Uncle Ben parked the jeep and they walked over to what appeared to be the starting point. A sandy sea of camels, wearing saddles made of brightly, coloured blankets, were sitting around waiting patiently for their turn to race. The flowing, white dishdashas of the owners were in stark contrast to their surroundings as they made their way through the crowd of camels and small jockeys. Amanda was amazed at how they kept their robes so clean in the hot and dusty climate.
She noticed a man wearing a red and white checkered headdress leading a camel to an empty spot. She recognized him as one of the men from the camel ranch. She was absolutely sure the camel was none other than Ali Baba.
“Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben – look over there,” shouted Amanda. “That’s Ali Baba.”
“How can you be sure? Basically all camels look alike,” said her aunt.
“That’s him, I’m sure of it.” She would know him anywhere.
The man minding Ali Baba came over to where they were standing and nodded a hello to them.
“Will Ali Baba be racing today?” asked Amanda.
“Oh, you remember Ali Baba, do you Miss? No, he is too old for racing. He brings the supplies for the riders. That is his job.”
Amanda could see that the camel was carrying two large packs, one on each side. “Will he remember me?”
“Oh yes, Miss. A camel never forgets his friends – or his enemies.”
Chapter 8
Amanda was taking pictures of everything, even the camel tracks in the sand. Up close, she realized that the jockeys were little boys wearing what looked like bicycle helmets and mismatched clothes that could have been bought at a discount store, like Value Village. They stayed close to their camels, adjusting the multi–coloured blanket saddles, talking to them and even hugging them.
“Take my picture, please,” said a little jockey of about six or seven, as he flashed a big toothy smile at her. Another boy, a little older, wearing a light, beige, judo–style outfit tied with a deep red sash, posed casually on his camel. His friend, in a red T–shirt, plaid, cotton pants and a short, red, checked sarong tied around his waist, leaned on his whipping stick. Amanda snapped the picture. She didn’t want to ever forget this day.
Suddenly a horn blew. The jockeys put on their helmets and jumped on their camels. One quick touch with the stick and the camels were up and moving. At the same time all the people jumped into their vehicles. When the camels started to race around the track, the jeeps drove alongside honking and shouting and cheering the riders on. It was amazing there were no accidents.
Amanda, Aunt Ella and Uncle Ben jumped into their jeep and followed along as well. They could hardly see what was happening through the swirling, brown, clouds of camel and jeep dust. The scene was changing so fast that Amanda was having trouble getting photographs.
“This is so cool!” she said, as she took a drink of her water to wash the dust out of her parched throat. She was glad she brought it along. Although it was still morning it was already hot, but the heat didn't take away any of her enjoyment of the race.
The men in the dishdashas waited at the end of the track to catch hold of the camels and help the boys dismount. Everyone talked and laughed at the same time. It was impossible to tell who had actually won. It didn’t seem to matter.
Amanda and her family went back to where Ali Baba was sitting. A young man of about eighteen handed out cold drinks and snacks from Ali Baba’s packs to the jockeys. He looked at Amanda as if he knew her. “Would you like a drink, Miss?”
“Go ahead,” said Uncle Ben and pointed towards a red SUV. “We’ll be right over there. I see someone I want to talk to.”
Amanda walked over to the young man and the camel. “Hi, Ali Baba.” The camel looked at her, grunted, and seemed to give her a familiar nod.
“I am Mohammed,” the young man introduced himself. He leaned closer to Amanda as he gave her not only a soft drink but a message. “I am a friend of Shamza. She said you could be trusted. We must get Ali Baba back to her so she can get somewhere safe. You must help.”
“This is Princess Shamza’s camel? This is her Ali Baba?” Amanda asked, as Ali Baba made a low, groaning noise.
“Yes,” whispered Mohammed. “He was sold to the camel ranch so she could have some money, but now she needs him.” Mohammed glanced back at Ali Baba and shrugged. “The camel does not feel right, he misses his princess.”
Amanda felt sorry for the princess and her camel pining for her. Without hesitation, she asked, “How can I help?”
“Come to the camel ranch in two days and ask for a ride on Ali Baba. No other camel will do,” Mohammed spoke quickly as the group of boys who waited for a soft drink continued to grow. “I will be your guide this time. You must believe in me and trust me.” He looked directly into her eyes before he turned away to hand out more drinks.
“Ready to go Amanda? Your aunt is getting too hot out here.”
“Coming,” called Amanda in a daze. ‘What have I got myself into now?’ She looked back at Ali Baba before she climbed into the jeep. She was sure she saw a large tear roll down his cheek.
Chapter 9
The next morning Amanda caught Uncle Ben just as he was heading out the door for work. “Uncle Ben, can I go back to the camel ranch tomorrow? I want to ride Ali Baba once more before I go home,” asked Amanda. As her uncle stopped to consider she added, “I know he remembered me at the races yesterday.”
“I see,” he said as he grabbed his keys off the hook. “Well, there’s plenty of time yet and I’m busy tomorrow. Perhaps later on in the week. I’ll see what I can arrange.” Before she could think of an argument he rushed out the door.
How was she going to get to the race track tomorrow? Why had she promised Mohammed?
She was still standing in front of the closed door wondering what to do when she heard a knock. She opened the door to a smiling Leah inviting her to go swimming.
Leah’s mom was giving them a ride to the beach, but first she had a couple of errands to do outside the city. Amanda didn’t mind because everything new was an adventure to her. They drove past brilliant white houses shimmering under the sun, many with painted doors or gates. The further out of the city they went, the smaller the houses became but the doors and gates became more brightly painted. One gate was painted bright green with a large orange coffee pot in the middle surrounded by four, short, orange cups without handles. It looked like it was welcoming everyone who passed by to come in and have a cup of coffee.
“What is that?” asked Amanda as she pointed to what looked like part of a castle on top of a hill.
“That is a watchtower. Years ago men would be posted up there to watch for invaders,” explained Leah’s mother. She was very interested in the history of this part of the world and because she was a teacher, she loved to share her knowledge. Amanda was an eager listener and wanted to learn all about this amazing country that she knew nothing about before coming here.
The car stopped in front of a house with chickens running around in the front yard. “I will just be a moment. I have to pick up some eggs. I prefer to buy my eggs from the local farmers instead of from the supermarket,” she added for her young visitor’s benefit.
The girls waited in the air conditioned car. A woman stepped out of the house and waved to the girls. She wore a black, abaya overdress and a black scarf over her head. Her face was covered with a black mask trimmed in copper with openings for her eyes. Her eyes smiled as she waved at them.
When Mrs. Anderson returned to the car, Amanda just had to ask about the mask.
“That style of mask is usually only seen in the outlying rural villages and in the mountains. Copper used to be mined in this area and was considered a luxury. That mask is most likely very old and would have been passed down from mother to daughter, through the generations.”
They drove along a bumpy mountain path beside a dry riverbed. Leah told Amanda that the riverbed was called a wadi. “Is there ever water in these river beds?” Amanda
questioned, her curiosity growing.
“Occasionally, when it rains. Unfortunately there hasn’t been a good rain for over three years,” answered Leah’s mom.
“LOOK! Look over there – in the trees! What are the goats doing standing in the trees?” Amanda couldn’t believe her eyes. A number of goats were scattered amongst the few trees by the road, balancing themselves on the branches and nibbling on the leaves. It looked like a circus act. She just had to giggle.
“Oh, they always do that,” said Leah, and laughed along with her friend.
“It is cooler in the trees and they are able to get at the leaves. They get their moisture from those leaves, as water is so scarce. Goats aren’t as stupid as they seem,” explained her mother.
“Won’t they fall out?”
“No, goats are very nimble.”
“Something else to tell the kids back home, but they're not going to believe me,” said Amanda.
“We can fix that.” Mrs. Anderson stopped the car and backed up so that Amanda could take a picture of the goats in the trees for her collection.
“Smile, you silly goats,” said Amanda as she snapped the photo.
Chapter 10
Amanda was lost in her thoughts as they drove up a rough, uneven road. ‘How was she going to get to the camel ranch tomorrow? She shouldn’t have promised to be there, but a promise is a promise.’ Besides she could not get Shamza’s sad eyes out of her head. One way or another she just had to help her out.
She was jolted from her thoughts when the jeep stopped beside some piles of rocks by the side of the road. “Would you like to have a look at these ancient, stone huts, Amanda?” asked Mrs. Anderson.
Amanda looked out the window at the barren land. It was so desolate, how could any one have survived living there? She couldn’t see any dwellings, just some piled–up, washed out gray stones, almost the same colour as the land they were scattered on. As she stared at one of the piles she began to make out an opening that could have been a doorway, two other spaces looked like windows; all of it topped with flat stones. The rocks began to take on the shapes of what could have been a collection of stone huts.
“I know it doesn’t look like it, but this was a village. It was still occupied up to fifty or sixty years ago.” Amanda could tell that Mrs. Anderson enjoyed visiting the site. “The Arabs lived like this for thousands of years.”
Amanda used to fantasize, when she was younger, about being a time traveler. Now here she was about to step into a village that had been here for centuries. This is what it must feel like to go back in time. A weird tingle began in her tailbone and crept up to her neck like a cold snake shimmying up her back.
“Are you all right?” asked Leah.
“Yah, sure. Can we take a look around?”
Leah’s mom nodded her head, “Of course, go ahead.”
The girls scrambled down some rocks and over the hard, parched, cracked earth. They passed a big, old, lonely tree with knotty, gnarled roots exposed by the harsh weather. Amanda wondered how old it was and how it had managed to survive.
She looked into one stone hut still divided into small rooms. The walls were made of stones piled one on top of the other. There was no glass in the windows and no doors. The floor was packed, gray–brown sand. Time seemed to stand still as she stood in the doorway imagining how a family would live in a house like this. How would a girl her age feel living in this wilderness? Would she have had friends to play with, to share secrets with and to laugh at each other’s jokes? It must have been a hard life and probably lonely too. Amanda couldn’t picture a life without schools, shopping malls and McDonalds close by. Then, Amanda realized that this must be the sort of stone hut Shamza hid in before she was rescued by Yoseph. Of course, she must have taken shelter in one of these places. Amanda looked across the desert plain, there was nowhere else. ‘Shamza,’ she wondered, ‘why does everything make me think of you?’
“Over here, Amanda,” called Leah. “Look what I found.” She had found some petroglyphs on a rock behind a house.
“What do you think they’re supposed to be?” asked Amanda as she squinted to see faint outlines etched in white on a dark, gray stone.
“They look a bit like some kind of animal but it’s hard to tell,” Leah traced one of the lines with her finger. “Too much has been worn away by time.”
Amanda thought they looked like stick camels but didn’t say so. She didn’t want Leah to think that she was obsessed with camels.
As they drove away Amanda asked, “Would it have been lonely here for the kids?”
Leah’s mom replied, “There would most likely have been a whole village or tribe living together. In those days people needed to be closely knit as they depended on each other for survival. There would have been brothers and sisters and cousins to play with.” She negotiated a sharp turn in the gravelly road before adding, “But there wasn’t much time for play as everyone had to work hard.”
“What did they eat?”
“Mostly dates, bread, goat milk, and sometimes goat meat.”
“Where they happy?”
“My, you are full of questions aren’t you?” laughed Mrs. Anderson. “I’m sure they were happy; it was their way of life. It was a simple, tough life but it was all they knew. They didn’t have television to show them how other people lived.”
The people from that village could have been Shamza’s relatives, maybe her grandparents. Seeing the village made Amanda realize just how different her new friend’s life was from her own in Canada. However, they were both young girls and somehow they needed each other.
Chapter 11
Later, while they were collecting shells at the beach, Amanda looked over at Leah.
“Would you like to go to the camel ranch tomorrow and ride camels?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Leah as she shrugged her reluctance, “I don’t like camels as much as you do. Actually, I don’t think I like them at all.”
“You haven’t met the right camel,” protested Amanda. “If you met Ali Baba, you would begin to like camels more.”
“What makes him any different?”
“He’s very special,” said Amanda. “Just like some dogs are special. I saw him at the camel races yesterday and he recognized me.”
Leah looked skeptical as she flicked her blonde hair back off her face, “How do you know that?”
“I just do!” said Amanda firmly. She still hadn’t shared the story of Shamza with her friend, or Ali Baba’s connection. She had a funny feeling Leah would not believe her. Besides, she seemed more interested in the seashell she had just dug out of the sand.
That evening at dinner, Aunt Ella said, “Would you still like to go to the camel ranch tomorrow?” Uncle Ben must have told her.
“YES, oh yes!” Amanda felt that a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She’d been really worried about not being able to return to the camel ranch. She hoped she didn’t sound too enthusiastic or Aunt Ella might think she was up to something so she added, “I really would like to ride Ali Baba again.”
“Well, if you don’t mind getting up early, and if Leah will go with you, I can give you a ride on my way to work tomorrow morning and then you can take a taxi back home,” said her aunt as she gave Amanda another piece of naan bread. Amanda tore off a corner of the misshapen slab of bread and scooped up another mouthful of yummy hummus.
“I told the men at the camel ranch to tell Ali Baba to expect you.” Uncle Ben gave his niece a wink.
“Thank you, Aunt Ella, thank you, Uncle Ben.” Amanda knew she was incredibly lucky to have such wonderful relatives. “Thank you – both of you. You are giving me such a wonderful holiday. I’ll go up to Leah’s place right after I’m finished eating. I hope she will go with me.”
Leah wasn’t too keen, but agreed to go along with her camel–crazy, Canadian friend in the morning. In fact, it was Leah’s mother who insisted that she go along. “It will be good for you to go for a camel ride. Y
ou can’t always be shopping and going to the beach.”
***
Aunt Ella packed them a lunch of naan bread, cheese, dates, almonds and four bottles of water. She gave Amanda some dirhams, for the taxi ride home.
“Have fun.” She waved to the two girls as she drove off leaving them at the camel ranch gate.
“Yuk,” said Leah and made a face. “It smells like camel dung here.”
Amanda laughed at her British friend’s polite way of putting things. Back home her friends would have said camel poop or something even stronger. “You’ll get used to it.”
Amanda was excited and nervous. She hadn’t slept well during the night wondering about today. What had Mohammed meant when he said Princess Shamza needed her help? How could she possibly help? She was just a young girl from Canada who knew nothing about this country. In spite of that, she felt a strange connection to it.
The camels were in a pen with their saddles on. Mohammed hurried over to greet the girls. “I am happy to see you, Miss,” he said. “Who is your lovely friend?” Leah looked down at the ground and blushed.
“This is Leah,” said Amanda. “Can she ride a camel too?”
“Of course. It is good to have a friend go with you,” said Mohammed. “I have the perfect camel for your friend. She is small and gentle. Her name is Sheba.”
“Like the Queen of Sheba?” asked Leah, starting to show some interest.
“It is a good name for her. She is like a queen,” laughed Mohammed and his large brown eyes twinkled.
“Wait here and I will bring the camels over. They just had something to eat and a big drink of water so they can travel for a long time.”
Soon Mohammed returned trailing two camels. Amanda recognized Ali Baba immediately. The other camel, the one he called Sheba, was smaller and a lighter shade of brown, almost yellow, like peanut butter. She was walking slower and slightly behind the larger camel. When the camels stopped by the girls, an older man came to help.
Amanda in Arabia: The Perfume Flask Page 3