” …a cloud gathers,
the rain falls,
men live ;
the cloud disperses without rain, and the men and animals die.
In the deserts of southern arabia there is no rhythm of the seasons, no rise and fall of sap, but empty wastes where only the changing temperature marks the passage of the year.
it is bitter, desiccated land which knows nothing of gentleness or ease.
Yet men have lived there since earliest times.
Passing generations have left fire-blackened stones at camping sites, a few faint tracks polished on the gravel plains.
elsewhere the winds wipe out footprints.
men live there because it is the world into which they were born; the life they lead is the life their fore-fathers led before them ; they accept hardships and privations; they know no other way.
Lawrence wrote in ‘seven pillars of wisdom’ ” Bedouin ways were hard, even for those brought up in them and for strangers terrible: a death in life.’
No man can live this life and emerge unchanged.
He will carry, however faint, the imprint of the desert, the brand which marks the nomad: and he will have within him the yearning to return, weak or insistent according to his nature.
for this cruel land can cast a spell which no temperate clime can match.
prologue – arabian sands – wilfred thesinger
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