Thanksgiving – and Camels

The last thing we did on a very full Thanksgiving Day was to go for a camel ride in the Sahara.

It was very fun, and also is one of the few parts of this trip that I had mixed feelings about. On the one hand, camels are very cool, and being in the desert at sunset is stunning, and our guide was very kind to us.

On the other hand, it was the only experience we had that felt fully manufactured for us. We did plenty of other “tourist” things, of course. Practically everything we did was presented for us. But most of those other events and attractions grew out of authentic Moroccan culture, edited to be more comprehensible for us. This, though, was something else entirely. Dropping us off, Hmad said, “I need you to know, Berbers never would go ride camels across the dunes like you’re going to do, and certainly not spend the night. There’s nothing for us there. No water, no food. Why would people do that? We live in the Sahara, yes, but not in the dunes, which is quite different. I think you’ll have a good time, but I want you to know—we do not, nor have we ever, live like this.”

And yet also, it was very cool and I don’t regret it.

Hmad helped us wrap scarves around our heads to keep the sun and sand off our faces (Further editorializing: “Women would never wear their scarves like this. I’m wrapping it like Berber men would wear. But Berbers don’t wear bright colors like this at all.”).

And then we met our camels. They were gentle and mellow, clearly accustomed to doing this route. A camel is not the easiest animal to ride (Hmad also said that Berbers wouldn’t really ride camels, which are primarily pack animals: “They are not the most comfortable…”). They are also very tall. Somehow I hadn’t realized how high up a camel’s back is.

We rode for about 45 minutes, into the dunes. In one direction, we could see people riding four-wheelers and cars around on distant mounds. In another direction, we saw a family sand-boarding. Looking away from both of them, I could imagine we were riding into the kind of photo I looked at in National Geographic as a kid. The sand and sky stretched for eternity.

Our guide had us stop after a while and dismount. He showed us how to climb up one of the dunes, and indicated that this was a good spot to wait for the sunset. JC, having an intense aversion to sand, opted not to climb up, but the guide managed to include him when he arranged us for a group photo at the top, framing him between Emily and Kendall.

The opposite of her dad, Petra spent the half hour before sunset communing with the desert sand. While I didn’t share her impulse to roll around in it, I was surprised at how soft and fine it was. The next day, Petra and Kendall found the perfect impressions of night animals, identifying the tracks of lizard, snake, mouse (or maybe jerboa?), and cat.

We spent the night at a camp, where everyone else was also visiting from somewhere far off. We met another American family (military, stationed in Germany) and our kids enjoyed hanging out with their teens. Oddly enough, the adults were JMU grads. Very random.

After dinner, the workers at the camp built a fire and played traditional (ish) music and danced. They also had a cake with a Happy Thanksgiving message on it, which was very kind of them.

The experience ended up reminding me of my friend’s stories about performing at a dude ranch in Texas, doing rope tricks, telling pun-filled stories, and inventing a history of the American west that met tourists’ expectations, if not reality. In the same way, this was designed to meet our American imagination of the Arab world, without much regard for the reality.

And yet. The kids had a great time. I got to meet a camel. We saw two meteors when we walked away from the camp’s lights and into the dark dunes. The mountains in the distance were a fascinating contrast—the line where they met the dunes was clear and bright. I guess my sense of mixed feelings comes from the reality being so cool. Why not go all-in on that, instead of a Hollywood fantasy?