By night two I feel like part of the family, especially when I learn that a goat has been “sacrificed” in my honor. The chef prepares a hoof-to-horn meal and as I sample skewers of every imaginable bit—heart, lungs, intestines—the dinner conversation turns to politics. It is a historic day, Nouri explains. The king has appointed the first female prime minister. I ask the group’s emotions. Zaïd jokes that it is the end for men. Saâdia says she doesn’t care about politics, only the goats. Telhou cracks a grin and says she’s happy. When I ask why, she tells me, via Nouri, “because I’m a woman, too.”
On our third morning, I ask Nouri if I can follow the women off trail. Our route is just under seven miles but steeper than previous days. By now, I have begun to notice the slight distinctions of the goats—twisted horns, a shaggy beard, white ears on a one-year-old kid I’ve named Mittens. Telhou uses primal shouts to keep the herd together, while Saâdia uses a slingshot contraption to skillfully throw stones at straying goats. She lets me try and we both break out in giggles when my rock launches backwards. Telhou tells Nouri she is impressed with my stamina and asks him if I like this work. I honestly do. What would otherwise be an epic hike has purpose—to help care for the herd—and also adds a human connection to this otherworldly landscape.
The scenery today, red rocks and flat mesas, could pass for Utah and our hike feels like a geologic safari with Nouri pointing out rock formations that resemble elephants and camels. Once again, by the time we meet up with Hmad and descend into camp I am physically exhausted. In our age of comfort, doing hard things is deeply satisfying, but as I rinse off the day’s dust in my bucket shower, I wonder if I could handle this lifestyle. In many ways it is blissfully simple-almost like an annual hiking trip with friends and family where everyone is forced to disconnect from their screens due to the limited cell signal. But modern day stresses are replaced with real life stresses for the tribe, like finding water, staying warm, and protecting the herd—the family’s currency—from jackals and wild dogs.
