In the High Desert

In the High Desert

Joanna Ap Gruffydd

The desert stretches forever here, red first thing in the morning, white at midday, yellow in the evening, when we light our campfires on the dunes.

Mariam digs the shallow pit to lay the coals, and covers the flame with the pan to make the bread. Nothing tastes better than our freshly baked bread, cooked in the sand and sugared. We sit together, on our woven mats, enjoying the moutabal and hummus that mother made at home, and watch the huge yellow sun slowly disappearing behind the orange dunes. 

But at night you should stay with your family, in your tent. If not, the desert djinn may spirit you away, tempting you as a pretty girl who bewitches you with her eyes and leads you away before resuming her true form as a terrifying afreet and tears you to pieces. In fact, we never travel alone, if we can help it, for sometimes other tribes from Saudi make incursions on our territory, kidnapping women and children, and the desert holds wild dogs and leopards that may make us prey. 

Father has a falcon, kept blindfolded on a stand, except when he takes it out for hunting. This is my favourite thing. He takes the blindfold off and it leaps from his hand into the air. The falcon flies superfast and extremely high, before diving to the sand. It sometimes catches a jerboa or a mouse to eat, and we all clap and laugh. It’s a very exciting sport. The falcon is happy with his food, and then he goes back to sleep, under his hood.

Father has been to see the camel racing in Abu Dhabi, but he said the boys were too young for such a dangerous sport. I mean the Indian slave boys riding the camels. They fall and break their necks sometimes. They are very young, to be light, so the camel can win the race. I wouldn’t like to make my camel run too fast, I think. It’s not so easy. You have to know your camel, aswell. 

The camels make an interesting silhouette along the dunes in the distance, as Ahmed leads them towards Dubai. Baba wants to sell three of them, exchange them for a wife for Ahmed. 

It’s not very far, and we love to walk in this direction, crossing the dunes with big, slow steps. A day at the coast is always welcome for the fresh breezes. We can swim and even mother can wade in the water to cool off. We will buy cinnamon and cardamom from the souq. Mother will make more cardamom camel milk. It is delicious, green and very refreshing. And cardamom, ginger and honey for the tea and sweets she makes. If father is really happy, he will buy sweets from the merchant, and we will eat the honey pastries together by the sea. We will watch the little fish swimming in the shallows, and maybe even see a ray.

But business comes first. The Iranian doesn’t want the camels, he says. His daughter is too young for marriage. He looks at father darkly over his big black moustache, but still with an open body that suggest that he can negotiate.  His shop stands in the dark maze of the old souq. Mother is buying spices with the girls. Amna wouldn’t want to be present while her marriage is negotiated, but the boys should learn how men talk. “But see the health and fine fur of these three camels!” says father. “They will bring you wealth into your old age. They are strong!”

The Iranian serves us coffee and dates. Really he wants to win further dowry from father before he lets his pale daughter into our family. An hour will pass in boasting and news before finally he accepts that my father really doesn’t have more to sell him, and the agreement is made to begin the wedding arrangements. We will come back for the girl in two weeks, when the bridal preparations have been made, and she will join our family.

I could look at the other shops, but mother says that some of the shopkeepers are just ghosts, and you are better off not seeing their wares, for they might be cursed. The port of Dubai has been  here for too long, and often, slaves were bought and sold. Perhaps they still are. It is best to stay close to father, here at the port. Sailors from India and Pakistan trade here, aswell as Iranians, and it could be dangerous to talk to foreigners. The women are not all pure, and you shouldn’t look at them. It is exciting to visit from the quiet desert, though. I sit in the cool darkness, and listen to the men negotiate. There is a cat on the table, also resting out of the heat. I drift off for a moment.

But we don’t negotiate with tribes from the other towns to the east, for they are witches and evil men. We don’t understand their customs, and you can’t see their womens’ faces. You can see their hennaed hands and fingernails though, as they cast evil magic on you with their busy gestures. So don’t try to barter with them! What will you get? A dying camel, rotten food, or a life of misfortune. That is what grandfather says. They are extremely cruel to their women, cutting them in their youth, so they should not be contacted with marriage requests, and none of them can be trusted, for they cavort with evil djinni. That is what he tells everyone, and I feel very afraid. What does he mean, cutting the girls? 

We do not marry these strange tribes. “Do not visit there either,” says grandfather. “You will never leave!” He says the town is so chaotic and full of evil djinni that it is very difficult to find your way. “They have been there forever,” he says. It is best to visit the quiet coastal villages only, or even travel further along the coast to Oman. A good man should not accept food or drink from them either, for his body may be polluted. They will have a hold over him.

I like the villages nearby, fishermen with whitewashed houses and pretty designs over their doors. When we trade there, we can visit the sea while buying the delicious Sultan Ibrahim fish that looks so beautiful when caught and tastes so good when barbecued. We trade camel meat for shark meat, grouper or eel, and have fish, salad, and freshly-baked bread for dinner with plenty of lemon and garlic.

Father concludes his negotiations, and the date for the wedding is set. He smiles in pleasure at the thought of his third son married, and another daughter-in-law to help his wife cook, clean, and sew. It is important that women love to make clothes and blankets. Then they can also help to make the tents. More grandchildren will be added to the tribe. I have many cousins, and even nieces and nephews, but more babies to play with will be lots of fun. And the wedding feast will be excellent. The grown-ups will let us children have more fun together, as they are celebrating.

We have a long walk back across the late afternoon desert, so we set off home, with only one camel to carry our goods. It is winter, which is why it was safe to travel here today. The desert is beautiful now and not deadly, long shadows cast across the dunes, and other traders leading their camels home in the distance. I feel so refreshed and happy after my dip in the creek, with the light sparkling on the water and the bright sun overhead. It rains only once a year here, so the sky is a pure azure blue without even a wisp of cloud, and it is vital to do all your business in the winter months.

Maybe next time we visit the dolphins will be there. We must do that soon, before the day becomes too hot for travel, and we have to sleep all day, and eat very early in the morning, before the sun comes up. We use the evenings, then, to work at home, doing light work that doesn’t require much movement. 

But the next few months mean freedom and energy! We can play and run around without overheating. We are very happy with winter. And now we are very happy with my brothers’ new bride.