There was a large oasis in the south of the country where they cultivated half a million date palms. In spite of problems with disease, water shortages and salinisation, a single tree could produce $100 worth of dates a year – an important income source for farmers.
Our camp site was set amongst the date palms. Our hosts were Arafat and Latifa who lived in a pretty blue and white house with their three school age children.
Latifa cooked us a delicious supper which they brought to the truck and the following morning a loaf of her bread arrived, still warm from the oven.
I was sitting outside the truck at midday when their two younger children came over to say hello. They spoke good English and didn’t appear at all shy. The girl, Fatima, was 10 and the boy, Ghilane was 14. What charmed me was that each child held out their hand in greeting then leaned in cheek to cheek without actually touching – the girl first then the more reticent boy. I was sitting down so our heads were at the same height so the gesture didn’t seem at all awkward, it came over as both gentle and respectful and a lovely way to greet a stranger – an elderly foreign person. They stayed for a few moments telling me about what they had done at school. Subsequently I realised that this style of greeting was common, I regularly saw men shaking hands followed by a lean-in for a nearly hug.
We weren’t sure whether children returned to school after lunch. I tried to ask Arafat but he was far more interested in selling us a box of dates and some date syrup. The dates were delicious, not brown and shiny as we buy them in the UK but a matt toffee colour. I’ve no idea what we were charged for 1kg box of dates but we paid just under €70 for two nights’ stay plus the evening meal and the dates etc.
