Blind Obedience

It is our boundaries that define us; the limits we set for ourselves determine our course. Many choose to sit on the fence until circumstances or events topple them over, or the whole system collapses, yet some venture forward.

It was on one of these fences that I sat, contemplating a daring move to travel alone into a wilderness that required a special permit. Why? Because I wanted to find out more. I wanted to see for myself, to experience a time long forgotten. The likelihood of the event had in fact grown into a legend, resembling something like a fairytale. The passion for knowledge grew into longing, and then a sudden leap of faith made me jump off the fence.

A plane journey took me to the airport of Tabuk, in the north-west of Saudi Arabia. Here I met the man who would be one of my three companions and also my guide, although he never knew it at the time.

We travelled south for half the day, down the Red Sea coastline, until we came to our beach camp in Maqna. The other two had already set camp. Mine, a bedouin carpet, a stretcher and a table with a bowl of fruit and other nibbles on it. The only thing that appeared to be missing was a toilet. I was a woman and clearly, they had not thought of this.

What was I doing on the shores of Maqna? Diving of course. The diving on the Saudi side of the Red Sea had hardly been touched, since very few tourists go diving on this side, which is opposite the tourist destination of Sinai. I had learnt to dive in Jeddah.

Waking up early the following morning after arriving at Maqna, I went for a walk along the beach and noticed an army vehicle parked two hundred meters from our camp site. There were two army officers in it. No one else was in sight. I sat down at the far end of the bay and watched the sunrise. I could see Sinai in Egypt, probably close to the village of Dahab from where we were, and as the sun rose, the contours of the mountains became less visible from dust that polluted the horizon.

I walked back to the campsite and waited, and waited, and waited. By nine o’ clock, I decided to go snorkeling on my own. The coral started right at the beach front which made it was impossible not to walk on, no matter what was taught on the PADI course, there seemed no other way to go in. They didn’t care about ‘protecting the reef’ in this part of the world. When the water reached my belly I submerged and kicked my flippers further into the ocean. I had not gone very far when I came across a vertical cliff at the edge of the coral. Deep dark waters loomed up at me, scaring me half to death. All I could think of, being alone, were sharks’ teeth and gigantic eels that might be lurking beneath the surface. I turned back to the shallower coral and paddled about, rather cowardly. At least I had had my ‘bath’ for the morning. There was no bathroom or enough fresh water that day for a quick splash.

My team surfaced around eleven that morning. I was wondering how we were going to fit in three dives for the day, as per my tour package. Of course it didn’t happen, but my instructor did take me for a night walk in the waters in search of night life. It was quite incredible how much more can be seen at night walking around with a torch: a tiny octopus, balloon fish, eel and a few other sleeping fish, all trying to find a safe spot from predators for the night. We were looking specifically for a lobster, which they promised to find me for dinner! One was caught on night three. One delicious lobster all for me!

When I finally broached the topic of archaeology, my instructor promised to take me to one site, not too far from our campsite, believed to be one of the points the Israelites had crossed over the Red Sea. It was a magical place, spoilt by the army having blown up the base of the canyon a few years back when they discovered smuggling taking place from Egypt. The boats would come across the short distance of around 9 miles and meet four wheel drive vehicles that took their spoils through this canyon to different destinations. Unfortunately, I knew it wasn’t the right place. It was too small and wouldn’t have fitted three million people on its alcove. That night we searched on Google Earth. I had never heard of it before. All the names had been recorded. We were too far south to visit Mt Sinai and the beach opposite the known location on the Egyptian side was as well. We decided to try and find ‘the Rock at Horeb’ instead, as it was closer. I had been very lucky to have found this gentleman, as he was very interested in history and, besides offering diving, he also took people on historic tours in the vicinity. This was good for his business.

The next day we left the cook behind and went into the wilderness. Along the way we stopped at a small village where one of the inhabitants took us to an altar on the roadside.There was nothing there! But the man claimed it had been there before the graders had turned it into dust when the road was made. It had been built by Moses, he had said.

The village itself was set in a valley lined with date palms bordering a little stream. Obviously the only source of water for miles around.

We continued our journey, moving into the hilly area, passing only a few mud houses, camels, goats and sheep. The setting took me back to a timeline thousands of years before, even though we were travelling in a jeep. I felt I was wandering the wilderness with three million Hebrews.

My host was astounded by what I had introduced. He had been living in the area all his life and had never heard of all these historical landmarks, right on his doorstep. Now we searched for the Rock at Horeb, my host’s assistant had clearly seen the rock, but could not remember exactly where it was. So, each huge boulder in the distance was our target until we got close enough to know if it resembled the one we had seen matching the picture on Google Earth.

We had been travelling for hours when we were interrupted by a blaring horn from behind us. The vehicle seemed to have come out of nowhere. My host pulled over so the vehicle behind could overtake. Then it stopped, the back of the vehicle was full of children, around eight of them. A man climbed out from behind the steering wheel and walked towards our Jeep. My men climbed out and met him.

While they spoke, the children began to eye me out. Along the bumpy journey my head covering had fallen off, my long blond hair naked to the onlookers.

After several minutes the men headed back to their vehicles. Mine reported that the other had seen a vehicle not too far from this spot, which had been there for the last three days. They had gone to investigate and found a dead body in it. We were going to follow them to assist in some way, as the man was alone with his eight young children. While they were telling the story, suddenly the vehicle we were following came to an abrupt halt. The driver leaped out and started raging away. My driver also got out of the jeep and started shouting back. Both red faced with anger now, I sat wide-eyed in the back half knowing that it was all to do with me. A dual seemed shortly to follow. My co-host was trying to keep my host’s anger in check. After a lot of hissing, spitting, fist clenching and raging both men hastily climbed back into their vehicles. Mine jumped into his seat, cursing all the while, immediately stepped on the accelerator, and headed straight up a rather steep bank. Wheels spinning, dust flying, we managed to bridge the top, picking up speed along the narrow dusty jeep track that led to the main road. We were a long way off. My host was still spitting venom, but slowly the strange episode began to unfold. The children had reported me in the back of the Jeep to the driver. I had no permit for this area, so he was going to report us to the police check-point. My host was trying to beat him passed that point.

Unfortunately, the wilderness had changed a lot in the last few thousand years, especially in the field of technology. The bedouin had obviously invested in some kind of radio communication device. At the check-point, the police stopped us and we got into trouble.

Well actually, my host had withheld vital information from me on two occasions. Even though he had subtly tried to convince me to come with others, I could not find anyone who wanted to venture into this remote corner of the country. They did not share the same passion as I did, or belief for that matter. Nor had he told me that I needed another permit for this specific area. He had told a white lie to the police about our whereabouts, so at the checkpoint we had no army following us, as it was outside their jurisdiction.

On the night of my arrival, an army vehicle had come to enquire about who the foreign woman was, walking on the beach alone. What was she doing there? The permit was shown with the stamp of approval. My original name is Gaelic, and my host knew they probably would not have known it was a woman’s name. Single woman could not travel alone in the area. It had worked; it had been approved. So, being a British citizen, I had a twenty-four hour security army unit guarding me night and day, always within eyeshot.

However, this all changed the day we wandered into the wilderness in an area that the permit did not reach. We had stepped over the boundary line, so all freedom of movement was restricted. No more ambling along the seaside in a costume: I had to be in full attire, covering my entire body. This was a nuisance.

What had I achieved? The journey was a remarkable one. The sceneries, especially at dusk and dawn, were shades of pastil, as desert dust outlined the contours of the terrein, creating timeless pictures never to be forgotten. Exquisite beauty contrasting oasis palms, springs in canyons, and a trip to a WWII British plane crash in a remote spot, highlighting red sand dunes. A journey that will remain with me forever; experiences embedded in memory. Nervous tension that could have ended really badly for me, created instances where I saw into different cultural values and beliefs.

The diving experience was very unusual too. My host had recently got married, so after the wilderness episode, he left to be with his newly wedded wife for a couple of days before meeting us on the last day to escort me back to Tabuk airport. My co-host took me diving during that period when I was dressed in full attire. It was awkward getting it all off in the water, then putting it back on again, as the clothing would blow up like a balloon.

I was shown areas underneath the water destroyed by an earthquake. Huge clams and other large shells lay at the bottom of the ocean. All the while, my co-host spear fishing for dinner, producing mouth-watering delicacies which we ate in traditional style on the floor around a large dish centred in the middle. We ate with our hands. One night tasty roasted nuts, cooked under the sand on red coals, while we gazed across the moonlit waters to the mountains of Sinai, not too far away.

Another time I was shown the devastation of desalination on a dive in the vicinity. Everything was completely lifeless from too much salt being pumped back into the ocean in one spot. Contrarily, one night I was sitting on my beach chair alone in the dark smoking a cigarette and a desert fox appeared over the rocks above me. We stared at each other momentarily with bated breath before it darted off, disappearing into the darkness. Such timeless moments.

My co-host went back to both historical spots after I had left and took photos. He sent them all to me. No idea what happened to the dead body in the desert. It appears that the living, and what they do, are more important under law. I am also thankful that they never gave me full details about the permits, as I probably would never have gone, had I known.

I came across many contradictions on the topic of archaeology in Saudi. Locals told me that anything that supersedes the religious faith is rejected. Archeology is one of these. My host in this story showed me a site fenced off in the region and suggested no one ever knows what they find in these places and no one is ever allowed to go in. No questions are asked. However, there are many spots in Saudi where you can freely go in and explore the ancient sites, such as the Nabatean tombs. I went on a tour of these ruins not far from Mecca, besides a very small one in Midian. All heads of the creatures had been cut off by extremists, ruining every image. Even though they are not as well preserved as Petra, in Jordan, the vast area these tombs cover is incredible. I was told it was forbidden for locals to go into this area, but we came across bus loads of Islamic followers exploring.

Other archaeological areas which appear to be connected to Hebrew history are kept secret. A fence runs around the entire circumference and an army base is set up to ensure no one is allowed in, except for the elite of course. Makes one wonder a bit, doesn’t it? Let us not forget that Moses married a woman named Zipporah from these lands, from Midian in Saudi Arabia, to be precise. Moses lived in these lands when he fled Egypt after killing an Egyptian, and even took a wife from here.