My March/April holiday in Tunisia was blessed with beautiful sunshine that lifted the spirits. I was there for three weeks – one riding my camel in the Sahara, the other two on the Isle of Djerba where the olive trees were in blossom and the wild flowers bloomed, an idyllic scene.
The desert proved more challenging! A warm southerly wind, which sounded harmless enough in the distance, rapidly gained momentum and in no time at all the Bedouin tent in which I was sleeping crashed to the ground, but not before my two Bedouin guides, Adel and Ali, had led me to the relative safety of a clump of bushes where they had made their overnight shelter, with the camel saddles propped up around them for extra protection. They managed to rescue my belongings from under the tent, including my spectacles which I thought I had lost for ever. I hunkered down for what was left of the night, shielding myself against the stinging sand under layers of blankets. Amazingly, I slept soundly.
When dawn broke, the sky was an ominous greyish yellow. A demanding morning ride lay ahead. There were steep dunes to be negotiated in an unrelenting gale force wind. Visibility was virtually nil. The words hurricane and fog sprang to mind, and if you were to substitute ski slopes for sand dunes, and chair lifts for camels, there you have it! Thankfully we stopped at midday. Adel and Ali constructed a makeshift shelter of blankets roped to shrubs, and here we stayed until 5 o’clock, cheering ourselves up with Coca Cola and chocolate biscuits. I had hoped we could settle here for the night, but no, I was informed there was still ground to be covered before nightfall. It was a case of onwards and upwards, quite literally.
For the next two nights, the Bedouin tent was pitched over sturdy bushes (rather than wooden poles) making it impossible for it to collapse into a heap. This arrangement is known as a demi-tent, and it worked to perfection. Although exhausted from clinging on for dear life to the iron bar at the front of my saddle, traversing the swirling crested dunes in this freak storm astride my powerful black dromedary gave me the opportunity to observe the resilience and camaraderie of the Bedouin at close quarters. They are super fit, super knowledgeable, and super good humoured. Whilst I had the luxury of riding, they had to walk the whole way. Their innate understanding of the elements, terrain and the ships of the desert knows no bounds. I have complete and utter faith in these wonderful men.
The Calm After The Storm
It wasn’t until I got back to Djerba that I realised just how fierce the storm had been – not only did it make headlines on the BBC World Weather news, but having whipped its way over to Greece, it even got as far as Switzerland, covering the snow with a sprinkling of Saharan sand!
The next excitement was of a gentler nature, actually involving nature! Walking through the covered cobbled narrow streets of the down town Souk, I happened upon a hedgehog, curled up into a tight ball, confined to a miserably small wire cage. He was for sale. No guesses as to what I did next…..I bought him! But not before I had spoken to my dear kind friend Mohamed, the Reception Manager at the Hotel Dar Faiza, who agreed to allow him the run of his garden and lush orchards at his family home on the outskirts of Midoun. We named the hedgehog Herbie, who I am happy to say is now revelling in his new found freedom.