The trip to Jalu

One day we had to advance in the teeth of the storm, and I saw how it could destroy a caravan. Of course, one has to keep moving slowly. To stop means to be drowned by the sand. The camels instinctively know this and continue to advance in spite of the tormenting blast..

Sometimes, however, toward sunset, when we had been battling for hours against the seemingly interminable bombardment, the wind would stop dead, as if a master hand had given a signal. For an hour or more the fine sand and dust would settle slowly, like a falling mist. Afterward the moon would rise, and under the pale magic of its flooding light, the desert would assume a new aspect. Had there been a sandstorm? Who could remember? Could this peaceful expanse of loveliness ever be cruel? Who could believe it?...


-- A.M Hassanein Bey, Crossing the Libyan Desert. 1924.