Our Lady of the Camels (3)

From following a German woman in India to following a Mongolian woman on a monumental trek to a Dutch woman in the South Sinai ... language can be an issue. Joyce Schröder's websites and Facebook page are in Dutch, not a language I've mastered. However Schröder's website DesertJoy allows Google Translate. http://www.desertjoy.nl/. Her banner proclaims "Nomadische reizen met Hart en Ziel" (Nomadic travel with heart and soul).

Of all those who seek to "find themselves," Joyce Schröder was one of the successful ones. Originally from The Netherlands, she experienced the awe of desert life for the first time in 1995 and made it her life. She fell in love with Dalel the camel and the Bedouin people of the Muzayna tribe; this is in the south Sinai region of Egypt between the Suez Canal and the Red Sea. She has long been fluent in Arabic.

Caring for each other and bonding as the two made countless exploratory desert trips together: over time Dalel taught her [as translated] "patience, imperturbability, trust, tolerance, courage and endurance." Eventually losing him was heartbreaking. In tribute, Shröder established the Dalel Foundation for Animal Welfare, a charity: http://www.stichtingdalel.org/ (Dalel Foundation) ... "Improving the physical and psychological well-being of camels in and around Dahab, South Sinai, Egypt."

Dalel fathered Jamila, born after he died; Jamila has by now given her three males. Her family.

Many of her days are spent ministering, with the experts she finds, to rural and isolated camels. The trust she has established is evident. Her Facebook page, "Camel Wellbeing" (Stichting Dalèl - voor Kamelenwelzijn in de Sinaï), is witness to many helpful visits to ailing or needy camels. But what they face are challenges ― rising feed costs, little veterinary availability, and climate change (meaning a drier desert), not to mention decreased income from tourists.

That is not say she didn't have to find a way to support such a life. She now leads a variety of camel tours from her base in Dahab, from October to May, supported by and employing her Bedouin friends. The tours will take from two to ten people, and are clearly well prepared for both educating their guests and maximum comfort in the desert world. She even arranges flights from Amsterdam to Sharm el Sheik with airport pickup.

Schröder says the rhythm in camel riding is beneficial for people with low back complaints; I can personally attest that it does no harm. Camel riding sometimes has a bad rep due to short trips with badly saddled camels. Not her animals! Each participating guest has his or her own camel for the trip. Walking along the way, or part of the way, is also an option.

Thus Schröder is achieving some of her goals ― raising consciousness about camels in her homeland and building a means to care for them. There is no reason she can't reach a wider global market! The tours benefit the Bedouin community as well as visitors. Sad to say, the drop in tourism to Egypt in the last few years affects standard of life mostly for the already marginal, but seems to be picking up again. In my opinion, visiting the south Sinai is no more dangerous than crossing your big city downtown street.

Joyof Nature is Schröder's more recent development, running tours with a partner on the southeast coast of Turkey. They take place during the summer months that are off-season, far too hot for the Sinai; in this location "... no towering hotel resorts or mass tourism!" she reports.

When all is said and done, it's a love story.

© 2018 Brenda Dougall Merriman

Saint Catherines Monastery, Egypt 2013

My chance to visit storied Saint Catherines Monastery came at last. The illustration above, from a purchased booklet, captures the aura, the mystique, of this holy place ― a pilgrimage site for centuries ― the oldest continuously inhabited monastery in the world.

It's a crack of dawn start to get there, a three hour drive from Sharm el-Sheik deep into the Sinai desert plateau, because the monastery closes to visitors before noon. Travelling the desert one is ever mindful of the long Exodus led by Moses into this land. Situated at the foot of looming Mount Sinai (Jebel Musa aka Mount Horeb), here it's believed Moses received the Ten Commandments. The biblical burning bush is located at this place. Tradition says here Moses met a daughter of Jethro at the well and married her ... Old Testament references are abundant. The prophet Elijah sought refuge here in the seventh century, living in a nearby cave.

Wikipedia.com

Administered by the Greek Orthodox Church, the site holds the relics of Catherine of Alexandria who was tortured (Catherine wheel!) and beheaded for her Christian belief. The official name of the complex is Sacred Monastery of the God-Trodden Mount Sinai. Pilgrims and scholars from the world's three great monotheistic religions have come here even before Byzantine Empress Helena established a church in 330 A.D. Emperor Justinian fortified the site in the sixth century to protect the monks and the Church of the Transfiguration from roaming attackers and looters.

Entrance

Our guide is Amr who came all the way from Cairo on a bus to serve us; he is an archaeology graduate of the American University in Cairo. The inevitable security guy in a suit sits in front of me. Amr gives statistics: of Egypt's ninety-three million population, twenty million are (Coptic) Christians. Sadly for me, Amr says there will be no time for camel riding; he saw me heading for the animals waiting patiently on the road.

St Catherine icon; Wikipedia.com

Saint Catherines library has the world's second most outstanding (after the Vatican) collection of ancient religious manuscripts. The Codex Sinaiticus was discovered here: the oldest, most completely preserved manuscript of the Bible. It's a relief to know that the most important documents have been filmed or digitized. Over two thousand priceless icons of antiquity in the monastery's holdings are no less distinguished. We did not have special access to the library or the icon gallery.

Ladder of Divine Ascent; Wikipedia.com

In the Church of the Transfiguration; Wikipedia.com

Photography is not allowed in the Church of the Transfiguration (by that time I had experienced yet another camera battery fail). We passed through the magnificent original carved cedar doors to the interior. The mosaics and art are overwhelming. St Catherine's reliquary is beside the main altar. Later, outside, we observed Jethro's well, the burning bush, the bell tower (a gift from the Russian Orthodox Church), and a small twelfth century mosque.

The Burning Bush thrives in its greenery

The essential tranquility of the surroundings induces awed respect despite the occasional crowding as one group of tourists follows another. Everything is so well kept. Former Egyptian President Anwar Sadat was notably fond of this place. He wished to be buried at St Catherines but state formality dictated otherwise. Today, a few dozen monks are in residence. For centuries the local Muslim Bedouin have been a loyal workforce, especially in the gardens. Their ancestors date back to the days before Islam.

Some die-hards prefer to begin their visit at midnight in order to climb Mount Sinai ― it takes that long in the dark to reach the top. Their "reward" is an unparalleled sunrise, dreaming of Moses in the face of God.

Saint Catherines Monastery has been well-preserved from potential damage due to its protection in historically troubled times, protection ranging from emperors to the prophet Mohammed to Napoleon. Cataloguing the collection began in the 1960s and continues. The Saint Catherine Foundation supports necessary, ongoing conservation of the precious manuscripts and artifacts. In view of the mindless destruction and desecration occurring today in the Middle East, I have fears for its safety.

Note: Usage rights for external photographs shown here extend to non-commercial reuse.

© 2015 Brenda Dougall Merriman

  

Sinai, Egypt 2011

Early in the morning we load into the expected four-wheel drive jeeps. Much as I dislike them, they are necessary for traversing the mountainous southern tip of the peninsula, very difficult terrain to travel. My first visit to the southern Sinai. We first pass through a bit of Sharm el-Sheik—the hotel area where many high-level Middle East meetings take place. I think of my friend who was here just after the Six Days War, as a guest on an Israeli training exercise. No hotels for them; they slept on the beach where nomads passed in the night with their camels. The immense climb takes us thousands of feet above sea level to reach the desert.

The paved road soon comes to an end. Then it takes another 1½ hours (I suppose it would take half a day on a camel :-) along twisting, up-and-down, bumpy tracks to a Bedouin village. The striking landscape is merely part of the Sinai; the stereotypical desert, the ocean of sand, is way north of here. As it is, we have all the sand anyone could want in the passes among the rocky peaks.

Nearing our destination, a few excited boys appear on camels to race around us. The village is a small random collection of seemingly half-finished homes with the more familiar outlying tents. A gaggle of kids, possibly all the children, has turned out to assist the tourists with the prescribed “Bedouin experience.” The little girls wear the hijab but otherwise it’s a motley group of T-shirts and sweaters.

Like the Jordanian government, Egypt has made an effort to provide Bedouins with permanent locations—assured supplies of water, staples, and a few basic installations. No doubt they prefer their comfortable tents. Government largesse doesn’t stop many of them from the customary seasonable migration back and forth with livestock ... they have permission to pass into/through countries like Jordan and Saudi Arabia without passports. One supposes this village site was chosen at an original oasis but I see no sign of it. 

The school

Along with such intervention come schools. And tribal ambivalence. Most parents believe “learning” will entice their children away from the traditional life. If they get too much education they will likely leave the tribe to pursue greener pastures. Pun intended. Maintaining family, tradition, and the tribe are everything. Therefore children are seldom in school long enough to learn more than fundamentals. 

Our reception is a communal effort ... to a degree. The village men do the negotiating with our harried tour leader. The kids are the camel handlers. Women are never seen. Mounting the camels is a scene of confusion. Scarcely time for photography unless you have three or four hands. English is non-existent except for our leader/translator. It’s odd to be riding with a group. Impossible to communicate to my child camel handler (a) could your camera shot get both me and the whole camel in, and (b) my saddle was cinched off-centre (a test of the abs to keep upright). 

An hour or so later at a genteel pace, we find refreshment waiting at a purpose-built, rudimentary compound. Not before more confusion and milling around at the dismount. With sign language and graphic facial expressions, the kids haggle fiercely for more than the expected tip. Mission accomplished .. for the most part .. and they vanish. It’s disappointing to me that our “experience” does not include a Bedouin tent. Or at least a facsimile.

We are grateful to be directed to the shade of one open hut; our guide huddles with the local men and the jeep drivers in another. The sun is so overbearing I can’t get a decent photo in the starkly contrasting interiors. Boiled mint tea may sound strange on a blazing hot day but the effect is refreshingly welcome. The men bring us a snack of fresh goat cheese and lebe, cooked on a fire as we watch and make admiring noises. Handmade crafts are displayed for purchase. Sadly, you can hardly say we are interacting with them. I wish to, but can’t, dissociate myself from some of my companions who are dressed for a California beach romp in shorts and sleeveless shirts. Hasn’t anyone heard of cultural respect? 

Passing back through the village later, the young boys reappear all scrubbed up for Friday prayers. Where is the mosque, I wonder. Are they saying goodbye to us or wanting money for photo opps?

Reflection: In case it wasn’t apparent, my unease during the day had increased. I felt disengaged, disconnected, tourist-trappy. Not that I think a North American female will ever have the slightest meaningful dialogue with these people, but the ambivalence, the paradox, was too ironic. We seemed to be amidst a trial start-up business for this particular village or tribe. I think they haven’t resolved the means to their end, which is presumably to strengthen their micro-economy. We seem mere objects of mild curiosity to the children, or perhaps we are viewed only as cash machines. Limited exposure to us apparently inspires no thoughts of leaving home so tradition is safe on that front.  

The awkwardness is entirely forgivable. I know of successful ventures amongst the Bedu in other places where tourists are accepted not only as economic contributors but treated with friendship and good humour. One has to spend more than a few hours with them. And I much prefer negotiating a solo ride.   

Photographs BDM, November 2011

© 2015 Brenda Dougall Merriman. All rights reserved.