______
I've told a condensed version of this story many times over the last few years. Egypt, in its entirety, gave me the experience of a lifetime, and one of the chapters in this adventure was my trip to Bahariya. Some context for this story - I was there in June 2016, in the height of summer, in the midst of Ramadan. We open here..
Bahariya, the diary. 26 June 2016.
It was 2am, in a Kelantanese/Thai shop in Nasr City, where the three of us, Amin, Adib, and I were having sahur after a long day. It was then that Adib, a boy I had known for roughly 36 hours, asked me, "So what are your plans for the remainder of your stay in Egypt?"
This was a tough question on multiple levels. Firstly, because there were options - a lot of options. There was Luxor, with it's incredible Valley of the Kings. There was Sharm el Sheikh and it's promises of serenity and hiking. There was also an incredible boat trip on the Nile. Secondly, because I only had 3 days left in the country, which wouldn't enable me to fully enjoy all the mentioned itineraries. Thirdly, because, to put it plainly, I was broke.
But the thing about travellers is that we dream. So without an ounce of logic in my head, I said, "you know. I don't think I can do any of the cool stuff that's far away. But I really wish I could camp out in the desert."
The boys took in the information, Amin agreeing that it'd be very cool. But it was Adib who expanded the discussion by saying, "I've actually done that once."
Apparently he had carped a diem a couple of years back and joined some tourists. They had gone to a remote town on the outskirts of the desert to camp overnight. The town was named Bahariya, with nothing of interest in particular. He had a rough memory of any actual organization, but presumably it required some planning, some money, renting a vehicle, a guide, camping utilities.. the list went on.
"Even if you could, when do you plan to go?" Adib asked.
I did some very quick calculations in my head before I stated the fated words, "How about tomorrow morning?"
We continued discussing about 10 minutes over the possibilities, until Adib finally replied, "I might have the number of a guide there, I'd have to check. But we'll have to call him first thing in the morning tomorrow. And find out the transportation that we need to get out there."
"Done," I said. "So shall we go?" It was 3am.
"Done," the boys replied, and we hurried back to our dorms in Hay Sabi'.
*****
Early that morning, we contacted (over really bad coverage) to an Egyptian man who assured us that he would help us in Bahariya, and to follow his driver in Cairo. We needed to make a 45 minute journey to a bus station near Tuorgman. From Cairo, Bahariya is a roughly a four hour journey. If we left early, we might be able to catch a tour group going to the desert around 3pm. It was a tight margin to say the least.
At 9am, we set out, groggy and nervous. The three of us were quiet, seriously contemplating if our plans for the day would materialise. The bus station was a sort of informal parking lot underneath a huge flyover. It was filled with vans of various sizes. Asking around, we found a small white van tucked in the corner, with about 3 male passengers dozing inside. The driver was animatedly gesturing us in.
After 30 minutes of waiting and sweating inside the van, Amin finally asked the driver why were we not moving. The driver, more chilled now, replied that he had to ensure that the van was full of passengers before he could leave. Unfortunately there was no reservation system. It could be hours before we depart, unless by some miracle a group of people came in the next hour and joined the trip. Or, added the driver, he could depart in half hour if we paid extra. This is Egypt. This is normal.
The boys grimly nodded in understanding. Adib excused himself to pray dhuha and went out of the van. Amin and I stayed back, discussing our options. It was already almost noon. Rationally, it would be risky to go to Bahariya so late at this point. We were in the middle of planning alternative outings in Cairo before Adib suddenly came up to us, breathless, and told us to hurry! Get out! in the Malay language. Without hesitating, Amin and I grabbed our bags and rushed after him.
We sprinted across the road underneath the flyover. Behind us, the driver had noticed, and he was yelling, chasing after us. Somehow we were slick, and maybe there were too many cars in his way, but he never caught up. We got to a small ticket counter, to which Adib shoved some notes Amin had passed him, and directed us to a dirty blue bus that had already started its engine. We filed past the other passengers seated in the vehicle, dripping with sweat, and sat down in the back row.
"What was that?" Amin asked.
"That van driver was most definitely going to trick us. I went to the ticket counter and asked for a bus that was going to Bahariya, and this is it, the fastest one to there," Adib replied.
"So we're going to Bahariya?" I asked excitedly.
"We're going to Bahariya." Adib confirmed.
"We're going to Bahariya." Adib confirmed.
Vans and tramcos parked under a flyover in Tuorgman.
Pyramid of Giza seen from the dusty window on the way out of Cairo.
****
By the time the bus moved, the sun had risen high in the sky, and the heat was a pulsating wave. Traffic in the city had stirred up the dust, and you could see the thick smog. It only became a bit more bearable once we got out of Cairo's jam, when the increased speed made it cooler. This bus, with its rattling engine and worn out seats, had no fan or air conditioning. And we were all fasting. It took all my energy to shove the plastic window as wide as it could open, to ignore the dust particles that streamed in.
I passed the time by rotating between napping, reading the Quran, and staring outside the open window. Somewhere along the way, bits and pieces of houses and territories faded, replaced with a wide flat expanse of yellow sand. The sunlight was glaring white, its reflection was blinding on the sand, stretching to the horizon, and the enormity of the landscape began to sink in. The heat was relentless, and I felt like a dried leaf from the lack of water or food that day. The sparse environment only reminded me of how empty my own stomach was.
What was probably halfway through the journey, the bus stopped at restaurant by the side of the road, and everyone gladly filed out to refresh. The building was a small stone structure, with a couple of men taking shade under its thatched roof. I followed two ladies, both clad in dark robes and a niqab, to the back of the building for the female prayer rooms. Only then did I notice that we were the only women in the vicinity. I only managed to nod and say Assalamualaikum to them.
View most of the way. Sand that stretched on and on and on.
Left: men taking shade in the rest house. Right: one of the two ladies in prayer.
The stop lasted about 30 minutes before the driver honked at us to go back in. The journey continued on, through miles and miles of golden sand. Shifting, looming, some forming mountains far away. I had never noticed so much sand in my life. Eventually, eventually, eventually, as the sky began to form a pink tint for evening, a car passed us by. Then we saw a house with a truck outside. More scattered huts and square brick houses appeared. And slowly, slowly, slowly, we reached Bahariya.
I didn't see any indication of a bus station, but the bus did stop somewhere by the side of the road, and we all got out. By this time, the sky was lilac, and the azan had begun to croon over the flat rooftops. It was maghrib! Breaking fast time! We didn't have any specific destination at this point, as Adib's contact had turned to be a trickster. Almost nonsensically, we began walking towards a random direction, and thankfully, chanced upon a mai'dah.
A mai'dah is a makeshift eating area that is set up by the side of the road everyday during Ramadhan. There's a smattering of these all over the cities in Egypt. It's main purpose is to feed those who are unable to afford food. It's commonly hosted by local communities, and anyone is welcome. When we got there, this particular mai'dah already had groups of people scattered on its mat, chomping way. But the hosts greeted us warmly, and helped us with a tray of assorted dishes. We were so hungry, we simply ate in silence!
First shots of Bahariya through the bus windows.
Mai'dah of the day: vegs, bread, rice, lamb, beans and dates.
***
One by one, the other guests got up and went off to the mosque. Looking around, I realised I was the only girl there, and hastily kept my head down most of the time. We too quickly finished our meal, and made our way out. As we were putting on our slippers, we noticed an Egyptian man getting ready as well. He looked as us, smiled, and greeted us in English.
"Where are you from?" he asked. The man was large, reminding me of a bear, with a shaved head, a beaky nose, and slanted, kind eyes. His skin was dark and smooth. But it was his friendly smile that made us reply amicably.
"Malaysia," Amin answered, "but we are students in Cairo."
"I see! I am Waheed. What are you doing here in Bahariya?"
"We want to go to the sahara to sleep there at night," Adib replied.
"Oh," Waheed's face became crestfallen. "But you have just missed all the trucks going there. They go in the afternoon. It's ok! You can go tomorrow!"
"We are going back to Cairo tomorrow," Adib replied.
Waheed looked around. The sky was already darkening. He seemed to have made a snap decision. "Maybe I can help you. I may know people. But first, I have to pray."
"Yes please! Go pray first. We need to pray too," the boys implored. "We can meet you here after prayers."
Waheed, large and hefty, gazed at us, the 3 young Malaysians. "I pray at home. Come, come with me to my home." And he trotted off, beckoning his hand at us.
There was a moment of pause between the three of us as we communicated with out eyes. Was it insane to trust a complete random stranger? There were horror stories based on meetings like this. But I don't know if it was something in the beautiful sunset sky, the small town ambience, or the fact we simply had no other favourable options for the night, that the three of us nodded, and set off after him nervously.
Waheed led us through some narrow stone paths, winding between mud bricked buildings. The sky had turned inky blue before he pushed open a wooden door on a stone wall, and stepped inside his compound. We took off our slippers and went inside the small living room. It was lit by a white fluoroscent light, with its stone walls painted a mint green. There was a fan in one corner. Off this living room was a bedroom, where his family was resting for the night.
We settled our prayers before sitting down, and Waheed's wife served us some tea and fruits. It was a relaxed conversation, with us exchanging our tales in turn. At one point, I got to cradle his baby girl in my arms. Waheed told us that he had a truck, and he had made the trip to the sahara many times, as aside from his work in construction, he also worked as a tour guide. He offered us his servcies ad inevitably, the topic came to price. This was when our hearts dropped. It was going to cost 1000 egyptian pounds. Each.
Waheed looked at our panicked faces. Then slapped his knees, clearly a little put off. "You decide. You let me know if this is ok. I help my family first. And take some things for the journey maybe."
We sipped our tea and took our turns praying isyak. While Waheed was gone, I said hello to the ladies in his home. There wasn't much in conversation as the could not speak english, and I didn't know arabic. But I got to take a polaroid photo as a gift of thanks, and as I remember, they were all so excited to see a quickly printed physical photo from a camera. I got back to the boys in the living room and saw that Amin was counting his money. They looked up at me. This wasn't going to happen.
"I only have 800," Amin said.
"I didn't bring any money," Adib added. When he saw our expression, he relented, "to be honest. I didn't think we would make it this far. I thought by this time we'd be hanging out in a restaurant in Cairo."
We laughed. I fished out some money from my purse, and found 400. Clearly, this really wasn't going to happen. When Waheed returned home, we asked if he knew of a cheap place where we could stay for the night in Bahariya. We didn't pursue the sahara trip so hard as we understood that it was a business and service, and he had been kind enough to welcome us as guests in his home. The bottom line was that we were unable to afford the trip. We were so, so close.
Waheed stared at the three of us, all worn out from the long journey,accepting that we'd only gotten this far. He then asked us how much money we had. We told him the truth. It took him about 10 minutes of talking about something else, before he said, "ok. Come. Let's go. I will take you to the desert."
Our eyes widened in shock. But we only have so much money! We protested. He waved his hands. "It's ok. It is ramadhan. Maybe one day this will bring me good business." And with that, he stood up, grabbed some things, and lead the way to the jeep that was parked outside.
Amin and Adib in Waheed's living room.
The sleeping area.
Waheed's family: his wife, three daughters, and his wife's sister.
Me, Amin and Adib discussing our options over fruits.
We hopped in the jeep, apprehensive as hell, and rode with Waheed as he stopped over at a friend's house to collect some blankets, then made another stop at a small kiosk. He apologised, as he hadn't prepared proper food for the trip, so we could only afford what was available at the kiosk. Adib went out with him, and together they got some cheese and bread for our sahur later. We drove with the windows down, passing through the small town, seeing groups of jamaah praying tarawih in open spaces.
As we drove further and further away from the center, the speed increased, and we were all bouncing around in the car as Waheed drove crazily fast and took sharp turns. We got to a small highway, and as the street lights disappeared, the dunes around us formed dark shapes, all passing by in a blur. We had got about 15km out before he took a turn onto the sand dunes. And there we were! At the edge of the sahara! Headed for our campsite for the night!
Waheed and his land cruiser!
Adib buying food.
Waiting for Waheed and Adib in the jeep.
Kiosk.
Despite the curved landscape and mounds of sand, Waheed seemed to know exactly where he was going. He explained that some sites were marked off from campers, and law enforcements would fine you if you stayed there. Throughout the drive he pointed at construction sites far away. He showed us a mountain that he'd been to many times. After about half hour of driving, with our heads spinning from the speed, sounds, and bumps, Waheed decided that we'd come to a good spot, and just simply stopped the car and switched off the engine. This spot was ok, he assured us, this is where we were in for the night.
As soon as this was established, the three of us burst out of the car, barefooted, and the boys began running around, screaming with delight. I just stood in the middle of the sand in awe, looking at the blanket of glittering stars above me. Behind us, Waheed was chuckling, and preparing our sleeping mats. At one point the boys even hugged each other, and I joined them when they jumped up and down, delirious at the fact that we were actually in the sahara. It had been a long day, less than 24 hours after we'd made the crazy plan to come here.
As we helped Waheed set up, Adib wailed in frustration. He hadn't brought his camera with him (this boy was SO prepared for the adventure I tell you). Thankfully I had my DSLR, but even my camera had a low battery. After we'd set up camp, we took some photos, even though in my heart I knew it would never measure up to what we saw in real life. Waheed had prepared some blankets and a wind breaker to shade us that night. Once we'd sorted out our food, the four of us sat at the edge of the camp to enjoy the experience.
We talked. We sang songs. Waheed knew phrases in a couple of languages from his work as a guide. Adib mentioned his upcoming wedding back in Malaysia. Amin relished in the adventure, as he was a first year student in Egypt, and hadn't really travelled before. I joined in the conversation, thankful and amazed that I was sharing this adventure with 3 almost complete strangers. Sometime in the night, Waheed pointed at the edge of the sky, and from behind faraway mountains, the moon rose like a huge white lamp, changing the shapes in the desert. There aren't words to describe how beautiful the sight was.
Amin and I prayed tarawih on the sand and to this date, it was perhaps one of the most breathtaking views I'd ever experienced. While the moon was high above us, we munched on the cheese and bread. The boys were determined to stay up, chatting, and after a while I took a nap on the blankets. My camera had already died at this point, but I didn't mind so much anymore. By the time I woke up, the sun was slowly rising, and above me was a ceiling of cotton candy hues. Waheed was snoring in his sleep. Adib and Amin were wrapped in blankets, protected from the morning chill, and together we welcomed the morning.
The jeep. The stars.
Four of us. Packed up the sand to be a good stable tripod. It was actually pretty tough to get a good shot as the wind was bustling about. I didn't have a tripod, my autofocus function on my lense was already ruined as sand had gotten into my camera. My poor camera.
Our sahur.
Me and milkyway.
Amin and I praying tarawih on the sand.
Sunrise.
Jeep and campsite.
Waheed sleeping (under that green blanket).
Me, Amin, Adib and Waheed.
*****
After freshening up (ie washing our faces), we hopped into the jeep and bid farewell to our camp site. Waheed asked us for the time of our return bus to Cairo, which was at 3pm. It was still morning, and none of us were in a hurry. To this day I thank his kind soul, because he smiled and said, "ok. I will bring you to the white desert."
-to be continued-
P/S: After this initial trip, the boys actually went back to Bahariya (more than once!) with a different group of friends, so Waheed did get some proper business out of us!
Photos taken with a Canon 600D and my iphone 5s.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteWaaah. Can I ask how did you make wudhu in the middle of the desert?
ReplyDelete