Worldwide Wanderer

“Tea, tea......”, the little girl appeared from nowhere as I slithered down the scree slope from the main path that led down from the High Place of Sacrifice She grabbed at my hand and pointed towards a cleft in the red, crumbling rock, “Tea, tea”, she tugged more insistently. “I don’t really like tea” I murmured but had already surrendered to this barefoot, charming urchin dressed in clothes several sizes too big for her. Seeing I was following she released my hand and skipped ahead leading me around a promontory and pointing towards a rusting, beaten up flatbed truck marooned on the sand “Tea”, she pointed towards a cave entrance hidden behind the truck in which I could see the embers of a fire being stirred into life and hear evidence of dogs and children. My tiny guide took me by the hand once more and presented me, with a final exclamation of “Tea,” to a smiling Bedouin man with a magnificent mustache.
“Sit.....”, I perched on a rock and smiled nervously as he placed a blackened kettle over the fire. Plates were produced with flatbread, pickled vegetables, some soft cheese and olives. Each dish was handed to me as my host pointed to various children and dogs naming each one in turn. I stumbled over the unfamiliar words and awkwardly began to eat. The tea was poured, the man gestured into the cave, at the thick rugs laid on the sandy floor, the transistor radio, the jerry cans of fuel, all the domestic arrangements he was obviously so proud of. He pointed at the plate “Good?”, I nodded, “Good”. He passed me a tiny, chipped glass of mouth puckeringly sweet liquid, “Tea”, he smiled proudly, “Drink....”. and I did.