I was visiting an oasis in the Sahara, with my dog a pointer, but the night
came so quickly I had to camp in the car, shared my food and water with
the dog. I got up before sunrise, wanted to see the birth of morning when
the land of sand turns into gold. My GPS system had failed but I followed
the way the dog was sniffing the air and drove westward.
After an hour of tedious driving I saw the oasis, a holiday camp for well to
do Arabs, the women in burka and face veil sat on deck chairs by the oases
lake sunning themselves – or perhaps not- the men folk drank coffee and
smoked cigarettes under palm trees and their camels grazed
I saw a shining object in the sky, a drone and it fired rockets on the
oasis the scene of peace was obliterated.
Those responsible, the westerner who had come here for oil, said they
were sorry, they had thought the place was a nest of terrorists.
A sand storm was brewing and when it was over there was not a trace
of the oasis, the Arabian paradise in the sand.