by Stieve Adams
a visa when others can not? He is Swedish, and they have no special privileges, right? "I wonder.
"If he called a few days in advance, the hotels usually make a visa," explains Indira.
"Well, yes, he had already planned to expire already on Sumatra," I conclude. The only time he could have done this since we met was when he fetched Josephine. I started to suspect he had contacts here and was not happy to share with us. I had failed to trust, and instead he had taken refuge with old friends.
Anyway, with India's help, we called around the Al Bustan hotels and got a nap at a hotel in Sharjah. The receptionist gladly informed us that Jens lived there but that he had traveled with a sheik to the racecourse. Not horse racing without camel racing.
I thanked for the help and left Indira to take me to the camels. Taxin drove me past the World Trade Center and dropped me off in the sunshine outside the track. As a tourist I was referred to the left-hand stands, when I tried to walk onto the Arab side I became friendly but firmly rejected.
Outside the course there was an area where the camels rested before and after the race. The barnyard so to speak. Here there was no Jens in sight. I go to the tourist camp, and among German and Swedes I see a dust cloud and a lot of jeeps a few hundred yards away. And there will be a number of camels running and galloping in good speed against the goal. The audience begins to get enthusiastic, the speaker hoarses on Arab camels with their little riders approaching the target quickly. The riders are very small and ride like they were born on the camel back. They should be between six and twelve years, it is said, but there are knots that seem less than that. It is often the coaches' sons who ride.
There is no game on the camels obviously not for us tourists, how do i go to the natives, I do not know anything about it. If I go closer to the sailor, I can see if Jens is there. Among the tourists, he is certainly not. It's no more than a hundred people I have a good overview of this stands.
Among the shekies in their white footwear and faded scarves around the head, he would deviate like a dove among hawks. But after all, a red-faced face stands out of an Arabic dress! His friend, Sheikken, has apparently dressed him in his home country's wild clothes and brought him to the honorary champion.
It makes no sense to try to get in touch with him from here, I try to wait until he comes out. It will be a long wait. I want to surprise him so I'm taking a seat behind a pillar and trying to keep an eye on the shepherd fighter.
Every now and then there is a Batman with Coca-Cola and cakes, it is apparently the one who owns the winning camelie who stands for the calf. And like so much else in the Emirates it's free, no entry then.
When the sun begins to throw long shadows, race runs are over, tourists have left the track after an hour's visit, I begin to feel alone behind the pillar. I have had a lot of cookies and coke and finally the shekels also start and with them Jens leave the plant.
I approach Jens at the end and in a few meters I make myself feel.
"Hello Jens," I say, "can we talk to ..."
Later I did not get before Jens told something about his friend Sheikken and he instructed the guards in turn. Nice young men in uniform grab me and stab me in a policeman. With a police on each side, it's carried away. I do not have a chance to explain myself. I'm trying to say I'm a peaceful computer vendor from Scotland, but nobody answers. They can quite sure English, but they refuse to open mouth.
Many of the cars are powerful jeeps, Landrover, Nissan and Mitsubishi among others. Four-wheel drive and low gear range anywhere in the country. Regular cars drive on the roads while the jeeps easily reach the desert landscape. And that's what we did, then entered the desert. After an hour's drive, we arrive at a bedouin camp. Heavy tents, real carpets, camels and several jeeps were found here. I put them into a tent, they left the entrance open and two soldiers sat outside and kept guard.
My imagination was about to end. How did I get into this resort with sudden Arab sheikers involved? I just sat here and could not do anything. On my own, I received both food and drink and in the distance I heard Arabic music. Probably belly dance for tourists behind the next sand dune.
Because I was completely idle, I took a nap on a tall real carpet. I suddenly woke up, it was dark and there was a dark figure next to me, completely black-dressed with a white face. The shekels were dressed in white so it could not be a sheik. The women in this country, on the other hand, were black-dressed, some even covered the face. The only thing one could imagine was the eyes. It was partly due to the religion that provided that the hair would be covered. In addition, it was due to family traditions to what extent the women could show their faces.
This style had my face free and I began to get a slight idea that the face was not completely unfamiliar. Still, I did not know if it was friend or enemy. But with his index finger over his mouth said his face
"Sssssch"
It seemed kinda friendly so I obeyed the call.
"Signor Ham", whispered his face, "would you like to come out of this beduin tent?"
"Yes, thank you," I whispered back. My friend from Mexico and St. Kitts had come to my rescue. "How then?"
We peered through a run in the tent opening and saw that a pair of white-washed men approached.
"Hide!" I call Maria. Obediently she creeps in behind a tall carpet at the far end of the tent.
One of the new arrivals presented themselves as Sheikh Mohammed bin Sheikh Ali Al Suwaidi plus a long title which indicated that he belonged to the leadership team in the Emirates. He was called Mohammed and was the son of Ali Al Suwaidi. He asked politely if I was fine if the food was good and so on.
"Sure everything is OK except I'm sitting here in a tent in the middle of the desert, instead of sleeping in my hotel room."
"I understand, but I have promised my good friend Jens from Sweden to neutralize you for a few days."
"Neutralize sounds dangerous, will you kill me?" I ask scared. At the same time, a few days did not make it so dangerous that I did not know what I would think.
"No, no, misunderstand me right."
The shejk expressed himself in finest oxford English, clearly more English English than my own, even though I was born on the island. It is up to education that all native speakers receive a good salary during the study period, and most also study at the universities in Cairo, Great Britain and the United States.
He apparently meant I'd put on ice so to speak. He would make sure Jens would get a head start before I could get an opportunity to pursue him.
The shejk did not know why but for old friendship she had promised to make Jens a will. No hair would bend on my head, it sounded satisfactory.
"What do you think about that?" Maria asks when the Sheikh had gone.
"It's no problem," I think, "a couple of days in the desert is probably just good for health ..."
"Idiot!" Erupts Maria and I have the opportunity to return the "Sssssch" that started our conversation.
"Do you really think they're going to let you go?"
I probably thought so. A nice and nice shek in the desert in the Emirates had nothing to do with me. Jens had the lead already so what could more or less play a part for a couple of days.
"Now you're following me," merges Maria. "Do you think I risk living and laughing just because you're a frog cotta."
It was a new word, probably something Mexican directly translated into the English language.
"OK, do not bother, I'll follow if you're on a safe road."
"There are no safe roads, but behind the dune, I have a camel waiting to take you back to civilization. Do you see your clothes over there? Put on them so that you look like people! "
There were words and no visors. The clothes in question were a white sheet and a white headband and a black belt that would hold the headcloth in place.
"Do not they get mad if I bring their clothes," I wonderfully.
"Do not bother you," says Maria sore and begins to sneak into the bed sheet. In addition, she puts her headdress
in place and notes with a broad smile that I am cute. So I have a white towel around my head and something that looks like a black snout that keeps it in place.
On the back there is an extra exit, which Maria had cut up to get into the tent. We smiled out and Maria orders me to go first. If someone sees us, we'll look like we are a sheikh with Mrs in the evening stroll. Here you do not go to arm with your wives without your mother coming obediently a few meters later. At least, Maria claims that this is the case.
Behind a sand dune is really a camel and an arab who holds the camel in the drain.
"There is no camel, it's a dromedar. Camels have two puckles, this one has only one, "I say indignantly.
"This is called camel. Dromedaries are also camels. Dromedar is the first name and Camel is the surname. Here's just one black so you do not have to keep the concepts out of that way. "
Well, just climb up and try to keep my good. But Maria would not go with. As I clung to the frustrating camels when he got up, I began to understand why it called the desert ship. Here you should easily get seasick. I got directions from Maria and when I got to the main road, take the next bus to the Lou Loa Beach Resort Hotel in Sharjah.
"See you soon!" Promises Maria and waves goodbye.
The Bedouin who led the Camel to the main road stayed very right at the nearest bus stop when we got out of the way. He ordered the camellia kneeling forward, it was willing to go down on my knees and I had all the hassle of staying
