Tribal Hubris

Sheikha Halima and the General

The Khalideen Camp, South Sinai Desert

Sheikha Halima, matriarch of the Khalideen tribe, waited patiently for her guests to arrive for the great feast. Even before the sun crept over the mountains that morning, she had felt the camp buzzing around her. It was no easy task to prepare food and accommodations for so many in the unforgiving desert heat and there were many tribal nuances to consider on top of it.

Her job was to perform a delicate balancing act; to estimate the number of people, the space needed, and the mouths to feed and provide for even more than that. Hospitality above all things was her people's chosen obligation and she could never belittle that important responsibility with a miscount.

Allah forbid she placed the Na'ama near the Abadis, or that hawk of a man, head of the Mestakawi tribe, anywhere near his wife's people, the Afhadi. She had learned many years ago that such a mistake could be fatal. The desert tribesmen were a hard people who were quick to anger and not known to compromise. More often than not, a perceived insult could result in a family feud that would claim many lives, ruining the present and future of whole families for generations.

To make matters worse, the desert was teeming with weapons and many of the chiefs were too liberal with how they distributed them among the young. Halima did not appreciate that recklessness but she could not be mother to all, nor did she want to be. Her own three sons and the two hundred and four members of her extended family were enough to deal with. Their safety was her only concern since the death of her husband, Sheikh Hamid, three years ago. A lion among sheep, she thought, remembering his affectionate gaze when she brushed his ego so. That was years ago now. Today she had to be more than a mother, more than the wise voice of her people and much more than the wife she had been.

It would be a special gathering. All the tribes of the Sinai desert had not gathered in one place for generations. No one could remember the last time it had happened, or pinpoint exactly why they harboured such animosity between them. This was the way it had always been and even though a strict unwritten code governed their every interaction with each other, the tribes of Sinai approached each other with caution. Each had their domain and the rules were clear. If one wanted to use the land, camels, or horses, but most importantly smuggling routes, of another, they had to ask. They had to come with gifts and discussion and the correct manner of respect, adhering to all the trappings of tradition they held close in their race against time.

Things had become more complicated in recent years with the arrival of foreign tourists in groups of beach-hungry and often rude groups of strange peoples with even stranger habits. They did not respect the old ways of the desert and cared little for its nature. But they did provide much needed currency and a strong bargaining position for the tribes with the government and with each other. Some, like the Khalideen, embraced the visitors and their blessings of technology. They built several diving camps for tourists, invested in restaurants and supported the fishermen along the coast, giving each of the Sheikha's sons responsibility for a different sector.

Other chiefs and sheikhs resented the newcomers and the inevitable advance of modernity. They shunned electronics as a whole and preferred to communicate in the oldest of methods; the horse and words of the mouth, writing nothing down. Their children were rough, uneducated men who scowled at foreigners and other tribesmen alike, stole what they wanted, and created trouble with their neighbours. The problem was, there were many such chiefs. Even more if she raised her eyes farther south or even east and west. Halima sighed to herself, maybe they were right somehow, maybe the new ways could never live side by side with the old. In all cases, she was committed now, she told herself. There was no turning back from her promise. It was not her way.