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Tag Archives: Algeria
Tea-a-la-menthe
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.
What My Slougui dreams about
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?
“These delightful beings, of dream, tripping in the shadow from the light of the sun, meddling playfully in the live s of mortals, blessing the bridal bed and presiding over the golden summer-time.”_Sheikspeare
It might be simply of 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?
The Dreaming Slougui Blog: Do you breed sentences? 