Warda of Wadi Rum

I have a Bedouin name. Mohammed calls me Warda as if I've always been called that. It means flower. Bailey is Nowara, little flower. The desert is full of flowers now, after the winter rains. Little thin white petals surrounded by grasslike leaves growing right out of the sand. I first saw them from my camel, riding out to the desert camp with Bailey and Zed. The wind had started blowing a bit, so I was forced to look down at long shadows and occasional dry bush. At first, my mind could not accept that there were flowers, and I tried to fit their shapes to other things, like pieces of paper. Then, as the wind died down, I looked up at realized the desert was alive with them. I started to see what I thought were snake trails, but then I saw little claw prints on either side of the serpentine tracks. And as I looked further up the horizon, the towering cliffs surrounding the Rum Valley brought me that humbling feeling of stillness... except for the camelback bellydance I had been doing for an hour already. We rode in silence for 2 1/2 hours like this, occasionally brought to laughter by Zed's gassy camel. When we arrived at the camp, I tried to tell the camel "Shukran" or thank you, but he just showed me his teeth and grunted. He probably didn't appreciate me as much as I did him.
We've spent every evening at the camp. The other times, we rode out with Mohammed in the jeep. On the way back to town around 10 last night, the thing broke down. Nowara helped shine a light on the engine for a good 15 minutes. She's become very comfortable out here, opting to go shoeless during the daytime. At night, though, it's quite chilly. Stranded in the was not unpleasant for that short time though. There are more stars than we have numbers for, so it is never pitch black. Anyway, Mohammed got the car started again, and off we went through the sand at 55 mph, flying off our seats with every bump. Once back in the village, we are staying in the "hostel", which is a plain clean room with two mattresses. Sooo quiet here. I sleep well.

I will write again soon. There so much to tell, but I've got to go help the mother with the dishes. Mar Salam.