The sun had barely risen when we set off, camels swaying gently under the weight of water containers and our modest belongings. Ahead of us stretched six days of dust, song, and prayer — a caravan that was not just about movement, but about memory, hope, and survival.
I joined the Camel Caravan not once, but twice, drawn to it like a river calling its people back to its banks. When I first took part, I thought it would be just another environmental march - banners, slogans, and speeches under the sun. What I found instead was a six-day pilgrimage, a test of spirit, and a living story of how water binds us together.