In this special moment: be happy!

♥Don’t worry, be happy, and happy new year, courtesy Getty Images

My thought goes to whom  they can not celebrate it…


As you approached the desert city-oasis  of El Oued by air, the well-known city of thousand domes; you are in dalliance awe, a coup-de-foudre when you fall in love for the first time in your life, with the city,  as it extends its resplendent scenery offered before your eyes, in a magnificent panoramic view, and revealed itself,  to vanishing horizon, such as in front of an  Art of Monet_The “Hyphae’s”;

at bird-eye, these are grooves of dates palm-trees; like thousands china saucers  with their glasses tea-cups dressed on top, a couple of mint leaves inside them, all that set incrusted  on a table-cloth of white sands. Then, as the Convair 640 airplane hovered over the palm grove near to the airport, in a circle at 45º angle, the pilot aligned it before landing on the runway, the plane resumed then to disappear from the view in seconds as it  glided, nosed up then touched ground in two bounds, and landed.

As soon as the door opened, the atmospheric ambience was ethereal; a  breath of heath blew on your face, wrapped you up right into your skin, then  never leaves you, and let you linger  for a moment longing for the attractive interior freshness of the cabin. As you stood stunned, as the lasting  images remained whirling in your head while the vibrations of the old plane still crawling like ants on your body. The first step you put on the tarmac; a square mat of crisp gravels the size of a handkerchief, over an immensity sea of sand, you spot at a distance the silhouettes of palm trees, behind,  the cubics-ocher houses and the few buildings facility of aerodrome  with  their particular domed ceilings; the loss in translation we guaranty it: a postcard grand view worth to be  in your travel notebook, to impress you friends later on, when back home. The  director of the airport welcomed us with a warmth-lasting smile, at the feet of the plane, accompanied by a little girl handing a pitcher of sour sweet goat milk with a sprig of rosemary in it on one  hand, and a plate of succulent black round dates on the other hand. We followed him to his office, where on the desk, a tray with a tea-pot of the tea a-la menthe and tiny glasses were waiting for us. And a beginning of a thirty years long as flight-attendant.

Apart from the generous hospitality of the Sahara desert, from all the schmooze of the Grand Opening which are of  pure  formalities; to a handful fist of sands fleeting from the fingers, remained to us  the  only remembrance of the men of the desert, the gentleness and a dear friend.

Why My Slougui Blog

Why My Slougui Blog

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
– Mary Oliver, Wild Geese

At what might be My Slougui dreaming of? It might be simply, reveries, dreams of ignorance, or perhaps, of those faraway horizons, remembrances of gallops on hot sands of the Algerian Sahara desert, running after gazelles, hares, and the like. Then in the aftermath of a hunt, you took a rest looking for some freshness, under a tent,  in the shades of  the leafy oasis of BouSaada, at the Gate of the Algerian Sahara Desert.

Have you ever run bare foot on a beach, felt the crispy and scolding grains of sand under your feet, then you dived in to the waters? certainly yes, in deed! Then, imagine the cool waters of the oasis running on your skin, as you step out quivering for some heat.  Or It might be also, that and as it happened often, you went asleep for a nap while  listening  with an absent-minded ear, to a stirring conversation between your master and his visiting guests, while the groom is preparing a tea for them under the  convivial atmosphere of the tent. Since you are  the concerned subject among other topics of their conversation, in view of the ritual preparations of the for forthcoming hunting party of the morrow, and that is, he is proud of you and of your pedigree reputation,  as you made history among the community, in the vicinity around. But anyway, it’s inasmuch a human language, as it is a stranger to you it can be, apart from your master love and care for you, even though you are used to it, and apart from being familiar signs of communications, and body language  to you. By then, the golden tea in a copper kettle  is brought to the guests and ready to be served in  foaming tiny glasses, the smell of mint tea embalmed the tent, and you stirred up from your daydreams, as your master is  calling you while he  tended to you a piece of your favorite treat; a sun-dried camel meat.

Nota Bene: The character of the hound is known for being whimsical, do you breed Jurassic raptors?

Why My Slougui Blog

A 3 cups of tea, is a tradition proper to the Men of the Sahara Desert, just like the offering of a cup of tea in a Japanese tea house, and in a downhill village clung on one of  the Karakorum Himalayan mountains; a  sign of showing hospitality, with a refinement and elegance, in that far east part of the world, and with spontaneous welcome and warmth, and simplicity of manners, in this wast land.

what attracted writers, artists and exegete in this fascinating desert? to stop at its doors,  and spent his entire life, like Etienne Dinet did at the oasis of Bousaadah, in Algeria, or André Gide, a simple passage to Touggourt and or to the point to spear his own, as Le Pere Foucault did, between Tamenrasset and Bechar, on the extreme borders. There are too many who wrote novels, books and diaries, from Tunis to Rabat, like The Sheltering Sky by Paul Bowles, or simply lived their life and made history, for posterity like Isabelle Eberhart,and the list is long. Tinged of total mystery and attractive charm, the desert remains  a challenge of questions inspiring poetry and mysticism till today.