Carol’s Column

Lazar of Arabia, and the groin pain was worth it

Camel crotch is a complaint not often discussed in the southernmost part of Africa probably because we are not a nation of camel riders. Tunisians, on the other hand, especially those living in the ergs and chotts - aha, I see you shaking your heads mystified by these wonderful words - are. Camel riders.

The Sahara desert swamps the southern tip of Tunisia and it's here, on the border of the Sahara, that you find ergs and chotts. An erg is a sand sea while a chott is a salt lake. There are two great chotts, the Chott el-Jarid and the Chott el-Gharsa and in these chott areas are the famous oases towns of Degache, el-Hammadou Jerid, Nefta and Tozeur.

Tozeur is situated on the edge of a vast palmerai - you don't have to be a rocket scientist to deduce that a palmerai is a place with many palms. Tunisia is famous for having the world's sweetest dates.

It was while visiting Tozeur, an ancient town first inhabited in Capsian times around 8000 BC, that we were invited to participate on a camel ride.

Years ago, I saw Lawrence of Arabia, and the image of Peter O’Toole on his camel galloping through the desert, his robes flowing behind him, remained imprinted on my mind. How intensely romantic I thought.

With an anticipated sense of adventure, we drove from Tozeur south towards Douz, the small town - more of a village really – known as the gateway to the Sahara. Unassuming Douz, at the northeastern edge of the Great Eastern Erg is the gathering place for camel trekkers.

Picture this. A clutch of sandcoloured houses right on the edge of the desert, a few palm trees here and there, and then, in an area the size of 10 rugby fields, a gathering of camels.

Standing, sitting, lying, snorting, grunting and chewing camels. All attended by their Berber owners, they are for hire to anyone who will pay for the pleasure of venturing into the landscape.

Our camel trek was only to last for the duration of the morning so we only took along water, biltong, dates and dried wors for emergencies. We were introduced to our camel owners and discovered the price of the camel includes a flowing Berber outfit. Typical tourist kitsch, I thought to myself as I covered myself in a loose-flowing robe and camel man Amil Globu wound a long scarf around my head "For sand," he hissed, "for sand."

My camel was a handsome fellow with long eyelashes and a mobile mouth with quivering lips like Sue-Ellen's of Dallas fame. The saddle was precariously perched at the rear of the hump and it was here that Amil Globu guided me.

With a guttural command from Amil Globu, the camel rose and I found myself swaying in the wind and then our group of five adventurers was up, up and away.

I would like to think we looked dashing with our robes flowing behind us, but, in fact, like five spiders we clutched the camels and virtually lay across them as we rock-'n-rolled our way over the dunes deeper into the erg.

To tell the truth, like Drakensberg resort horses, the only time the camels galloped was when we turned homewards. Then, like Horse Chestnut, they sprinted towards the finishing field -it's not easy sitting astride a sprinting camel!

I learnt seven things. Camels will travel forever, have mild dispositions, eat everything, have fleas, move two legs on the same side together and suffer from serious flatulence. Finally, due to design, riders' legs are more astride than is usual.

What this means is that new camel riders develop what is euphemistically known in Tunisia as ‘camel crotch’ which in medical terms can be translated as severely strained groin muscles.

So what? Does it matter that I and my companions are walking around with our legs widely apart for the next three weeks? A small price to pay for being Lazar of Arabia for one glorious day.

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