When Your Arabian Camel Runs Off With Your Passport into the Desert Horizon
And 3 lessons learned when these things do happen
It is truly beyond me how I found myself walking for hours alongside a dromedary through the thick Egyptian desert sand, heading to a rumored hippie festival in the middle of the desert. You couldn’t have pinched me hard enough to ensure this reality was not a desert mirage.
But so be it. And there I was.
It was many moons ago, in a time before social media and in a place so remote that global news seemed to have been put on pause.
We were in the Sinai desert in Egypt, living out of a bohemian hut on the Red Sea.
We would pass the days snorkeling, drinking tea, and smoking shisha. There were 3 of us. We had met just a few weeks prior.
When a friend of a friend told a friend about a friend who had a friend who was heading to a Rainbow Gathering in the thick of the desert, we thought it was an adventure we would not regret. And we were right, and we were wrong.
To be honest, I had no idea what a Rainbow Gathering was at that time.
I heard it was a mix of patchouli-scented trance dancing brothers and sisters. I heard there were endless grooves and magical potions. I heard that there would be a giant welcome mat and everyone was welcome.
And it was. It was all that. More or less.
The Rainbow Gathering was like being on another planet. It was extraterrestrial.
The music was divine, and the people had united against global warming, globalization, and all other global issues except for globetrotting.
The night stars illuminated the sky and were as bright as Elon Musk, who was probably back home starting his star collection.
We stayed two or three nights but had to cut our stay short as our stomachs growled from a food and water shortage.
Don’t judge!
How many days could YOU survive on a single carrot dipped in tahini? How much water could YOU conserve while dancing away the hot days and cold nights?
Now, there were no planes, trains, or automobiles that could get us there or back to town. There were no roads, no bikes, just a sandy, deserted path.
So…. when in Kansas, right? We hired camels to get the job done.
We were told that it would be too heavy for our camels to transport us with our packs. It was decided that the camels would sherpa our packs back from the festival and we would walk alongside.
The Bedouin owner of the camels had crispy tanned skin with more wrinkles than Keith Richards. He led the pack of camels with pride in his stride.
If you’ve ever been walking in the desert, you know this feeling. You can almost taste that dry air forever. You will never squint your eyes so hard ever again in your life; sunglasses barely take the edge off.
With each step and each bead of sweat forming from the hot overhead sun, it seems more and more like a dream.
The way your tall shadow ripples in the sand.
The way the horizon mystically sharpens and blurs in the distance.
It is nothing short of mesmerizing.
The Bedouin camel owner said he needed to pick up a package from a brother in a passing village. He handed the reins to the tallest and strongest of our group, Trevor, a 6 foot 4 giant of a human.
Trevor broke into the hugest smile as he held the reins of the majestical mammals. The camels trodded along slowly without their devoted owner.
So, I was walking a few hundred meters up ahead, taking it all in.
Then, disrupting my relaxation, I hear shouts in the distance. Both my friends are shouting the same thing at the same time.
They are waving their arms around as if they were drowning. I can barely make it out. I tune in harder.
“SHIRA, CATCH THE CAMELS!!!!”
WTF?
My eyes focus on three rogue camels running at full speed, which for a camel is 65 km/h. Worse yet, they are heading straight towards me, their ropes trailing dust behind them.
I bend my knees, knowing what I have to do. I lean right. I lean left. I take a deep breath and extend my arms to catch the rope.
And the bullet camels run right around me, coming within inches. The gust of wind knocked my hat off my head and into the sand.
I would have had a better chance of catching a Pokèmon IRL than catching these desert cheetahs.
And just like that, we watched everything we owned shrink smaller and smaller as the camels ran off farther and farther into the horizon. They stole our shirts, papyrus souvenirs, psytrance CDs, cameras, contact lenses, money, water, and passports.
They were pros.
Sigh.
Now, I’ve been robbed before.
And not just by humans either.
One time, a raccoon opened the zipper to my camp bag and had a party on my pillow with a bag of liquorice and a can of Country Time lemonade (yes, it was the 90s).
I’ve also had an Amazonian monkey steal a camera off my table at a village café while I was eating.
And, I’ve even had my sunglasses stolen off my face by a bridge-guarding monkey in India.
But this was different. This seemed final. Definite.
It was everything I owned. Everything I needed. In the middle of nowhere.
Eventually, the Bedouin caught up to us to find us three humans and zero of his camels.
He was even more worried than we were, which was not very reassuring. He had hoped that the camels would turn up in one of the upcoming villages.
But when we arrived at the next village, there were no fugitive camels to be seen.
We kept walking. He asked the locals at the next village, but no crooked camels.
Now, there was only one more village to investigate- our final destination.
As we rolled up, we see tracks.
Camel tracks. Could it be????
Yes!
There they were!
They were having a snack and drinking water from a garden hose as if it were a straw.
And what was that piled up by the side of the hut? Our golden backpacks!!!! Everything was there. All intact.
Apparently, these camels were no bozos. They say camels can smell water from 50 miles away. They knew the shortest path through the desert to run home and eat lunch.
Now, wait a second. Was that my camel winking at me? Was he laughing at me?
That desert devil!
Lessons Learned from That Desert Day
1. Animals are smarter than we give them credit for and more naive than we presume.
At first glance, we assume they have bad intentions, as if they were devious humans. But in reality, they think about one thing only- food.
Even thieving monkeys couldn’t care less about your camera or sunglasses. They have simply been training to know that shiny things will get them more and better food from their human trainers.
2. Spontaneity involves risks but it is almost always worth it
What was once a crazy decision is today an amazing story. We live to tell the tale, so we might as well make tales to tell.
Staying in your comfort zone will not help add to your storytelling collection.
Now, I’m not saying bad things don’t happen because we know they do. But often bad things teach us hard lessons.
3. Trust in the universe
Just when things couldn’t seem worse, there is often a light at the end of the dark tunnel. It is a light that you could not have even seen without heading down that tunnel.
Trust the tunnel.
Trust that you will come out on the other side.
If you do this, you will find inspiration.
Thank you for reading, clapping, and following my work.
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