Children of the Sahara
As we parked our car about a mile from the last village we started seeing forms appearing out of the city. Human forms distorted by the waves of heat rising from the air and sand. When they reached our car the sun was setting and we had gotten the tent out of the trunk after eating some snacks and plenty of water. They didn't speak French, in fact they didn't even speak Arabic.
They were the children of the shephards. These nomadic children never go to school and only speak the language of their tribe. In the cities everyone is of Arabic descent, in the Atlas they are Berber or Tuareg, but here in the desert, there are only Africans of sub-saharan descent. We understood one word in Amazique that they repeated "money" of course, we didn't want to give it to them. I gave my chapstick and a headband to a little girl, she didn't need either of them, but then again neither did I.
They helped us set up our tent and watched with googly eyes when we opened the trunk as they saw our flshlight and the automatic keys of the car. They took my camera and started taking pictures marveling at the technology, and by the quality of pictures they took anyone could tell they had never held a camera in their life.
