Sahara: Sun, Sand and Sore Muscles

 

Camel Riding is not as easy as it looks!

We signed up for a three hour camel ride to a nearby "Nomad School" for lunch.  After five minutes we were getting urgent SOS signals from muscles we never knew we had.

Michele was unlucky to be onboard the "freight camel".  The so called "saddle" was not level.  Michele had to push hard against the iron bar so as not to slide off.

Michele had the good sense to resume walking before we reached the village.  My pride got in the way.  Consequently when we arrived, the school children were greeted by the sight of this strange white man hobbling away, until he learned how to walk again.

The "Nomad School"

I do not know what I was expecting, but this school still managed to amaze me.  The "nomad" epithet could better have been applied to the itinerant teacher who only visits for a morning, two or three times a month, on an unscheduled basis.  The kids have to show up every morning on the off chance that he will appear.

The classroom is not elaborate:

 However there are not many students.

The cultural exchange we were hoping for was not that easy, given the language barrier and the lack of a teacher.  The students started off with a very creditable rendition of the Alphabet Song.

We came armed with pens and exercise books.  The kids arrived armed with bead trinkets that their mothers had made.  Michele heroically drew on all her distant teaching experience to bridge the two agendas.

One girl was amazingly literate - demonstrating that remarkable intellects can overcome the most adverse conditions.

Differing Development Agendas

From Qatar, comes the gift of a Game Keeper, complete with Landcruiser, and yurt to protect the Qatari gentleman's falconry territory:

From the West comes this well:

Camping in the Desert

Our camp hosts went to heroic lengths to give us all the comforts of home, stuck out there in the middle of the desert:  mattress off the ground, en suite bathroom area, sheets on the bed, solar powered electric lighting, and aspirations to flush toilets and showers.

 

 

Guests were invited to contribute their own songs around the camp fire.  My rendition of "The Campdown Ladies Sing This Song" was greeted with general bewilderment.