Sunday, October 16th, by Judy Wright

This Sunday afternoon’s experience was a highlight for me for two main reasons: the majestic barrenness of the desert and the gracious hospitality of the Bedouin community.

I grew up in the west Texas desert of El Paso and looking out of the window of our bus that was taking us into the stark Judean desert to the Bedouin camp was as if I were coming home.  At this time of year, there was nothing green anywhere yet I knew that there was life in that desert.  Somehow, camels and goats and sheep and people were able to survive with clever adaptations. The traditional lifestyle of the Bedouin is nomadic, moving from place to place so they had to develop ways to prepare cheese, salt meat, purify water and even wash their hair using a shrub called adhuo. If the washing process is repeated the hair becomes blond.  Successive Israeli administrations have tried to demolish Bedouin villages and move them into settlements that would supposedly provide basic services and infrastructure.  In 2015, two agencies of the United Nations combined forces and have called on Israel to stop its plans to relocate Bedouin communities currently living in the West Bank stating that a “forcible transfer” of over 7000 Bedouin people would “destroy their culture and livelihood”

I also grew up in the Southern tradition of going to church in the morning on Sunday and then spending the afternoon resting after a big Sunday dinner with family.  Sunday was set aside to reset after a busy week, to enjoy great food and to enjoy family. 

So here we were traveling on a Sunday afternoon to be treated to the hospitality of a Bedouin community which included sharing a beautifully prepared meal in the company of our new friends. Our meal, called the zarb, was a traditional meal of chicken cooked underground for 3-5 hours.  The men were in charge of the outdoor cooking and removing the heavy stone cover of the “cooking” hole while the women made rice, vegetables and a bread that peeled off in thin layers.  Afterward, we sat on the floor on cushions in a circle in Arabic tradition where we could ask questions about their life and customs.

Special memories: the 3 km uphill hike in the dry desert afternoon heat  with my hiking buddies, new appreciation of what harsh conditions Jesus experienced while He was in the wilderness, the wide, curious, beautiful eyes of little Mohammed aged 4, the rock wall of the central room where we ate which was made of small smooth stones all the same size and collected from the Wadi’s, my granddaughter Angelina who had no problem being first in line for our delicious meal.