BLIND OBEDIENCE

By Glynis Mary Wakeman

It is our boundaries that define us; the limits we set for ourselves determine our
course. Many choose to sit on the fence until circumstances or events topple them
over, or the whole system collapses, yet some venture forward.

It was on one of these fences that I sat, contemplating a daring move to travel alone
into a wilderness that required a special permit. Why? Because I wanted to find out
more. I wanted to see for myself, to experience a time long forgotten. The likelihood of
the event had in fact grown into a legend, resembling something like a fairytale. The
passion for knowledge grew into longing, and then a sudden leap of faith made me
jump off the fence.
A plane journey took me to the airport of Tabuk, in the north-west of Saudi Arabia.
Here I met the man who would be one of my three companions and also my guide,
although he never knew it at the time.
We travelled south for half the day, down the Red Sea coastline, until we came to our
beach camp in Maqna. The other two had already set camp. Mine, a bedouin carpet, a
stretcher and a table with a bowl of fruit and other nibbles on it. The only thing that
appeared to be missing was a toilet. I was a woman and clearly, they had not thought
of this.
What was I doing on the shores of Maqna? Diving of course. The diving on the Saudi
side of the Red Sea had hardly been touched, since very few tourists go diving on this
side, which is opposite the tourist destination of Sinai. I had learnt to dive in Jeddah.
Waking up early the following morning after arriving at Maqna, I went for a walk along
the beach and noticed an army vehicle parked two hundred meters from our camp
site. There were two army officers in it. No one else was in sight. I sat down at the far
end of the bay and watched the sunrise. I could see Sinai in Egypt, probably close to
the village of Dahab from where we were, and as the sun rose, the contours of the
mountains became less visible from dust that polluted the horizon.
I walked back to the campsite and waited, and waited, and waited. By nine o’ clock, I
decided to go snorkeling on my own. The coral started right at the beach front which
made it impossible not to walk on, no matter what was taught on the PADI course,
there seemed no other way to go in. They didn’t care about ‘protecting the reef’ in this
part of the world. When the water reached my belly I submerged and kicked my
flippers further into the ocean. I had not gone very far when I came across a vertical
cliff at the edge of the coral. Deep dark waters loomed up at me, scaring me half to
death. All I could think of, being alone, were sharks’ teeth and gigantic eels that might
be lurking beneath the surface. I turned back to the shallower coral and paddled
about, rather cowardly. At least I had had my ‘bath’ for the morning. There was no
bathroom or enough fresh water that day for a quick splash.
My team surfaced around eleven that morning. I was wondering how we were going to
fit in three dives for the day, as per my tour package. Of course it didn’t happen, but
my instructor did take me for a night walk in the waters in search of night life. It was
quite incredible how much more can be seen at night walking around with a torch: a
tiny octopus, balloon fish, eel and a few other sleeping fish, all trying to find a safe
spot from predators for the night. We were looking specifically for a lobster, which
they promised to find me for dinner! One was caught on night three. One delicious
lobster all for me!
When I finally broached the topic of archaeology, my instructor promised to take me
to one site, not too far from our campsite, believed to be one of the points the
Israelites had crossed over the Red Sea. It was a magical place, spoilt by the army
having blown up the base of the canyon a few years back when they discovered
smuggling taking place from Egypt. The boats would come across the short distance
of around 9 miles and meet four wheel drive vehicles that took their spoils through
this canyon to different destinations. Unfortunately, I knew it wasn’t the right place. It
was too small and wouldn’t have fitted three million people on its alcove. That night
we searched on Google Earth. I had never heard of it before. All the names had been
recorded. We were too far south to visit Mt Sinai and the beach opposite the known
location on the Egyptian side was as well. We decided to try and find ‘the Rock at
Horeb’ instead, as it was closer. I had been very lucky to have found this gentleman,
as he was very interested in history and, besides offering diving, he also took people
on historic tours in the vicinity. This was good for his business.
The next day we left the cook behind and went into the wilderness. Along the way we
stopped at a small village where one of the inhabitants took us to an altar on the
roadside.There was nothing there! But the man claimed it had been there before the
graders had turned it into dust when the road was made. It had been built by Moses,
he had said.
The village itself was set in a valley lined with date palms bordering a little stream.
Obviously the only source of water for miles around.
We continued our journey, moving into the hilly area, passing only a few mud houses,
camels, goats and sheep. The setting took me back to a timeline thousands of years
before, even though we were travelling in a jeep. I felt I was wandering the wilderness
with three million Hebrews.
My host was astounded by what I had introduced. He had been living in the area all
his life and had never heard of all these historical landmarks, right on his doorstep.
Now we searched for the Rock at Horeb, my host’s assistant had clearly seen the
rock, but could not remember exactly where it was. So, each huge boulder in the
distance was our target until we got close enough to know if it resembled the one we
had seen matching the picture on Google Earth.
We had been travelling for hours when we were interrupted by a blaring horn from
behind us. The vehicle seemed to have come out of nowhere. My host pulled over so
the vehicle behind could overtake. Then it stopped, the back of the vehicle was full of
children, around eight of them. A man climbed out from behind the steering wheel and
walked towards our Jeep. My men climbed out and met him.
While they spoke, the children began to eye me out. Along the bumpy journey my
head covering had fallen off, my long blond hair naked to the onlookers.
After several minutes the men headed back to their vehicles. Mine reported that the
other had seen a vehicle not too far from this spot, which had been there for the last
three days. They had gone to investigate and found a dead body in it. We were going
to follow them to assist in some way, as the man was alone with his eight young
children. While they were telling the story, suddenly the vehicle we were following
came to an abrupt halt. The driver leaped out and started raging away. My driver also
got out of the jeep and started shouting back. Both red faced with anger now, I sat
wide-eyed in the back half knowing that it was all to do with me. A dual seemed
shortly to follow. My co-host was trying to keep my host’s anger in check. After a lot
of hissing, spitting, fist clenching and raging both men hastily climbed back into their
vehicles. Mine jumped into his seat, cursing all the while, immediately stepped on the
accelerator, and headed straight up a rather steep bank. Wheels spinning, dust flying,
we managed to bridge the top, picking up speed along the narrow dusty jeep track
that led to the main road. We were a long way off. My host was still spitting venom,
but slowly the strange episode began to unfold. The children had reported me in the
back of the Jeep to the driver. I had no permit for this area, so he was going to report
us to the police check-point. My host was trying to beat him passed that point.
Unfortunately, the wilderness had changed a lot in the last few thousand years,
especially in the field of technology. The bedouin had obviously invested in some
kind of radio communication device. At the check-point, the police stopped us and we
got into trouble.

Well actually, my host had withheld vital information from me on two occasions. Even
though he had subtly tried to convince me to come with others, I could not find
anyone who wanted to venture into this remote corner of the country. They did not
share the same passion as I did, or belief for that matter. Nor had he told me that I
needed another permit for this specific area. He had told a white lie to the police about
our whereabouts, so at the checkpoint we had no army following us, as it was outside
their jurisdiction.
On the night of my arrival, an army vehicle had come to enquire about who the foreign
woman was, walking on the beach alone. What was she doing there? The permit was
shown with the stamp of approval. My original name is Gaelic, and my host knew they
probably would not have known it was a woman’s name. Single woman could not
travel alone in the area. It had worked; it had been approved. So, being a British
citizen, I had a twenty-four hour security army unit guarding me night and day, always
within eyeshot.
However, this all changed the day we wandered into the wilderness in an area that the
permit did not reach. We had stepped over the boundary line, so all freedom of
movement was restricted. No more ambling along the seaside in a costume: I had to
be in full attire, covering my entire body. This was a nuisance.

What had I achieved? The journey was a remarkable one. The sceneries, especially at
dusk and dawn, were shades of pastel, as desert dust outlined the contours of the
terrain, creating timeless pictures never to be forgotten. Exquisite beauty contrasting
oasis palms, springs in canyons, and a trip to a WWII British plane crash in a remote
spot, highlighting red sand dunes. A journey that will remain with me forever;
experiences embedded in memory. Nervous tension that could have ended really
badly for me, created instances where I saw into different cultural values and beliefs.
The diving experience was very unusual too. My host had recently got married, so
after the wilderness episode, he left to be with his newly wedded wife for a couple of
days before meeting us on the last day to escort me back to Tabuk airport. My co-host
took me diving during that period when I was dressed in full attire. It was awkward
getting it all off in the water, then putting it back on again, as the clothing would blow
up like a balloon.
I was shown areas underneath the water destroyed by an earthquake. Huge clams and
other large shells lay at the bottom of the ocean. All the while, my co-host spear
fishing for dinner, producing mouth-watering delicacies which we ate in traditional
style on the floor around a large dish centred in the middle. We ate with our hands.
One night tasty roasted nuts, cooked under the sand on red coals, while we gazed
across the moonlit waters to the mountains of Sinai, not too far away.
Another time I was shown the devastation of desalination on a dive in the vicinity.
Everything was completely lifeless from too much salt being pumped back into the
ocean in one spot. Contrarily, one night I was sitting on my beach chair alone in the
dark smoking a cigarette and a desert fox appeared over the rocks above me. We
stared at each other momentarily with bated breath before it darted off, disappearing
into the darkness. Such timeless moments.

My co-host went back to both historical spots after I had left and took photos. He sent
them all to me. No idea what happened to the dead body in the desert. It appears that
the living, and what they do, are more important under law. I am also thankful that
they never gave me full details about the permits, as I probably would never have
gone, had I known.
I came across many contradictions on the topic of archaeology in Saudi. Locals told
me that anything that supersedes the religious faith is rejected. Archeology is one of
these. My host in this story showed me a site fenced off in the region and suggested
no one ever knows what they find in these places and no one is ever allowed to go in.
No questions are asked. However, there are many spots in Saudi where you can freely
go in and explore the ancient sites, such as the Nabatean tombs. I went on a tour of
these ruins not far from Mecca, besides a very small one in Midian. All heads of the
creatures had been cut off by extremists, ruining every image. Even though they are
not as well preserved as Petra, in Jordan, the vast area these tombs cover is
incredible. I was told it was forbidden for locals to go into this area, but we came
across bus loads of Islamic followers exploring.
Other archaeological areas which appear to be connected to Hebrew history are kept
secret. A fence runs around the entire circumference and an army base is set up to
ensure no one is allowed in, except for the elite of course. Makes one wonder a bit,
doesn’t it? Let us not forget that Moses married a woman named Zipporah from these
lands, from Midian in Saudi Arabia, to be precise. Moses lived in these lands when he
fled Egypt after killing an Egyptian, and even took a wife from here.