Another flight brought us into a different country, the land
of the Bedouins on the Sinai Peninsula.
We arrived late Saturday night on the coast of the Red Sea to Sharm
El-Sheik, world-renown for its diving and extravagant surroundings. We met Mohammed who instead drove us 240
kilometers into the heart of the desert. We arrived at an altitude of 1600 meters and near
freezing temperatures at the Bedouin Camp in the village of St. Catherine.
Bundling ourselves under heavy blankets in an austere room, we settled in for a
long peaceful night of sleep.
Run by two Bedouin brothers belonging to the Jabeliya tribe
(which is one of seven tribes in the area), we were their only guests. Not only was it the off-season, but general
tourist apathy in the Middle East had dented the economy. Naturally, they were most hospitable and after
a generous breakfast of dates, tomatoes, bread, eggs, yogurt, and tea we made a
plan to hike Mt. Sinai later in the day.
In the meantime, we walked through town, bought a few snacks, and organized
ourselves. As the only Westerners, we
were completely unhassled; instead people greeted and welcomed us to the town.
Mt. Sinai surely had its place in history but was only one
of several peaks in the area. We set out
in the early afternoon for the longer less-travelled trail on the backside of
the mountain. Apparently most people in
the middle of the night walk the route closest to the highway and arrive at the
summit for sunrise. On the advice of the
owner Saleh, we did the reverse. Walking
through valleys and dry river beds, we passed by abandoned but still maintained
monasteries. Saleh explained that there
is a general respect for “this holy mountain and area, regardless of
religion”. His ancestors came from Greece
and Romania, sent by the Byzantine Emperor Justinian to protect the Greek
Orthodox monasteries in the early 600’s, although he and his family are now
Muslim. This sentiment seemed to form
many people’s attitudes in Egypt as Coptic churches coexisted next to
mosques. Given all the religious turmoil
of the past thousand years, finding common ground bodes well for peace.
The hike was not too terribly technical and the altitude did
not seem to affect us at all. We arrived
at the summit of 7500 feet just minutes before sunset. Before us laid a gorgeous panorama of craggy
peaks as far as the eye could see.
Besides a few vendors selling hot drinks, there were only two other
tourists sharing the view. What had taken us three hours to climb still took
two and half hours to descend in the dark.
We marveled at the brilliant constellations as we navigated the narrow
pathways back down to the village.
Under a tent with tables and large floor cushions, Saleh had
a fire going when we returned. Sitting
down around it, we slurped down a big bowl of lentil soup, with chunks of
crispy Egyptian bread in it. Friends and
family members passed by to share news as the evening progressed. We learned more about the area and Saleh’s story.
Saleh Mousa’s family and tribe had lived in the mountains
for fourteen hundred years. They had
learned to be flexible through conquering armies, tribal disputes, English
colonialism, Israeli occupation, and finally becoming a part of Egypt. They most clearly are not Egyptian though,
and like Bedouins in neightboring
countries, they were treated as second-class citizens. The saving grace came from the land’s rich
natural resources, namely oil, concrete, and limestone. His political views were quite straightforward
– Israelis were good people (in fact most everyone was in his opinion) and he
was fluent in Hebrew, but the government was awful. Former President Mubarek was a thief and criminal,
and he was doubtful that Morsi would now save the country from further ruin
(most Egyptians agreed with both of these sentiments). With only a high school education, he was
well-versed in current affairs and ran for Parliament ten years ago on a
platform defending the rights of the Bedouin.
He was arrested for what was seen as traitorous rhetoric, but then
released because of his status in the tribe.
He seemed to wear this as a badge of honor.
Only thirty-five years old, Saleh has committed himself to making the
town better. He built a new school. He built the Bedouin Camp and started the
tour business, employing many people.
The camp is a series of rooms built out of stone that look like Bedouin
houses. There were two tents with
cushions on which to recline and other areas to sit. Olive trees were planted and he brought us to
another garden outside of town. The landscape around the guesthouse reminded us
of Aus, Namibia although the mountains were much more towering here. Everywhere we walked, we saw thick and tall
stone walls, even in the deep recesses of the mountains. From where we ate breakfast, we watched
camels walking the same beaten path every morning.
We sat outside soaking up the winter sun, and continued our
reading and writing. For the remainder
of our week here, we took short walks and enjoyed village life. Yesterday on the first day of the new year,
we went on another six-hour hike up over one mountain into what is referred to
as “the garden”, an oasis of sorts, up through Wadi Al-Shaq to our guide’s
family home tucked away in a corner of the valley. There he made us tea from wild desert mint (a
sub-species of peppermint which tasted different) and we ate a light lunch.
The evening fire is a popular meeting spot for men. I felt welcome in their circle even as a
woman, but I know that is only because I am a tourist. We learned more about the village. The Monastery of the Sinai is an UNESCO World
Heritage Site and the village and surrounding area falls under that. Protected also are the hundreds of wild
medicinal herbs (30 only found in this area) which our guide Mousa showed us yesterday. When asked if there was a book, one man
replied no, but that all of the information was all on the internet.
Today was our last day here, and we woke to see a frost
cover everything outside. With no heat,
it was easy to stay longer under the blankets but we finally made it over to
the Monastery. Built in the mid 500’s,
it has served as a holy place for Christians, Jews, and Muslims. Secured and cloistered from its inception, it
had been given protection by the Prophet Mohammed, Arab Caliphs, Turkish
Sultans, and the rulers of Europe (Napoleon was a key benefactor). Reportedly the original burning bush and
Moses’ well were on site, although it really just looked like a bush and a hole
in the ground (that still had water).
There was also a mosque inside the Monastery walls (Prophet Mohammed was said to have visited). Because the
Monastery was only opened for three hours each day in the morning, there were
hundreds of visitors and pilgrims, mostly from Russia, Greece, and Eastern
Europe. After spending much of our time
alone in the desert, this was overwhelming to be surrounded by so many people. What was unfortunate was that the tourists came
to see the Monastery but then left before coming into the town.
What I found interesting was not only was the Monastery the
longest continuously active one in the world, but it boasted a rich library of
manuscripts on papyrus, parchment, and paper.
Ancient texts of the Bible in Greek and a dozen other languages were
written on beautifully gilded pages.
Because of the protection the monks continuously received, it’s well-preserved
collection of icons over the past fifteen hundred years was complete and
undamaged, making it one of the best in the world. The display was museum-quality and amazing to
see.
The Greek Orthodox chapel was ornate and splendid, but small
and crowded. Nevertheless, we were glad
to have spent time there. We spent the
rest of our time, enjoying the village and our time outside. We later went to the St. Catherine Protectorate Visitor's Center which wasn't opened (because the government is too cheap we were told) but Saleh knew someone who knew someone and we got in. Remarkable display about the land, the history, and its people.
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