What
is the nature of this magic? What is it that attracts
them to such an environment, which so many think
of as sterile and lifeless? Why the sprawling Egyptian
desert?
The answers to all of these questions can be found
in the literature on Egyptian deserts, in libraries
or on the Internet.
One
cannot help but notice that the writing on the subject
often sounds like a serenade of love for Egypt’s
deserts.
At
least part of the magic of the Western Desert lies
in its legends, legends like that of the lost Oasis
of Zarzora, or of the vanishing of Cambyses’
army two thousand and five hundred years ago. The
50,000-strong army had marched from Thebes (Luxor)
across the desert to destroy the Oracle of Amun
in Siwa. But according to Herodotus’ account
of the Persian invasion of Egypt, the army vanished
under the sands of a mighty sandstorm.
The Western Desert is unique in many sense; its
twelve depressions are littered with fossils of
corals, marine shells, sharks’ teeth, whale,
and even dinosaur skeletons, a testimony to the
Desert’s past as an ocean basin, millions
of years ago. Stone Age caves still bear the carvings
and paintings of the cavemen who once dwelt there,
images of their daily lives and a record of the
animals that once roamed the land; giraffes, elephants
and deer.
 The
massive dunes, some eighty meters in height, cover
an area of almost 135,000 km2.
All this contributes to the attraction the desert
holds for tourists. That’s why I took the
decision, October three years ago, to take a tour
of the Western Desert. I was encouraged by the fact
that Lt. Colonel Ahmed El-Mestekawi – locally
and internationally recognized for his expertise
on organizing desert safaris was going to be leading
the journey. I also knew that Mr. Wael Abed, author
of “The Other Egypt” (a detailed english
guide to the Western Desert, currently in its third
edition) would be joining us. We would also be accompanied,
among others, by a european Ambassador in love with
Egypt, its history, and its deserts.
It had been decided that our journey would start
from Shali Fortress in Siwa Oasis in a few days.
It embarrasses me to admit it, but it was to be
my first visit to Siwa. The Oasis has acquired international
status due to the presence of one of the sole remaining
monument from Alexander The Great’s history
- the Temple of the Oracle of Amun. Very little
else has survived from the short-lived conqueror’s
time. The Oasis is also full of legends that call
to travelers.
The
journey was an experience I would never forget.
The company you share on any journey affects each
minute of your trip and your anticipation of each
new day. We were a great group, and that was a major
reason for the success of that journey and the profound
impact it had on me.
The
day before my journey was scheduled to begin, I
left Cairo for Siwa in the afternoon, driven by
the tourism company that had organized the trip.
The air became fresher as we moved further away
from the cities. Eventually, we were driving with
the sea on our right and stretches of sand on our
left. Flocks of birds flew overhead. We reached
Mersa Matruh, 479 km away, at sunset. After refueling,
we continued on to Siwa Oasis, another 220 km, driving
down a secluded road.
As we approached Siwa, I realized that the oasis
was not visible even when we were within 15 km of
it. The road seemed to stretch on endlessly. But
then it tilted downward, and suddenly I was confronted
with the oasis that I had heard and read about all
my life. It was breathtaking. I saw the dim lights
scattered here and there among the thick palm tree
plantations, the reflection of the moonlight in
its sliver lakes. Its beauty appears suddenly and
unexpectedly, as Siwa is in a depression sixty meters
beneath sea level, a geographical fact that helped
keep the oasis invisible and hidden away all these
centuries.
 I
was reminded of how Alexander the Great suffered
to find this oasis in his quest to reach the Oracle
of Amun. I recalled how he had almost lost his life
in the search, before finally reaching it and being
crowned King of Egypt and Son of God. In the moonlight,
I saw Queen Khamisa’s hill on the far west
side, now known as the White Mountain. To the east
was Gebel al-Mawta, the Mountain of the Dead, and
before me stood the grand fortress of Shali.
We
stopped at the eco-friendly Siwa Safari Paradise
Hotel, owned by Lt. General Mustafa Abdul Aziz.
The two-storey hotel is situated in the middle of
a palm tree plantation. The first tourist establishment
built in Siwa, the hotel is adorned with a mineral
water spring in its center. I dined and went to
bed, sleeping deeply in a quiet I had not felt for
many years.
I
rose at dawn the following day and had my breakfast
next to the spring. I was introduced to Lt. General
Abdul Aziz and his son, Mohamed, who manages the
hotel. After chatting for a while, I took my backpack
and left the hotel, dressed in my safari garb. Five
minutes later, I was in front of Shali Fortress
and our expedition’s jeeps, where I was introduced
to the group I’d be traveling with. They were
all cheerful, and we were all eagerly awaiting the
start of our four-day journey, a trip that would
take us all the way to Bahariya Oasis, 334 kilometers
south of Giza.
I
handed my backpack to Ghardon, our driver and cook,
who would work tirelessly throughout our trip, and
whose smile never left his cheerful Nubian face.
While waiting for the rest of our group, the distinctive
sounds of anasheed, or religious chanting, reached
my ears, a kind I’d never heard before. I
saw a large number of local men approaching the
city center, wearing loose, white-colored costumes
and carrying green flags with Quranic inscriptions
emblazoned across them. Their numbers increased
as they came closer to Shali Fortress, until they
stopped in front of a large, white shrine beside
the mosque commissioned by Kings Fouad and Farouk.
I was later informed that it was the shrine of Sidi
Suleiman, a local saint. I saw the mass of people
gracefully swaying to the rhythm of the anasheed,
their chanting growing louder and louder, and then
stopping.
Then
everybody started shaking hands and exchanging greetings
before departing. I asked a passerby what was going
on, and he told me that it was the last day of Siwa’s
yearly three-day religious festival, held after
the full moon of the month of October. He described
how, during the feast, Siwa’s elders would
arbitrate local disputes, marriages would take place,
and the dates and olives were harvested. I immediately
decided to visit the oasis the following year, to
watch and record the whole ceremony.
After
the introductions were made, we got into the jeeps
and started heading east. After an hour, the convoy
went off the road, bearing north, to stop at Areg
oasis, which was situated in a deep depression that
could not be approached by cars due to the fragility
of the surrounding earth. Thus, we stopped on a
strategically located hill that allowed us an excellent
view of that beautiful oasis and the ancient cemeteries
carved into its sides while we ate a light meal.
At some point during the meal, the tour leader suggested
I look under my feet.
I
discovered that I was standing on thousand of uniformly-shaped
stones, flat and circular, much like coins. They
were known as angels’ coins or desert dollars.
Lt. Colonel Mestekawi told us that this was just
the first of many unique natural phenomena that
we would encounter during this journey.
An hour later, our convoy headed back towards the
road and eastwards again. We stopped at two oases;
Bahrein and Nuwamisa, where we saw a number of archeological
sites and sharks´ teeth scattered across the
sand. Soon afterwards, we stopped and erected a
tent to eat lunch, in preparation for the start
of the real desert journey.
We
headed south towards the Great Sand Sea, driving
across both low dunes and rocky terrain. We made
camp in the afternoon, each of us erecting our personal
tents, and then wandering around, taking pictures
and sight seeing, walking barefoot through the coarse
sand. The fine undulations in the sand, the delicacy
of the shells strewn around us, the stunning colors
of the sunset on the sand, all served to transport
us to a magical world. Soon after, lamps were lit,
and we sat down to dinner.
Gathered around the fire that night on Bedouin Siwan
rugs, hot drinks in hand, our conversation drifted
naturally to the adventurers who’d conquered
this desert:
Count Laszlo Almasy, Prince Kemal al-Din Hussein,
Patrick Clayton, and Gerhard Rohlfs. We talked of
the British Long Range Desert Group Patrol that
was formed to attack Rommel’s forces during
the battles of Alamein.
One
by one, each of us made his way back to his tent.
I noticed the Ambassador and his son dragging their
sleeping bags out onto the sand. Pointing at the
night sky, he explained that he could not deprive
himself and his son from the enjoyment of spending
the night beneath that divine beauty, the like of
which he had never seen in such complete purity.
I looked upwards at the dazzling sky, sparkling
with millions of stars and planets, briefly illuminated
every now and then by a shooting star streaking
across the sky. I spent the next hour on my back
outside the tent, relishing the stunning, wondrous
beauty of the sky, before finally seeking the shelter
of my tent for the night.
 I
realized how much beauty city people were missing,
beyond the wonders of nature, and I was pleased
I’d decided to take this trip. It saddens
me that whenever I have a conversation with most
of the younger generation, they believe that the
desert is death, arid and ugly. The truth is, it’s
completely the opposite.
Certainly, we’re Nile people, but it’s
still worth treading the desert that covers 94%
of Egyptian land, and seeing with one’s eyes
the breath-taking beauty and richness, and just
wander between its valleys, oases, mountains, and
dunes.
We awoke for breakfast in the chill dawn air. We
ate our food tousled and half-asleep, before packing
up our tents and equipment, ensuring no trace of
our stay was left, loading up our jeeps and finally
driving off.
Our convoy finally reached the Great Sand Sea, a
beautiful expanse of gigantic sand dunes, some eighty
meters high. We slid rapidly across the steep dunes,
from dune crest to bottom. Driving over the dunes
was a strange experience. The movement was soft,
with no vibrations; it felt like we were moving
on clouds. In the distance, hawks flew over the
stony hills, like Amoud Rock.
During
that journey, I fantasized that some time in the
future, the drifting dunes would reveal the lost
army of Cambyses, a discovery that I imagined would
have an even greater impact than the discovery of
Tutankhamen’s tomb over seventy years ago.
Around five in the afternoon, we stopped at the
base of a dune and made camp. While dinner was being
prepared, I came across some of the local insect
life in that secluded place: green colored flies,
and a species of tiny spider that buries itself
under the sand. Climbing one of the nearby dunes,
I examined a handful of sand. The grains were differently
colored; yellow, white, red, black, and a transparent
crystal-like grain. I lay back on the top of the
dune for almost an hour, watching the sunset in
the clear sky, the colors reflecting off the dunes
and our camp.
I was soon roused from my contemplation by the call
to dinner. I climbed down to camp for dinner and
my second night of sleep in the desert.
Praying in the desert is a totally different spiritual
experience than in the city. Ritual ablution is
done with desert sand to preserve water, though
we had come prepared for most eventualities. Completely
isolated, one can feel and see the greatness of
the Creator all around, surrounded by a serene beauty
everywhere. There, one could concentrate deeply
and in great humbleness, closer to Allah than ever.
I was reminded of Allah’s messenger, and his
profound relationship with the desert, and contemplated
the meaning of that relationship.
The following day we headed east towards Ain Dalla.
Two hours into the trip, we arrived at Gebel Sofra,
or Table Hill. Our vehicles made their way up a
nearby hill, where, amazingly, the rocks that covered
the hill were almost completely spherical in shape,
allowing us to enjoy ourselves, literally bowling
while lunch was being made. Taking a closer look,
I noticed many of the rocks had taken rare, surreal
shapes; some of them had edged protrusions that
ended with identical perfectly-rounded globes, shaped
by erosion and the winds.
During lunch, Colonel El-Mestekawi told us that
there are many caves in Gebel Sofra, caves that
had been used by the British Long Range Desert Group
Patrol reconnaissance forces to store fuel, ammunition
and provisions for operations against Rommel’s
forces. After lunch break, we continued on towards
Ain Dalla, stopping to replace a burst tire on one
of the jeeps, sustained while crossing an expanse
of razor-sharp stones.
Seeing the greenery of the palm trees after two
days in the deep desert had a profound effect on
me.
We
stopped by the spring, situated in the middle of
a vast, isolated desert, two hundred kilometers
away from both Siwa and Farafra. I sipped the pure,
cool water, recalling from my readings how this
same spring was and still is a vital stop for journeys
through the desert, where weary caravans stopped
to replenish their water supplies and rest after
days of travelling.
 An
hour later, we headed east on a semi-flat road known
as Darb Ain Dalla. After a while, white shapes started
to appear in the distance. Sometimes the yellowish
sand could be seen covered totally with a white
chalk layer. We were informed that we were crossing
the spectacular natural phenomenon called the White
Desert. The vehicles went off the road and into
that desert, where a wonderful location was selected,
situated in the middle of a number of differently
sized chalk shapes and rocky mountains up to 30
meters high, with ripples of sand in between. We
were urged to take pictures and videos to memorize
the scenery.
We
made camp before wandering around, examining the
terrain’s features and the different shapes
of shells, corals, and iron pyrites in the chalk.
I also spotted a number of hawks flying agitatedly
over us, and we were informed that our camp was
close to their nests.
After sunset, one cannot adequately describe the
effect of the silvery moonlight reflected on the
white chalk, which left us all transported. We ate
our dinner surrounded by that beauty and serenity,
visited by a gerbil, who hopped around us. At that,
our third night had ended, and we slept deeply.
I
rose with the sun, and lifting my tent flap, I recognized
the tracks of a fennec fox, famous for its big ears
and white color, in the sand around my tent. After
packing up, we traveled twenty kilometers to the
east and then to the south, towards Farafra Oasis.
We
pulled up in front of a warm mineral water spring
the size of a small swimming pool. Lt. Colonel El-Mestekawi
stepped down and told us that we could swim if we
wanted to. Five minutes later, we all jumped into
the water. After three days in the desert, strictly
economizing in the water usage, the ability to swim
was a great sensation.
After
our swim, we walked into the oasis, wandering among
its houses. We visited its fortress, once twelve
meters high, with 226 chambers, each designated
for one family of the oasis’ inhabitants in
the case of raids. But due to rains, most of that
fortress’ buildings—made of clay—were
destroyed. We also bought some local products, such
as socks made of camel wool, pottery, and dates.
Later, we pulled out of the oasis, heading towards
Bahariya Oasis (almost 200 km away), where we saw
the black desert at the oasis’ southern entrance,
a phenomenon due to the increased iron content in
its soil.
Bahariya Oasis is the Western Desert’s closest
to Cairo.
In
1914, a 90-million year-old skeleton of Stromer’s
Tidal Giant—at 25 meters tall and 80 tons
heavy, the largest herbivores dinosaur—was
discovered there. In 1996, the Valley of Golden
Mummies was accidentally discovered.
At the time of our visit, they’d already excavated
105 mummies, most of them covered with a fine layer
of gold. Consequently, the oasis has acquired a
substantial degree of fame in terms of cultural
and safari tourism.
We
visited the oasis’ most famous archeological
sites before moving back out into the desert to
spend the final night. At the dawn of the fifth
day, the convoy began the 350 km trip back to Cairo,
driving us back home, satisfied, and with wonderful
and unforgettable memories of the desert’s
beauty.
I went back to Siwa the following year and spent
a week there under the full October moon, observing
the Siwans’ annual three-day festival’s
rituals and celebrations, a custom two centuries
old. |
Travelouge: 
