Yemen Desert

The BP enforces privacy

The sands west of the Hadramat wadi, Yemen’s central desert region, seem to extend forever. It is easy to imagine being on an old movie set for Lawrence of Arabia. Except movie sets have porta-potties hidden away from the cameras. It is very different when crossing an Arabian desert as part of a four-wheel drive vehicle convoy accompanied by an armed escort. There are no portable toilets, no trees, no bushes, nor escape. Just miles of sand.

My only solution was to wander away from the group while we stretched our legs and practiced holding our group leader’s Kalashnikov, carefully pointed away from our little American cluster. The trick was to walk just far enough to not incur the wrath of our “protectors” with their 50-mm mounted guns, while staying out of the line of sight of our group, and avoiding the occasional truck driver who was able to scan the terrain from the height of his cab. My efforts were ultimately successful, but in the process I gained a new appreciation for my cat’s occasional aversion to using her litter box.

The desert area is only part of this amazing country. Sitting in the southeast part of the Arabian Peninsula, Yemen is a bridge to the past. The capitol, Sanaa, claims to be the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world. Traditional dress is still the norm. Men still wear a long white garment with a wide embroidered belt. Into the front of the belt is placed the prized dagger, primary possession of any self-respecting Yemeni man. The most prized daggers are those handed down through generations, with handles of rhinoceros horn. Perhaps as a warning to all would-be invaders or misbehaving tourists, Yemeni male dress often includes a bandoleer across the chest (yes, the bullets are real) and that most important article, a cell phone clipped to the side of the belt. Kalishnakov is extra.