I’m sat cross-legged on a goat skin rug, drinking sage tea brewed from leaves that we foraged a few hours earlier. The fire next to us crackles away as Ali, tall and slender, stirs a huge pot of vegetable stew. It’s swiftly served on a huge communal plate and we eat the traditional way – using our hands and khoubz (Middle Eastern flat bread) to soak up the delicious juices.
I’m in Wadi Rum, a striking desert valley in southern Jordan, alongside my Bedouin guide, Ali. Ali enjoys sharing tales of his life, and we gather around whilst indulging in succulent dates. He taught himself English by conversing with visitors and “perfected his slang with YouTube,” he says with a smile. As the sky ignites with the colors of sunset over this stunning, unearthly landscape, we find ourselves completely isolated within a fortress of pink sandstone mountains and towering blood-orange sand dunes, just a few kilometers from the border.
The warm, light breeze caresses my face as the cooler night temperature approaches. This is the enchanting magic of the desert that I have read about in countless stories long before my visit.
Growing Up Nomadic
A day’s drive into the desert reveals a succession of caves. Ali points to the one where he was born. At 37 years old, he has spent nearly all of his life here. Growing up was undoubtedly challenging.
“We had to move on foot and could not remain in one place for too long due to the lack of food and water for our animals,” he explains.
This mobility meant that tribes would uproot their lives, sometimes every 10 days. Outside the caves, remnants of a tiny settlement persist; the Bedouin leave behind the frameworks of huts to assist future travelers. I gain a deeper appreciation of their hardships as I observe the barren desert, where in the three days I am here, I see hardly any evidence of water or vegetation.
There exists a strong bond within Ali’s tribe, named Al Zawidah, and he learned his ways from his elders.
“They taught us to interpret the land – how to navigate, where to sleep, and how to care for our animals.” I inquired about their medicinal practices, and he shared, “The women venture out in springtime to find particular plants used for ailments like headaches and stomach issues.”
Yet, ancient traditions prevail. Every two years, Ali consumes grilled scorpion mixed with sugar, believed to ward off its venom. Similarly, when it comes to snakes, they boil the head. Just a few years back, Zaid, Ali’s son, experienced apnea. The elders advised Ali to catch a specific lizard, which was then sewn into a muslin pouch worn around Zaid’s neck. After one week, the lizard perished, and Zaid’s breathing troubles significantly improved. Curious, I asked Ali how this was possible, and he chuckled, saying he too is still searching for the scientific explanation.
Ancient Lands
was once submerged beneath the sea. It has endured the passage of caravans on ancient trading routes and played a significant role in the Arab Revolt starting in 1916. Petroglyphs indicate nomadic tribes traversed this region around 12,000 years ago, and significant changes to their lifestyle have only emerged recently. My quest for a glimpse into this way of life led me to Ali, whose family-run business aims to share the richness of the desert experience.
The term Bedouin originates from the Arabic word for desert dweller, bedwa. It seems Bedouin life runs through Ali’s veins, as he navigates the desert with the grace of a mountain lion – maneuvering steep dunes and jumping across crevices wearing nothing but worn-out sandals. He conjures mouth-watering meals for our group of five from seemingly thin air while providing warmth and entertainment through simple gestures.
With ancient lands come ancient customs, and Bedouin hospitality is abundant. The Bedouin ensure guests eat before they do – even if the food is scarce. Visitors can stay for up to three days during which no questions will be asked. Only after three days will the Bedouin inquire about the guest’s intentions.
This hospitality extends beyond their immediate tribe. “We invite our neighbors to share a meal when they pass through; we respect each other,” Ali recounts. “Even our disagreements remain private, resolved according to our own tribal laws.”
Living the Bedouin Life
We venture into the Northern quarter, an area seldom explored by anyone other than the Bedouin. Wadi Rum boasts thousands of mountains, each with its own name. Ali reveals distinctive water markings on some of the mountain faces. “These are very important. They indicate where water collects when it rains.”
The sea of orange before us is interspersed with coral pink, deep red, golden yellow, and bright white sands. We encounter the Happy Camel herd, several hundred strong – aptly named because they roam free. While they have no owner, they still respond to Ali’s commands. With a click of his mouth and some Arabian yodeling, they eagerly approach our 4×4 in search of treats.
As night falls, we set up camp away from water sources, which, according to Ali, attract spirits after dark.
“On flat land, the winds will carry whispers of any intruders,” he explains. A blanket of a million stars emerges as Ali points towards Deneb. “This star has guided ancient explorers across the Arabian Peninsula for millennia. It can be seen from Iraq, throughout all of Saudi Arabia, and as far north as Damascus.”
Eventually, I reluctantly tear my eyes away to wrap myself in my thermal sleeping bag. The temperature drops drastically at night, leaving it remarkably cold.
In the morning, I wake up to the enticing aroma of sweet cardamom tea and an assortment of fruits. This fresh fruit is still quite a rarity in the desert. Traditionally, before the introduction of cars, the Bedouin relied solely on their animals for sustenance, living off a diet of meat, cheese, and milk. Now, they enjoy a variety of traditional dishes, but Ali has saved his favorite meal for last.
Known as the Bedouin barbeque, Zarb consists of a mixture of meat, rice, and vegetables slow-roasted for 24 hours underground over wooden coals. Back in camp, Ali’s family—both young and old—enthusiastically gather around as a massive clay pot is excavated from beneath the sand. The Zarb is exquisite, with tender lamb melting in my mouth, complemented by the explosion of spices.
“This is my favorite dish, not just because of the taste but also because of its history,” he shares. During Ottoman rule, the Bedouin often faced issues with soldiers stealing their food, prompting them to begin hiding their meat underground to cook it. Sometimes, it would remain concealed for days. Zarb means “to hide” in Arabic.
Changing Times
Ali understands that times are evolving. Borders and shifting climates contribute to the scarcity of water and food resources. As we approach the edge of the desert on our return, we pass dozens of 4x4s speeding past with tourists. It feels as though the desert world behind us is fading away.
With the desire to adapt, Ali has chosen to redirect his children’s futures by enrolling them in the nearest school.
“The desert used to feel endless, but now the outside world and its complexities, including tourism, are gradually encroaching,” he confides. “We have to adapt.”
Despite this, Ali’s children remain Bedouin at heart.
“Every weekend and summer, they join me in the desert as I pass down everything I know, just as my father did for me. I want to ensure our way of life is not forgotten.”
I have absorbed a wealth of knowledge from Ali and his family, which helps explain his reluctance to fully embrace the modern world. Standing amidst the vast beauty of the desert—particularly under the endless star-studded sky—serves as a humbling reminder of our place in the universe. However, the true essence of Wadi Rum lies in the heart and hospitality of its people, whose lifestyle is a living testimony to ancient history.
Ali’s personalized tours can be found at Wadi Rum, the second time – Real Bedouin Experience.
