It is the 4th Day of Christmas and the words of the Carol ‘Silent Night’ spring to mind: ‘Silent Night, Holy Night, All Is Calm, All Is Bright’. 

The Bedouin do not celebrate Christmas, referring to the festive season as Noël. But even Adel, who has lived his entire life in the desert, remarked that today we see the Sahara at its most beautiful, neither too hot nor too cold. Calm, peaceful, a warm sun shining from a cloudless blue sky. All is well with our world. A crow cawing, a bird singing, are the only sounds to break the silence.
No wind. No rain. Just stillness.

The Tunisian landscape lends itself to the Nativity scene – palm trees, mountains, simple one storey dwellings, sandy streets trodden by long eared donkeys, sheep and goats herded into backyard enclosures, the larger flocks left free to roam the great outdoors under the watchful eyes of the shepherds. And yes, there are newly born babies in the villages, carefully wrapped in swaddling clothes by their gentle mothers. Impossible to forget the camels – I am riding one – with two more following on behind. All that is missing are the three kings, but as the temperature plummets tonight, I am sure I will be able to conjure up their majestic outlines amid the glittering galaxy of twinkling stars.

The sand underfoot is firm after the rains that fell a week or so ago, which accounts for the seedlings sprouting to the surface – see photograph above. The dromedaries are allowed to take their time, grazing on the nutritious young grasses and herbs – one of which is the purple flowered Harar, its lace like leaves weaving a delicate pattern across the dunes. I am bewitched by this enchanting pastoral moment, so much so, that I forget to capture it on my camera. Ali, the assistant guide, plucks another culinary delicacy from the ground – one that he and Adel enjoy eating, with such an unpronounceable Arabic name that he thoughtfully gives me the colloquial French translation: Oreilles de moutons: Sheeps ears! This is a photo opportunity not to be missed!

 

 

On the 6th Day of Christmas, Geoffrey and I visit the Douz Festival celebrating its 50th year. It is the morning of the camel marathon. Competing Bedouin and Touareg tribesmen have gathered from afar, dressed in their finest robes and turbans, riding aloft their haughty white beasts, bare feet balancing on the soft curved necks in front of them, with one hand holding the leather cord looped through the nostril ring, the other gripping the cross on the front of the high backed wooden saddle decorated with leather tassels. The cameleers begin young – a little lad who is surely no more than four years old, dressed in a pale blue silk kaftan, is placed in the saddle of a couched camel by his elders. As the camel rises to its feet, he remains firmly seated, unfazed, likewise when the camel kneels down again. A heartwarming sight, and encouraging to see that long held traditions continue to be handed down from generation to generation.

Quad bikes are taking over in a big way, speed, noise and acceleration providing the fashionable fix. Having said that, we watch the cameleers putting the camels through their paces prior to the 40 kilometre race – a graceful sight, and boy, can they move when commanded to do so.

 

On the 7th Day of Christmas, it is time to say goodbye to the hospitable Sahara Douz Hotel, where the cheerful hard working team always find us a comfortable room at their joyful inn, which, I am happy to say, is much in demand by Tunisians and tourists. Amel, the manager in charge of allocating rooms, has found my sponge bag containing medicines which I had stupidly left behind after my previous stay in October. Lo and behold, her face beaming, she proudly handed it back to me, having stored it in safe keeping until my return. In Sabria and Douz, we were presented with gifts of local treasure – boxes and branches crammed with luscious dates, a feast of energy to see us through the cold English winter ahead!

On the 8th Day of Christmas, I take Geoffrey by the hand to the Souk in Tunis where we search for the stone flagged alley specialising in shops selling the traditional Fez. He has always longed for one. We find him a maroon beauty – and he leaves the shop wearing it, with me trotting along beside him carrying the hat box! It also happens to be New Year’s Day, January 1st 2018 – exactly ten years since I purchased my beloved camel Zeydoun on January 1st 2008. His furry neck is branded with the figure 8, the symbol of eternity, and in the Bible, 8 is the code representing a new beginning. Zeydoun has shown me the eternal sands of his Sahara, and my life begins anew each and every time he and his Bedouin transport me across their magical land. Thank you, Zeydoun, and thank you Geoffrey for loving Tunisia as much as I do.