Desert Flower Read Free Page A

the direction the Mercedes was already traveling. The man opened his mouth, showing his beautiful white teeth, and started to laugh.

GROWING UP
WITH ANIMALS
    Before I ran away from home, my life had been built around nature, family, and our strong bond with the animals that kept us alive. Stretching back to my earliest days, I shared a common trait with children the world over: my love of animals. In fact, my earliest memory is of my pet goat, Billy. Billy was my special treasure, my everything, and maybe I loved him most because he was a baby, like me. I used to sneak him all the food I could find, until he was the plumpest, happiest little goat in the herd. My mother constantly
     
    questioned, “Why is this goat so fat, when all the rest are so skinny?” I took perfect care of him, grooming him, petting him, talking to him for hours.
    My relationship with Billy was representative of our live in Somalia. My family’s fate intertwined with that of the herds we tended daily. Dependence on the animals created our great respect for them, and those feelings were present in everything we did. All the children in my family tended our animals, a task we began helping with as soon as we were able to walk. We grew up with the animals, prospered when they prospered, suffered when they suffered, died when they died. We raised cattle, sheep, and goats, but while I dearly loved my little Billy, there was no doubt that our camels were the most important animals we owned.
    The camel is legendary in Somalia; Somalia boasts more camels than any country in the world; there are more camels in Somalia than people. In my country we have a long tradition of oral poetry, and much of it is devoted to passing along the lessons of the camel from one generation to the next, telling of its essential value to our culture. I remember my mother used to sing us a song, which basically said, “My camel has gone away to
     
    the bad man, who will either kill it or steal it from me. So I’m begging, I’m praying, please bring back my camel.” From the time I Was a baby, I knew of the great importance of these animals, because they’re absolutely gold in out society. You simply cannot live in the desert without them. As one Somali poet put it:
    A she-cared is a mother
    To him who owns it
    Whereas a he-cared is the artery
    Onto which hangs life itself… And it’s true. A man’s life is measured by camels, with one hundred camels being the price for a man who has been killed. A hundred camels must be paid by the killer’s clan to the surviving family of the victim, or the dead man’s clan will attack the killer in retribution. The traditional price for a bride is paid in camels. But on a daily level, the camels kept us alive. No other domestic animal is so well suited for life in the desert. A camel wants to drink once a week, but can go as long as a month without water. In the meantime, however, the female camel gives milk to nourish us and quench our thirst, an enormous asset when you’re far from water. Even in the hottest temperatures,
     
    camels retain liquid and survive. They graze on the scrubby bushes found in our arid landscape, leaving the grasses for the other livestock.
    We raised them to carry us across the desert, haul our meager belongings, and pay our debts. In other countries, you might hop in your car and go, but our only transportation, other than walking, was our camels.
    The animal’s personality is very similar to that of a horse; a camel will develop a close relationship with his master, and do things for him that he wouldn’t do for anybody else. Men break the young camels a dangerous practice and train them to be ridden and follow a lead. It’s important to be firm with them, because otherwise, when they sense a weak rider, they’ll buck him off, or kick him.
    Like most Somalis, we lived the pastoral lifestyle of herdsmen. Even though we struggled constantly for survival, our large herds of camels, cattle, sheep, and