The Sahara: A Long Way Away from a Cultural Desert

by

Eamonn Gearon

In keeping with anyone blessed with an active imagination, as extensive as my wanderings through the Sahara have been, they are nothing compared to my mental journeys through the Great Desert. The greatest journeys are not always physical, and one can be transported just as easily in an armchair as on a camel.

I was a child the first time I entered the Sahara, sitting on my father’s knee. We were at home in Wiltshire, that fat, green English county best known as the home of Stonehenge. Beethoven’s 6^th Symphony, the Pastoral, was on the record player. My father always played Beethoven when he remembered Egypt in the 1950s.

Although he was there in an official, military capacity – something to do with a canal by the name of Suez – his memories of that country and its people were fond ones, and invariably revolved around the desert.

If this reminiscing seems a long way from the Sahara, it both is and is not. Even unremembered, unremarkable incidents in one’s childhood can have a profound impact on the rest of his or her life.

There is no doubt that I have spent the past two decades in the Greater Middle East because of my father’s tales of a far away country he loved, even if, unsurprisingly, this love was not always equal on the part of the Egyptians.

When I started reading about the Sahara for myself, the first thing that struck me was its scale and its seeming emptiness. A part of the earth roughly the size as the entire United States of America, but with a population of approximately 3 million.

Once these figures had been absorbed, it was not the limited numbers of people that impressed me so much as the fact that the desert was not empty. It was, and always has been, home to a diverse number of peoples, both locals and foreigners.

I next understood that the Sahara had not always been a desert, but was once an ocean, and later variously forests and pastures; that “Sahara” simply means “desert” in Arabic; and that the human records of life in the Great Desert, its cultural history, are as many and varied as the flora and fauna one finds there.

Indeed, the landscapes of the imagination are far more numerous than the various physical landscapes one finds there.

The earliest extent records are those rock paintings and carvings found across today’s desert. These global treasures hold out the promise of great insight into our Saharan-dwelling forefathers, and yet they are frustratingly among the least understood human records, and most open to fantastical interpretations.

Hunting scenes are fairly easy to interpret. Recognisably male figures carrying spears and chasing four-legged animals with horns do not require the observer to have a degree in archaeology or art history. Other images are less straightforward. People swimming? Big cats dancing?

Did the “round-headed” figures come down from outer space? What do you think?

And while men apparently copulating with elephants and rhinoceros might just be examples of prehistoric lavatorial, schoolboy humour, they could easily have another, deeper meaning: we simply do not know.

Rushing forward thousands of years, the artistic records created by European artists who have been ‘discovering’ the Sahara since the late Eighteenth century were created in the same environment. In response to an encounter with their surroundings, the artists were impelled to create, to leave behind some record of a moment in time or a day in the life. They are all saying, “We were here, this is who we were, what we did and what we found.”

Fromentin declared that he only fully came alive in the Sahara, and that the intensity of these feelings grew the further south he travelled into it, while Paul Klee announced that it was the influence of being under North African skies, and the intensity of the light there, that he became an artist.

The paintings of David Roberts, who travelled through Egypt and the Levant in the 1830s, became the virtually canonical interpretation of the East for close to one hundred years.

Roberts’ time in the region was inspired in turn by a far less pacific visitor to Egypt. On Napoleon’s 1798 invasion of Egypt, he was accompanied by two armies: one of soldiers, the other of scholars. These savants were responsible for exposing Europeans to a world they had more or less ignored for centuries. Perhaps this was no bad thing.

Napoleon’s short, inconclusive invasion marked the start of the last great scramble for the Sahara. By 1900, of the 11 modern nations that now make up the Sahara, only Libya remained independent. This too fell after the Italians invaded, snapping up the last slice of independent North Africa in 1911.

But these European invaders were just the last in a millennia-long line of like-motivated imperialists, which included the Greeks, Romans, and Vandals. Non-European invaders included the Phoenicians, Persians and, of course, the Arabs.

It was the invasions by this last group that most permanently changed the cultural face of the Sahara and its people. The eventual imposition, or adoption, of Arabic as the language of commerce, government and worship is the most obvious changes in local circumstances. The spread of Islam, which utterly replaced older, indigenous faith systems, was the most important reason for this.

Returning to the Nineteenth and Twentieth centuries, this was not just the era of European expansion and domination of the Sahara, it was also the period that saw the proliferation of portrayals of the Great Desert. The artists we mentioned above; these were soon followed by poets and writers of prose.

In the same way that Roberts dominated Nineteenth century painterly portrayals of the desert, so Beau Geste and the French Foreign Legion loom large on the early Twentieth century literary landscape. A kepi-clad bugler and a deserted fort was, for decades, all that most people knew about the Sahara, or cared to.

With the dawn of cinema, the literary visions were added to and exploited mercilessly by filmmakers who understood the instinctive attraction of a shot of sand dunes stretching as far as the eye could see.

One of the best-known writers on the Sahara, Paul Bowles of “The Sheltering Sky” fame, very publicly announced that he wished the film of his novel had never been made. Others were less chary.

And in spite of the critics, famous and anonymous, the Sahara continues to attract visitors; to awe strangers and residents; to prove most alluring when revealing itself to those who have the desire to know it, over time.

For my own part, the journey that began on my father’s knee reached fruition 20 years later, when I first entered the Sahara. And now, after nearly another two decades, I am delighted to have sanctified my love for the world’s greatest desert in my book.

The Sahara in which I roamed, first with the Bedu and later alone, but in the company of my camels – Osama, Ibn Kelb, and Baby – was physically demanding. The journeys were tough. They built character and left scars. Today, I look back on those sacred days and nights with love without compare.

Whilst resident of the oasis of Siwa, Egypt, recovering from amoebic dysentery after one of my more adventurous travails, I met my now wife. Such a priceless find, in the midst of the seeming wasteland, daily reminds me of the importance of the Sahara in my life. In this world, it pays to be alive to both one’s physical and imaginary landscapes.

Eamonn Gearon is an Arabist, analyst and author who has lived and worked in the Greater Middle East – from Kabul to Casablanca – for the past twenty years.

Eamonn’s life in the region started in the Sahara, where he lived and travelled with the Bedu, learning a vast amount of desert lore from them before engaging on a number of lengthy solo, camel-powered expeditions in the Great Desert.

His book “The Sahara: A Cultural History” came out in the UK in June 2011 (Signal Books), and is being published by Oxford University Press in the USA in October.

Eamonn is now writing a cultural history of Kabul, to which city he took his wife for their honeymoon, in 2008, during the Taliban’s resurgence in Afghanistan.

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Mohamed Bouazizi shakes the Arab World

by

Christian Bodegren

Who would have thought that a 26 year old fruit and vegetable salesman named Mohamed Bouazizi, would get an entire Arab world to shake? And who could have known that he would be the one that triggered people in Tunisia to rise up in anger against a tyrant who’s dominated their country for 24 years, and chase him out of the country?

I would not have thought it, that day I stood before the court in Tunisia in 2010 on charges of an illegal sale of my dromedaries, with my Sahara expedition fresh in my memory. My female lawyer told me:

“I’m sorry for everything, but it’s probably best that you do not come back to Libya for at least five years.”

I managed to leave the country after my second attempt, sure that I wouldn´t be able to return for a long time. Maybe never. That was also the end of my Saharan dream. Two days later I walked into a church in Sweden where my big brother was getting married, who knows, maybe everything has a purpose. Several months later Ben Ali fled, and the people of Tunisia were raising their hands to the sky, and they could take their first deep breath of freedom. After days, months and years of dictatorship where television, radio, press and regular access to the internet which was completely in the hands of the regime. This has been a revolution like a glass of water under a dripping tap, which slowly fills up and overflows. And that last drop in this case was the young man named Mohamed Bouazizi.

Somehow the Tunisians wrote a manual on how a modern revolution of today can be made and they even exported it to Egypt. In my mind, it is not difficult to understand that the Libyans took the courage after 40 years of oppression and began their revolutionary journey after the Egyptian people succeed. Mubarak was backed by a strong police and security apparatus, which had a very good track of people who actively worked against the regime. And Egypt was also an indispensable ally for the United States in the Arab world. If the Egyptians managed to overthrow Mubarak, I thought it wouldn´t be impossible for the Libyans to overthrow Gaddafi.

I remember my friend Mohammed shouted to me, as he left me on the shores of the Red sea to start my journey with three young camels in October 2009:

“There are as many police officers in Egypt as grains of sand in the Sahara!”

And I spent a major part of my Expedition money on bribing the police. I have had a few thoughts about Kaddafi and Libya:

Muammar Kaddafi has almost written a manual how to succeed as a dictator in a country. A man with a best before date, I hope. He has been in control since 1969 and has made Libya to North Africa’s now most closed, controlled country. Because he sits on the North Africa’s largest oil reserves. Which means the uprising in Libya will push up the oil prices. This is going to make the global recovery of the economy to slow down. And that is going to make the USA and Europe to handle this situation completely different compare to what we have seeing before whit Tunisia and Egypt. Everything is linked, and when it comes to supporting various regimes with export and import, most countries are guilty, and all should take responsibility for that too. As long it iss not making any fuss which can have a effect on the economy we have no reason to interfere. It is all about the money.

Khadafy’s eccentric approach to running the country in his personal day to day mood, have repeatedly destroyed the lives of the people in Libya. I did also became involved in his family’s problems during my time in Libya. It happened during my time in southern Libya, along with my four dromedaries, when I was trying to get the necessary permits so I could cross into southern Algeria, and whilst I was trying to get an extension of my visa. I didn´t get any of them. And it was all due to Mr. Gaddafi’s youngest son, Hannibal and his heavily pregnant wife in 2008, who had an incident when they had poured boiling water on two house maids in the suite at a luxury hotel in Geneva, and got arrested for it. That made the mad Gaddafi call out for jihad against Switzerland. It killed my chances to get needed permits. Isn´t this politics at its best or what?

My journey ended in the same country this great Arab revolution started. Tunisia. This is where I fled. A country where a 26 year old fruit and vegetable salesman named Mohamed Bouazizi was working.

One person can make a difference.

Christian Bodegren is now preparing for a new Expedition.

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Stockholm early morning, autumn has arrived, it is windy and it has been raining all night, but days are sunny and the autumn colors are fantastic! However, I feel real heavy headed and extremely tired. I just get a few hours of sleep right now. And my mood is swinging from desperation to joy….It is always the same story….time to leave, not knowing when I will return….I am kind of packing everything together, cleaning out the apartment, phoning my friends, saying good bye, storing the extremely few things I have after a disastrous divorce and I am ready to take the big step and leave Sweden for awhile, sweating away for awhile in a desert.

Right now I get many questions from you readers about when is the Expedition taking place, and I answer:

“In shallah, when the time is ready…”

I just don´t know, this Expedition just grows, and is getting quite difficult to handle. I have pretty much worked day and night since the vision arrived. I do need 8 hours to feel human, but 5-6, it is tough, but I am living on all the joy all this gives me! But I am leaving Sweden now, getting ready to leave on The Expedition as soon as I have acquired camels, trained them, set everything up with my partners, Salim and Nasr, and have most permits needed, so if all goes well, between 3-12 months from now…..however, remember Chrsitian Bodegren, the Swede I helped with my experience, he is on his way! Go for it Christian! (See http://www.christianbodegren.com/ ) Even though his English sometimes makes things hard to understand, it is an interesting read from a guy who has put his life at stake and wants to become an explorer!

“And the funding?” people ask. Same answer:

“In shallah, when time is ready, all things will fall in place….”

I have slowly turned my mind into the Arab way of thinking, as you see, all is written in the stars already, so why worry….;-)….So right now, am trying to check out of Sweden, which isn´t all to easy. There´s the Internet company who says I need to pay another three months, the gym wants an additional month and so on…..times are hard, so nobody is really helpful, they want their money, whether they need it or not…hardest is getting the time to meet all my best friends…I will soon say goodbye to my family, which is always a nightmare, but I have done so many times now, so it is part of life….

But, once on the Expedition, all these normal day worries will be gone with the wind!

Just a small report from the flat….

”What is her name?” I asked Mussalam Bin Hassan and he forwarded the question immediately to his friend, Mussalam, who shook his head and said in Arabic: “The female camels are all named after their grandmother.”

“You can give her a name then”, Bin Hassan said in perfect English to me, but then changed his mind and said: “Let us call her Sahara! It means desert in Arabic.”

I then went up to Sahara, stroked her long neck and patted her cheeks at the same time she was hobbled by her front legs, lying on all four as a sphinx on the desert floor. The surroundings where spectacular, burning orange red sand dunes all around and total silence. Suddenly Sahara looked at me, gave out a loud gurgle and vomited a green foul smelling substance straight on my face. I realized that I would have preferred a better start to my visit in the southern most tip of the biggest sand desert in the world – Rub Al-Khali.

The major reason for my visit was to find out if I really had my heart into my next big project, Expedition Arabia by camel, maybe as much as 7000 km:s of desert travel with camel during at least 18 months. One of the last great Expeditions on earth. I have the last two years found myself in limbo, not enjoying life too much, not knowing what to do with life. Suddenly, I just realized, by pure coincidence, whilst visiting a lecture by an oil company and seeing the words Rub al-Khali written on a map, that is it! Arabia! That is my next Expedition! Well, anyway, whilst taking a look at a world map of Arabia I saw the full picture. And one of the major obstacles on such an Expedition would be a passing of this legendary desert, Rub Al-Khali, made famous by the legendary British explorer Wilfred Thesiger. Since then, well, as always, forgetting the local Bedu who live here, who crossed for necessity up until the early seventies when Oman was thrown in no time into the modern era, an unsupported passage has not been done by a westerner since 1949. So, I was in the Empty Quarter to try to find out if I still had what it takes to do a big Expedition. Meaning checking that I really had the heart into it had the right motivation and physical and mental stamina. And hopefully find one or two Arabs preferably of Bedouin origin to join me, because I want my project to be an Expedition where east and West travels together and build bridges between people and cultures. A project also to promote Arabia and Arabs. I have realized a long time ago that we in the west have a terrible picture of this part of the world and its people. And it is getting worse by the day. Something has to be done. I will do my best to balance it a bit. Because, after a few days with three great Bedu in a small tiny part of Rub Al Khali, I know that some of the best people on earth live here!

See the slideshow from my visit in Rub Al-Khali here

See the slideshow from Oman here

“Your plan sounds epic but I can see huge problems being allowed to travel through saudi and yemen is still incredibly unstable and potentially dangerous – even if you are travelling as and with the bedu.”
Now, this is where you mentally start to prepare for all the obstacles waiting, because it is alway the same story, every unique Expedition is full of obstacles mainly in the shape of bureaucracy, and of course, some physical hardships. But I know, from 25 years experience, especially in the situation I am facing and going through today, I have only one chance to turn things around, especially for myself, I just need to make an Expedition on the same scale as the Kolyma Expedition. Even though the Arabian Peninsula offers a very challenging and very difficult environment, it will not be on the same scale as the Kolyma. So, what then does a real explorer do? First of all, he asks himself, what is it that I want to do, more important than anything else?
Well, what I want to do, the foundation of the Expedition, the main reason, is to build a bridge between the Moslem East and the Western World. It is probably the most important mission I have ever had. I want the Arabs to tell their own story. Just as the Russians, Even, Evenk and Chukchi during the Kolyma Expedition. I want to put a face on the Arabs for the west, so that we can kill all this animosity which occurs at the moment. I want to make a film, a book, lectures and an Expedition to show the rest, very ignorant at times, of the world, this great part with some of the most fantastic people on the globe – Arabs and Arabia.
Secondly, you bring out the maps. Today on the Internet. Now, when you look up Arabia on the net and on the same time, check a map of the worlds deserts, we do get a different picture. And a different expedition. Woow! Now, when I as a professional explorer look at this new Expedition and evaluate it, the Kolyma Expedition looks like a warm up.
By the way, looking at the same map, I realise that I have actually passed through some of them on the ole push bike. The Thar Desert, Iranian Desert, The Sahara, The Atacama Desert, The Mojave and Sonoran Desert and also, on horse back, the Patagonian Desert. The photo is from the Sahara desert, which I crossed on a push bike in the 1989-90, the Tamanrasset Route. I did the most difficult part, the stretch between Tamanrasset in Algeria to Agadez in Niger together with two excellent chaps, Charlie, on te picture, and Mick James. I´ve lost touch with Charlie a long time ago, but I communicate with Mick on and off, who lives in Scotland. Now, what o you think about all that?