The small one-story hotel, crescent moon with its old wooden balconies, seems to slumber.
In the center, I enter the portal wide open. Wael raises his head, his gaze lights up and in a fast movement is found facing me with open arms. He makes me a hug that surprises me so much that I can not hide my laughter. I feel at home!
The next day I have an appointment with Suliman, Mohammed and Ibrahim.
We ride in the Toyota jeep to a place that Mohammed has chosen.
After leaving the road of Sainte-Catherine, we go into a valley which is well known:
the Gazella valley.
We stop at the "Kamel-point", where we drink tea. The Bedouin, in incomprehensible name, seems immutable at the foot of his fire. His swollen hands and feet bear witness to a rough life, in contrast to the softness of his voice and his gaze.
My wise eye soon noticed his animals: goats and camels resplendent with health and dogs rare
but typical of the desert, Saluki.
I speak to him about it and he talks to me about the quality of the food in the desert,
which astonishes me even more considering the apparent absence of grass or other plants.
This is another call to open my eyes!
We get water for our trip to our first camp, close to the "Closed-canyon".
On the trail to the Hodra oase (“Ein Khodra”), we enter a small valley,
leading to a plain of a few hundred meters, surrounded by steep cliffs.
Ibrahim and Souliman leave us.
​
The car disappears, Mohammed is sitting next to me.
Silence deafening, a look between men without words.
Then sharing, heart to heart, intimate, open. Direct conversation.
Feeling of being at the right place, with the right person, at the right time.
Time and days flow slowly. Exactly as I wished.
I camp on the top of a dune, Mohammed stays near the camp, a place that serves as our kitchen.
We thus have each our intimacy, which Mohammed uses regularly for his prayer and I to enjoy in moments of meditation. Every day I feel blessed to be able to receive this gift.
One day Mohammed insists while walking to Hodra.
"I have something to show you that you have not seen yet."
And indeed, shortly before reaching the oase, he invites me to follow him on a little path, winding between the rocks. I am enjoying myself like a little child jumping from one rock to another while helping me with my hands. And I appreciate Mohammed's discreet benevolence: I feel his constant gaze on me, ready to intervene. He also knows my panic fear of emptiness and at no time will he confront me with it.
And at the end of the road, whaaaaa!
Impressive multicolored cliffs.
And I turn around for a view over the valley.
Mohammed felt at once that all this touched me deeply and he retired to the bottom, leaving me alone to enjoy this moment.
My eyes are wide open, I smell the smell, I listen to the silence, I taste the air. My senses are boosted. I'm sitting, I'm flying.
We continue our journey towards the oase.
Upon arrival, I notice how everything is now very clean. But also that there is hardly anyone.
The small square pool under the leaves of date trees seems to give me a wink but I decline his invitation. She is the witness of the richness of this village: a spring in a small cave.
I go towards the small fire, place of the tea.
An elderly man looks at me, scrutinizes me.
Mohammed told me to give him time to look in his memory.
He is the man whom all listen to, the guardian of the place, of the unwritten chords, of the peace, of the tradition: Sheikh Saba.
And then he speaks:
" I recognize you, Alain!”
I feel at home.
Lunch, tea, walk.
I camp on the top of a dune, Mohammed stays near the camp, a place that serves as our kitchen.
We thus have each our intimacy, which Mohammed uses regularly for his prayer and I to enjoy in moments of meditation. Every day I feel blessed to be able to receive this gift.
One day Mohammed insists while walking to Hodra.
"I have something to show you that you have not seen yet."
And indeed, shortly before reaching the oase, he invites me to follow him on a little path, winding between the rocks. I am enjoying myself like a little child jumping from one rock to another while helping me with my hands. And I appreciate Mohammed's discreet benevolence: I feel his constant gaze on me, ready to intervene. He also knows my panic fear of emptiness and at no time will he confront me with it.
And at the end of the road, whaaaaa!
Impressive multicolored cliffs.
And I turn around for a view over the valley.
Mohammed felt at once that all this touched me deeply and he retired to the bottom, leaving me alone to enjoy this moment.
My eyes are wide open, I smell the smell, I listen to the silence, I taste the air. My senses are boosted. I'm sitting, I'm flying.
We continue our journey towards the oase.
Upon arrival, I notice how everything is now very clean. But also that there is hardly anyone.
The small square pool under the leaves of date trees seems to give me a wink but I decline his invitation. She is the witness of the richness of this village: a spring in a small cave.
I go towards the small fire, place of the tea.
An elderly man looks at me, scrutinizes me.
Mohammed told me to give him time to look in his memory.
He is the man whom all listen to, the guardian of the place, of the unwritten chords, of the peace, of the tradition: Sheikh Saba.
And then he speaks:
" I recognize you, Alain!”
I feel at home.
Lunch, tea, walk.
Today we take the "Goat-path", which runs along the White Canyon from the top.
On the way back, my attention is attracted by an inert brown mass along the track in the oase.
An eagle.
I take it in my hands.
A Bedouin tells me that he has been here for three days.
I feel very upset.
The next day, Mohammed told me that the program is a little changed: we go to lunch at the oase and then I can go alone on the "Kamel-Path".
I laughed a bit because the word “program” never had much meaning here.
And while the bread is prepared, sitting in the oase, I suddenly remember the eagle.
I ask then Sheikh Saba if I can bury him.
With his consent and carrying the eagle in my hands, I look for the place to bury it.
My gaze is drawn to a rocky peak overlooking the village, with a few meters under it,
a long sand dune.
I climb up and bury it there.
From there, his piercing eyes and his spirit will watch over the oasis Hodra.
Hodra, which means "the eye".
​
And that is exactly what brings me to this place in particular:
where my third eye awakens,
where I feel intuition,
where I hear the Voice of the Desert, the Voice that speaks to me authentically,
which tells me what I have to hear now,
where, now, I invite you to come and to listen too.
​