Arabian Plights Scenes from an Egyptian camel market story and photos by JEFFREY YOSKOWITZ “WE'RE LOOKING FOR BIRQASH,” Adam explained to anybody who would listen, as we made our way through @ bazaar in Cairo teeming with donkeys, fruit vendors, and garment shops. “Suk ha’gamel2” he added, hopefully, with, his 30-word Arabic. ‘We were trying to get to the Birqash camel market in Egypt’s Western Desert, where the iconic animals are bought and sold, just as they have been for thousands of years. Birqash is a far cry from the regular tourist fare of camel rides, gift shops, and food stalls; it’s a place of serious commerce, reachable only though rural roads. But after seeing our fill of museums and archaeological sites, ‘we were ready for a challenge. After wandering aimlessly through Cairo's old gar- ment district, we finally found a 10-year-old who pointed us to the right bus and then rode with us all the way to ‘the market, where he worked. ‘At Birgash we followed our new guide through the ‘entrance. One long dirt strip that only seemed to lead ‘to more groupings of camels stretched the length of the market, bordered all around by brick and stone walls. Clouds of dust blended with the hides of camels and ‘their stacks of hay, creating an almost monolithic brown haze, save the verdant greens they munched on and the spray-painted markings that differentiated one animal from the next. We were surrounded by a clamor of human voices. ‘Traders dressed in traditional robes screamed at their competitors, shouted prayers to Allah, and took calls on their cell phones, all while beating their camels with ‘wooden sticks to keep them in place. We could barely ‘make out the camel yelps under the din. meatpaper FIVE 37It was hard not to be struck by the violence. Rach, merchant struggled to keep his herd bunched together by flogging the camels and binding their forelegs. ‘When not forced to the ground, the camels hopped in place with their necks held high. I saw two white camels that — with tears in their eyes — seemed to be crying. ‘Mohammed was a young man with a slick yellow tennis shirt and sunglasses working the entrance of the ‘market, He was also the only person we could find who spoke English, and, with little enthusiasm, he agreed to answer our questions. “How much do the animals go for?" we asked. A Sudanese camel that sells for a few hundred dollars is considered a good deal, explained Mohammed, though higher quality runs about 8,000 Egyptian pounds per camel, about $2,500 at the time. “One camel can feed a family for a few months or more,” he explained nonchalantly. Adam and I glanced at each other. “But camel milk: 38 meatpaper Five “This is a market for meat. Everyone must eat,” Mohammed continued, confused at our dismay. is said to cure cancer!" I objected, silently. And what could be more iconic of the Middle East than the drom- edaries I'd seen throughout my travels? What about Lawrence of Arabia? Somehow, the possibility of eating a camel had never occurred to us. “This is a market... for meat. Everyone must eat, Mohammed continued, confused at our dismay. We learned that it’s much more economical for a family to buy a live camel and transport it to their preferred butcher. That's how many of these animals end up on Egyptian dinner tables.‘And the taste? “Oh yes, tough but very tasty,” Mo- hammed answered, “especially as a kofta” (a traditional, Egyptian dish of minced meat shaped in balls). Hump meat is especially prized, and the smaller the camel, the better. Still, we got the sense that many Egyptians shared our uneasiness about eating camel meat. Camel meat, we learned, is Egypt’s cheap meat, a last resort. The camel meat industry got a boost during the 2001 mad cow scare, when beef shortages sent middle-class Egyptians flocking to the markets to buy camel — which at the time sold for only 20 Egyptian pounds (about $4) per kilo. But the nation’s wealthy mostly chose high-priced ostrich meat, ‘As we looked around, sights emerged that we hadn’t noticed before. Purchased camels were stuffed into the backs of pickup trucks, contorted into knots in order to fit the cramped space. Some trucks simply dragged the animals behind by ropes tied around their necks. ‘As the afternoon fell, we left the suk ha'gamel and headed back to Cairo. In a sense, it was a Middle East fantasy we were returning to, an Arabian Nights tale, where camels are not served in restaurants nor flogged by locals, but are ridden around pyramids, petted by chil- dren, and still revered as wonders of the desert. a meatpaper Five 39