In 2000 I was living and working in New York City, a transplanted Canadian working in the global sales office for a luxury hotel company.
I traveled every year, it was my passion and the reward for my labor. In July of that year I decided to go to Morocco. July, in hindsight, was probably not the best month as I found myself in extreme heat. Especially so as we approached the border between Morocco and Algeria, and entered into the dunes of the Sahara. It was about 58 degrees Celsius or close to 135 degrees Fahrenheit which left one with the temptation to skip the bed and lie face down in the bathtub of your hotel room to suck up any coolness that you could.
Be that as it may.. I dream about the desert, I have always dreamed about the desert almost as though it were a place that I needed to return to. I dream about the jungle in the same way. When I saw the dunes of the Sahara my heart started to beat faster. We were a small group and we wanted to see the desert in sunset.
We left our bags in the room of the inn and then sped across the desert in land rovers, passing Bedouin camps and shepherds bowing low to their evening prayers. We arrived in Erg Chebbi to a cacophony of dromedaries festooned with ribbons and bells and over-anxious guides determined to get our attention.
The noise and the pandemonium offended me. I did not want to see the desert in this way, and I started to panic. Suddenly, I saw him. He moved across the sand silently, and his eyes never left my face. He had the face of an Angel. He stopped in front of me and bowed, his hand over his heart. I am Ali-Allah, he said, and then he remained silent.
I asked him to take me away from this place. I do not want to see the desert like this, I told him, my distress visible.
He nodded, and then asked me my name. After I told him he said, come, and we walked across the dunes together, his footsteps in the sand leaving me with an indelible trail to follow.
He turned to me and said, take off your shoes, and let the desert heal you. And so I did, my camera recording him in front of me, blue robes, a fading blue sky, the crest of the dune, and the footsteps of Ali-Allah leading me away from the din into an eventual starlit sky where I could ponder the next chapter of my own voyage.
I traveled every year, it was my passion and the reward for my labor. In July of that year I decided to go to Morocco. July, in hindsight, was probably not the best month as I found myself in extreme heat. Especially so as we approached the border between Morocco and Algeria, and entered into the dunes of the Sahara. It was about 58 degrees Celsius or close to 135 degrees Fahrenheit which left one with the temptation to skip the bed and lie face down in the bathtub of your hotel room to suck up any coolness that you could.
Be that as it may.. I dream about the desert, I have always dreamed about the desert almost as though it were a place that I needed to return to. I dream about the jungle in the same way. When I saw the dunes of the Sahara my heart started to beat faster. We were a small group and we wanted to see the desert in sunset.
We left our bags in the room of the inn and then sped across the desert in land rovers, passing Bedouin camps and shepherds bowing low to their evening prayers. We arrived in Erg Chebbi to a cacophony of dromedaries festooned with ribbons and bells and over-anxious guides determined to get our attention.
The noise and the pandemonium offended me. I did not want to see the desert in this way, and I started to panic. Suddenly, I saw him. He moved across the sand silently, and his eyes never left my face. He had the face of an Angel. He stopped in front of me and bowed, his hand over his heart. I am Ali-Allah, he said, and then he remained silent.
I asked him to take me away from this place. I do not want to see the desert like this, I told him, my distress visible.
He nodded, and then asked me my name. After I told him he said, come, and we walked across the dunes together, his footsteps in the sand leaving me with an indelible trail to follow.
He turned to me and said, take off your shoes, and let the desert heal you. And so I did, my camera recording him in front of me, blue robes, a fading blue sky, the crest of the dune, and the footsteps of Ali-Allah leading me away from the din into an eventual starlit sky where I could ponder the next chapter of my own voyage.