbling!

By the time we reached the campsite, it was truly dark out. The moon wasn’t visible yet, and there was no sign of man-made lights for as far as the eye could see. It was into this environment that our guides helped us dismount from our camels…and then disappeared!

That’s right: they disappeared! Here we were, a group of tourists, suddenly abandoned in the pitch-blackness of the Sahara Desert at night. In between nervous titters about what we should do, we turned our attention to taking photos as a means of busying ourselves until we our guides returned.

For whatever reason I am not posed with Coco here, however, that is Coco behind me looking directly at the camera.

The guides did not return, but eventually another voice in the distance began calling to us. Slowly we made our way over, where we were greeted by one of the Berber men in charge of the campsite.

I don’t know what I really expected from the campsite. In many ways, what I got jived perfectly with what I expected—but in some other ways, I was a bit disappointed (and simultaneously relieved) by the ways in which it was geared towards tourists like myself. In regards to the former, the campsite consisted primarily of about 10 tents—each with (sand-filled?) sleeping-mats for four people and illuminated by oil-lamps—situated around a large, communal firepit and equally large communal tent for eating. In regards to the latter, there was a large white tent that served as the bathroom…complete with working toilets, sinks, etc.

We were instructed to put our stuff away in our sex-segregated tents (I bunked with JM, RG, and J), and then to make our way to the dining tent. Once there, in keeping with local customs we were served some delicious touareg tea. The tea was followed by a delicious lentil soup (that I believe is called Harira), which was itself followed by a tajin containing chicken and a host of other ingredients. And, of course, the food was accompanied here (as with all other meals) by a lovely basket of kesra for sopping up any of the delicious juices that were been left behind!

Touareg Toast! [Left to Right: KB, DB, MD, OS, me, JM / Image courtesy of OS]

Post-soup tajin. [Left to Right: host, me, JM / Image courtesy of DB]

After stuffing ourselves, all guests were invited out to the firepit—now ablaze—where our hosts regaled us with ‘traditional Berber songs and music’ (as billed by the company sponsoring this trip). Some of us were even invited to join-in on the festivities, and encouraged to play drums and/or tambourines.

I also 'played' the black and silver drum and tambourine seen here. [Left to Right: DB, me, OS, JM / Photo courtesy of OS]

The night grew deeper, and the moon finally made its dazzling appearance around what felt like 9:00 or 10:00 PM, blotting out most of the stars with its own brilliance (much to my dismay). Gradually, various people began wandering off to their tents for bed, but a small group of us stayed around the campfire, encouraged to do so by our hosts who were quick to remind us of the rarity of such an opportunity. 

While the air grew chiller and the fire dwindled, we started telling riddles, which was itself quite comical because of the various language barriers. Typically, a riddle would be told in its first language, then translated for someone else in a second language, and then re-translated for someone else in a third language (with linguistic clarifications by another party). Then, the process would have to work in reverse once someone thought they had an answer! Fortunately, JM was fluent enough in Spanish and French that he was able to act as the group’s primary translator here—although, I do still think that one or two riddles got lost in translation somewhere along the line.

And then there were three…at about 3:00 AM (or so it felt). After a long while of telling riddles, only JM, myself, and one other gent remained around the campfire, everyone else having gone to bed. The three of us stretched out on the cold desert sands (slightly warmed by a bottle of rum, etc.), and just stared at the sky above, doing our best to take-in the once-in-a-lifetimeness of it all.

Sadly (right around the time we decided that the moon kind of looked like Sid from Ice Age if you squint just right), the cold became too much, and so it was time to turn in…on a pillow seemingly filled with sand, and under six or seven heavy, thick, furry blankets.

Nonetheless, what an amazing journey into the Sahara and first night once there!