In what I can only imagine is a well-rehearsed speech addressing the most frequent question, the Sahara camp camel guides insisted to the would-be riders that their camels did not spit. Further elaborating, they said their camels, the one-hump dromedary, are very friendly. “Only the two hump camels are aggressive,” they continued. I’m fairly certain all camels spit… So, whether or not this is true, I could not say, but it was amusing.
I was instructed to mount my camel’s saddle, while he was still laying down, and “hold on tight!” The last part made me a bit nervous; put-your-phone-down tight or death-grip tight? As I gripped the handlebar of the saddle, the camel stood up; front feet extending, then straightening, followed by the back end. I was abruptly and swiftly shifted backwards, then surprisingly righted. Assembled and mounted, we lumbered up along the dunes, marching single file. I found that riding a camel was not really the same as riding a horse, as I found myself measurably swaying from side to side. Disembarking from my camel, who I decided to nickname “Freddy”, was about the same as embarking, except this time the surprise was in suddenly shifting forward and then a rapid loss of altitude.
The camels assigned to my small group were very well socialized and reminded me a lot of big dogs. After disembarking, I went to rub my camel’s head, and to my surprise, he pressed his face into my hand. Freddy’s fur, well adapted to the sandy, desert environment, was very coarse. Like the sand barricades I passed on the ride in, Freddy’s built in sand defense blocks the grainy sand. When I patted Freddy’s head and shifted to leave, he moved his face into my hand again, trying to encourage me to keep petting him. Just like a big dog who does not want you to stop scratching his ears! It was really cute.
When we arrived at our Sahara camp at dusk, the group was treated to lively, traditional Berber music around the camp fire. The night sky was a bit overcast, so there was not much opportunity for star gazing. And, there were mosquitoes abuzz everywhere. The smoky camp fire helped dispel some of the mosquitoes, but I still slapped on some extra repellent before turning in for the night.
Ten tents encircled the camp fire pit, and each tent, accommodating up to three people, had its own private bath and shower. To my dismay, I soon discovered I was sharing my shower with a local reptilian inhabitant. Just below the grate of the shower drain, I could see a tan body with black, red, and green patterns. Unwilling to find out whether or not it was poisonous, venomous, or inclined to bite visitors, I went out to find someone to assist. Two camp attendants returned with me to investigate, and after an extended conversation in Arabic, one attendant grabbed some tissues while the other stepped back, like “well, you’ve got this,” and made his way to the exit. I was not sure if he was thinking that I made a big deal out of nothing or if he was just trying to get out of the way.. But after the other attendant managed to wrangle whatever it was with his tissues, it occurred to me they were just as apprehensive as I was. The remaining attendant removed a rather hefty looking toad, and, held at arm’s length, rushed out of the tent. I found out later that it was a Berber toad. Some can be poisonous, but at least it was not a snake. I would not have been able to sleep if I knew a snake called my shower home.
After the toad was relocated, I decided to get the flashlight and check the corners of the tent, just in case. It was then that one of my tent mates said, “We should check under the beds too.” My heart dropped. Every one was looking at me, the idiot holding the only flashlight. So I sighed, mentally steeling myself, and moved towards the nearest bed. I’m not sure if I was more afraid of finding something under the bed, or thinking I had seen something, screaming, running out of the tent, and causing camp-wide hysteria… But luck was on my side, and no other creatures were discovered.