White Desert of Egypt : Story of the Earth in Stone
It seems like Cairo has accepted the exposed brick aesthetic throughout. Cruising through the streets, you are greeted with continuous yellow sandy ruins of city that feels is undergoing endless excavations. It’s not flattering but I guess since the weather doesn’t damage the walls, there must be no need of plaster.
As we leave the city behind, there is nothing but a vast expanse of the desert with an unending yellow. It makes you realize what a privilege it is to be a part of the civilization; how lonely it can be without the colorful crowds, how uncomfortable would it be without the food, water, electricity at the your finger tips. As I left behind a bustling place of activity, faith, trade, and commerce, the overall nothingness threatened to close in on me. There are a lot of the colors, tastes, textures, and sounds that surround me and are available to experience and react to. When they stop, when there is nothing to react to, what do I do? Three hours into the desert, I realized, they don’t stop; they change. The desert landscape was nothing like I have ever experienced before. Its renowned harshness had ingrained in me an image of paucity. But what was unraveling before me was something beyond that.
I do not mean to prove or convince anyone otherwise. The desert is definitely not a thriving place on the earth. Everything related to life as we know it is a struggle. However, what I discovered was that the nature always finds a way — in the adaptations of the animals, the plants, the human dwellings, the food, the clothes, the morals, everything. As a few patches of date plantations start appearing around you, the green that hits the eyes is a pleasant respite from a four hour long journey into the arid desert. Although there is a lake, the oasis region has underground water sources in plenty. We saw both cool and hot water streams in different places. The farmers have located water sources, pumped them up to reservoirs for tourists like us to see, and then diverted the life — giving water to their date orchard. Everyone everywhere on the earth knows that fresh water is a scarce resource, but here it takes on a value that rivals the gold. When nature provides water in the middle of the desert, the people, the animals, the plants have evolved to treat it as gold. A trait everyone everywhere on the earth should inherit.
The geography, history, and politics in which we are born and raised, shapes us, and we eventually make peace with the lifestyle. This realization was my favorite takeaway from this trip. It definitely reduced the large barrier I had constructed with the self talk about being fortunate and privileged of not being born in this desert. I think this thought brought about an acceptance of the vastly different locale I found myself in. It felt strange for me to be so calm and unafraid in the vast expanse of the desert. I stopped feeling lonely and instead felt a strange sense of safety in knowing that billions of people have led lives in this place, with moments of joy, sadness, anxiety, and peace.
After touring the black desert and crystal mountain, we reached the white desert. We spent the night in a tent in the infinite white desert. The sun was a huge round ball hovering over the horizon. It was the first time that I saw a wide flat horizon. There was absolutely no obstruction to my line of sight with the red orb. Slowly, the big red round ball of fire went below this end-of-the-world line. Long after that, the sky was reluctant to let go of the red warm blanket. As if providing a small nudge to let go of the last few strands of the warm color, a few of the boldest and shiniest stars started peeking out from the other end of the world — a world about to devour us. The moon did rise but for a short time. It was a also a hue of red — a rare sight indeed! The full moon was close by.
As all the evidence of the mighty solar reign of the last 12 hours was vanishing from the sky, I was unaware of the anarchy creeping up above me. For the longest time, I was distracted by the sand in my shoes and hair, the bonfire, the small talk with the 4 strangers accompanying us, the lack of water hygiene. When I finally looked up, I was speechless when I first saw the dark sky in all its glory. Without a supreme ruler, the night sky was beautifully lawless. Thousands and thousands of stars came forward dressed in their brightest smiles, there was no space for the black of the sky. I was supposed to be afraid of the dark, but the dark that usually waits around the corner to pounce on me seemed to have been banished by my new friends. It was strange that the company of the stars made me feel safer. I surprised myself by choosing to sleep without a tent in the open when all the otheres opted for one. With my partner by my side, I was well at peace that we both would be safe in the enigmatic embrace of the wise old night sky. All my learned instincts were warning me of all the things that could go wrong, but something about giving in to the adventure felt right, like it was a place where I could belong. I think it was because the darkness was not a facade, the emptiness was the ultimate truth, and there was no possibility of a tear in the fabric of this decorated black dome. I know now what safety should be, I know now how it should feel to truly belong.
When I witnessed the slow march of the magnificent Milky Way across the chaos of the sky, it felt like all the art by mankind from the past and from the future has converged at this point and for this point. Vivaldi, Chopin, Van Gogh, Mozart, Vyas, Iliyad, Shakespere, Tagore, the best talent that the collective gene pool of the humanity could produce, has been creating art as an homage to the beautiful universe that we are born into. They are the fortunate ones who saw the beauty of this universe in their mind’s eye and expressed in their preferred medium. We are the unfortunate ones who can only begin to comprehend the beauty by visiting their creations. In that moment, lying on the sleeping bag, buried in a camel wool blanket, with the cold desert air on my cheeks, I was trying my best to comprehend the miracle unfolding before me but felt like I was failing to do so. I wished I could capture the sight in my eyes, the cold in my skin, the smells in my nose, the sound of the wind in my ears. I was not equipped to do any of that. I let a rising wave of helplessness pass. Then I realized, I was a part of the miracle, I was stardust. I just had to witness it. It was not a fleeting, ephemeral phenomenon. It was the pinnacle of art and anarchy that was beyond the confines of a definition or expression or understanding. It had the power to stay with me, guide me, wisen me to its secretes — long after I had left the magical land of Egypt.
The earth is 4.5 billion years old; the white desert was a sea bed 60 million years ago; humans are 0.3 million years old; the Egyptian civilization is 5000 years old and I am 30. The milky white giant with brilliant blue and a tinge of red at its fringes, that passed me that night, was my ancestor, my source. Throughout the trip and in my preparation for it, I was so focussed on the story of human civilization, that I roamed around in 5000 year old alleys of culture, language, technology, and art. The encounter with the Milky Way and sea shells in the white desert exploded my timeline! I also learned that they found skeletal remains of Megalodons — the largest fish ever that swam in the sea that was once present over the current White Desert. I was just a tea cup trying to hold sea of experiences coming my way. My mind was struggling to be elastic enough to take all in — temporally, geographically, and culturally.
The earth told me her story that day —she showed me her changing landscape, her tutelage under the sun, and her reunion with the family in the Milky Way at night. Here, in White Desert and Egypt, she has not only saved up bits and pieces from our infancy, but also some relics from her childhood. The weather and geographical conditions in Egypt have ensured the preservation. She showed me the remains of many creatures that once called her their home. She proudly displays the fact that Egypt was one of the places where mankind began trying to make sense of the nature around it. The symbolism of sun and the God Ra in the Egyptian context gains a significance like none other when you listen to the story of the earth. The sun rules ruthlessly throughout the day. The discipline of the seasons and the weather brings growth. The night rolls by and the cold anarchy sets in. The absence and presence of the sun in the sky creates two extremes. While recovering from the day, everyone is in their vulnerable truest naked self, physically immobile and unwilling but mentally living their wildest desires. The anarchy in the minds and the sky is expressive, satisfying, and restful, and calms the soul, but is not productive. Thousands of stars in the sky and not a wisp of warmth. We need to welcome the scorching sun in the morning to get things done. It is almost preordained that an entity which shapes the life of the Earth herself would become a god in the eyes of man.
With this realisation, my trip through space, time, and imagination came to a satisfying conclusion. The intrusive anxiety over the political tensions burst my bubble and I returned to a familiar world of wars and deceit.
