Fading Desert Footprints (Complete)

'Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky.' Dust In The Wind, Kansas

I am in the back of a small bus. There are ten people on board, all tourists; half the seats are empty. In the din, I discern three accents; British, South African, and Russian.

We've been on the bus three hours, and are nearing Meroe, our destination. I am focused on two ladies in the front row with large brimmed flowered sunhats, one is red and white, the other yellow and white. They sit stiff and erect, like the cardboard cut-outs of Kelly and Kelly in the boat from my dream a few days ago. Because of this, I stare at their backs, hoping that one or both will turn, even slightly, so that I can look at their faces.

We park, and I have to wait my turn to exit, which takes ten minutes because of the elderly British couple that climb down each step as if descending a cliff.

I jump off and immediately search for the two ladies. I spot them just past the entrance, but I still can't see their faces. I queue in the short entrance line, while watching them walk down a gentle sand hill. They arrive on a flat sandy area between the parking lot, and the Meroe pyramids.

There are several pyramids, columns, and an old hall randomly splayed there. These pyramids are much smaller, narrower, and steeper than the Egyptian counterparts they copied, but built for the same purpose; to bury someone noble.

This was the ancient Kush Kingdom for which nearby Meroe was the Capital, and hub. The tops were intact, which was my first sign that something was amiss; the treasure hunter Guiseppe Ferlini is famous for having lopped them off decades ago, and then raiding the insides for jewelry and artifacts.

I see the two wide brimmed hat ladies halfway to the first pyramid; they both have long hair, one blond, the other brunette. I reach the edge of the short descent but a man in a jubbah and turban with several missing teeth jumps into my way. I try to look around him, but he keeps jumping into my vision.

"Camel?" he asks, and produces some reigns attached to a large, brown, humped beast that avoids looking at me, hoping I would decline the offer.

"No." I say angrily and sprint around him.

I already had a brief camel ride yesterday. It was a short, expensive venture that was supposed to take me to the pyramids. I had climbed onto the camel, whereupon it groaned. At the insistence of its owner, the dromedary stood and moved forward. That was enough for me; I felt sorry for the beast, and didn't want to burden it by hauling my carcass further. I was more than capable of doing that myself, and would enjoy the walk. Two steps were enough to tick 'camel ride' off my bucket list, as Kelly had done in a photo.

I spot the pair of sunhats disappear around the fifth pyramid. I run across the small sand plain to it, and look into the square gate at the front. It is closed and locked. I scan the grounds again, and spy them walking behind a column, towards another stone entrance.

I sprint towards it. I look around the square pillar and into another nearby archway, yet the pair of hats are back at the bus.

I sprint across the sand field again, and up the gentle slope. It becomes steep, so that every time I get partway up, I slide back down, like a Sisyphus boulder.

I look up, and the top is far away, like a cliff, and I see the Camel driver peer over the edge down to me. He is joined by the local vendors, two suntanned young dirty faces, and two old wrinkled ones, peering over the edge as if watching a show. I feel like a gladiator in a small coliseum.

I see a set of stairs to the right. I am breathing heavily as I get to the top. The sunhat ladies enter the bus. I set off towards it. After two steps, I am surrounded by hundreds of vendors shoving trinkets at me; pyramid statues, cups, idols, and bracelets. Their combined shouting is deafening.