Juanita in the Sahara

2010 - Beginnings and Endings

2011-01-09T23:29:00.000-08:00

2010 has been a year of beginnings and endings for me.

The ending of life for my dear Marlowe, a nephew who was like a brother to me. The world lost a good one. At the same time, the birth of my first grandchild, Maddex Eli Palamar, who has stolen my heart like no other...

The end of life for Lasfar, my camel companion, who was so dear to my heart.

And recently, the birth of a new baby lamb, and the purchase of a young male goat - who I have bonded with, and who loves to be pet.

Another beginning - the beginning of a new friendship in Douz - Wenda from Amsterdam who not only speaks English, but whom I know we will become great friends!

And finally, the building of my home in Hnesh, where my animal family; camel(s), goats, sheep, chickens, and soon to be ducks (they eat scorpions) and a dog will live with me!

I've attached just a couple of photos of my house in process - for a sneak preview. The rock wall on the south side of the house - complete, just needing mortar now. This rock wall is my pride and joy. It is about 1 1/2 feet thick to insulate from the heat in summer, and is built the traditional way - VERY labour intensive. Also an inside view of my bedroom and kitchen.

Inshallah, I will be moved in by the end of January. The crunch is on!!! My next blog will be the house completed!

In memory of Lasfar Camel

2010-10-24T11:20:00.000-07:00

Lasfar, you were the best camel anyone could ever own. I loved you from the moment I met you, over three years ago, with your cute fuzzy sticky-out ears, big brown eyes... I knew then that I had to have you.

You would come to me when I called you - unheard of for a camel - and when I called you amidst hundreds of camels, I could always find you - you were the camel who lifted his head and turned to me when I called " Laaaaasfar".

When I was down, or lonely (I know it sounds like a song...) you listened to me with your big brown long-lashed eyes quietly looking into my own. I could see my face reflected in your huge eye as you watched me watch you.

When I rode you in the desert and I talked to you, your ears would tilt back to hear my voice...

You were goofy and gentle.

You LOVED food, and when we were walking in the desert, you would watch for any second when I wasnt looking to snag a mouthful here and there. Of course I pretended I didnt see, and only when we were getting behind, did I pretend to get mad and say - come on - let's go...

The guys would tease me in the desert by calling "Laaaasfar" - copying how I called you.

You knew me... You loved me.... And you knew I loved you.

There will never be another camel like you. My heart will always have a huge two-ton hole in it.

Thank you for blessing my life and adding so much richness and joy. You were a gift to me.

Missing you...

Juanita

Eid ick Mabrouk, 2010

2010-09-11T04:10:00.000-07:00

Finally it is Eid. It has been the longest Ramadan for me - from Aug 10 to Sept 10. Temperatures often 50 degrees, my social life dribbling to almost non-existent.

But finally it is Eid.

The first photo is of the route to where my new house is going to be.

The other photos are scenes from my life during Eid.

Enjoy, and Eid ick Mabrouk...

Love, Juanita

from the desert to the rain forest

2010-08-14T01:58:00.000-07:00

I spent much of the spring and summer back in my old home of the rain forest, Vancouver. Spent a month in North Vancouver dog sitting for a friend, where "Will" and I explored the trails and played.

Had a chance to visit friends...

spent some time with my kids and new grandson....

...played with them for a couple of days at Harrison Hot Springs....

Spent a day relaxing in the beautiful Vancouver tradition of the Folk Festival.

Most importantly, witnessed a miracle - a family member who it seemed there was little hope - now is well...

...and I got to spend time with little Maddex. I miss him terribly when I'm gone...

I find I have culture shock every time I go to Vancouver, and then again, every time I return to Douz.

What different worlds....

But then, how lucky I am.

south is south... north is north

2010-08-14T01:15:00.000-07:00

I find there is a distinct difference between the north of Tunisia and the south.

I think the change happens around the area of Matmata or Gafsa. Almost like you are in a different country.

Enjoy the photos from Douz/Ghlissia to Tunis...

Introducing Trix

2010-05-13T10:46:00.000-07:00

They say 'Trix are for kids'! Well, I now have a 'kid' (baby fennec fox) who I named Trix! He's all of about 8 inches long, I can fit him nicely in my hand.

I've researched, and apparently they make great pets - and I love this little guy already!

Enjoy the photos (especially Koby!)

Love, Juanita

To everything there is a season

2010-04-30T04:41:00.000-07:00

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to break down, and a time to build up; …

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; …

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; …

A time to get, and a time to lose; ….

He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: …

I know that there is no good in them, but for a man to rejoice, and to do good in his life…

April 2010, the world gained a beautiful life, my new grandson, Maddex Eli Palamar. What joy and beauty, witnessing him arrive in the world. a being of pure love...

At the same time, the world lost my dear nephew, Marlowe Paul Steegstra,
who left this world at the age of 53. He was like a brother to me; a very good man, who was loved by many. It felt like it was far too soon for him...

The only reason I think that God takes such good people from us is that we are often to forgetful to remember to cherish and love those around us. Death sometimes is the only way we stop and remember that.

Please shine your love in the world;
to those you love, and to those whose life seems very different from yours. Marlowe was a great example of that love...

Juanita

Yolanda and Dairn thrive in the Sahara

2010-03-16T01:00:00.000-07:00

Started off the trek with two colleagues I really liked, and ended up with two amazing friends.

Climbed Mount Timbaine, tumbled over a few gaggles of goats, hugged one, adopted an Algerian nomad named Eid for a few days (or he adopted us), gave him a pair of green goggles during a windstorm (anyone running into an Algerian nomad in the Sahara sporting green goggles - say hello to Eid), stopped to give some fruit to two Algerian nomad women - one who was pregnant, hung out with more nomads, experienced all weather - from windstorms to heat to rain, until our arrival at Hwidat Erridat ("the lake") which had the most water I have ever seen in it, got to know a donkey (we named Eeyore) accompanied by a nomad, listened to the gasbya being played by the fire in the dark of night under a myriad of stars and were blessed to witness the most beautiful sunset and sunrise I have ever seen in my life...
Oh yah, also saw a helicopter, a hummer and then a dozen tourists arrive at the lake just before we left - later discovering that an international car and motorbike rally event was happening in Douz at the same time as we were in the desert!

Don't forget you can click on the photos. I think some of these are my best yet...

Love Juanita

my 15 minutes of "fame"!

2010-03-05T22:13:00.001-08:00

A Japanese film company, TFC (Tohokushinsha Film Corporation) was filming a documentary on the camel men of the Sahara and needed two 'tourists' for the documentary.

So, Gerard, a French man who has been living here for 21 years and myself were hired to do the job! We spent the night with them in the desert, sleeping in the Bedouin tent and enjoying the company, the camels and the Sahara....

Apparently you can watch the documentary on (I think) April 25 on the internet (http://www.tfc.co.jp)

Enjoy the photos!
Love Juanita

Nomads don't wear hiking boots

2010-02-27T02:41:00.001-08:00

Fifteen days. Traveling between 20 and 25 kilometers a day, mostly walking because of windstorms - sand blowing into your eyes in spite of cheich-wrapped face surrounding sunglasses...

One day of very hot weather - checked my thermometer at noon - 46 degrees until it cooled to 42... Cold nights sitting around the fire, snugly wrapped in a warm burnose...

Then the swim at the healing warm water of the hot spring.... Even the camels had a swim in the cool pools...

Meeting a few nomads along the way, along with their spring born baby goats... One night hearing the cries of a mother camel giving birth to her baby through the night, then the cry of the baby...

February the shrubs are in bloom- luscious fragrant blooms fill your lungs as you chance by... Even the camels enjoyed the fragrance...

When riding, I rode a 'normal' saddle this trip, as my new toureg racing saddle was still being made...

Some nights the huge sky lit up in a kaleidoscope of colour, surrounding the world in vibrant shades of blue, orange and rose...

One photo shows what a male camel looks like when he is in heat and has spotted female camels (or is just thinking about them!), a dark pink frog-like balloon coming out of the side of his mouth, accompanied by a low deep groaning noise and gurgling... (VERY sexy!)

Enjoy the photos! Love, Juanita

Help me name my new family members

2010-02-02T11:56:00.000-08:00

My family is growing!!!! Yes, I am now the proud owner of a sheep, a small black goat, a chicken and a rooster - all gifts from my wonderful friends, Khiria and Jamel!

But now I have to name them, so please help me think of names for them! Enjoy the photos...

Love Juanita

Road trip around Tunisia

2010-01-21T08:29:00.000-08:00

Business at the camel station is slow now, so Mounir and I went on a road trip. It was such an amazing time.

First we spent a day in the small Bedouin village of Sabria, about 30 minutes from Douz. Stopped at a French fort - about 100 years old. The setting around the fort and Sabria is stunning. White dunes of sand all around.

The village of Sabria itself is now my favourite village around South Tunisia. It is like going back in time, camels and goats resting around stone houses and pens, amidst beautiful date palms. There are two marabouts beside the village as well.

Just before leaving, we met some boys who each had a desert fox for a pet. I stopped and held one of them - wow - the problem is that now I want one!!!

We spent most of the week in Tunis - I shopped at the large 'superstores', Carrefour and Giant, so I could get some much needed food supplies for my house, ate at some great restaurants, and enjoyed the city. I am getting to know Tunis better and now know of some nice restaurants, and am better able to drive in the city.

We took another route back - some of the smaller highways, in order to see the Roman ruins at Sbeitla. Amazing still intact temples. So worth stopping. We didn't stay long though, because it was SO incredibly cold!

There are two photos of the 'illegal' "gas stations"; people selling Libyan gas. Although it is technically illegal, the government closes its eyes, because these families survive on this income. In some places on the highways there are miles of these stands of brightly coloured plastic cans - sometimes lit up from behind, like a carnival!

On the way back home, we stopped at "THE" best barbeque roadside cafe for barbequed lamb. From the photos you can see that you get VERY personal with the lambs! There are many roadside cafes like this. The first time I ate at one, I was shocked, but the animals here are treated way better than the west...

Just before getting back to Douz, we were on one of the back highways in an incredibly beautiful part of Tunisia - red rock mountains - I could imagine dinosaurs roaming at one time. We were just in time for a beautiful sunset. A wonderful way to end a wonderful vacation. Enjoy the photos. Remember you can click on them to enlarge.
Love Juanita

Festival of the Sahara and potpouri

2010-01-01T07:36:00.000-08:00

I was all prepared to ride in the 42 kilometer marathon in the Douz festival. But as the days neared the festival it became clear that I wouldn't be able to this year.

When I bought Mabrouk, my Algerian Toureg racing camel a week before the festival last year, he was quite thin. So, for the past year, I have increased his diet, and he became plumper and stronger. One of the signs of a healthy camel is the size of their hump, where they store fat.

In November, I went into the desert for five days to practice racing Mabrouk for the festival. But several times, the saddle slipped off and I almost fell off. This was very scary for me, as your butt is over 6 feet off the ground. A fall could cause a lot of injury, especially riding fast. My confidence in my saddle, and my riding ability was fading. I couldn't figure it out, and neither could the guys. So, I stopped riding him, and was very discouraged.

When I got back, my friend, Fathe, a professional racer, tried racing Mabrouk, and the saddle fell off for him too! Well, we finally figured it out. When most camels gain weight, their hump looks like an upside down "U". But Mabrouk's hump looked more like an upside down wide "V". There was not enough room in front of the hump (where racing saddles sit) for my saddle anymore. We tried a training saddle, which is a bit smaller, but it was so uncomfortable. It is homemade, and the wood post pressed very hard on my crotch, and hurt in a few minutes - I couldn't imagine sitting on this for 42 kilometers - around 5 hours!

So the good news was that I understood what the problem was, and that it wasn't me. The bad news was that I couldn't ride in the much awaited marathon. Although extremely disappointed, at least I know it is not me... I will get a special saddle made for me and Mabrouk in the next month or two. Inshallah, I will ride next year.

So, in the festival, a young boy named Osama rode Mabrouk in the short race - 7 kilometers, just to give him some practice. It was the first race for both Osama and for Mabrouk! Osama is very small, so the training saddle was okay for him. Mabrouk didn't do very well. He didn't know Osama, and it was his first time. After a great start, Mabrouk got confused and ran in another direction! (he is trained for camel dancing) But I am proud of him anyway!!!

Enjoy the photos. They are of Osama and Mabrouk, and of Fathe racing his camel Casper (Mabrouks friend) in the race! I couldn't get any of Mabrouk in the race as he never did complete it! There are also other photos of the festival.

Then, there are photos of my friends (notice how the baby, Sabah's legs are "swaddled" - babysitters are non-existent and the women work very hard and babies can't be tended to all the time). The last photos are of the henna I had done the other day! It is the traditional pattern that women here do before weddings, or 'just because'! Enjoy, and happy new year!

Love, Juanita

Christmas 2009 - Bedouin style

2009-12-27T22:53:00.000-08:00

This is my second Christmas away from my kids. I miss them so much, especially this time of year. My friends here knew how hard it was for me, so they tried to make it special. What wonderful friends...

I woke up Christmas morning to sunny skies and a week of exceptionally warm weather, 25 degrees plus...

Christmas eve Mounir brought me my much awaited turkey. It was difficult to find a whole turkey in this part of the world. The butchers just get turkey pieces, because people here don't cook whole turkeys - most people don't have an oven anyway.

After asking at many shops, he convinced someone in Douz to part with one of their turkeys. After they killed it (thank you dear turkey for giving your life for my dinner), he brought it to my friend Khiria's home, where Khiria, Jamel and Mounir plucked and cleaned my Christmas bird (well, mostly Khiria!). It didn't look anything like the turkeys I have seen in Canada. It was VERY VERY free range! So he also brought me a large chicken so there would be enough meat. I was having ten (male) Bedouin friends over for 'traditional' Christmas dinner - all with healthy appetites! Remember, life is very traditional here - you can't have male and female friends over at the same time in the south, unless it is only one family - and generally women won't come for a visit in the evening anyway...

I had decorated my home for Christmas too - I have Christmas lights (that I brought from Canada) strung in my salon and up on my rooftop - even inside my bedouin tent! Last summer I had a bedouin tent made for my rooftop - and have enjoyed it so much - sitting inside drinking tea, smoking cheicha, it is one of my favourite areas of my home - much loved and much used.

We ate in my salon, it was so nice. After our delicious dinner of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes & gravy, tabouli salad, roasted squash with brown sugar and fresh local oranges we went up onto the rooftop, made a fire in my turkish kanoon, and enjoyed music played on the bendir, gasbya and dumbek, danced and had chocolate cake with tea made on the fire. A very sahara Christmas!

Enjoy the photos, remember you can double click to enlarge them! (The last photo is of my new solar panel for heating water!)

Baptism and wedding in Greece

2009-12-06T12:24:00.000-08:00

In June I went to a village near Thessaloniki, Greece to have a visit with my friends, Joanna and Clint, and to attend the baptism and a few days later the wedding of some of their family. The family and friends were warm and welcoming, and as you can see, I fell in love with Joanna's mother and grandmother.... Enjoy the photos!

Gilssia in autumn

2009-12-05T21:51:00.000-08:00

This is an excerpt from a recent writing. As difficult as it is sometimes, I cannot imagine ever living in a place again that does not include glancing up to see goats skipping giddily down the road. A place where 'normal' does not include passing camels as I ride my mobillete home at dusk. Where the setting sun is not larger and oranger than life, where old hunched women, stooped and crooked, carrying whatever, do not cross my everyday path. If I lived somewhere else, it must be where, once in awhile, a visit to a friend will include watching a new mother goat sniffing, licking and getting to know her brand new, straw and afterbirth covered babies as they shyly open their eyes and begin to discover their limp and awkward limbs.

I spent another winter Eid in Glissia, the first day with my friends, Kharia and Jamel and their family.

I forgot my camera in the morning, so I didn't get photos of the aloosh (lamb) that was killed.

Again, I sat and watched as they skinned the animal, that will feed the family for a long time. Much of the meat is preserved by salting it in a traditional way. In the second photo, you can see the fat and some intestines salted and hanging in the yard. This is a typical way families use every piece of meat.

Nothing gets wasted. Kharia roasted the lamb's head on a fire later in the afternoon. On the second day of Eid, at another home of dear friends, I watched while the mother spent almost an hour chopping and hacking the sheep head for a special soup with beans. The knife was imbedded in the head, and she had to hammer at it for a very long time until the strong bones of the head finally broke in two. The sound of the bone cracking is very intense. For my western ears, eyes and mind, this is a very very surreal experience. I am surprised at my ability to participate in this ritual. But these are dear friends, and it would hurt to be too shocked. As well, as I have said before, in the west, much worse things are done to animals before they are killed- we just not informed... Here, the animal has a happy, free life, then it is killed, halal, in a spiritual thankful and humane way.

A few days ago, I went to visit Kharia, and discovered that their goat had JUST had two babies. What a privilege to watch as Kharia checked the babies health, blew into the nostrils of one that wasn't breathing too well at first, and helped the mama to start to feed the babies. I took many photos, and included a few in this blog. Remember you can click on then to enlarge. Enjoy!

november/09 trek

2009-12-03T21:47:00.000-08:00

I recently went on another five day trek in November. The first few mornings were cold, damp and misty. But by midday, the skies had cleared and the weather was warm again. Actually quite hot when I was walking!

We went to some areas I had never been to before, some old abandoned bedouin villages, one where the mosque is filled with sand. Stunning.

We passed small oasis's, stopping for lunch or tea under the date palms. One area had huge rock formations, stark against the backdrop of the desert.

Near the end of the trek, we stopped at a marabout shrine. A marabout is the name for a Sufi, a spiritual nomad. The name marabout is also given to the building that sufi's spend time in for spiritual reflection. These can be found anywhere - even in the middle of the desert.

I also saw my first snake in the desert. I knew they were around, but had never 'had the pleasure' before... I also enjoyed getting close to some female camels and their young. Female camels roam free in the Sahara, the males being the ones who stay and work in the villages.

One of the amazing things to me is when I see pieces of ostrich shells in the desert. This time, we also found many ancient arrowheads, just laying in the sand beds. I took a few, but left most of them. Time is so different here....

Mabrouk was a dream on this trek, he is becoming such an amazing camel. I spend many hours in Glissia talking to him, taking ticks out of him (by hand, yes!!!). Interesting, the word for tick in arabic is "dilem" - it makes me wonder if the english word, dilemma has any connection.... But when I take his ticks out (which are very uncomfortable and itchy), he knows I am doing something nice, and he now sits very very still while I work. And, now he runs better for me, and listens better to me.

Now, for Lasfar.... hmmmm. Lasfar was such a bad boy on this trek. I knew he was in heat, he has been in heat before, but now that he is fatter, healthier and stronger, he has gone kind of crazy. He tried to bite me one day. But worse, he tried to jump both Mabrouk and the other camel that was on the trek. Unfortunately, they are both male, and weren't too keen to be his partner! Plus he jumped them when he and they had their full gear on their backs. The guys had to run after him, and hit him with a stick until he got off. It was actually quite scary! Two camels, each weighing close to two tons, getting into a fight, the sound of their bodies colliding was intense....

So, I have made the decision to neuter him this spring. His horniness is kind of wasted anyway - he will never have a female - if he was taken to be with the females in the sahara, he would be killed by another male (younger and stronger). As well, when I have my own place and have both Mabrouk and Lasfar living with me, I could never handle him if he attacked Mabrouk or another camel. Sigh... the decisions of being a camel owner....

In memory of Ali

2009-10-12T09:58:00.000-07:00

I met Ali on my first Sahara trek two years ago.

Bedouin guide extraordinaire. I called him Djinn Ali, because no matter how fast I tried to walk over the dunes, or no matter how fast the camels were urged to go, Ali was always just a dune ahead, like he had a flying carpet! It seemed like he glided and was never tired. He and his camels would disappear behind a dune in front of me, and it seemed like a minute later, like magic, they were on top of the next dune, Ali pausing to scope the best route for the camels to travel between the ever-shifting dunes.

Ali is now gone. A few weeks ago there was an accident and the creator decided to take Ali from this life.

Ali's black eyes sparkled and he was always laughing and creating something fun to do, a song to sing, a story to tell, a game to play - using nature around us as props. Ever watchful over the needs of others, I will never forget, the last day of my trek, when I couldn't stop myself from crying, Ali gathered us on the sand and led us in a version of "Pictionary" to distract me from my overwhelming feelings. We sat on the sand, drawing pictures for each other with our fingers on the sand.

I have never met another Bedouin with such stamina. Apparently he ran marathons in the Sahara during the summer - in temperatures sometimes reaching 50 degrees. Even the other Bedouin guides struggled to keep up with Ali.

During those ten unforgettable days we met up with many Algerian Bedouins, nomads grazing their goats and camels in the Tunisian Sahara. They all seemed to know and respect Ali, and he brought me into the wonderful circle of those friendships. Those memories will never leave me.

Ali loved to dance, but more than anything, he loved to play the gasbya or bendir. I can still hear the haunting beautiful sounds of the gasbya as he played. Every night we sat by the fire under the grand Sahara black sky studded with diamond stars, and I listened to him playing, or danced to the mesmerizing melodies. Other times his eyes lit up as he sang a silly song behind the traditional bendir.

During those ten days deep in the Sahara, my life changed profoundly. Soon after that I made the decision to move to Tunisia to be nearer to the Sahara, camels, and the gentle Bedouin people. Ali was part of that magic. Thank you, Djinn Ali.

camellove in Djerba

2009-06-29T10:08:00.000-07:00

A couple of days before going to Canada, I spent two days on the island of Djerba....

A new life

2009-06-25T00:13:00.000-07:00

God, or Allah, has given this world a new life. I have been so blessed to be part of this wonderful family, to be loved, accepted and made a part of it. This family who has so little, and gives so much...

A few days before my return from Canada, my dear friend, Kharia gave birth to their fourth daughter, Sebaah, meaning "morning".

When I hold her, I have the strong sense that this little one has been put on this earth for a very special reason. She is an old soul, gazing at her new world with the wisdom and strength of someone who knows so much more...

When you look at these photos, may you remember, as I have, why we are put on this earth. Without love, we are nothing. Please give to others with your heart...

I am humbled.

Paris

2009-06-22T05:23:00.000-07:00

Ah Paris... This was my first time (yes it was) in this magical sparkling city... And so many things made it extra special for me. My dear friend, Nadine, allowed me to stay in her home - her so very Parisian apartment, with it's central garden, classic timelessness... As she was away in Britain during for the first part of my visit, her friend, Benedicte met me to show me around. We had a lovely cup of tea together when I arrived.

After tea, I took the metro and met Inez, my niece, who happened to be in Paris and whom I was flying back to Vancouver with. She explained the metro system and we had dinner together. We also spent much of the next day together, walking around the beautiful city, then had such a fun dinner with her friends.

The next evening I spent with my dear friend, Sandra, who gave me such a wonderful evening.

I returned for one more night after Vancouver, and stayed in Villa Fenelon, an old Parisienne hotel in the centre of the city. Notice the round gold elevator. This hotel is a gem and I will be back. That evening, Nadine was back in town, and cooked me a delicious meal and we talked.

The photos tell the story. Enjoy....

fundraiser update

2009-05-28T10:29:00.001-07:00

Sunday, March 8, 2009. I organized a Fundraiser at Vancouver's Kayan Mediterranean Restaurant, for little Yessen to pay for both his exploratory surgery and surgery to remove the lump from his neck. I was hoping to raise enough money to pay for his surgery as well as help with some of the many needs in the bedouin village I live near, in the Sahara, Tunisia.

What an amazing success!!! The restaurant was completely booked, and $2,110.00 was raised! What an incredible community of dancers, social workers, family and friends I have...

YOU did this - and you should feel proud. I am.

It has now been over two months since the fundraiser. It has been difficult to find the right families to help. People are proud, and, although poor in finances, these families are rich in love and hospitality. I have been given much more than I have given.

After Yessen's doctor examined the cyst, he said that the lump is not malignant, and that he will wait to do surgery to remove the lump in another two years when Yessen is a little older. Thank you. What a blessing to know he will be alright. Inshallah. So although I won't need to pay for surgery, the family is very poor I will buy them a lamb to raise.

Thanks to you, I have also been able to pay for eye surgery for Ammar, a Bedouin man who had almost gone blind by the years of sun from the Sahara. His surgery was a few weeks ago, and a success, but unfortunately since then infection set in, so he has needed more medication and more time in the hospital. I don't have a photo of him.

Then, I learned about a nine year old boy, Bahaa, who has a problem with his eyes, I went to visit the family, and I could see that it is quite significant. I can't imagine how it must feel - he can't study, or even see very well. The family has had a prescription written by the doctor for special glasses to help strengthen his eyes, but they haven't been able to afford them. The average monthly wage here is between 15 and 30 dinars a month (roughly 12 to 25 dollars). Cost of living is cheap here, but that is not enough to even feed a family. So, very soon, Bahaa will be getting his glasses. As well, I will purchase a few goats and sheep for this family.

Rgaia is a middle aged woman who lives alone. Both her parents have died, she has no other family, and she is somewhat mentally handicapped. She lives in a spotless but very sparse one room home, with the 'kitchen' just a curtain behind her bed. She works when she can, picking dates, or at whatever she can get. But there is always a shortage of work. She has no other means of income. With your donations, she will soon have three or four sheep to raise. I also gave her some cash to help with her immediate needs. As well, I will purchase some much needed supplies for her kitchen.

Kharia is a dear friend of mine. You may have seen photos of her and her children on my blog in earlier entries. Although their home is tiny and sparse, it is full of love and open to a constant stream of guests stopping by for tea or a meal. Because of you, they will soon have their own electricity.

Fatma is an older divorced woman who has been living with her brother and his family. However, she is an unwelcome guest, and has ended up being almost a servant. Her son, a young adult, wants so much to build a one room house for her. Your donations will pay for electricity for the home.

Thanks to your generosity, you have made a difference in many lives.

Love, Juanita

Apr/May: My shipment/ Yung and Mai visit the Sahara

2009-05-21T00:32:00.000-07:00

Right after Suli and Mina left Douz, Mounir and I, along with 4 other Bedouin men, left for Tunis, as my shipment from Vancouver had finally arrived.

We drove all night with the two pick up trucks. To help make the journey shorter, Mohammed (an amazing singer) sang to us on his cel phone from the other truck!

We arrived in Tunis in the morning. Going back and forth from the port, to various customs offices took all day, in the heat. We were exhausted.

The last customs man was unbelievable, his extremely personal questions made it clear that he wanted to take me out. When that didn't work, he told me that I would have to pay $800 in taxes. When my mouth dropped open and I said that was unacceptable (I was told it would maybe be $100). I went and got Mounir from the next room. The customs man kept telling me I was a rich Canadian and could afford it. Finally, he said, 'Okay, $150!!! Wow...

By then it was the end of the day, and we had 30 minutes to get to the port to get my things. After getting lost a few times, we finally found the place just before it closed. After loading my shipment onto the trucks, we drove to the apartment where we were spending the night, and the guys took everything off the trucks and put it inside the apartment.

Early the next morning, after feeding a stray kitten that had decided it wanted to be a stowaway on the truck tire, the guys repacked it all and we drove the long journey back to Douz. We stopped for dinner at a roadside barbeque place, where you pick out your carcass of sheep that is hanging in the doorway (with skin and wool still attached), and they cut it and barbeque it for you. Delicious!

Now I had only two days to unpack my things to prepare for the arrival of my dear friend from Vancouver, Yung, and her sister, Mai.

When Yung and Mai arrived, I showed them around Douz, shopping and exploring.

The next day we rented a car and I took them on a daytrip to Tozeur. After the last experience with the driver, I decided I'd better drive. But the physical and emotions of the past 3 months finally caught up with me (I spent March in Vancouver, sorting and packing up my things in storage, and having a fundraiser!) I was starting to feel sick, and driving all day did not help. Still, in spite of being very very tired, and not feeling well, we had an amazing time! We saw 'the chott', (miles and miles of the salt lake), went through the ancient village of Tamerza, saw Mides, the gorge near the Algerian border, the tiny village of Toujane, that seems to be frozen in another time. We also went through the medina of Tozeur.

The next morning we we set out on the trek, I was feeling a lot better. Our destination was Hwidhat Erriched (a lake - well, pond - in the middle of the Sahara with a beautiful hot spring).

We drove with 4 x 4 to awesome Mount Timbaine, where we climbed to the top, overlooking the endless Sahara. (see photo) Unfortunately, now Mai was feeling sick, and we wondered if we would be able to continue. We stayed at Timbaine that day and night, so Mai could rest.

WHAT IS WITH MY FRIENDS AND THEIR FEET???? We were sitting around the campfire, Mounir had brought a cake to celebrate my birthday. Yung got up to pass me the sparkler she brought along, and stepped right onto the red coals of the fire. It was so lucky she was wearing socks, Mounir ripped the sock off her foot, where the coals had stuck. She had one quite large blister on her toe, but it would have been much much worse without socks. After soaking her foot (see photo!), I put moleskin around the blister to protect it and to allow the air to heal the blister.

By the next morning, Mai was feeling somewhat better. Yung and Mai decided to push on that day, and see how they would feel the next night. Then we would either continue or return back.

The short story is, Mai got better, and Yung's foot was healing nicely, so they decided to continue on to the hot springs of the lake, our destination. The dunes were incredible, the weather beautiful.

When we got to the lake, under a perfect full moon, the three of us giggled, while we splashed and soaked under the moon with the sands of the Sahara all around us.

Yung and Mai (as well as Suli) fell in love with Lasfar (of course!)

On the way back, I was so glad that we met with a family of Algerian Bedouins and spent the night camped near them, so Yung and Mai could have that experience. Yung, Mai and I spent time with the women and children, dancing with them. Yung even danced the traditional 'hair dance' with me and one of the Bedouin women!

Over the six day trek, we ate well, listened to Mekki and Mohammed sing and play beautiful music and danced.

After the trek, Yung and Mai hired a car and driver (an amazing one this time) and took a daytrip to Tatouine and the area. I stayed behind and tidied up, did our laundry and prepared catfood because I was going to Djerba with them the next day.

The 3 of us spent a few days on the island of Djerba (Greek mythical island of the lotus eaters), where we rested, swam in the mediterranean, shopped in the souk, visited the spanish kasbah... It was the perfect thing to do after the trek!

After they left, I visited La Griba, the oldest synagogue in Aftrica (some say the world), 586 BC. The next morning I took the louage back to Douz.

Now I have less than two weeks to do the paperwork for my Tunisian residency card, as my visitors visa is up. Then I go to Vancouver for two weeks to dance at my dear friend, Joanna's CD release show.

Inshallah, when I get back to Douz, we can start to build my home and b & b....

Treks are over now until the end of September, as it is already getting very hot. The last few days it has been 35 degrees in the shade... The summer is beginning in the Sahara.
Love, Juanita

April - Suli and Mina's visit to Douz

2009-05-19T09:13:00.000-07:00

What a crazy two months this has been! Days after moving into my new apartment, my dear friends from Paris, Nadine and Sandra came for a short but wonderful visit! (see previous blog entry)

After they left, my friend from Vancouver, Suli and her marvelous friend, Mina came. After spending a couple of days relaxing, shopping, drinking coffee on my rooftop garden, I took them on a daytrip to Tatouine, Douiret (an ancient Berber village carved out of the rocky mountainside), Ksar Ouled Soltaine (an ancient fortified Berber grainery and village). Alas Matmata and the Star Wars Bar movie set alluded us. Our hired driver, Kamel, kept getting phone calls from his 'habibi' and he kept trying to give us the 'drive by' tour. After we passed Matmata, and I kept asking him where Matmata was, he finally said "everywhere is Matmata"!!! By then I had figured out it was not a language or cultural barrier, but a 'work impaired' driver.... By the end of the day, it became one of those things that you joke about for years!!!

The next day, we went with my new neighbour, Sonya, to the hamam for gomage (scrub) and massage. I think Suli and Mina had a cultural experience never to be forgotten, and I'm sure not too many 'western' friends get to know each other quite that well...! Then we went to Sonya's home were she performed the ritual of applying henna to our hands and feet in intricate patterns. Sonya absolutely would not allow me anything less than the traditional patterns (after all, she said, I am now a Marzugian - a tribe from Douz), but she finally conceded to give Mina and Suli a 'less expansive' pattern, which turned out beautifully!

The next morning we set out on the 3 day trek. After bouncing over the dunes in the 4 x 4 for many hours, Mounir could not find the camel drivers (who had to leave two days ahead to meet us at our starting location). We drove back to a cafe at the edge of the Sahara to try to call them. By then we were very tired, so we voted to spend the night there. In the meantime, they found the 'illusive camel drivers'. We ate dinner by candlelight in the ambiance of the palm leave cafe (which I now told Mina and Suli was the 'real' Star Wars Bar), pitched our tents inside the cafe while the driver slept on a table.

The next morning we set off by camel towards Mount Timbaine, our destination. But, it was not meant to be... At lunch, Suli and Mina wanted to help get firewood, but Suli slammed her foot down on a piece of wood sticking out of the sand... she was such a trooper, as it was bleeding quite bad. So, we stayed put for the rest of the afternoon to see how her foot would do. By the next morning, Mina and Suli decided that, because of Mina's back and Suli's foot, we would not undertake the difficult trek to Timbaine, but just do a simpler trek through the dunes, to just enjoy the Sahara and it's beauty. So that's what we did.

Suli got some great photos of her doing yoga in the desert, Mina and Mohammed really bonded (Mina speaks arabic), we sang songs as we rode, ate very well... by the last night, Suli was even able to dance! Oh, and the big hit was the 'bunny ears' that she brought - even Lasfar had a photo taken wearing them!

My new apartment in Douz!

2009-04-09T06:36:00.000-07:00

I arrived back in Tunisia on March 11th, 32 long hours after leaving the Vancouver Airport. Vancouver was CRAZY. Packing up the last of my things in Vancouver was overwhelming. Rustyn's sweetie, Sarah, took 2 days off work to help me go through it, which was a huge help. Above is a photo of my life's belongings on three pallettes, ready to ship to Tunisia.

It was wonderful to spend some time with Rustyn and Sarah, Jesse & Anastasia on the island & a few friends (and cousins) as well. There wasn't much time for visiting, with all the things I needed to do (oh, and organize a fundraiser as well! - more about that coming soon in another blog entry)

After my 32 hour flight,
we spent a few days resting in Tunis, before taking the 12 hour long bus ride back to Douz,
arriving at 10 PM, exhausted, only to find my apartment full of sand (the worst windstorm seen in years apparently), and my cat, Petunia, (after having been cooped up for over a month) - well, shall we say a little CRAZY????

Things have been so hectic since my arrival back. Most importantly, I have moved to a new apartment!!! The one I had been living in was fine for the short term, but was too expensive to live in longer.

A friend just finished building an apartment, so I went to see it and FELL IN LOVE! And it is less than half the price of the other one!!!

So, I will let the photos speak for themselves. I am still waiting for my shipment from Vancouver to arrive with some furniture and wall hangings, but I am already nesting, and am in bliss...

The neighbourhood is also great - more local people living around me, goats, donkeys, more palm trees, sand roadways, warm and welcoming neighbours, and a great plant shop (as you can see in the photos of the beginnings of my rooftop garden!) The view from my apartment windows and especially my rooftop is absolutely stunning. I counted NINE minarettes (mosques) from my rooftop!

Included are some photos (in my new home) of my friend Nadine from Paris (and who loves the sahara as much as me!), who came to stay with me less than a week after I had moved in along with her friend Sandra (who is a social worker in Paris, and now a friend as well!). It was a short, but wonderful visit!

Next week my friend, Suli, from Vancouver is coming to Douz with her friend Mina, and I will go with them into the desert for three nights (of course bringing both Mabrouk and Lasfar - who haven't met each other yet!!!)

The temperature lately has been around 26 in the shade and 32 in the sunshine. Warm, beautiful blue skies...

I am blessed,
Love Juanita

Seven day winter trek

2009-01-17T02:45:00.000-08:00

Mabrouk (for those of you who dont know, is my new Algerian Toureg racing camel) and I joined five Bedouin friends and thirteen other camels for a six day trek into the desert.

Tourism is slow during this time of year, and feeding camels is very expensive. So, during the winter and early spring, groups of Bedouins often take camels into the desert, as feeding is quite good in the desert during that time of the year.

Of course not long after we left, we hit a sandstorm, difficult to see where you are going as the sand is blowing in your eyes. Raw beauty. Incredibly cold and very windy. Like a white-out in the snow, only it is sand. For those who think going into the Sahara is all glamour, we had sand in our eyes (as well as every other orifice), and as our eyes watered, sand collected around them. Sand encrusted eyes are not glamourous!!!

We spent one night and morning with a group of Bedouins who had come to the desert with their mules and carts to get firewood for their homes in Glissia. As you can imagine, wood is scarce, and many many people still do all their cooking by fire. And even those who have stoves, still make their tea (a frequent event) over a fire. Sharing tea is a very important part of social life. That night we hoped to have a party and dance, but it rained, so the party was cancelled.

While I hate the rain (having spent a lifetime in Vancouver, a rainforest climate), my friends laugh and cheer when it rains. Even sleeping out in the rain is a happy event for them!

Wow. Very cold at night. It rained two nights we were there. Thank goodness it was during the night while we were sleeping, as gortex is unheard of here. But during the night, while I was snug in my tent for one (being the only female), my friends slept under wool blankets with a plastic sheet covering them! (see photo)

The sahara is never dull, always different and always incredibly beautiful and awesome. Even during windstorms.

On the second day we arrived at the place where we stayed for the rest of the time. We made daytrips after that to places, took some of the camels to eat in various places, made a fire and had lunch there. One day we saw a newborn baby camel with its mother wandering by. As you may know, the female camels live free in the desert, while the males live in the villages to work.Most times I would walk with just my socks, carrying my desert shoes, as the sand was so soft and felt so wonderful on my feet. Now I know why my friends always have holes in their socks. I wore holes in my socks during the six days!

After the first couple of days, the weather turned sunny and warm (ish), sometimes I would sit on a soft dune out of the wind and warm my bones and my soul. Just sitting. Looking at dunes, the camels, the sky.

Making fires. Much time is spent doing basic things in South Tunisa, making fires, preparing food, gathering wood, making hobsa (desert bread that is made in the fire - see photos) washing, shopping. But so much of the work is social, family and friends sharing the work, laughing, singing, telling stories.

One night as the moon was coming up and my tent flap was open, Mabrouk came right up to my door to see me. I like to think he missed me.

Sitting around the campfire during the day and at night, talking, listening to Mohammed (there were two Mohammeds) telling colourful and beautiful stories of Tunisian folklore and mythology (of course they were in Arabic, and Mounir had to translate them to me). Dancing. Playing the gasbya and bendir and listening to the sometimes soulful, sometimes playful music.

Spending time with Mabrouk, feeding him, learning to saddle him, riding him, just talking to him. Oh, and another thing - taking ticks out of his fur (by hand). Yes, I live a glamourous life!!!

Oh, and during the day and while sleeping, another sound that was always with us was the sound of our camels (male) deep groans as they are all in heat during the winter. It sounds a bit like whale calls. I really like it. Except when they get really hot, they make a 'glug glug glug' sound, as a meaty thing comes out of their mouth (like an ugly tongue) as it vibrates off the side of it's mouth, to return back to it's throat. Anyone interested in moving here??? Mabrouk doesn't do that as he has been 'fixed' - Toureg racing camels are neutered.

I love it all! (well, except the rain)

By the time we returned home, it was night, and I had to walk Mabrouk the last few miles. I still don't feel comfortable riding in the pitch dark. The canopy of stars in the black sky above us. The absolute quiet. And as we walked into the village of Glissia, the sounds of goats, sheep, children playing, people returning home from work with their camels or mules and carts, clik clop of donkeys, people talking, singing. Tired, but happy.

And as we walked with our camels through the dirt roadways past the stone and brick adobe houses, the haunting sound of the evening call to prayer was heard. A beautiful end to an amazing week.

I am blessed. Enjoy the photos! There is one video where you can see me ride Mabrouk.

Love Juanita, Lasfar, Mabrouk and Petunia

Christmas day at the Douz International Festival of the Sahara

2008-12-28T23:50:00.000-08:00

I woke up Christmas morning in Douz to sunny skies, similar to most days in the Sahara. After making coffee in my ibrik, I walked to the town centre. I could hear the drumming and music as I approached, and soon saw the festival activities of the day. Musicians, drummers, dancers, including pot dancers. The beat of the music in south tunisia goes right into your body, you can feel your heart and pulse beating to the deep vibrations. I met with some friends from Ali Baba's restaurant, and wandered around with them for awhile, taking photos.

The Douz International Festival of the Sahara is four days long, this year starting on Christmas day. There are events taking place every day, and there are apparently over 120,000 tourists here each day.

After that I went home to prepare for the 'big event'! I was riding my new Algerian Toureg camel (that I just bought last week) in the procession in the arena with other Bedouin men from south Tunisia (the six I rode with are from Glissia, a Bedouin village next to Douz, where most of my friends life.)

Before I talk about riding in the festival, I will tell you a bit more about my new camel. While I love Lasfar (my first camel love), he is not trained at riding without someone leading him. He is sturdy, gentle and strong, and is used for treks, short and long. I have ridden him without someone leading, but since he is not trained to ride without someone walking in front of him, and is too old to train at this point, when I ride him without someone leading, he spends more time looking for grasses to eat, than being led. He did surprisingly well with me in the desert, walking while I led him, but that is just because he loves me so much and listens to me (that is what the Bedouins told me!). But to go alone with him into the desert, even for just a short ride is a lot of trouble with him, and would be very frustrating. And that has been my goal since I got here.

My other goal has been to camel race. Ever since I had my 2, four hour lessons in February in camel racing, I have been passionate about it. I love to race a camel across the desert, and would love to enter a formal race as well.

Toureg camels are Algerian, usually white, slimmer, and are trained to race or camel dance. Riding a Toureg camel is very different too. The saddle sits on top of the hump, not behind it, and there is nothing to hold on to. The only thing keeping you on, is the post on the saddle that sits between your legs. You squeeze. Tight. Every minute! There is what looks like something to hold on to attached to the post, but it is fragile and would not hold you on - it is purely decorative. So you hold the reins, and have your legs crossed over the post, with one foot on the camels neck (usually in bare feet) to kick the camel on the neck when you want to go fast! It is pure bliss!!!

So, my friend Mounir has been looking for a Toureg camel for me for months. There are not very many around. He thought he might have to go to Algeria to get one, they are trained by Algerian specialists only. A few weeks ago, he heard that there was one in Toezer for sale in the souk, but when he went there to look at it, saw it was not young (I wanted a young one I would have for years). As the festival approached, I knew that even if I got one, there would not be enough time for me to practice to enter a race in the festival. Your relationship with a Toureg is very very important, as you must trust him, and he you. And when there was only a week left before the festival, I was losing hope that I would be able to even ride in the procession at the festival.

Then, 5 days before the festival, Mounir heard that there was a young one in Douz for sale. He went to look, saw it was young, trained very very well, the owner just didn't want it any more. So I went to look and fell in love. I have named him "Mabrouk", which means 'congratulations'. (Mounir's cousin's name is Mabrouk, and I love the name.)

He is beautiful, white, young, gentle, very very soft, and has been trained extremely well. If I wanted to learn to camel dance, I could with him, as he has been trained in that too! (I don't think so, you stand on the saddle while the camel dances...)

So, yesterday, on Christmas day, I rode in the procession with some Bedouin friends, all of us in white shirts, black pants, white cheich's. The arena was packed! The arena is the largest in the world, as the marathon camel racers start in the arena, and race for around 40 k. So we had 'front row' seats, sitting on our camels beside the bedouin tents set up in the arena for the tourists to see. One of the photos is of us, the "Glissia team"! And I watched the festival from the back of Mabrouk and then rode in the procession. I will do the same for the other 3 days of the 4 day festival.

Enjoy the photos! Don't forget you can double click on them to enlarge them. Hope your Christmas was full of love, joy, with the people you love...
Juanita

Ode to Eid Aloosh

2008-12-11T05:33:00.001-08:00

I have never 'really' made the connection between the meat I eat and the animal who had to give its life so I could eat.

In the past, even if I thought about the animal, it has never been personal for me.

This Eid, 2008, I have changed how I look at what I eat. Like the 'slow food' movement in the west, my attitude towards eating has been slowly changing since I moved here even before Eid. The process of cooking a meal takes longer, sometimes over a fire, ingredients are purchased individually from a person who likely grew the food or knows the person who grew it or raised the animal. When I buy lamb or beef, I actually see the parts of the animal - legs, often the head, sometimes looking at the eyes of the animal I am about to eat. This changes a person.

This Eid, I participated in the timeless ritual of the family killing an aloosh (goat). Early in the morning on the first day of Eid, I rode my mobilette to Glissia, to my friends home, with the promised kefta and a container of Canadian/Tunisian version of chili on the back of my bike.

After having tea at their home, Khiria, the girls and me, walked to the palm pen to get the aloosh. I was sad as I walked, having stroked this aloosh many times since I have known this family, and having seen the children play with it many times. The children skipped and jumped with happiness, this was all very natural for them.

After we brought the aloosh back to the home, Jamel put incense on the fire, to bless the goat before it was killed. He hugged it and said something to it. To kill an animal halal, the animal must be happy. This process reminded me somewhat of the aboriginal people of Canada, how they thanked an animal for giving its life for sustenance.

However, I could not watch the aloosh's throat being slit. Jamel had wanted me to take photos, but I could not. So he went to a neighbour's home to ask for help to take photos of it (I did not include photos of the goat just after it was killed, when you are not part of the whole process, a picture is sometimes too difficult to see). I could hear the goat gasp for its last breath. It was not as bad as I thought, but I fought back tears.

Jamel then skinned the goat, its skin coming off like a coat. I made sure I helped to hold the leg for part of it. If I was going to be part of eating this animal, I wanted to respect it enough to be part of the process. I looked at the aloosh, and thanked it, and thanked Allah (God) that this family would again have meat for awhile. At times, the children watched the goat being cleaned and skinned in the yard, at times they played with the balloons I brought for them.

In the afternoon, we walked to the homes of other family members and friends, wishing them "Aidek Mabrouk" (happy Eid), and some people came to the home to do the same.

Much later in the cold dark of the Sahara night, under the winter canopy of stars, Khiria built a fire, and the family and I sat around and watched while Jamel and Khiria carved the meat off a leg very very thinly, placed it in tin foil and barbecued it on the fire. The taste of the smoky aloosh was delicious. I now understand why it is important to eat even the grisly parts. To waste even a part of the aloosh, would be not honouring the gift it gave.

And so, Aidek Mabrouk everyone. May you find the connection and give thanks for the food that sustains you.

PS - there are other photos below of friends I spent time with on the second and third day of Eid
Love, Juanita

My apartment in Douz

2008-12-05T05:59:00.000-08:00

I am finally posting some photos of my apartment in Douz. It is only a few days until Eid, a new year celebration (there are two Eid's in the year, one after Ramadan, and one in the winter). Dec 8 is the first day of the 3 days of Eid.

It is a time of great celebration, each family will kill a sheep or goat (halal and very quickly) on the first day of Eid. Children often get new clothes, and food, music and family are celebrated. I am looking forward to being part of it, although somewhat (well, very) squeamish about seeing the deceased before I eat it...)!

Soon after Eid is the annual four day Douz Festival of the Sahara, known throughout the world, where around 30,000 people from around the world will arrive in this town! Mostly from Algeria, Morocco, Europe, Syria and Egypt. There will be camel racing, camel dancing competitions, Bedouin music and dance, a huge souk (aka shopping for Juanita!), and of course FOOD! This year the festival starts on Dec 25th, so I will be celebrating Christmas Bedouin style!

I was hoping to have my own toureg (white Algerian racing) camel before the festival to enter one of the races, but it doesn't look like that will happen. If I get one before the festival, I would still be able to participate in the toureg procession, which would be exciting enough!!!

The downside, is that I will be missing Christmas with friends, and especially my darling sons, Rustyn and Jesse, and their sweet and beautiful femmes. This will be the first year I have not prepared a Christmas feast for my family. It is very weird, and sad for me.

As far as turkey dinner, I hope to buy a small turkey after the festival and cook a 'traditional' Christmas dinner for New Years for a few friends. I just bought a 'real' stove with an oven, haven't figured out how to work it yet, and I discovered there is no thermostat - I guess you just turn it on and hope for the best! Inshallah....

Enjoy the photos of my apartment, and have a wonderful Christmas season! Picture me riding Lasfar in the desert and sitting under my own eastern star...
Love Juanita

gerbil couscous

2008-11-24T23:46:00.000-08:00

Just got back from another two nights in the Sahara. This time was very, very, VERY different than all the other times I have been. Now, those of you who are vegetarian or squeamish may not want to read any further...

The reason being, is that this time, I went with five of my Bedouin
friends to the desert for their winter tradition of gerbil trapping and eating gerbil couscous....

Now, if you've read this far, please don't leave now, hear the rest.

Bedouins have been mostly poor and have lived as nomads in the desert for centuries. And living in the desert, to kill a sheep, goat or chicken has been a luxury that often they could not afford, needing the animals for currency and such. So the tradition evolved of trapping the numerous gerbils. A side benefit has been to keep the gerbil population in check.

Today, Bedouins are still often poor, and meat is a necessary part of their diet. So, the tradition has continued to this day - throughout the winter and spring, groups of Bedouins head out into the desert for a few days of feasting and resting. They barbecue them first, then put them into a stew for couscous.

Although I could never eat them, I still respect their lifestyle and any animal that is killed is done in a humane way (often unlike our 'modern' western meat
production).

So, knowing what I was doing, I decided to go anyway, a bit nervous, because I am of the squeamish ilk (I always wanted to use that word!).

As well, I recently acquired a new family member, a baby gatuseh (kitten). Petunia is her name, and my friends told me that she is the first gatuseh to go out into the Sahara! I have included a couple of photos with her in it. Can you spot her following me in one of the photos? Don't forget you can 'double click' on the images to enlarge them.

So, I ate well (lamb or vegetarian couscous), rested and enjoyed the warm sun on my face, the soft dunes of the desert, danced and laughed a lot! The company couldn't have been better...

So, enjoy the photos, try not to judge these gentle kind people, and insh'allalh, you may learn something, like I am doing every day...
Love, Juanita

glissia in winter

2008-11-21T23:15:00.000-08:00

As I am heading into the desert for a couple of days with some friends, I decided to post some recent photos of Glissia before I go. Glimpses of the bedouin village and photos of myself and my friend Kharia and her three daughters at their home in Glissia.

Mud puddles are a rare find in this part of the world...I have come to love these girls so much!

Can you spot Lasfar in one of the photos? - he is with his friends.

Insh'allah, on my next update, I will post some photos of my apartment, it is long overdue!

Love and hugs,
Juanita

Sicilia

2008-11-17T22:21:00.000-08:00

Juanita in the Sahara

Sicilia did not dissappoint! I spent a week there with a friend from Vancouver, Caede Pungente, and her uncle, Ken, at his new home in the lovely coastal town of Portopalo (di C. Passero). Set in the lush countryside, olive and citrus orchards surround the beautiful classic town. Each morning, after waking up in his gorgeous casa, we would wander to the cafe for pastries and capaccino, then we either went on daytrips or spent the day wandering the quaint streets exploring and visiting. I was welcomed so warmly by the people of the town, visiting people in their homes, or just stopping to talk on the streets.

Some of our daytrips included Noto, a city that was once destroyed, then rebuilt in baroque style. Unfortunately on this day the battery on my camera died, so there are no photos until Caede sends me copies of hers. Streets and streets of baroque architecture, I was in awe. One of the buildings we went into was an opera house (I did get photos of this).

Siracusa is an incredible city, and Il Duomo, the magnificent cathedral was the highlight (see photos). We also visited the Greek Theatre there.

Caede and I spent the last night in Catania, a stunning modern city, but in a setting of baroque, sicilian and roman architecture. The city square in the centre of the city is surrounded by blocks and blocks of incredible historical buildings and fountains.

During my week there, I just touched on the beauty of what is Sicily. I will definately go back, and spend much more time exploring.

The food was amazing, sundried tomatoes, dried in the warm sicilian sun, drenched in fresh local olive oil, fresh basil and pasta, local cheeses and warm bread from the oven, we shopped at the market and cooked our meals in Ken's kitchen. Each meal was of course served with the rich dark red wine of the area. One night I cooked Kefta for them, a Tunisian dish I learned to make in Douz (see previous blogs). I think I gained 5 pounds in one week, but I needed to after being sick recently.

Then there was the shopping. It's a good thing I don't live in Sicily, my savings would be gone before I could blink. I don't know what the prices of clothes are in Italy's large cities on the mainland, but the prices for beautiful clothes in Sicily justified me spending too much! (Can you say italian boots???). I also bought jars of pesto, balsamic vinegar, sundried tomatoes and other dishes and foods to stock my larder in Tunisia. Also a blender so I can make my own pesto in Douz.

So I am back home, in Douz, and tonight am cooking pasta with pesto and chicken for Mounir, and Thursday, I am cooking lunch for my beautiful friend Kharia and my new friend Nadia. I have met some women friends here and am happy about that. Will include photos and more stories in my next blog. This one is dedicated to the beautiful Italian island of Sicilia... Salute

sahara trek with Rustyn and Jesse

2008-10-20T03:49:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you hear a voice through
the door calling you, as fish out of
water hear the waves, or a hunting
falcon hears the drum's 'come back'.

This turning toward what you deeply
love saves you.... Read the book of your
life which has been given you. A voice comes
to your soul saying, 'lift your foot; cross over;
move into the emptiness

of question and answer and question'. (Rumi)

I completed another seven day trek into the sahara with my two darling sons, Rustyn & Jesse. This was not the longest, but it was the most difficult trek I have done, even the guides struggled. The dunes were exceptionally high, and much of the trek had to be walked, as camels are often afraid when they see very high dunes and will refuse to go further.

Nature also decided we needed to see it at it's rawest. With seriously blistered feet, we encountered intense heat along with sandstorms for a day and a half. Sandstorms where you could sometimes not see while walking, so much sand in your eyes. And it was so important for me to see, as I was leading Lasfar and another camel.

One morning we discovered that a scorpion had slept in our tent with us.

Rustyn and Jesse and I fought during the first three days, it was hard, physically and emotionally. But it was amazing because we could not run away - we had to stay and face the challenges and move through them. And we did. And we are so much closer for it. Towards the end, we all were stronger, physically and emotionally. I am blessed to have them as my sons.

In spite of the difficulty, we also saw such magic and wonder. Endless dunes, sand so soft you could walk barefoot for miles in the talc like sand, we climbed mountains (both kinds), the sky crammed with stars and galaxies, golden sunsets, music and singing, swimming in the warm silky water of the hotspring at an oases after three hard days of walking. Laughing and laughing as we played in the bubbling spring, with dunes of sand around us as far as we could see.

Seeing the sheep, goats, camels and Algerian Bedouins at the well - though difficult to appreciate as we arrived in the middle of a sandstorm.

Our wonderful guides; Mohammed, who kept insisting what he did was normal, but it was SO not normal - after a full day of walking, he would prepare amazing meals - and then had the energy to sing or play gasbya. Mekki, my dear friend, who, I'm sure missed his wife so much, he is newly married. Mekki's steadiness, gentleness and humour that can be missed if you don't look. He had a knee injury, I could see it was difficult for him to walk, and he did not complain once. And Zied - Zied who helped me in so many ways - with joking, assistance, friendship.

I learned more about my sons. And appreciate them both so much more. Rustyn's endless sense of humour, found myself giggling like a schoolgirl when he cracked jokes. His charismatic video interviews. Jesse's stamina and gentle presence when I needed it so. He kept going and supported me when I struggled. How they both helped out when needed. I loved that they got closer to each other as well.

The photos will tell their own story. I am including only a few of the many many beautiful ones. Was it difficult? Yes, very. Am I blessed? Yes, very.

2008-09-26T03:03:00.000-07:00

Ramadan is almost over, I have even more respect for the Tunisians of the desert, fasting 14 hours a day, often in 40 degree heat. That includes no water or cigarettes. I spend a few hours in the desert during the day and get a headache from lack of water...

And right at the end of Ramadan, Rustyn and Jesse arrive, I am so excited to be able to see them and to spend some special time with them... They will meet my friends, Lasfar, and see the sahara that I love so much...

Here are some more of my musings...

Glimpses of my day:
The head of a young camel hanging from the doorway of my butcher shop, seeming to be crying because of its short life… Sweat dripping profusely off the nose and chin of the butchers kind face as he attends to his many customers….Little girls holding hands and walking to school their uniforms crisp and pink, smiling shyly at me as they say bonjour.... A husband and wife pulling hay with their hands from the back of their donkey cart, the cart brimming over with green luscious grasses, their faces etched with the stories of their day-to-day toils, backs hunched, satisfied smiles… a very young boy, maybe four, walking down the street, clutching tightly to his handful of coins, his face proud and serious with his responsibility, minutes later seeing him return, head held high, carrying a loaf of bread to take home....a gaggle of silly goats prancing down the road in front of me as I ride my motorbike, their ears bouncing jauntily from their heads, seeming to be laughing to themselves, daring me to try to catch them… my neighbour who owns a gas station (a pump for motorbikes) cum small hay and parsley supplier, waving to me with a big smile as I walk by to get my daily supplies… Lasfar’s big brown long lashed eyes as he is watching me watch him, munching on an apple I gave him…Looking out into the desert, the waves of endless sand dunes…trying to decide which camel to watch next, there are so many, where do I start? The young fuzzy tan one intently watching me? The beautiful soft white one nearby? The goofy dark brown one? Eye candy… Hearing Mounir speak out directions to the camel drivers as another bus load of tourists prepare to head out… riding my motorbike home from the camel station, tired, but happy after taking tourists out into the desert, passing groups of camels and drivers on their way home…my heart smiling, hearing the hypnotic sounds of the call to prayer as I type this…

I sat on my balcony tonight, the warm dry breeze playing with my hair, spinning and dancing with the sand on the road. The swaying palms moving together wistfully in mesmerizing rhythm. Most people at home, eating their meal after a day of fasting in the seemingly endless heat of the day. But out of the quiet night, I heard children’s laughter, giggling children. Looking up, I watched as a donkey and cart crossed the road, the adults sitting on the cart, tired and bent over, finally heading home after a hard day. But the children, like any children in the world, found game in even the most ordinary moment. Chasing the cart, taking turns touching it, giggling. Their voices were music. Pure joy. In the darkening night sky, I watched their faces, happy, well loved children. They could have been any child anywhere. Same child, different location. Different life, different world. Yet not so very different.

I sat on my balcony tonight and, amongst the cart toting donkeys I watched all the motorbikes go by, some carrying entire families, children riding often in front, the men driving carefully as the women sat behind. There is something so special about this custom. Even couples who have clearly been together a long time, have a special, caring look on their faces as they drive by, the women carrying a secret smile on their faces, knowing they are being taken care of by their man.

Four young men stood on the side of the road in the pitch dark night. They were not the only people on the road. There are always cheich topped old men walking by, disappearing into the night, their light coloured robes waving in whatever slight breeze there is. Women with scarves, some modern, tied around their heads in a fasionable way, other old women, wearing traditional long caftans, holding their large scarves with either their hands or teeth, if their hands are full.

As I sat, enjoying the night breeze and watching the oh-so different landscape than I am used to, a pick-up truck sped past, dusty sand blowing off the tires, carrying a half dozen men in the back, laughing and talking noisily, mostly standing, precariously hanging on as the truck swayed back and forth on the road as it sped by. A minute later a second pick up truck came by, stopping briefly, as the four young men waiting on the roadside hopped on to the back of the truck and joined the others, and off sped the truck, crammed full of testosterone laughing men, off to who knows where.

So I decided to make Kefta today, which are delicious middle eastern lamb meatballs. The only butcher shop I had been to in Douz was the one for poultry. Yes, I learned that butchers who sell poultry and eggs do not sell beef or lamb.

So I went in search of a butcher to buy ground beef and lamb. I walked into the first tiny shop, dark and with barely enough room for two people to stand. As I became accustomed to the dimness, I tried so hard not to look at the grayish white ball of something resembling a brain behind the glass cabinet. The smell of raw meat and guts in the warm air was overwhelming. It is something we aren’t accustomed to in the west, with our air conditioned shops, and everything refrigerated. Meat, organs and blood. Like the animal was just killed – which it likely was. I showed the man the piece of paper where I had written down in French the words ground beef and ground lamb. As he shook his head, no, I noticed another man taking a knife to the head of a goat. Black fur, its eyes and everything still intact, just severed at the neck. I checked with myself to see if I was going to faint. No, I think I’ll be okay. But I was glad to be leaving. Wow. Breathe.

Feeling a bit shaky, but so proud of myself, I decided that maybe I had enough interesting Tunisian experiences for one day. Besides, the basket I was carrying was very heavy with the vegetables I had already bought at the market, and it was getting close to noon and hot.

As I was heading out of the market area towards home, I noticed legs of (goats??? Cows???) hanging from a shop entrance. OK Juanita, you can do this. This shop had a large door, and looked more modern inside (by more modern, I mean that the men working there had aprons, and a bigger counter top). But large slabs of meat, from ribs to legs were scattered on the counter top, large chunks of meat and carcasses hanging from hooks from the ceiling from ribs to legs to entire sides, several people in the shop choosing and buying meat. Flies freely buzzing and landing where they wished, no one paying them any attention.

I come from a place where meat is sold in supermarkets, hormone infused, but neatly labeled, dyed prettily red, no resemblance to the animal it once was. Even though behind the lovely packaging, many of those animals are tortured, often living their entire lives in small cages or pens, force fed, sometimes never seeing the light of day. Then the petrified animals are cruelly slaughtered en masse, maybe not being killed properly before being processed. All before we buy the nice neat packages, shiny with wrap in the spotless and faceless supermarket.

I showed the man my piece of paper, yes, he nodded as he grabbed a large section of lamb ribs and with a huge butcher knife chopped off a section. No, I said, and tried to describe ground meat. He looked confused. By now, everyone in the shop was paying attention and trying to understand me. Then I said the word Kefta, and everyone in the shop nodded and smiled.

While the butchers were hacking off chunks of beef and lamb to be ground, one customer, a young man gestured to my hand, looking for a ring on my finger, asking if I was married, while another man was saying something about Kefta. After things settled and the butcher was cleaning and disinfecting the grinding machine (YAY!), I stood back to wait and watch.

So much happening here, one man came in, dressed very well in modern western clothing, expensive shoes, and walking like someone from the city. He walked a bit like he owned the place, picked out a big juicy piece of beef, and unrolled a wad of bills from his pocket to pay, at the same time as a teenager came in and bought two legs of (cow?), their hoofs still intact, sticking out of the paper wrapping as he walked out of the shop. I almost expected the legs to start walking out on their own, or for the cow somewhere else in the shop to say – “hey, where are you going with my legs?"

As I waited, another man, an ancient black Bedouin man, wearing a worn and not so clean robe and cheich, came in carrying a large plastic and cloth sack, waiting expectantly, off to the side, patiently waiting for the owner of the shop to be free. After the customers left, the owner took the old man to the back of the shop, and I could see a plastic bucket mostly empty, but with some scraps of meat and bone in it, and he emptied the bucket into the old man’s sack. The old man bowed, thanked the owner, and left.

A few minutes later another ancient black Bedouin man came into the shop, accompanied by the teenager who had earlier purchased the legs of whatever they were. At first smiling at the owner, soon there was an animated argument, the old man obviously believing he had paid too much, his black eyes peering out of his deeply lined face, eyes still sharp despite is obvious old age. After a few minutes, another man in the shop became mediator, and talked to the old man, a few dinars were exchanged, and everyone was happy.

What different lives I am seeing here, in such a short period of time. What variety of life. I felt so rich, being part of this, witnessing this way of life. Rich, and humble.

I now also noticed the ‘cutting block’ where all the meat was being cut. Behind the counter in the middle of the floor, I don't know why I hadn't noticed it before. It was huge! An enormous tree trunk, about three feet in height and almost as wide. The top of it was bloodied, layered with chunks of meat ground and cut into it, rough and chopped up, the surface varied hugely in height, with waves and chunks of tree missing from all the hacking over time. Then I noticed blood, bits of bone and meat on the floor, flies in heaven, happily galivanting everywhere in bliss. The tiled walls were spotless and gleamed, so I imagine (maybe just hoped) the shop was cleaned daily. Regardless, this is now my home, and my new life.

By the way, my kefta were absolutely delicious.

Until next time,
Juanita

2008-09-13T07:16:00.000-07:00

“There is a moment, too, when one is newly arrived in the East, when one is conscious of the world shrinking at one end and growing at the other till all the perspective of life is changed…” Letter from Gertrude Bell to her mother, Florence Bell, Jan 29, 1909

My ‘Robson Street” or “West Broadway” is – well, I don’t know if it has a name. It is one of the streets in the market, and instead of walking past designer shops, bistros and starbucks, I walk past and squeeze between motorcycles weaving in and out converging with people walking goats, donkey carts, trucks, men wearing cheich’s on their heads and ‘robes’, women with headscarfs, some wearing modern jeans, vendors off to the side selling everything from parsley and spices to plastic tables, to dish soap to henna, there is no order, all is chaos and all is full of life, vendors sometimes calling out, sometimes saying assalama, a hundred voices, donkeys braying, goats complaining loudly. I smile. I am home.

I've decided to include a few excerpts from my new book (rough draft), but I think you will enjoy them...

Walking down my street at night, in the light of the streetlamp, it looks like there are snowdrifts up against the side of the street, and up against the buildings. It is actually the sahara, creeping into everything, inching its way, taking ownership of everything. Note to self; don’t buy white towels again when you live in the sahara. At least don’t forget them on the clothes line all night. By morning, they are coated in browny red sand.

Where else can you walk to the market, basket in hand, hearing the clip clop of donkeys with carts as they pass on the street? Where else can you go into a tiny shop that sells everything from bug spray, clothing, and brooms and buy fresh eggs that sit on the shelf and are carefully given to you loose in a bag, instead of labeled and overpackaged in a refrigerated section of a great faceless supermarket? So fresh, they are the eggs from chickens that may live right beside you, as you hear them clucking as you hang out your laundry on the line on the rooftop, overlooking the town of white cement houses, mosques and minarettes. Where else can you jay-walk right in front of the police station, just after saying Assalema to them? Where else can you walk to the weekly market, where sheep, chickens, goats and camels are for sale in the same market as olives, laundry soap and assorted clothing? Where else does everyone disappear in the summer months for the afternoon, the town becoming eerily quiet, only paper wrappers, plastic bags and onion skins blowing around in the hot sandy breeze after the crazy frenzied morning market?

Sitting alone in the café, while the men around me played cards, I was almost inconspicuous. Not really, not by a long shot. Not only am I female, and not too many females come into the café, but I am also fair-haired, and as much as I don’t like it, clearly western. But the men in the cafe only glanced at me once in awhile, somewhat curious, but more interested in their card games. I sat close to a corner listening to the humming of the voices, watching the smoke creating a hazy oasis in the hot and bright white of the day. Four large ceiling fans whirled at full speed, creating an oh so slight dry warm breeze. Apparently this is where many men gather to play cards in the middle of the day, when shops are closed, and the sun is at its highest. Dozens of tables of men, their voices one big hum with the occasional burst of laughter or raised voice. I watched the expressions on their faces, a study in personalities. Some had stoic faces, their expressions not giving their hands of cards away. But most were unable to, being Arabs and passionate in nature, I think it is harder for them to keep their emotions hidden. However, even the men who clearly weren’t doing so well, played their cards with bravado, testosterone the common thread throughout the establishment.

Today I woke up to a fly trying to climb into one of my nostrils. It is not fly season yet, but I am getting a tiny taste of it, and already dreading it.... This morning I went into the kitchen, made myself a cup of Tunisian coffee on my ibrik. I was so proud that I am starting to use my kitchen. Then I walked over to my clean dish rack – and saw an army of tiny ants marching in double file from my wooden spoon (which I thought I had cleaned) to a crack in the wall. Oh boy. So, once again, out came the bug spray, spraying all my ‘clean’ dishes, which now had to be rewashed, wiped up the dead ants, wiped the bug spray off the counter before I washed it (poisonous). Then I had to boil water (no hot water during the summer), rewash the dishes, and then take the plastic dishwashing bin to the bathroom to dump it down the toilet (there is a leak in the drain pipe under my kitchen sink that needs to be fixed). The simplest things are not simple here. Just when I thought I was done, I noticed a black spot on the floor – oh, no, I know what that means, a clump of ants having a party on a piece of onion or potato I must have dropped last night. Damn this country. Damn that I love this country so much.

I am back from my 'vacation' in Hammamet. I had forgotten how hot Douz was. It has been between 40 and 45 degrees in the shade in Douz. My friend Nadia wrote me about rain, and apple pie in Vancouver. A different world.

I wont talk much about Hammamet. The beaches were beautiful, and it was so nice to swim every day, and I spent half my days at the beach. Hammamet also has decent, but expensive food, and many people were very nice. HOWEVER, Hammamet also has a huge number of men who have only two goals in meeting you - money or sex. Period. At first it was flattering, then irritating, then depressing. I think the only reason their obvious and crude lines works on some women, is that the women who come to Hammamet are often interested in having a two day 'relationship'. Don't get me wrong, there are many nice people in Hammamet, but there is a huge culture of young men who, if you even say hello, or glance their way, will paste themselves to your side and it takes a crowbar to pry them loose. And they do not understand the meaning of NO (or "La"). This is not an exaggeration. It really was bad... My bag was also stolen on the beach, lost my really nice camera, prescription reading glasses, cell phone, drivers licence. Lucky my passport & visa was in hotel.
I did meet a new friend in Hammamet, a Russian girl who just started a small business. We had so much fun, laughing over dinner at our similar experiences, so that in itself was worth going to Hammamet.
I'd much rather talk about being back in Douz. In spite of the heat, I am glad to be back home. So, seeing as I dont have a camera right now, I will not include photos of Hammamet, but some other photos I took before I left, mostly of people from Douz or Glissia. Enjoy. Love Juanita

2008-08-29T11:01:00.000-07:00

I am the proud owner of a MBK Hardrock motorbike!!!! No, I haven't traded Lasfar in, but he is not good for riding around Douz - too much traffic. And to go see him, I have to take a taxi each time (a 5 minute drive). So I decided I wanted to be a bit more independent, free (and to have some fun!). It's a small Eurpopean motorbike. The bedouins import them in from Europe, then fit them with a few extra parts to make them better to drive in the desert as well as the roads. I have included one photo of just part of it. I'll include some photos of me driving it next time!

By the way, the cockroach problem seems to be gone. Apparently they were coming out of the drains at night (hence the 5 I found were only in the kitchen and bathroom). So as long as I keep the drains plugged when not in use, voila! No 'la cukaratcha'!

The weather is cooling down, today it was only 34. I actually had the AC off for awhile. It was nice to open the doors and windows. My apartment is getting really nice. I'm nesting, and feel more and more like it is a home. I included a photo of sunset from my rooftop, and I will include some photos inside my apartment in my next blog.

So, back to the motorbike. I have been exploring the outskirts of town, and have gone to 2 palmeries. I discovered there is one down the road only a kilometer or so from my apartment, just before another small village. The village is great, shops line the 'main' street, people walking around - kids playing, families visiting, shopping. People are so friendly and warm and wave and say hello when I go by. I've included a couple of photos of this palmerie.

I had an early birthday party for my good friend Mounir, who's birthday is actually during Ramadan. He invited a few friends, including Mekki, another good friend, who taught me to make couscous. He makes the best couscous - so of course I had to learn from him! So we ate couscous & lamb, a delicious birthday cake with tunisian tea, and juicy sweet watermelon. And of course, we danced! I am reminded of a quote from a book I read "...and we shall eat lamb with our fingers in the light of a single sequin in the navel of a bellydancer".

In a couple of days it will be Ramadan, so I thought it would be a good time for me to 'get away' (ha!) for a week or so. On Monday I will go to Hammamet for a week. It's a beach resort town, with a beautiful mediterranean beach, great restaurants (that are actually open during Ramadan), and a medina. So I will spend a week swimming, reading, shopping and eating. (I know, life really is rough).
So, until next time, with much love,
Juanita

Mekki's wedding

2008-08-22T08:19:00.000-07:00

Well, it is a few days after Mekki's wedding, and I have finally been able to process all that I saw. Tunisian Bedouin weddings last 4 days (and go into the 5th day). The bride cannot be seen by anyone except her immediate family until after the four days is over.
The first night was a women's party that started at 10:30 or 11:00 PM, as it is too hot here to start earlier. There was a DJ who played modern Tunisian music all night. The party was in the courtyard of Mekki's family's home, and carpets, blankets and cushions were spread all around the courtyard, and it was packed with women. Women danced in the sand for many hours - women of all ages, from children to very old. Some were wearing traditional bedouin clothing, some modern. I danced for hours, even though it was late at night, the desert air was still hot. Bikram's bellydance.
Day 2 started again late at night. We met at Mekki's house in Glissia (the bedouin village next to Douz) and the drumming from the musicians at the party were already heard, intensely playing, vibrating the sand as we walked. We walked to what was maybe the village square. Spread around the sides were again, cushions, blankets and carpets, already many women were seated, talking, and many men were standing around talking. The women sit separately from the men. At the back of the women's section, against a wall, was a beautifully decorated section of the wall - decorated with fabric, and in front of this was a few pieces of fabric, shaped like a box or tent, where the bride sat. The bride sits at the back, hearing the ceremonies, but is not seen. If I had heard another time about it, I would have thought it was maybe sexist, but it really adds to the mystery and beauty of the bride. There were four male musicians playing, all in traditional costume. Long white semi-full 'dresses', with red scarfs tied tightly around the waist, white and red hats.Three were playing drums, and the fourth a mizmar. The groom and a half dozen men (his friends? family? I still have many questions to ask) were standing in a line beside the musicians. The mizmar player would regularly walk past them and they would put tightly rolled money into his hat, I guess that is how the musicians are tipped. The women watched, zaghareeted, some danced, mostly talked, laughed and visited. Mekki's sisters and mother were dressed in traditional clothing. Absolutely beautiful and regal. Long swathes of fabric, some in shades of deep red, one in silvery white, some in deep turquoise blue. All wore many many many strands of gold necklaces, almost completely covering the front of the dresses, from the neck to the hips. As well, in front of the heavy headscarves, next to the face, were head jewellery, also gold chains with gold decorations dangling from the ends. I will post some photos in the next few days.
After the regular part of the ceremony, I was able to participate in the men's party afterward. Drumming, singing, dancing and gasbya playing. And eating couscous. Oh, and they had been practicing some bellydance beats for me to dance to, so of course I could not resist!
Day 3, same late start, same place, same people, but this time there was a band playing music, and many of the young men danced. I tell you, bedouin men can rival any bellydancer in moving their hips. I have never seen so many flexible hips on men (except latin salsa dancers). The music increased in intensity as the evening wore on, and the men performed. Very, um....intense and dare I say sexy!
Again, after the ceremony, I attended the men's party, watched the traditional mens dances, some stick dances, some where they hop up from a crouched position (incredibly hard on the thigh muscles!) and other dances. It was so much fun! Mekki's pinky finger was hennaed, and then bound with gauze, part of the tradition of being married. I danced with Mekki, and was so honoured to be part of this party, of this wedding, of being included in this community...
Day 4 started at dusk, around 7 PM, and I have to say this was my favourite night. It was a night I will never forget. We met at Mekki's family home again. Already there were many people gathered, there was an air of expectation and excitement, people talking. Also outside the gates of the home, was an ornately decorated camel, with a beautifully decorated box sitting on top. Mekki's mother came out of the gate, and was helped into the box. The camel stood, and led by drummers, she rode through the town, the procession of family, friends and community following, singing and talking in amongst other decorated camels and horses. You could still see Mekki's mother in the box, as it was decorated with mesh. THe evening was breezy, sand was blowing around, the air intense and building. After going through the town, we arrived at the brides family home. Mekki's mother got off, and all the women entered the gate into the family courtyard, waiting expectantly. Meanwhile, the camel box was being decorated more fully, and completely being covered up with red fabric, so no one could see inside the box. Soon, under canopy, the bride and Mekki's sister came out of the house, the bride still covered with fabric. She was led by her father. But as no man could touch her during the ceremony, he led her with a metal circular ornament. He led her to the camel, and she was helped inside. Then came the ceremony again, where she was led through the village, again led by drummers. Once we were in an open area, everyone parted into two sections and all was quiet waiting. Suddenly decorated camels raced through the pathway, dust and sand blowing around them. People cheered and zaghareeted. Then the same with horses. I know I have talked about how intense the feeling was in the air, but it really was. Intense, sexual, expectant, and happy. Very primal. Finally, the bride was led to the grooms home, she got out (again under cover), and wisked into what was to be their new home, within the compound of Mekki's family home. (I had seen Mekki and his brothers for a long time, building and creating this beautiful home for him and his wife). The women entered the courtyard, and through the open window of the home, I could see Mekki's sisters and mother helping to prepare the bride for her wedding night. Late into the night, the women left, and the men arrived, bringing Mekki. They brought him to the door of his home, and sang a traditional song to him.
Day 5 was not really part of the wedding per se, but in the moring, the bride sat outside of her home, on a decorated seat, fabric behind her on the wall, and women family and friends came to see her. She wore a beautiful white lacy dress, kind of a cross between a western wedding gown and a gypsy look. I dont know how else to describe it. Khol eyes, pointy silver shoes at the end of her dangling feet, her head covered in the gold head pieces, dangling gold chains, ending in gold hand of fatimas or fish, or some other lucky piece of gold, and of course gold jewellery covering her chest, her hands decorated in beautiful black mendhi patterns, weaving amongst her gold bracelets, and red henna'd fingers. I met her for the first time this morning. Her black eyes sparkled with a smile of recognition of me, she had seen my photos before. I can see from her eyes that she is a kind and good person, and also I can see that she has a good sense of humour. I am happy for Mekki as he is such an amazing person, and deserves to be happy. Tibur (the bride) is his cousin, he has known her all his life. But you can see they are in love, and happy.
There are many more things to tell, but I think I will stop for today, and just leave it at Mekki's beautiful wedding. Again, I am blessed.