Desert Flower Read Free Page B

goats marked us as wealthy by the standards in my country. Following tradition, my brothers usually tended the large animals, the cattle and camels, and the girls watched over the smaller ones.
    As nomads we traveled constantly, never staying in one place for more than three or four weeks.
     
    “his constant movement was driven by the need lo care for our animals. We were seeking food and water to keep them alive, and in the dry Somalian climate these necessities were seldom easy to find.
    Our home was a hut woven from grass; being portable it served the same purpose as a tent. We built a framework from sticks, then my mother wove grass mats that we laid over the bent twigs to form a dome about six feet in diameter. When it came time to move on, we dismantled the hut and tied the sticks and mats, along with our few possessions, to the backs of our camels. They’re incredibly strong animals, and the babies and small children would ride on top, while the rest of us walked alongside, herding the animals to our next home. When we found a spot with water and foliage for grazing, we’d set up our camp again.
    The hut provided shelter for the babies, shade from the midday sun, and storage space for fresh milk. At night, the rest of us slept outside under the stars, with the children cuddled together on a mat. After the sun went down, the desert was cold; we didn’t have enough blankets for each child to have his own, and since we had very little clothing, we used the heat from our bodies to keep us warm. My father slept off to one side, as our guardian, the protector of the family.
    In the morning we got up with the sun. Our first chore was to head out to the pens where we kept the herds, and milk them. Wherever we went we cut saplings to make pens for the animals, to keep them from straying at night. The baby animals were kept in a pen separate from the mothers so they wouldn’t take all the milk. One of my tasks was to milk the cows, taking some of the fresh milk to make butter, but leaving enough for the calves. After the milking, we’d let the babies come in and nurse.
    Then we had our breakfast of camel’s milk, which is more nutritious than other animals’ milk as it contains vitamin C. Our region was very dry, without enough water to grow crops, so we had no vegetables or bread. Sometimes we followed warthogs, large wild African pigs, tracking them to plants. They sniffed out edible roots, digging down with their hooves and snouts to feast on them. Our family shared in their bounty by taking some home to add to our diet.
    We looked at slaughtering animals for meat as wasteful, and only resorted to this in case of emergency, or for special occasions, such as a wedding. Our animals were too valuable for us to kill and eat, as we raised them for their milk and to trade for the other goods we needed. For everyday
     
    sustenance, we had only camel’s milk for breakfast, and again in the evening for supper. Sometimes there wasn’t enough for everybody, so we fed the smallest children first, then the older ones, and so on. My mother never took a bite of food until everyone else had eaten; in fact, I don’t remember ever seeing my mother eat, although I realize she must have. But if we didn’t have anything for supper at night, it was no big deal, nothing to panic about. No need to cry or complain. The little babies might cry, but the older children knew the rules, so we just went to sleep. We tried to remain cheerful, kept calm and quiet, and tomorrow, God willing, we’d find a way. In’shallah, which means it will happen ‘if God is willing,” was our philosophy. We knew our lives were dependent on the forces of nature, and God controlled those forces, not us.
    A big treat for us as people in other parts of the world might regard a holiday feast was when my father brought home a sack of rice. Then we’d use the butter we made by shaking cow’s milk in a basket that my mother had woven. Occasionally we’d trade a