Camels: their silhouette,
particularly their profile but also their eyes, surrounded by those long
eyelashes; also, the way they hold themselves up, their pride, and their quiet
strength... I have always been the biggest fan of camels, for as long as I can
remember and use to visit the zoo in my French hometown, to regularly see them.
Living next to the Sahara, you
see many, of different shapes, ages, breed and body types. Last week end, as
four best friends went on a diving safari, we had the pleasure to ride a camel
for an hour, crossing both beaches and rocky paths. Those camels were not only
carrying our weight, but also the diving equipment we needed to dive in Ras Abu
Gallum, including air tanks, BCDs, wetsuits and more.
During that one hour trip, as you
get increasingly anxious when stepping near the pointy rocks and the sea on
your right hand side, you talk to your camel, beg him to keep on the path; I
wish I could say that you pet it, but I was too busy holding on to my life with
both hands. However, after a while, as we strolled, it felt incredible; it was
relaxing, since the pace was similar to a regular walking pace, but the
movements were very soothing.
This week end, thanks to friends,
I had the opportunity to visit a local camel market here, near Cairo. It is
with both apprehension and curiosity that we stepped into the market. As you
stare at the blue sky, for once painted with white clouds, a few hundred meters
from the gates, are dead camels on the roadside, that have been left to rot
under the eyes of Ra.
As you step into the souk, it is
Egypt, in its full blast. There are boys, teenagers and men everywhere, in
different coloured galabeyas, coming from namely Sudan and Egypt. Each carry a
thick wooden stick, that they will use repeatedly, unnecessarily to perhaps
symbolically beat their frustration, oppression and stress out on a camel's
body. During the time we spent there, I believe that each of my heartbeat was
in unison with the thump of those sticks.
Those camels, there are hundreds
all around, have one leg tied up, to prevent them from running away. Along this
long stretch there are many camel vendors, and when someone is interested, the
auction start, Egyptian style. By the time the dust spirals back to the ground,
from the attempts of a camel to run away, men have shouted, argued and agreed
on a price. The fate of those camels depends, some will be butchered and eaten,
others will serve purpose such as transportation, and else...
From a western point of view,
where meat appears in a nice, cling filmed and neat packaging, this may seem
rough; however, the truth is that this is also a meat market, and even if we do
not beat our industrially farmed chicken or cows with a wooden stick, our
treatment towards them is as revolting as this one.
The young boys, teens and men at
the market were very interested in our presence. Some of them greeted us and
welcomed us, and many of them were very keen on being photographed. Harassment
is always lurking in the corners, however one learns to appreciate when it is
only in the shape of looks and a couple of words, to which you can respond in
Arabic. Some of those men had very gentle eyes, and as always, the Egyptian
featured smile, which is always beautiful.
And then a magical thing happened
- I found my camel. He was standing amongst others, but he looked so peaceful,
in the midst of the dusty chaos surrounding us. I have written in my mind a
very optimistic future for him, I would have named him Mohamed to keep up the
originality streak.
The most striking feeling, as you
exit the market, wiping away the dust, the few inappropriate comments and your western
upbringing regarding meat, was that this place is a true depiction of Egypt - messy,
dusty, hot, sometimes scary, yet interesting, puzzling and that will make you
reflect forever...
