It is hard to believe that in our seventy-ninth year Troy and I would be so lucky to ride a camel into the Sahara to view the sunset and the moon rise, but that is exactly what we did. After a wild ride in a 4 x 4, we had the privilege to visit a nomad camp and watch the matron of the family weaving at her loom. We were welcomed into the family communal tent and visited with an older daughter and two school boys. She was shy and covered in black from head to toe. Other family members were at the Sunday market trading their wool and goat hair for goods that the family will use in their day to day life. The tent was make of heavy wool and the sand was covered with hand made rugs which served as table, chair and beds for a family. At night a curtain would hang from the center of the tent to offer the women some privacy. The boys attended a nearby school as long as the family stayed in the area, but they would seldom be there for more than a few weeks at the time. A rugged life, but one that has been followed by many generations of nomads before them..
We left to join the camel corps. These beasts were laying in wait for us. Only one camel was so contrary that he would not let the rider mount. The rest knelt down while we climbed aboard. We moved in groups of five over the dunes and came to a stop at a sandy cliff. Rugs were laid on the sand and we waited for the sun to set. The silence was beautiful. After time spent in hectic markets and tourists sights this majesty was welcoming. The landscape shifted gently about like an ocean of sand. People and nature became one for at least that moment. A ride back to dinners gave us a chance to see the sunset on the left and the moon to rise on the right. A band of Berbers garbed in white beating drums and shaking tambourines and striking symbols danced us into dinner. This experience will be hard to top.