The dunes ofthe great karoo (part one)

I sighed as I looked across the dunes of the Great Karoo. I knew the oasis was not to far from here, but it would probably take me the rest of the day to find it. The ever-changing sands of the desert made landmarks near impossble to find.
My hot, tired feet sank into the sand as I trudged along. How I envied Habib with his flat feet. The dromedary strolled behind me on his rope as though he did not have a care in the world. He barely seemed to notice the almost empty water skins and trade items loaded on his back.
Some of the old ones in the settlements have told me there were once roads and towns in the Karoo, built centuries ago before The Winter. I have seen a little evidence to prove this legend true. Great metal sheets, badly rusted, some with barely dicernable lettering, pushed up out of the shifting sands. A few times, I have taken shelter in the remnants of ancient stone building. I guess the desert must have taken the rest of it.
Habib’s pace increased. As I looked up at him, his nostrils flared and his eyes grew a little wild. He smelt water. The oasis was close. Probably just over the next dune.
I tightened my grip on his leading rope to try not to let the dromedary get away from me. As I shifted my pace into a trot to keep up, Habib doubled his.
“Slow down Habib,” I said, tugging on the rope to get his attention, “The water is not going anywhere.” He dragged me on.
Giving up, I let the camel go and paused to catch my breath. After a minute, I followed his tracks over the dune ahead.
I once saw an old picture of an oasis when I was young. It was all lush, green palm trees and bushes, surrounding a crystal clear pool of water. That was not the sight that greeted me as I reached the top of the dune.
The dry valley before me was once a flowing river. Now it was a dry bed of rocks and sand. Scattered bushes broke the dull brown of the valley floor and walls with their dry grey-green colour. Habib was already standing in a patch of darker sand, pawing at the ground.
I carefully made my way down the embankment, which had formed on this wall of the valley. My feet plunged into the gravel up to my knees, due to the loose consistency of the sand and my own weight. Finally, I reached the bottom with boots full of sand and headed over to Habib.
As I drew nearer, I realised the sand was darker here because it was wet. I was very surprised by this. Usually I had to dig deep to get to the water here. I had never seen it so high. It was not practical to build wells when I used them so rarely.
Coming up on Habib, I saw bright green shoots peaking out of the damp earth. So, this was not from a recent rainfall, as rare as those were. The water had been this high for a while.
I looked over my shoulder, back the way we had come. The sun was not far from the top of the valley. In a couple of hours, it would disappear behind the dunes. I needed to set up camp soon.
Dragging Habib over to the eastern side of the valley, I found a suitable rock to secure him too. Even at fifteen years old, the camel had a juvenile tendecy to wander. I had not managed to break him of the habit since he had left his mother’s side ten years ago.
I tapped his fore and hind flank, and gave him the comand to kneel. Groaning like an old man, he eased down to his knees, surely glad to get off his feet. Pulling off the bundles tied to his back I placed them in the lee of some nearby rocks. As I was taking the protective blanketing off his slightly wilting hump, he grumbled obstinately at me. I looked up at him and chuckled at the forlorn look he gave me, then at the wet sand.
Going over to where I had placed my bundles, I burrowed out my spade and my testing kit. Over at the mud hole I began digging and almost imidiatly the hole filled up with water. It pooled just below ground level, dragging earth back in almost as fast as I dug it out.
I excavated a substantial hollow, now filled with rather muddy water, and hunkered down beside it as I tested it for radiation and other toxins. Seeing that the water was safe, I went back to Habib to bring him over to the puddle. He was already on his feet again and tugging at his bonds.
“Easy boy,” I muttered as I realesed him,” Now you leave enough for me to fill my skins, Hab. I don’t want to have to dig anymore today”
I went to work setting up my tent, serenaded by slurping, sucking noises as Habib drank heartily. Assembling the central pole, finding good-sized rocks to anchor the guy-ropes, and finaly burying the bottom of the material in the sand so it would not flap in the wind.
By the time I had finished the sun was sitting on the western lip of the valley. Habib, having had his fill of water, had ambled over to nibble on some nearby brush. With the light rapidly leaving the valley, I removed my sun goggles, but with my sun exposure still high, I left my howli wrapped fully around my head.
Sometime in the middle of the twenty first century, the war for oil had escalated. All the world powers wanted it for themselves. Nobody knows who was first, but a nuclear missile was launched. Retaliation was swift and devastating.
I still see the repercussions of that war everyday, even though it occured centuries ago. The protective clothing I have to wear to defend my skin from the harmful UV’s let in by the depleted ozone layer. Testing all the water I find for dangerous radiation and other poisens from a world long forgotten. Even the desert I have spent my life walking through.
In a magnanimous mood from finding the clean, available water, I left Habib to his wonderings. The scrub was more concentrated near the water so I doubted he would go far, although I still kept an eye on him while I collected firewood. Gathering a sizable amount of dry brush, I set to work on a fire. I picked up some larger branches as well; they should make some semi-decent charcoal.
I would stay here the whole of tomorrow to boil and filter water to refill my skins. I needed the fine ground charcoal for my filter. There might not be any toxins in the water, but nobody likes to drink sand and bacteria.
As the last of the sun left the sky, I herded in my dromedary. Before a supper of biltong and some of the green shoots from the spring, I tethered him up inside the tent and returned outside to eat. Habib might smell as if something had died in his fur, but I would rather live with the smell than try to endure a cold desert night alone. Besides, I am sure I do not smell like roses myself.
Unknown "My Chef" Playful - 16 years, 2 days ago