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Walking with Nomads Day 3: One for all and all for one.

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This afternoon, there was a violent rainstorm. As it drew closer, the whole family, sprang into action, covering the tent with a big sheet of plastic, doing the same to all the piles of provisions, bringing in anything that might get ruined by the rain and making sure the firewood had somewhere dry to sit.

There we were, our motley crew of foreigners and Berbers, with no languages in common but masses of goodwill. So, we did what all good people do when stuck in a rainstorm, we played a game guessing how many stones there were in everyone’s hands. In the UK it is a drinking game, here we did it with just mint tea. Everyone loved it.

Rain and water is the big preoccupation for Zaid and his family. There has been a drought in the region for the last three years and it has affected him badly. This year he spent over €1000 on feed for some sheep he had in his flock, but he lost 35 of them through starvation. Goats eat anything, but sheep are fussier. I am holding the lone survivor up above. We could see the lack of water even in the little wells and springs that dotted the route. All were just puddles.

For Zaid and his family to survive, everyone works and does their share. From first thing in the morning, even the little ones are working. The tea goes on, the family sit together and eat bread and olive oil or butter, then they are packing up the tent and provisions and getting the animals ready. The chicken is strapped to the mule, Zahra, picks up the little sheep, Zaid and Izza count the goats out of the enclosure and everyone sets off.

Sharing is instinctual here. On the walk,  I had lent my poles to Maymoun to try out. He loved them, he was so proud, walking in front like our guide, checking back to make sure we were all following and joyously prodding every piece of dung on the route. But when I looked up 5 minutes later, he had made one of the poles shorter and given it to his little brother, Hassan, so they could both enjoy it.

It is a small illustration of the core value of this culture. It is completely communal, everyone sleeps in the same place, eats from the same bowl of food, takes their share of the work and sits together in rest time. It would be very hard to be lonely.

Tomorrow: Herding and endings
To do this walk: http://www.shepherdswalksholidays.co.uk

 

 

 

 

 

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Walking with Nomads Day 2:Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang!

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210 goats, 1 sheep, 7 mules, 10 camels, 3 donkeys, 2 dogs, 22 people and one chicken. It was crowded in the early morning light as we kicked off the first proper day of the migration. Izza and Zahra left before us with the goats, the dogs and Shaun the Sheep. Their job was to take the slow route and find as much grazing as possible on the way. 

We set off in grand convoy, up to the first pass out of camp and down past the last road we would see for days. We were a motley bunch from Mohammed El Kabir, resplendent in robes, turban, and proper moustache to us with our fleeces, hats and walking poles. Mohammed El Kabir was very taken with my solar recharger and wanted to swap it for his enormous dagger (no, that is not a euphemism). After a spirited negotiation, he was even willing to throw in a donkey, but I wasn’t sure my landlord in Marrakech would go for that. 

Our route was undulating with some rocky, sharp passes. The rhythm was completely new to me as I have never walked with a big convoy of animals before. We were slowing down and speeding up with them. Sometimes, it was hard even to watch. One small donkey was very heavily laden. Twice she fell over a boulder as she was going uphill and had to be hauled up to standing again by Zaid and the muleteers. 

I was fascinated by the camels, especially by their feet. They walk very elegantly and precisely, and the soles of their feet puff up and down like little hover crafts. No obstacle seemed to phase them, and whenever they caught up to us, they would just stop and wait till we had gone a little way ahead, and then start again.

We got to camp by lunchtime. Then the rest of the work day started, the tents were put up, bread was baked, the chicken was taken off the mule and tethered in a little home made chicken hut and we all had tea and a siesta.

In the late afternoon, we walked up to a ridge and looked down onto a tiny farm which supported one family.  Everywhere there is water, there is life. There, we appointed our tribal leader for the week, Paul became Dada Atta and for the rest of the trip, he was to hold sway. It is amazing how a well-wrapped turban can bestow authority. 

We didn’t see Zahra and Izza with the goats till much later. around six, as they had spent all day foraging, Izza walking with Aisha slung round her back. By sundown and shortly after supper, we were all ready for bed.

 That night, it was cold so I was in the mess tent with the boys. I drifted off easily and in the middle of the night, felt warm breath on my cheek as someone moved in for a kiss. It felt lovely, a little peck and nibble – nibble??!!! I sat up with a yelp to find the little lone Shaun the sheep looking at me earnestly. He had come into the tent to try and get warm and clearly thought I was his best bet.

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http://www.shepherdswalksholidays.co.uk
Tomorrow: prodding camel poo, spinning, and the economics of goats.

To do this walk: http://www.shepherdswalksholidays.co.uk

Was that run…..fun?

Maybe it was because it was only 1o miles.

Maybe it was because there were camels at half way.

Maybe it was because I was singing along to ” All night Long, All Night, ALL NIGHT, All night Loooong…”

Maybe it was because I saw a cool girl riding her bike hands free whilst wearing the full veil.

Maybe it was because all the orange trees are in blossom so you run through clouds of perfume.

I really don’t know, but the fact is….. I ENJOYED a run. I left the suffering behind. Hallelujah! Now just need to apply that to 156 miles across the desert. Two weeks to go.

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Lost in the dark and lonely woods

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So here I am at 6.30 in the morning, in the pitch darkness on a long, icy descent in the middle of the woods in Tblisi, Georgia, thinking, ” I am sure my Mum warned me about things like this.”

It has been the first morning since I arrived that I have been able to run outside as the roads have just been too icy. In two months, I will be running the Marathon Des Sables, and I can not afford an injury at this point – or at least I have to TRY to avoid them.

I am here to help Maestro TV with the relaunch of their news and current affairs offering and in particular their nine o’clock flagship show.

6.15 start out of my hotel which is near the brow of a steep hill and the first obstacle was the death inducing cobbles. They feel like a skating rink. Then on down to the river as I reckoned that even I couldn’t get lost with a river on my right hand side.

And I didn’t get lost exactly, but I did manage to meander through some dense woodland and a housing estate in trying to get down there. Fortunately, in spite of various movie themes unhelpfully spooling through my head, no mad axe murderers were around.

The run along the river was great – there is something really soothing about dark waters. There was hardly any traffic and my only company was the street cleaners who were all assiduously sweeping up the leaves from the pavement. Most of them were women, which felt strange somehow. But I did meet one male one – who shouted after me, “Beautiful Womans!”. Since this is what I looked like – I  think he was being VERY generous.

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