| Issue october 2000 | Archive | © Diana Matar and related links reportage Meat for thought Navigate this story: Back | Next | 7 of 12 |
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| The camels at the Cairo market have come a long way. The ride from the western deserts of the Sudan to the Egyptian border town of Shalateen takes between 25 to 35 days, depending on the weather, the health of the herd and the experience and mercy of the herdsman. Trucks then drive them here, forty kilometres south of Cairo, to be sold for meat. to continue reading click here or scroll down |
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The herdsmen who travelled with these camels from the Sudan went back before the animals were sold in Shalateen, but the Sudanese camel owners from Khartoum regard this Egyptian sale very highly and they have come. They stand out in their bright white jalabias (Arabic long dresses for men) which glow on their dark skin. I passed an owner who smelt of musk (the real thing, not the chemically produced stuff made in Parisian laboratories, but the kind sold in 5 ml. bottles in countries where it is appreciated and more crucially affordable, mostly in the Gulf States). I harbour an appreciation for such scents and have spent more money than is sensible in moments of pleasurable weakness buying mere millilitres. I greeted him. He could tell from my accent and manner that I was not Egyptian. "Where are you from?" he asked. I told him and he said, "Libyans are a Bedouin people too, like us." I smiled and thanked him for the compliment. I asked him about the camels. He told me where they were reared and by what route they were brought here. When I asked him if he travelled with them, he smiled and replied, "No. I flew here." Later and throughout the day, whenever our eyes met we both smiled and nodded our heads respectfully, but both our smiles and eyes were equally melancholy. I wondered why we both felt an affinity among the crowds. His income depended on the these camels, but he too no longer used them in the way our grandparents did. The daily functions of his life and mine no longer depend upon these animals, and yet we have both inherited a capacity to respect and admire them, which binds us. This realisation saddened me; I felt a pity toward this Sudanese camel dealer who has to witness the humiliation of a fine and noble animal more frequently than I. I cannot judge him, for I do not know why he is part of a trade that abuses and shames the memory of our forefathers, but I can empathise with his melancholy which, like mine, is silent and tender. |
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