07/31/10 Charlottesville, Virginia – Last November, my wife Karen and I toured the Mediterranean with a group of friends, landing one day at the Great Pyramids at Giza.
It’s not those marvels of the ancient world that I remember most vividly, however, or the majesty of the Sphinx, or the sweep of the desert beyond. It’s the camel abduction.
On the way to the pyramids, our guide told us to keep a wary eye on the local peddlers. “Having someone take a photo of you in front of the pyramids should cost a dollar,” he said. “A camel ride is about three dollars.”
Minutes later, as I was gazing up at the imposing Pyramid of Khufu, an older gentleman invited me to take a jaunt on his camel, a mangy beast who was, unfortunately, standing just upwind. As I looked on with mild interest, he whistled for the animal to kneel down.
The next thing I knew he was firmly escorting me onto the saddle and whistling for the camel to rise. Our group laughed and cheered as the camel driver led me off toward a rocky outcrop eighty or so yards away.
As soon as we were out of sight, however, the driver brought the camel to a halt and I was quickly surrounded by eight or ten Arab men shouting angrily at me in broken English to pay them each twenty dollars for the ride…now!
I said no and told the camel driver to take me back. He turned away as if he couldn’t hear me.
The group of men now pressed in tighter, feigning greater anger, as if I had somehow stiffed them all for the ride, which had so far lasted about 45 seconds. “Pay us now!” they shouted again, their hands stretched upwards.
We were…Read more…
