In a cozy house in a small village, Eloy always eagerly anticipates the arrival of his grandchildren. Each night, around a crackling fireplace and with a mischievous smile, he begins his stories by saying: "Did you know that when I was young, I traveled to Würzburg and competed in a jousting tournament on an ostrich? I didn't realize that ostriches aren’t very good with armor! But that's not the story I wanted to tell you today."
Eloy settles into his armchair, looks at his grandchildren with sparkling eyes, and begins to recount:
It was a scorching morning in Marrakech, and there I was, with my wide-brimmed hat and a jug of water that felt as heavy as the desert itself, searching for a camel to cross the Sahara. But not just any camel, of course; I was looking for something special. Who could have imagined that my wish would be granted in such an extravagant way?
I headed to the camel market, a bustling place full of colors and sounds, with merchants shouting their offers as if they were at a flea market rather than a camel fair. Amidst the chaos, one particular camel caught my attention. It was tall, with a bright golden coat that reflected the sun with the intensity of a shooting star, and it had such a lively look in its eyes that it seemed more like a racehorse than a simple desert camel. I decided this would be my travel companion, and so, I gave him his official name: Zarabe, which sounded more like the name of a race-winning horse than that of a camel.
The moment I mounted Zarabe, I knew there was something special about him. Instead of walking with the relaxed calm of a typical camel, Zarabe seemed ready to leap from the starting line at any moment. “Let’s go, Zarabe!” I urged him on, as he broke into an unusual gallop through the market, surprising everyone with his swift and almost acrobatic movements. The race had already begun, even though we hadn’t yet left the market!
When we finally ventured into the desert, Zarabe quickly showed his love for speed. What would have been a slow pace for a normal camel turned into a frantic trot, with the dunes sliding beneath us as if we were riding a wave of sand. The sensation was fantastic, but soon reality hit us with the fury of the desert.
“Zarabe, not so fast!” I shouted, but he only increased his speed, as if he were racing against the desert itself. In the blink of an eye, absurd and unexpected things started to happen!
First, bam! The tallest dune in the desert appeared before us like a wall of sand. In his unchecked enthusiasm, Zarabe decided it would be fun to jump it. Instead of simply climbing, whoosh! Zarabe launched us into the air as if we were on a roller coaster of sand. The wind wrapped around us, and as we spun in the air, my glasses flew off, and my hat ended up on the head of a passing dromedary. The poor dromedary, confused, looked up at the sky as if waiting for a lottery prize to fall into its lap.
When we finally landed in the sand, everything was chaos. Zarabe, with the energy of a whirlwind, decided that the tent had to be set up in the midst of all this chaos. And suddenly! The tent not only collapsed over and over again but got tangled in Zarabe’s legs and ended up forming a sort of messy nest of fabric and ropes. Zarabe, instead of trying to fix it, found the sand much more comfortable and settled into a corner, crushing the tent under his weight as if it were some kind of makeshift bed.
And just when we thought things couldn’t get any crazier, bam! Passing caravans stopped to watch the spectacle. The nomads and merchants stood open-mouthed, watching Zarabe spin and race around our chaotic tent. The camel merchants, seeing the show, burst into laughter and began talking about Zarabe as the fastest “racing camel” in the desert. Before we knew it, an impromptu camel race had formed, with Zarabe always in the lead and the other camels desperately trying to keep up, stumbling and spinning in a whirlwind of sand.
Night fell, and what had seemed like a simple journey had turned into an unexpected desert festival. Between the wild races and camels tripping over each other, the adventure showed no signs of slowing down.
Suddenly, exhausted from all the excitement and action, Zarabe revealed a surprising skill: not only was he the fastest camel in the race, but also the fastest at falling asleep. In the blink of an eye, Zarabe collapsed into the sand with a speed that seemed to defy the laws of physics. Bam! The camel was in deep sleep mode, his legs stretched out, and his body completely relaxed. It was as if he had pressed a “quick-off” button in the middle of the desert party.
His snores were like soft little thunderclaps in the silent desert, and the people still gathered around couldn’t help but laugh at how the fastest camel in the Sahara was now competing in a race of naps. Some nomads approached, curious, and started telling jokes about how Zarabe had found a way to sleep faster than the wind in the desert. The scene was so absurd and charming that it became a legend among the caravans passing through.
The merchants, who had been so impressed by Zarabe’s racing abilities, were now equally fascinated by his talent for falling asleep in the blink of an eye. They laughed and prepared to rest under the stars, letting the desert’s calm settle over the camp.
I too settled into the sand near Zarabe, feeling that, despite the night's commotion, I had found a rare moment of peace and fun in the middle of the desert. The party had faded, but the laughter and the spirit of the event remained alive in my memory.
And so, dear grandchildren, this is how the story ends. Tomorrow I’ll tell you about how I used a giant mirror to make the Nazcas believe that their geoglyphs were maps to a lost treasure. Good night and sweet dreams.