Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'Look,' I said, half to convince myself, 'it'll be okay. We have enough water for three,
maybe four days - that should get us almost half way. And, if the worst happens, well, the
river's never more than 40km away. That's only a day's walk. If things get low, that's what
we do - we head for the river.'
'Yes,' said Moez, with a hint of cynicism, 'and hope the soldiers from the dam don't
notice when we drop our heads to drink.'
Though Will seemed pacified, the look on Ash's face had only hardened. He stared at
me, mortified. 'I don't really have a choice, do I?' he said. 'Lev, I'm just going to have to
trust that you won't kill me . . .'
As Will and Ash settled back down, I stared at Awad and Ahmad. In the starlight, they
looked particularly roguish, spreading out their camp. Neither one of them seemed the least
bit perturbed; perhaps there was a lesson to learn from that.
'They must be confident they'll find a well,' I said, reassured by their calmness.
'No.' Moez grinned. 'They're just confident they can be the first to jump on a camel and
get to the river . . .'
'But, Moez, there are only three camels.'
'And six of us.' He grinned. 'Let's hope it doesn't come to that, right?'
We were up with the dawn but, by 6.30am, the temperature was already 28 degrees, and
quickly getting worse. By the time we had covered our first three kilometres, it was inching
towards 40; then it exploded, past 40, 45 and 50. When we broke for water, Moez pressed
the thermometer to the sand and recorded a high of 62.
It was our second day and we had already used almost half of our water.
We made a midday camp, stretching the tarpaulin over thorny acacia for shade, and
resigned ourselves to waiting out the worst of the day's heat - but by the time the camp
was established and we were closing our eyes, desperate to conserve what energy we had,
the camels began to grow skittish. When I looked round, Moez was stripping off his turban
and rebinding it around his face. That was the first signal that something bad was coming;
the second was the wall of brown hardening on the horizon.
I turned to Will and Ash. '
Haboob
,' I said. 'Look, do what Moez does, and try not to
panic. We just have to wait it out.'
The brown line on the horizon seemed small, but what we were seeing was only the first
wave of a tide of dust and sand rampaging our way. I had seen
haboobs
before, but only
from the comfort of a camp along the roadside, where adobe walls could shelter us from
the onslaught. What we were looking at was none other than a land tsunami - a vicious
maelstrom that tore up everything in its path, gathering up sand, earth, grit, and moulding
it into a single, unstoppable wave. In the time it had taken me to explain it to Will and Ash,
