A POSTCARD FROM THE DESERT

For many of us in the West the desert is alien and strange - yet culturally, it’s where we come from

The three camels have impeccably Islamic names: Arab, Aisha and Fatima. Ships of the desert all. By contrast, the four gawky Brits aboard them - with our thick limbs and postures built by desks and sofas - wouldn’t last two days in the wilderness. But we can hack an hour’s trek on the Saharan fringe as the sun sets behind a blanket of cloud. Before an American-made car picks us up and takes us to dinner. We’re good with that.

As our camels lumber up a hill and down again, I’m thinking about a few things. The first is obvious/practical: don’t fall off! The second is hypothetical/nervous: what are you going to do if your mount, Arab, has a mad moment and sets off at a canter towards the horizon, towards the scent of some inviting she-camel?

The third, however, is highfalutin/historical.

For many of us in the West the desert is by definition alien and strange. Its landscape and its people’s values are the opposite of our own: by and large urbanised, electronic and heedlessly profligate. We look absurd in the desert: we can never not be tourists, cosplayers holding on to the camel and praying we don’t get lost.

(Texans, Arizonans and New Mexicans, I hear you. You get a partial pass.)

And yet - some of the deepest roots of Western culture lie in the desert. The three great Abrahamic religions, whose tenets and teachings together form the bedrock of Western thought: all three originated or were elementally forged in the desert.

Monotheism, monasticism, asceticism; an emphasis on hospitality and generosity to strangers; an instinct that self-denial is a route to godliness and self-reliance a feature of adult maturity… all of these derive somewhere deep down in the dunes of North Africa and the Middle East.

That makes me feel better as my Lululemon slacks disappear up my crack and my Nikes get abraded by camel hair. Maybe I’ll find my inner TE Lawrence yet…

Tomorrow I’m in London and Paris. I’ll try to find a moment to send you a postcard by podcast then.

Peace out.

D.