When I left off in my previous post we had just docked on Kamaran at the island camp, which is owned the wonderful Mohammed and Magda, a married couple who claim roots in Yemen and Germany. I will leave figuring out which one is German and which one is Yemeni to the reader, a task that should not be too difficult. Along with the island tourist camp, they also operate a restaurant in the Old City of Sana’a, Two Moons Restaurant & Cafe. The ‘Two Moons’ name is better understood when one knows the story behind it, which requires a brief digression and a small lesson in Arabic (which I hope I am getting right!).
From what I have gathered in my personal research, Kamaran was originally called ‘Qamaran,’ but the name was changed due to difficulties that some of the Western (European) occupying powers had in correctly pronouncing it. The ‘q’ written in phonetic translations of Arabic to English represents the Arabic letter qaf, pronounced similarly to cough. The word qamaran in Arabic means ‘two moons’ and was chosen as the name for the island because of a double reflection of the moon that can be seen there at different times throughout each month. As a result of this original name and its meaning, it seems Mohammed and Magda decided to use it as inspiration when naming their restaurant, which, on a side note, I have visited several times but not yet eaten at. My first visit there, a few days before our departure, was so I could give Mohammed a fifty percent advance payment for our stay. This allowed me a chance to meet Mohammed and to learn a bit more about the accommodations they provide on the island. In our brief meeting Mohammed also told me that either he or Magda has to be at the island to run the business, meaning they spend the majority of their time apart. Nevertheless, they both seem to be happy people and I hope are happily married as well.
Back to the island. After exiting the water craft and unloading our few things, we made our way towards the main building of the complex, which is one of the three actual buildings located there, the others being a bath/shower house (which lacks adequate plumbing, including the ability to flush) and a small shed used by the workers. The remaining structures, including all the guest rooms, are Tihama-style huts consisting of long, dried reed-type plants assembled in a circular fashion around a central framework of logs and covered with a roof of tightly woven dried reeds. The huts do have a concrete floor and a power outlet, but besides that are quite primitive and similar to those employed by people of the Tihama region. Tihama refers to a narrow coastal area along the Arabian peninsula’s Red Sea coast. After my somewhat negative comments about Hodeidah and the surrounding area in my previous post, I was somewhat relieved to find out, via Wikipedia and Brittanica Online, that the Tihama region is one of the hottest places on earth. Our stay here was about two weeks before the end of summer, meaning the temperatures can be worse, but were still on the hotter side. I am not a wuss after all, and from what I have read only seasoned locals can truly tolerate the heat.
As we approached the central building we saw a couple small groups of other guests, but had the place mostly to ourselves for the time being. Once we made it inside we were soon greeted by Magda, who informed us that she had just put away the food from the midday meal after leaving it out for us for an extra hour or two. Despite this, she asked if we were hungry and if we would like some of the food heated up for a late lunch. Since we had not eaten much since breakfast other than snacks of fruit, dried fruit, and nuts, we decided it would be a good idea to have something. I wish they had left the food unheated because of the ridiculous heat, but I did not care to interfere with their normal manner of doing things, especially after making it clear that I did not consume animal products. Magda told us the food would be ready in about thirty minutes, which gave us a chance to put our things down, rest in the shade for a bit, and familiarize ourselves with the small layout of the grounds.
After our short wait we enjoyed a delicious meal that was characteristic of the food prepared by their kitchen: a unique mix of German and Yemeni cuisines. Though I obviously did not partake in any of it, one of the main foods offered is freshly caught fish or as Magda put it “the catch of the day.” The rest of the food consisted of lentil soup, a vegetable salad made with cucumbers, tomatoes, chopped cabbage, and peppers, and routi, the long, thin bread loaves seen all over Yemen. These dishes, along with foul, a traditional Yemeni dish made with fava beans that are slow cooked with spices, oil, and peppers, rice, potatoes, and hard boiled eggs were about all of what was offered during our stay (and likely always). Each meal is a bit different, however, as the kitchen staff has become quite creative in presenting these core ingredients in different ways to prevent too much monotony in the menu. Overall I was quite pleased with the food we ate throughout our stay and am glad I decided to pay for the full accommodations, which included three meals a day.
Once we had eaten what seemed like a feast, we all set about exploring the island in our own ways. For Deryk, Lisa, and Ela this meant going for a swim in the water to cool off, though we would all find out swimming in this part of the Red Sea does not really cool one off in the normal sense because the water temperature remains as warm as bathwater. Nevertheless, I imagine this is how most people spend their first afternoon on Kamaran as well as the majority of their time out of the shade. As with many things I choose to do, however, my first afternoon and the majority of my time exploring the island was not typical. Despite the nearly unbearable heat I was excited to get out and explore the terrain by foot, which is my preferred activity when visiting any new place. After downing a liter or so of water, filling my 1.5 L CamelBak water bladder, and losing my shirt, I was ready to take on my new environment and began trekking.
Since I wanted to see the coast, I maintained a relatively close distance to the shore, which on Kamaran consists mostly of a four foot cliff-drop off made of coral and rock. As I walked I continually scanned my surroundings and felt myself really digging being alone in the middle of this desert landscape. As I mentioned previously, Kamaran is a coral shelf island and as a result much of the ground is covered with a unique mixture of sand, crushed rock of a reddish-brown color, and washed up chunks of coral and sea shells. This, coupled with the virtually treeless topography made me at times feel like I was walking on Mars. The views in front of me, especially once I ventured away from the coast, evoked images I have seen of our red neighbor taken by satellites and other space equipment. One main difference between Mars and Kamaran, however, is that Mars actually has some change in elevation. Kamaran’s highest point, I have read, is 24 meters high, but because it is on the southeastern point of the island, the views I had in most of my walks, including the present one, were of some of the flattest land I have seen in my life. This is saying a lot, given that I am a South Dakota native and have spent nearly all of my life on the Great Plains. Nevertheless, I continued to absorb the new milieu and several times even did some running.
The further I distanced myself from the island camp, I began to notice more trash laying near the coast. It is difficult to predict exactly where it comes from, but regardless I found it disappointing to again see so much rubbish lying around. Besides the garbage I also saw some old fishing equipment and several abandoned boats, some as big or bigger than the one which ferried us to the island earlier. The only other company I had were some seagulls and, when I was near the water, a few small tadpole-type creatures. I was happy to see the seagulls, as these are one of both mine and my brother’s favorite animals. One of the main reasons for this is because of how diverse seagulls seem to be. I have seen them on both coasts of the United States, in Oregon, Maine, New Jersey, and North Carolina, throughout the Dakota prairie, and now inside the inferno of hell. Okay, it was not all that hot at this moment, I just want to make clear that it is really damned hot at almost all hours of the day in this area.
Each time I see seagulls I cannot help but think of some of the many memories my brother and I share in seeing them in our travels. Standing out the most is a beautiful moment he and I shared at the top of Dorr Mountain on Mount Desert Island in Maine, where we watched a seagull hover for several minutes only a few meters from where we sat. Though he is the only other person who knows the exact experience and feelings I am trying to convey, I feel it is important to share this memory because of how much of a beautiful moment it was, truly Zen-like. I am also telling it to encourage others to step into moments such as these and allow life to simply transpire around yourself, rather than engaging in our usual human tendency to control or manipulate our environment and time. I have found these experiences to be beneficial not only in the instant they occur, but also in future life experiences, as the details noticed in these moments can later bring one back to the place, mentally speaking, enjoyed in that former time. In this example, mine and John’s seagull friends act as reminders of that peaceful moment we shared on top of the mountain and help us return to that state when we see them.
Again I have drifted, while necessarily, from my current focus. Allow me to return. As I continued to walk, I periodically picked up some of the larger shells I saw and decided to keep several that I would use as decorations in my barren apartment. Throughout this walk I also managed to take many pictures, some which turned out spectacularly, especially because of the interesting lighting provided by the gradually setting sun. Because the sun continued to sink closer to the horizon, I decided it would be in my best interests to begin my way back towards the island camp, even though the idea of spending the night in the barren terrain was alluring.
On my return I first headed inland until I could no longer see the coast and was then completely surrounded by my make-believe Mars’ landscape. While I walked I also noticed a bit of vegetation and made a point to check it out on my way back. From my visual tracking of both this small growth of vegetation and the silhouette of the island camp in the distance, I realized how difficult it is to gauge distance without having any consistent landmarks around. I imagine this characteristic of desert landscapes has gotten many travelers in precarious situations, as things can often look much closer than they are in actuality. Fortunately in my case, I knew exactly where my shelter and access to food and water were, but this is not always so for those walking across desert areas. By this time the sun’s light had almost disappeared and I finished the last few hundred meters in near darkness, moving towards the lights of the island camp like an insect drawn to a floodlight. When I arrived I met back up with Deryk, Lisa, and Ela and we exchanged stories of our evenings. Not long after this supper was served and we once again ate some of the delicious German-Yemeni cooking from the kitchen staff.
After finishing our meal we soon began to prepare for bed, as we were all exhausted, both from our long day of travel and the relentless heat. Unfortunately this first night at the island would end up being a rather miserable experience, though I can honestly say I fared better than my traveling comrades as well as many of the other guests of the island. There were several factors which made this night so unpleasant with the heat taking the trophy for being the worst. Along with the heat was incessant barking of the island camp’s dog throughout the night and the lack of ventilation in the huts in which we stayed. At breakfast the following morning I learned that nearly everyone besides me, including Deryk, Lisa, and Ela, the workers, and most of the guests, had moved their cots out of the huts during the night and opted to sleep under the stars where a bit of a breeze could be found. When I told my friends that I had stayed in my hut and slept they could not believe that I had managed to sleep in there. I personally believe I was able to stay because of all the hot summer nights from my childhood spent in a house without any air-conditioning and with little in regards for ventilation. I actually found the dog’s barking to be much more bothersome and difficult to ignore than I did the heat.
Regardless of the reason for a poor night of sleep, it appeared everyone on the camp shared this experience, which made for a somewhat apathetic breakfast crowd. Despite this lack of zest, we all made the best of the situation and felt better after a meal of foul (fool) and bread, raw vegetables, and coffee (at least this is what I had). After finishing breakfast I decided I was going to walk to the village of Kamaran, which is roughly six km from the island camp. Before I started my walk, however, I struck up a conversation with a pair of Norwegian girls whom I had saw on our arrival the previous day. I soon learned their names, which I cannot remember now, and that they were in Yemen as part of a graduate study one of them was completing. Her research involved the Jewish population in Sana’a’s Old City and had been ongoing for a few years now. This was her fourth time in Yemen, the first coming five years ago to study Arabic at the same institute I began my studies. Ironically, she had the same teacher then that I now have helping me in my studies. We enjoyed a mutually engaging conversation for the next twenty to thirty minutes and even made plans to go dirt bike riding later that evening.
When I left the Norwegians I began to prepare for my trek through the desert. Although everyone thought I was insane for wanting to go walking across the island in the heat of the day, I was excited and drank several bottles of water before leaving. I also made sure to fill my CamelBak and to grab my camera and cell phone. I then set off for the village, this time in the opposite direction I had gone the previous night. Before I continue on about the walk, I want to be sure I mention how Deryk and Lisa encouraged me to wear sunscreen and how I ignored their conventional wisdom, mostly out of habit and perhaps a bit of pride. I assured them they could tease me and say, “I told you so,” if I ended up with a sunburn and told them I have just never got in the habit of wearing sunscreen and prefer not to. More on that later.
Since I had already seen a good portion of the coast on my first walk, I decided to stay further inland on this walk and see what surprises the island may have for me. The first landmark I cam to was an old, crumbling building that provided me with some interesting photo opportunities. I am unsure what the building was once used for, but would guess it belonged to the British from their occupation of the island. A bit further along was an abandoned military post that consisted of an old building foundation and four large guns/cannons, each mounted on a set of wheels and appearing to have been dormant for quite some time. It seems odd that these would have just been left here, especially given the possibility that someone could fix them up and use them, but there does not appear to be a problem, as they had clearly been sitting untouched for a number of years.
By the time I reached this old military camp I had been walking for a little over an hour and the sun was alive and well on the island. Despite the rising temperatures I felt good and was enjoying my desert trekking. Thus far I had been alone, but as I reached the top of the small hill behind the military equipment I was greeted by a small flock of goats that appeared to be picking at the sparse, and nearly invisible, vegetation on the rocky ground. I am still unsure whether these goats were wild or belonged to the villagers on Kamaran, but either way their presence made me smile and provided some variety in my walk. Behind the goats was a cluster of buildings, each in a different state of dilapidation and appearing to be abandoned. I made my way towards this area and walked into one of the buildings through what was once a doorway. The small structure looked like it could have once been a home and some of the walls were still decorated with various things, including Arabic phrases, a Yemeni flag, and, if I remember correctly, a calendar and a picture of President Saleh. These remaining signs of life gave the building a slightly eerie feeling and made it seem as though it had been left in a bit of haste. After taking a few pictures I made my way out through the opposite side in another former doorway. Immediately as I stepped outside I managed to startle both myself and a donkey that had been standing in the shadow of the building. Once I had gained my composure I followed the donkey over towards another building, this one in an even greater state of disrepair. Standing both near and inside this building were two more donkeys, looking just as melancholy as the first one I had seen.
At this point I was almost convinced that I was in an old village that had been abandoned for a spot a few hundred yards down the coast. However, as I approached the next section of buildings, which looked slightly better but were still run-down, I saw the first humans of the village area. Although Kamaran receives a fair share of tourists, I do not think the men I saw have seen very many walking around their island shirtless in the midday heat. A few appeared to be working, but the majority (which was only a handful) seemed to be taking refuge from the heat in the shade of the buildings. After a taking a few pictures and giving the place one last look around, I decided to make my way back to the camp. Just as I was leaving the area, a truck with three Yemenis pulled up and asked if I needed a ride. “La (no),” I said, while making a walking motion with my hand back towards the island camp. The men understood my answer but the looks on their faces seemed to say, “Why the hell do you want to walk in this heat?” Nonetheless, I continued on my own legs from their sleepy area and plotted a mental sketch of the route I would take back. Previously, on the way to the village, I had spotted a small mosque about a kilometer further inland and now, leaving the village, decided to head for it. Besides the ruins and military equipment from earlier, the mosque, which was semi-surrounded by a small oasis, was about the only other structure between the village and the island camp, so there was not much else to aim for.
After perhaps twenty minutes I was within a hundred yards from the mosque, and upon seeing it recalled a conversation Derek and I had during our drive through the mountains the day before. We had seen a similarly sized mosque in an open field near the road, which had prompted Derek to make the joke that it was like a “little mosque on the prairie,” an obvious reference to “The Little House on the Prairie.” After Derek’s comment I began to describe how this would make a great idea for an Islamic TV show, and was then surprised when Derek said that it already was the name of a TV show in Canada about a Muslim family living on the Canadian prairie. So much for that idea.
Regardless, here I stood at the small ‘mosque on the desert island’ and tried to imagine when it was built and how much use it had seen in its existence. Based solely on its exterior I would guess it is not much more than fifty years old, but still do not know its age or how frequently it is used at the present. Thinking back to its location, I am still perplexed why the mosque was built in that particular location, given its relative isolation to the other small pockets of life on Kamaran Island; but like so many things Yemeni, there does not always have to be a specific reason or rationale for the way things are done and that is good enough for me. After hanging out in the area around the mosque and taking pictures of it and the small oasis that neighbored it, I continued on my way back to the camp. I had not walked even 100 meters when I saw a camel of the single-humped Dromedary species attempting to graze on the barren ground. Naturally curious, I made my way over to my new friend and got within arm’s reach from him. Although my friend never ran away from me, he also did not exactly stay put when I would get this close to him and kept turning away from me to walk, very slowly, in the opposite direction.
I enjoyed observing my camel friend and while doing so was reminded of an interesting experience my brother and I had on a ‘trip’ to the Bismarck Zoo a few years ago. This memory involved John and I spending an unusual amount of time watching the camels, the two-humped Bactrian species, and finding amazement in how these creatures evolved to look as they do today. Camels are typically found in arid and barren terrain, which forced them to adapt to limited access to water and food as well as extremes in temperatures. This is also why they developed their signature humps, which are not actually used for storing water but are a heavy concentration of fatty tissue that prevents them from having too much heat-trapping insulation around the rest of their body. Wow, evolution kicks ass. Despite being hardy creatures that have helped man as both a beast of burden as well as a food source, they have a somewhat grotesque shape that makes them rather unattractive. Unfortunately, my particular ungulate friend was also a bit on the gaunt side, which only added to its already peculiar appearance. Nonetheless, seeing this particular camel in its natural habitat helped me understand their evolutionary adaptations and appreciate their ability to withstand such extreme living conditions.
After my temporary travel companion abandoned me for good, I found my way back to the road leading to the camp and decided to go nonstop until I returned. This last leg of my morning hike was interspersed with intervals of running, which felt surprisingly good in the midmorning heat. By the time I had got back to the camp I had been gone for roughly two and a half hours and felt a bit hot and tired, but also refreshed. Shortly after returning I opted to get in the water to cool off and do some snorkeling. As I made my way into the water, I joined the two Norwegian friends I had made earlier that morning, who had been relaxing in the water since shortly after breakfast. While we enjoyed the slightly cooler temperature the water had to offer over the air, we continued to converse and again discussed our dirt biking plans for later that day. I then decided it was time to explore the underground world of the island’s coral reef and geared up with a snorkel.
Once I had submersed myself in the water, I began to take in the otherworldly landscape below me and found myself in awe of the incredible features of this habitat. All around me I saw signs of life: schools of colorful fish floating by, masses of uniquely shaped coral, dark sea urchins lurking along the bottom, and so many more things, much of which I likely did not even notice or see. Adding to the mystique and grandeur of this real-life underwater screen saver was the blissful silence that accompanied it, creating a peaceful atmosphere that made it very easy to concentrate and focus in. For the next thirty to forty-five minutes I dwelled in this world, leaving it only to empty my snorkeling equipment and to occasionally check my location. Knowing that I find deep and unfamiliar water to be unnerving and intimidating reinforces how mesmerizing and extraordinary this experience was. Although I returned to these waters later for more snorkeling and to try my waterproof camera out, these times did not equal the initial amazement I experienced the first time I explored the coral. Truly incredible indeed.
Again I must leave off at this point. I will pick back up in my next post and finish this experience so I can begin to recount more recent adventures of mine. I apologize to all my readers for the long gap between this current post and the last. I have been extremely busy with teaching, studying Arabic, hiking and rock-climbing, and was sick for five or six days in the last two weeks. Nonetheless, it is my intent for this to be the first of what will be more consistent and regular posts. Thanks again to all the encouragement and support everyone. I appreciate your willingness to step into my world and life experiences. Mara salaama.
