“Na bezrybiu i osioł ryba”- Tales of the Great Thar Desert.

Sure it has a nice color, but how many miles per gallon does it get?
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“Na bezrybiu i osioł ryba” [Where there are no fish, even a donkey can taste like one.]

Polish proverb

-How about some opium, my friend? You have nice dreams.

It came time for me to try the life of the Thar Desert. Camel safaris are Jaisalmer’s major attraction. After a bit of searching, I found one that goes in the opposite direction from all the other safaris. It advertises itself as a “non-touristic” one. It costs a little more ($18 per day vs. $10), but it promises to take you to the parts of the desert, villages, and oases that seldom see visitors, let alone foreigners. I must say, they delivered what they promised and even more. I started with four Korean tourists, but they turned around in one day. For the next two days, I was left alone with just two local guides. The whole trip was like a National Geographic expedition. The Great Thar Desert is worlds apart not merely from the modern world, but even from the rest of India.

My friend, you ask meat, I bring meat!
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Camel guide to me during lunch time:

-My friend, meat for dinner, no problem?

-O.K. I like meat. Great!

8:00 p.m. at the campfire. The guide disappears to a nearby village and soon comes back dragging a scared, cuddly little goat.

Desert village
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-My friend, I brought dinner.

-Excellent, but why did you bring the goat?

-My friend, you ask for meat, I bring meat. Goat meat, no problem?

-Oh man, when I asked for meat I did not realize that it would have legs, fur, and be looking at me.

Village girl with her pet
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-My friend, I need your Swiss army knife.

-???

-My friend, we need to kill it.

-With my Swiss army knife?! I don’t think it has a goat-slaughtering attachment! Here, look, there is a corkscrew, lousy little scissors, toothpick, envelope-opening knife- no goat-slaughtering attachment!

You knew it was just a question of time before I started cooking for the guides. Here making a chapati.
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-My friend, no problem, we use the letter-opening knife. My friend, hold the goat.

-Oh, shit! Can’t we just have a chapati with rice?

Unfortunately (for the goat that is) we had a goat curry, cooked on an open fire, in the middle of desert sand dunes. On that evening though, I came as close to being vegetarian as possible, and my brand new Swiss army knife saw more bloodshed than… well, the entire Swiss army, I think.

The desert is mostly thorny shrubs with occasional acacia trees and a few sand dunes. Herds of goats, sheep, a few donkeys, and solitary wild camels crisscross the wilderness looking for food and water. Villages are small - just a few mud huts, no roads, no electricity. Men are shepherds, women gather firewood and water, kids don't go to school, nobody speaks English. It seems that time stopped here thousands of years ago. Even though life is harsh, people are incredibly friendly. Life is harsh indeed. The midday sun raises the temperature (winter temperature that is) to nearly 100F (36C). The night brings chills near the freezing point. Mud huts offer little protection against the cold. In the summer, the days are apparently unbearable.

Clearly marked with a country of origin, my camel complies with international transit rules- just in case I crossed to Pakistan inadvertently.
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After the Koreans left and I stayed alone with my guides, things became even more interesting. Somehow, as a lone tourist I became invisible, and the normally shy locals became much more open. We would get frequent visitors at our camp, sharing stories and gossip. We ate together with them. We cooked together. I quickly learned how to make chapatti - a flat, pita-like Indian bread, baked on the campfire. My guides would cook thali, rice, and porridge. Indian chai, full of milk and sugar and spiced with ginger, was the drink of choice - actually the only choice. After chai, the stories of the desert would begin…

My camel was supposed to be brand new, but it still broke down. A short stop at a village camel doctor was necessary.
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-The desert, my friend, is a harsh place, I’m telling you. I born here and live all my life here. I want get married but it is not easy to find a wife, my friend. Desert is no place for woman. No many woman here, my friend. Some men fuck donkeys.”

-??? I’m sorry, you said what?

-Donkeys, my friend, donkeys - ‘four-legged women’ they call them here. Yes, my friend, men fuck donkeys here, it’s a harsh place, my friend…more chai for you?

-No, thanks.

Camel doctor
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-How about some opium, my friend? You have nice dreams.

-No thanks, I think I’ll have vivid dreams without opium.

-Well then, good night, my friend.

-Yes, good night.

Cooking dinner
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I did not have any dreams that night. The night was very chilly. Lying on the ground, shivering under three blankets, I just admired the incredibly starry sky. The next day, we returned to Jaisalmer. The desert animals looked at us curiously...only the donkeys hid behind the bushes.