The Cameelious Humph

Sidi Kaouki Residents' Association

No-one ever tells you that in Morocco - or, at least, in Sidi Kaouki camels grow on trees! Everywhere we walk, beyond our Paradise garden, we can be sure of being never more than a spit away from one of these supercilious beasts. In fact, with only a few days till Christmas (hoorah!) I half expect the Three Wise Men to stop by in Sidi on their happy way to Epiphany. Maybe they’ll even let me climb aboard!

Admittedly, prior to the docking of our Magic Carpet, my last confrontation with The King of the Desert had not been an auspicious one. This fellow, in fact, was merely The King of Banham Zoo, but he clearly had pretensions. Initially the occasion was a civil one, cordial even - he on his side of the fence, Lorenzo and I on ours. 

Until Lorenzo decided to take things to the next level. “Weesshhtt!” he declared provocatively, looking the fellow right in the eye. Now, to you or I this might seem like a harmless, if rather inane, bit of fun. A bit like when we sang rousing hymns to a field full of demoralised Norfolk Turkeys (they gobbled loudest at ‘Jerusalem’) one snowy Advent. But to a camel, be warned, this is the ultimate insult. Before you could say ‘Lawrence of Arabia”, he was half over the utterly inadequate fence. A party of school-children fled in terror. Flocks of birds took off from the trees as he lunged for me, lips aquiver! Mesmerised with fear and fascination I held my ground.

After what seemed like an eternity, we seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement, as he climbed down from his high horse and with one last disdainful look made his retreat. Humph! Next time I’m going to leave Lorenzo at home.