No Woman, No Cry: A Night With the Bedouin in Wadi Rum

The Wadi Rum desert in Jordan lies in the southern end of the country, between the ancient city of Petra and the coast of the Red Sea. Loosely translated “High Canyon,” Wadi Rum easily lives up to its name with towering red rock formations lining the winding stretch of desert for over 100km of breathtaking views. The shifting sun mingles with swirling sand to reflect vibrant hues, creating spectacular sunsets that turn into night skies covered in endless stars. To say it's a foreign setting is an understatement: Wadi Rum is like another planet. Picture Tatooine from the early Star Wars movies, especially as you lazily gaze over its expanse via camel caravan, and you’ve almost done the place justice.

Best known to westerners as the background for British officer T.E. Lawrence’s operations during the Arab Revolt in 1917-18 (and the subsequent film Lawrence of Arabia in 1962), Wadi Rum is the kind of place you can’t understand until you go. Even once you’re there, you’re not sure where you are.

I had no idea what to expect when I was told to pack for a weekend stay with the Bedouin in Wadi Rum. I pictured a rustic, transient campground, devoid of running water, electrical outlets, or cell phone rings—a place where foreigners were, well, foreign. Basically, I pictured Lawrence of Arabia, for lack of a better mental image.

Maybe that setting held true in the 1960s, but since then, Wadi Rum has become one of the most popular tourist attractions in Jordan. The Zalabia Bedouin who call the valley home have made eco-tourism their main source of income, setting up tourist camps with amenities like bathrooms, showers, and electric lights to cater to foreigners. With the influx of business has come an increase in wealth. It’s not uncommon that you will see a Bedouin man sporting the newest cell phone or a brand new four-wheeler.

One night, lounging under the stars by the communal campfire during my visit, I found myself next to a young Bedouin man about my age. We were both drinking the intensely sweet tea that should be the national drink of Jordan, chatting in broken Arabic and English. Casually, he turned to me and said, “You know Bob Marley?” I laughed at the unexpected question and nodded. “You know, No Woman, No Cry?” I nodded again. “Well, in Bedouin,” he explained seriously, “We say no sukar (sugar), no shai (tea).” He broke into a grin, and I burst out laughing, clinking my glass teacup with his, marveling at the familiarity in such an otherworldly setting.

Staying with the Bedouin wasn't quite the romanticized rough-n-tumble experience I imagined, but I wouldn’t let that discredit it as a valuable adventure. I went back and camped at least two or three more times and learned that visiting Wadi Rum—or anywhere in the world—works best if you go in with zero expectations. Take a deep breath, and simply live it as it unfolds.