Desert
lessons from the field

The Fremen way    I feel like a Fremen (if you haven't read Dune, I suggest you do so immediately, for there is no better description of desert life). Little water, no water at times. Odd creatures (camels, spotted spiders and traces of beings that only come out at night). And clothes meant to conserve energy and water ( Moroccans have not invented the still suit yet, but the "chech" and the long clothes somewhat resemble it- once again, you have to read Dune to understand this allusion!). Everyone is covered from head to toe and turbans protect our head from the treacherous sun.     The night is as cold as the day is warm. We huddle near the fireside, watching Nordine, our guide, cook the evening Tagine. The looks of a lamb, vegetable and olive stew have never seemed so appetizing.

In the desert near Mhamid, 90 kilometers South of Zagora and 40 kms North of the Algerian border

Night camp in the desert

While some cook, some read and others tend the fire, I use the shimmering light of a single candle to record the day's events. Safely tucked between two towering dunes, our night camp feels like the end of the world- the right place to tell and hear tales of past times. Go to Desert-history and stories to learn more about these.     After dinner, each returns to his or her desert quarters. Dad, Nordine and Mohammed (the two guides) chose the starry night as their bedroom-they are willing to trade the wind's chills for the beauty of a shimmering roof. I chose the tent- cold being bad enough without wind. I barely

slept- urgently counting the minutes till the warm sun rose. And how many times did I reach down into my sleeping bag, to make sure that my frozen toes were still attached to my feet!

Day two is easier. A sleepless night led to an early rise- and I watched the sun warm the dunes. The boys awoke as I stumbled down the slopes, just in time for Nordine's ingenious breakfast: tea and coffee warmed on the butagaz, but toasts grilled on the fire; and enough jam to keep you going all day (now I know why he floods his tea with sugar, quick energy is a thoughtful friend in such climates).     A full belly for a long day's walk- a full 7 hours in the sand. No one slows down, except for me, at times. And when I do, Nordine hoists me on the Camel's back. Shoes in hand, feet dangling, I rock back and forth on my "desert vessel". Seated atop my rocking friend, I listen to Nordine's singing. Songs of the desert: lost camels, Berber darlings and longing for vast expanses of salt and sand... Go to Desert-People to learn more about his people's ways.