![Lost in the Sahara Sitting in the Sahara](/sites/default/files/styles/blog_card/public/blog/images/04/FB_IMG_14489267016991_0.jpg?itok=8yujpuv1)
I sang The Lion King’s "Circle of Life" on a loop for 40 minutes in my head--
To distract myself from my inner thighs bruising and the unsteady sway of my body as I clung to Eli, my camel, for dear life. Because if I fall, I will not get up. But if I fall, I will fall in the Sahara . . . and that is not so bad.
The sand in the Sahara is like flour, soft and billowy, to fall into it would be like a caress . . . to be surrounded by it was a wonder.
To even get here, to the edge, of what feels like the Earth, is a privilege, a profound privilege that beguiled my mind in the moment and days afterward.
In that moment, I mentally grasped on to every memory, every image, from childhood until now, of things that made me feel just as profound: Flying in a plane for the first time, standing on the top of a tall hill in Grenada, watching Prince of Egypt, listening to gnawa music . . . and singing the Circle of Life.
Our trip to the Sahara desert is the most brilliant, shining, gleaming memory of my time here in Morocco and, at first, I was not sure how to express that sentiment, because I am not even sure that it has a name.
My memories are all snapshots and vague words. So, I have chosen a medium where one can say confusing clauses while still appearing prophetic:
The Haiku.
Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba, Sithi uhm ingonyama! Y'alla.
My feet in cold sand
Wait for the heat of sun rise
Who knew deserts had snow?
![](/sites/default/files/styles/large/public/2022-07/25/20151128_0626361.jpg?itok=fMyUvQSA)
Laughter melts the ice
Bright memories flood my mind
Sand, time, music, sand
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Voices sing to you
A language your spirit knows
History’s heartbeat
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Let’s go and get lost
See where the sand meets the sky?
We’ll find our way back . . .
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The camel is not
Beautiful, but I cannot
unSee its beauty
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Strange, striking shadows
Emerge from dunes and wind
Don’t let them escape
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I feel like a queen
Radiant, out of a dream
. . .My camel just pooped . . .
![](/sites/default/files/styles/large/public/2022-07/20/Snapchat-37781019732407817931.jpg?itok=T9SDFw0F)
Heaving and Panting,
We stand, squinting at the sun
This world takes my breath
….away.
![](/sites/default/files/styles/large/public/2022-07/11/PicsArt_14489862232231_0.jpg?itok=ODFBlKxU)
Away, we go now
Like jins and genies floating
Into the sunset
![](/sites/default/files/styles/large/public/2022-07/30/20151127_1744451_0.jpg?itok=0xWZMQiY)
We drove to the edge
Windows down, speeding through air
I left my heart there
![](/sites/default/files/styles/large/public/2022-07/13/20151127_163601_21_0.jpg?itok=Omlud8LH)
"From the day we arrived on the planet, and blinking, step into the sun . . ."
![](/sites/default/files/styles/blogger_profile/public/2022-07/11/bullen_jada_rabat_fall_2015.jpg?itok=vfRgEIYi)
Jada Bullen
<p>I am Junior studying in the School of Foreign Service at Georgetown University. As a feminist by thought and a hipster at heart, I seek every opportunity to break the barriers, disprove the labels, and blur the lines.</p>