Breeding camels: a lesson on traditions, economics and love

Sabbah is breeding camels, in addition to his activity as a tourist guide.

He first tried to keep camels in the village, close to his house, but that didn’t allow him to set up a real herd. So he had to keep them in a fence, on the outskirts of the village, down Jebel Rum. There, the herd could grow and the camels could go out in the desert every day, coming back to their fence every night.

I was heading with him to the camel fence on a November afternoon. They were out in the desert and Sabbah had to bring them back for the night. Driving the jeep, he started to tell me why he was breeding camels.

“You know, he said, I now have three mothers with babies and another pregnant female that will give birth during the winter. If I sell the young males and buy another female or a pregnant mother, the herd might grow up fast. Now, I have 10 camels and I would like to have 40 in a few years.”

But why would you have so many camels?

“When you have a herd, he explained, you always buy and sell camels. The purpose is economic. You sell the males that are not adequate for working with tourists, keep the females to make new babies and, most of all, keep the camels that could become good racing camels.”

And what do you do with the racing camels?

“I tried to train them and race them myself, but it requires a lot of time. You can sell them or, if you have a really good one, train him, try him in a race and see if some people are interested to buy after the race. For a young male that will work with tourists you can expect 1.000 to 1.500 dinars. For a pregnant female or a mother with a baby, you can get 3.000 to 4.000 dinars. A racing camel can be priceless.”

But does that mean that you use the camel herd as a way to put money aside when the touristic season is bad?

“Yes, exactly. A few years ago, the sheikhs from Emirates started to fund camel racing in Wadi Rum on a regular basis. As a consequence, many Bedouin started to breed camels, again. Some of them even hired people from Sudan to take care of the camels in desert and train them. I think it’s a bit too much. But the good thing is that there are now more and more camels in Wadi Rum.”

We passed the empty fence and the main spring, forming a corner in the South end of Jebel Rum, called Abu Aineh by the Bedouin and well known by tourists under the name of Lawrence’s spring. The spring was full of activity: tourist guides stopping their jeeps full of visitors, camels drinking, Bedouin selling souvenirs… a normal November afternoon in Abu Aineh.

We were heading South on the right side of Jebel Khazali. I was thinking of socio-economic changes in Wadi Rum and of that old French proverb saying « never put all your eggs in the same basket », that seemed to make particular sense here.

Suddenly Sabbah pointed his finger at the horizon, beaming:

“There they are, my camels!”

At first, I saw nothing. Looking carefully in the right direction, I saw some pale and black dots.

“Do you see them? They always go very far in the winter, it’s a real problem to bring them back to the fence before the night.”

He sounded half enthusiastic and half angry!

And I remembered we made the same trip in July. Then, Camels didn’t go much further than Abu Aineh and we could bring them back to the fence easily by car. Sabbah was holding the wheel in one hand and a camel stick in the other. He was literally talking to the camels, yelling « hat, hat » and « rbwa rbwa » to make them move, which they obviously understood!

The whole game was to catch the camel that was considered  « the boss » by the rest of the herd. Once that camel moved to the fence, the others followed him. Sometimes, we had to use the horn to make sure they didn’t stop in the way. A lot of fun indeed!

This time was different. The camels were far and, as we reached them, we started to wonder if we could bring them back before the night.

Is there a difference in a camel’s behaviour between winter and summer time? Why do they go so far?

“In the summer, camels know there is nothing to eat or to drink in the desert, he explained. They know they have food in the fence, and there is water in Abu Aineh. So they basically go there in the morning, stay around during the day and come back close to the fence by themselves in the afternoon, remembering they will get dinner there! And as the day is long, even if they go a bit far, they always have time to come back. “

“In the winter, camels kind of « feel » the rain and the grass in deep desert, and they go very far. When the night comes, they are often too far to come back to the fence. I tied their front legs to each other but it seems that they just don’t care.”

We arrived to the camels. Each one of them had their front legs tied to each other, allowing them to walk only at a very slow pace, except the babies that were following the mothers. Sabbah started by gathering a first group that he sent walking in the direction of the village, yelling in camel language. We sat down in the sand observing the second group that was still peacefully chewing dry bushes.

“This one”, he pointed at an elegant almost white camel, “is aseel, which means pure. I have to keep it for reproduction. He’s the son of that one, who is also the mother of the black baby over there.”

The Bedouin know the genealogical tree of every camel in the village.

“We mark the camels with fire to identify the owner’s clan and the owner himself. When we see a lost camel in the desert, we can just call the owner and tell him where his camel is.”

“That one”, he continued, pointing at a huge female camel, “is leading the herd. They all follow her. She doesn’t like being tied up and keeps walking at a normal pace, hurting herself with the ropes.”

The camel’s feet were covered in blood. Sabbah raised, seized a knife in the car and ran after her. He tried to catch her legs to untie her, but she resisted and tried to bite him several times. Cursing her, he kept on trying to make her free and allow her to come back faster to her fence. I stayed next to the car and a baby camel, wondering what was happening here, approached and passed his face and neck through the front window, smelling the wheel and the seats. After a while, Sabbah came back shaking his head.

“No way, that stupid camel tries to bite me every time I touch her legs. I need someone to catch her head while I cut the rope.”

And I don’t think I can do that, I said laughing.

The second part of the herd was following the leading camel, so we got back in the car, following them.

“You know”, Sabbah continued, “I must really love the camels, because it’s a hassle to take good care of them. Every morning, I have to take the car, charge a bag of sha’eer (the Arabic word for barley) and go to the fence outside the village. There I give the camels breakfast and keep the bags of sha’eer in a plastic box higher on the rock in the mountain, so the camels can’t reach it. Then I open the fence and push the camels out, so they can go to the spring by themselves and spend the day grazing in desert. At the end of the afternoon, it’s the same story: I take my car to look for the camels in desert and bring them back to the fence, to give them dinner.”

“The good thing is that it’s a family moment too: every morning, my 3 years old daughter insists on coming with me. It’s a nice moment, just the two of us every day.”

The sun was going down and the camels hadn’t reached Abu Aineh yet. Sabbah decided to go back to the village and bring his nephews to take care of them, while he had to go to his Bedouin camp to meet his tourists. He ordered the boys to untie the camels for the next morning.

The next day, the untied camels went very far in the desert and Sabbah had to spend half of the night looking for them and bringing them back from Fora, that is about 40 km from the village.  He must truly love his camels.