MagusOpus

    Looking on as my guide wrapped the bright indigo turban around his face, invisible hands tried in desperation to rob him of the sole protection he had against the Levante, a warm eastern wind that carries the scents of exotic spices from bazaars across northern Africa up into the Iberian Peninsula. At that moment, I experienced the sudden revelation that I was in a world where time held little authority, the footprints left by my guide and the camel I rode quickly dissipated as nature brushed all traces of them away. It was the sight before me that captivated all my attention, however; a humbling display of nature’s greatness that made one’s self-perceived importance in the world diminish, if only a bit. Cast in a soft red glow as the sun rose in the distance, an endless sea of dunes gave birth to a new day. The Sahara Desert, covering over 3.5 million square miles, was the mise-en-scéne of a 5-day trek I had embarked upon in hopes of learning more about a culture I had so often read about, and the Arabic language I had battled with alongside my peers in a cramped classroom back at school. There, I was forced to adjust to the slower pace of life in the desert, where the temporal boundaries of time were reduced to night and day.
     Each morning as I adorned the traditional Berber robe and turban, I attempted to transform myself into one of the famous “Blue men of the Sahara.” Those first few days I could only pretend, however. I came to realize that the simplicity of the nomads’ world gave truth to their lives, their surroundings defining their characters and souls. An outsider, I was obliged to return to the city I called home, a city, which like all others, had forgotten the value of simplicity in its quest for convenience, glamour, and power. Yet, the dawn of my final passage through that extraterrestrial landscape, I closed my eyes and calmness swept through my soul. For an instant I felt at home. For an instant, I was no longer pretending.