Wednesday, September 10, 2008
We read that a highlight of a trip to Jordan is spending the night in a traditional Bedouin camp in Wadi Rum. The Bedouin are desert-dwelling tribes who have inhabited this region for thousands of years, and a good camp experience can provide insight into a traditional culture and way of life that is increasingly threatened. Unfortunately, many of the camps are rather commercial, and finding an authentic one can be difficult. Luckily, going to Wadi Rum is one of Kristi’s favorite pastimes, and she enthusiastically referred us to Mzied Atieg, a Bedouin man whose father founded one of Rum’s first camps.
As we walked towards the Visitors’ Center at Wadi Rum Village, a young man approached. “Are you here for Mzied?” he asked. How did he know? “He’s my uncle,” he said. Out of nowhere, a deeply-tanned man with striking coal eyes appeared. His wavy hair fell loosely below his ears, with tinges of gray dabbing his temples. He looked impossibly cool, a Bedouin rock star. A firm hand emerged from the sleeve of his olive-green robe. “I am Mzied.”
He led us to his mud-spattered Toyota Hilux, the modern day camel, making a quick stop for snacks. “No food for me,” he explained. “Ramadan,” the answer for everything these days. We dropped two men off in town - more relatives. We quickly learned that Mzied, and most of the people in Rum Village, have lived their entire lives there, and everyone seemed to be related in some way.
Maikael and I were the only two people who would be staying at the camp that night. “You’re my guests, not tourists,” he said, railing against the many camps that had sprung up in Wadi Rum that provide a mediocre experience. Mzied specifically keeps his camp small. We bumped and swayed our way into the desert, the morning sun still low in the sky. Soon we were spewing heaps of deep orange sand in our wake; there are no roads. I asked him how long the Bedouin had inhabited this area. “We were born here,” he said simply, as if I had inquired after the obvious.
Our Lonely Planet guide promised that Wadi Rum boasts “some of the most dramatic desert scenery you will ever see,” and it didn’t disappoint. Mzied drove us to a towering arch, where we walked to a table rock that lent panoramic views of the desert below. He rested in the shade to save his energy, checking his cell phone for messages. We could see huge sand dunes in the distance, and hear nothing but the faint twitter of birds as a line of camels ambled by. This was the land that Lawrence of Arabia rode across, and aside from the cell phone, it was easy to picture.
Mzied was excited that it had rained the night before, and wanted to take us to sights where we could see “the waters” and stay cool in what promised to be a scorching day. The Bedoin are noted for their adaptability: given the harsh desert climate they call home, they have to be. In the cool crevasse of a canyon, we saw ancient pictographs of goats and camels dating 2,400 years old - the same animals who inhabit the area today.
We spent the heat of the day in a shallow canyon, where amethyst walls gave way to a small pool of water and a patch of cool sand. Mzied drew shapes in the sand with his fingers that looked curiously like the cave drawings we had seen earlier in the day. We snoozed and read while Mzied prayed. Eventually, another guide and two young men quietly entered the canyon. “My brother,” Mzied said, gesturing towards the guide.
As the heat of the day waned, Mzied suddenly declared, “It’s time to go shopping!” On our way back to the village, Mzied stopped every few meters to collect firewood that had washed down from yesterday’s flash flood. Once in town, we stopped at his family’s house, a one-story structure painted in earth-toned leaf patterns. When we pulled into the driveway, some of his seven children were playing in his Land Cruiser. We waved, and they grinned and waved back. They tentatively shook our hands, smiling shyly.
We were invited into the house for Bedouin tea, a sweet black brew that is best slurped while piping hot. We weren’t sure what was next on the agenda, but soon we were off, stopping back in the village for supplies with his second oldest son in tow. Maikael was desperate to buy the bag of potato chips emblazoned with what looked like a photo of Arabic soap opera stars.
“The children are excited about the rains and want to play in the desert,” said Mzied. On our way back towards camp, we stopped at a sand dune that we had seen earlier. “You want to climb?” asked Mzied. I’ve always had an inexplicable desire to race down a sand dune, and my moment had come. After the arduous hike up, we blasted down the sandy pyramid, giggling uncontrollably all the way to the bottom (Maikael won by a nose).
Out in the desert, Mzied built a campfire, placing a grate over the coals to grill crispy pieces of salted chicken and roasted tomatoes. Steaming pots of soup and rice stayed warmed next to the fire. This was typical Bedouin fare. Mzied sat next to the fire and placed his youngest son in his lap. He punched a row of holes with his thumb in the sand, then used his pointer finger to quickly dash through the holes, making a goofy sound as he went. His son squealed with delight: Mzied was clearly a master at sand games. I watched his other children effortlessly climb rock facades like mountain goats, as I struggled to haul myself up. The desert was their backyard.
We gathered around the fire on a huge jute mat, devouring our feast. Liters of soda and juice were consumed in a flash. It was iftar, and most people hadn’t eaten or drank anything all day. After dinner, one of his sons tended to the campfire, showing skills that only the most adept Boy Scouts have mastered. “I think your children would survive better than me out here,” I said. He laughed, but I wasn’t joking.
As dusk descended, the moon cast a soft glow over the desert. The fire softly crackled, and Mzied mentioned that a wolf had killed a camel a few nighs ago. Camels are a valuable commodity in the desert, and the wolf was promptly killed. If there were wolves, what else was lurking out here? “Oh, you got to be careful of scorpions. But the snakes don’t come out much at night.” It was time to head to camp, and we were determined to sleep under the stars. We laid our mattresses out in the open, under a dense blanket of stars that pierced the cobalt sky. “I’ve never seen Orion so bright,” Maikael said, as we gazed upward. There were no lights. There wasn’t a sound to be heard. Not even a wolf.
Staying with Mzied and his family was one of the most memorable days we’ve spent on this trip. It was the real deal. If you find yourself in Jordan, we can’t recommend this experience enough. Mzied Atieg offers desert 4WD and camel tours, trekking, hiking, climbing, and Bedouin-style camping. He can be reached at the following addresses: Mobile: 00962 777 304 501 Email: mziedco@yahoo.com Web: www.mzied.com
