As defined in the English Dictionary ‘The flora and fauna of a place are its plants and animals’. This phrase sums up my latest camel voyage to perfection.   Flora, the name of my enchanting travelling companion, is the personification of the flora, albeit imported from Great Britain, and the indigenous dromedaries represent the fauna , though I have to admit these particular camels are domesticated rather than wild…..

Flora had never ridden a camel before, or visited Tunisia, let alone the Sahara. But perhaps her biggest unknown quantity was how to survive fourteen days in the company of two old age pensioners, ie myself and Geoffrey – both of us four decades her senior! She also had grave doubts as to how she would manage five days in the desert without  her laptop – I had made it clear that it was not a good idea to take it with her. 

We put together an itinerary that took in Tunis, Carthage, Tozeur, Chott el Djerid, Douz, Sabria, the Sahara, Matmata and the Isle of Djerba. Flora was seeing these awesome sights through new eyes. She was an instant hit with the Tunisian people – they all loved her. Her Mediterranean colouring – brown eyes, dark hair, olive skin, made it hard for them to believe she was British. At one point, I wondered if we would ever get her back to England. 

Comme d’habitude, Geoffrey enjoyed the comforts of the Hotel Sahara Douz, whilst Flora and I braved the elements of the Sahara proper. Adel, Ali and the camels did us proud. Flora’s camel was called Bouchagour. Adel had bought him in Algeria only a few weeks earlier, hoping that I might buy him to join Zeydoun. In the past, I had toyed with the idea of getting another black camel, but when it came to the crunch, I felt it was a huge commitment to take on in my advancing years. It was with a heavy heart that I had to explain this to Adel, and I felt so guilty that had it not been for me, this dear camel would never have left his happy home amongst the Algerian Bedouin. Instead, he had to endure an excruciating journey to Sabria in the back of Adel’s truck, and now faces an uncertain future. Adel will, as he puts it, now exchange him for money from a person other than myself. He tells me that with the return of tourists to the seaside resorts, the demand for camel rides on the beaches is high, so this is probably where Bouchagour will end up. I just hope he is sold to a kind owner.  

However, this unsettling tale was the only downside of a spectacular five days and four nights in the Tunisian Sahara. Flora took to the camels and they to her – she rode Bouchagour, Zeydoun and Lahajah.

To begin with, she was disappointed that we were riding along flat roads that criss-cross the landscape, but Adel knew what he was doing. Flora had never ridden a camel before. The first day’s riding was gentle, undemanding. But as the days rolled one into the other, so did the daunting dunes. In my ten years of negotiating this roller coaster surface, I have never encountered such deep going. These conditions were not due to rain, but lack of it.  In some places, the camels sank up to their bellies in bottomless sand, the consistency of talcum powder. I especially felt for Labiar who was saddled with the heaviest burden of all – the Bedouin tent.  

Nights by the camp fire are the idyllic stuff that one reads about, as are the star studded skies. Flora was experiencing these wonders for real, saying that for the stars alone, her journey from London would have been worth it.  She contributed to the magical evenings with her belly dancing, much to the delight of Adel who adores to dance.  The pair whirled and twirled  to the beat of Ali’s drum. Dancing over, Adel still had enough breath left to play the flute, the haunting notes melting into the darkness.

The Bedouin are accurate readers of the weather.  Early one morning, when we awoke to the warm sun streaming into our tent, Ali did not draw our attention to the azure sky, but to the clouds gathering in the far distance.  ‘La pluie’ he announced.  By midday, the wind had got up, and the heavens had turned the ominous yellow-grey colour that precedes a sand storm.  We did not linger over lunch, as it was imperative to set up our evening camp in daylight, and before the onset of Ali’s predicted rain.   Scarves tied tightly around our heads, we climbed onto our camels, and were up and away, Adel and Ali marching on foot, all the while talking to each other at the top of their voices.

The rumbles were faint at first.  Ali and Adel pitched the flapping tent with difficulty, battling against an impossibly strong wind, but thank goodness our overnight shelter  was ready for us to move into just before the torrential downpour.  Deafening claps of thunder, followed by sheet lightening, were now immediately overhead.  We were in the midst of an almighty electrical storm.  I had  insisted that Ali and Adel moved themselves and their luggage into our tent for the night – apart from wanting to keep our guides dry, selfishly I felt safer having the Bedouin under cover and at our side.  They are used to sleeping outdoors in all weathers, and prefer to do so, but on this occasion, I persuaded them otherwise.  Against all odds, Adel prepared a delicious supper, and Flora and I relished our evening fix – Coca Cola.  The storm crashed its way unabated throughout the night, the vast sky lit up by the constant flashes.  Our very own Sonne et Lumiere show!  

The next morning we awoke to All Things Bright and Beautiful!  The sands were the colour of saffron after the rain, the sky a brilliant blue.  However, Flora confided in me that during the turbulent night, deep down in the comforting warmth of her sleeping bag, she had wondered if we were all going to be struck by lightning, who would find us, and who would inform her father and Geoffrey of our unfortunate fate?  

Our last evening found the camel train benighted.  Adel had miscalculated the programme for the afternoon, losing valuable time at the well.  Yes, we had to stop there to give the thirsty camels a drink and fill the jerry cans with water.  These were the necessary tasks.  But Adel’s ablutions in the water trough were not, and seemed to take for ever.  This meant a late start to the final ride of the day, which took us over the steepest dunes of the entire circuit.  The overnight grazing area he was aiming for was a considerable distance away, and I for one was exhausted.  But these precipitous dunes were devoid of vegetation for the camels to feed on.  ‘If my camels don’t eat, I don’t eat’ announced Adel.  Yes, we could have camped here if I had insisted, saving ourselves another hour in the saddle, but that would have been unfair on beast and Bedouin.  So on and on we went.  I had difficulty in keeping my cool, but feisty Flora, ever the good sport, found the whole situation very amusing – another novel experience for her, camel riding in the dark.  The one plus as far as I was concerned was that the darkness helped to mask the steepness of the ground we were crossing, making the ordeal a little less frightening.  Now I know why trainers use blinkers on racehorses.   

At noon on day five, a rainbow arc appeared  over the western horizon – a rare sight in the Sahara.  It was as if the Bedouin had conjured it up especially for Flora, out of their respect and admiration for her superstar qualities. She had won their hearts.
At 4 o’clock Belgacem and Geoffrey arrived in Sabria to collect us and our sandy belongings from Adel’s house.

And so it was with a mixture of sadness and relief that I bade farewell to Adel and his sweet family, sadness at leaving them and their village, but relief that Flora was all in one piece.   But will the desert beyond Sabria remain in one piece?  Prospecting for oil and gas is underway.  A  miniature lit up version of the London Post Office Tower is the latest landmark on the Saharan scene, plain for all to see and local opinion is divided ….
Happily tourism is on the increase.  We were heartened to see many more tourists in Douz – huge overnight groups visiting our beloved Hotel Sahara Douz: Chinese, Japanese, Malaysian, Russian, European, and some Tunisians.  If you are lucky enough to be staying on a Thursday night, you will be entertained by the Folklore Tunisian Band players, whose beautiful ebony skin and throbbing drum beats inspired me to dance the night away, and Flora to show off her belly dancing skills!
En route to the Isle of Djerba via the ferry, we stopped off at the Hotel Marhala, Matmata,  making the most of the tasty, and extremely generous, Carte du Jour. The Manager, Habib, gave us the warmest of welcomes, before attending to his other numerous guests – the place was buzzing.

 

Djerba was busier than I have seen it for a long time.  We visited the El Ghriba Synagogue in Erriadh where we encountered two coach loads of tourists visiting this immaculately preserved sacred site. The charming Hotel Dar Dhiafa Hotel, a short walk away – was the ideal watering hole on a hot sight-seeing day;  enjoying a cooling drink by the pool,  we met an American equestrian photographer who had spent a week here with her fellow photographic  artists, taking amazing shots of  Barb/Arab stallions in stunning Djerbian locations. The horses belong to a local breeder on the island. 

We stayed at the Hotel Dar Salem in the Zone Touristique, and lunched al fresco just down the road at the Villa Azur which has a pretty garden leading down to the seashore.  There was lots of activity on the beach, camels, horses, water sports – everyone having a good time.  I met my ever smiling friend Khalifa, one of the nicest beach boys in existence.  His horses always look fit and well, and I gave him a contribution towards their ongoing wellbeing.  

I found my favourite craft shops in Houmet Souk well stocked, and doing a good trade. Business has picked up enormously since I was last here in April.  We always dine at the elegant Restaurant Haroun overlooking the Marina, and on one evening experienced the excitement of finding ourselves amongst a huge local wedding party!  

Our two week Autumn holiday, which began and ended with a stay at the hospitable Hotel Africa Tunis, passed all too quickly, but happily, Inshallah, we will be back again for Christmas and the New Year!