Camels

Michael Jackson was my first. He barred his teeth and foamed at the mouth as I came near, but by force from the lead rope passed through his nose ring, allowed me comfort and passage until lunch. Sand crunched under wide foot, the water in a half-filled bottle swished to the rhythm as the sun beat down. Not two hours later this group, my group, was asleep under the shade of a tree passing away the hours that couldn’t be spent doing anything else.

It’s hot.

Black goats with amber eyes woke us up at three, snapping at the branches of our firewood and finding the scraps of lost lunch. We moved on, across dune and through scrub following trails made by herders and their flocks. One camel had a bell. It rang with each step as each plied for the space in the lead of the pack like a race in slow motion interrupted by tasty bushes that took precedence, though we all reached a new campsite together. No winner.

Under the stars and camel blankets in a bed of sand we slept, only the sounds of camel snored. Orion passed. Night passed. No chill, though I pretend it is still crisp just before sunrise as it should be and might be, but it passes to quick to be sure.

King has disappeared, front legs tied together, nose tied to a now broken branch, he wandered somewhere unknown. The man with the turban went to search taking Michael Jackson with him. I had Moola, then another camel, new to the field of carrying fat westerners and he chooses to sit mid path in protest. We scout for lost camels, the guides calling the sounds of desert birds to alert the man in the turban to a possible King high on a ridge, but camels wander here with the holy cows and sheep and goats and an occasional villager who carries no water, only a herding stick. The King is free.

Our camels slip on sandstone going down hills, and protest further progress preferring shade and shrubs. We concur and stop finally for noon to pass. It does. We do. One more hour and we return to the road, and to Jaisalmer and the hawkers in the street stalls and horns of cycles and crowds on narrow streets of people who also came in from the quiet.