The desert wilderness has many names in the Bedu language, my native tongue, because the desert has many faces.
Some parts of the desert have dunes as high as two hundred meters, and other parts are flat and sandy.
Dry riverbeds can suddenly become raging rivers when the rain falls hard and fast.
After those rare rainstorms, our desert blossoms for a short while into wide carpets of grass and beautiful wildflowers.
My people are always on the move through the deserts of Arabia, tending our camels and goats.
We never stay in one place very long, but we enjoy the region around the oasis at Al-Hasa the most.
The year is 1670, and my name is Karim Abu Sukar.
I am a member of the Bani Khalid tribe. It is a great honor to meet you.
My people are called Bedouin, and we spend our lives wandering throughout the desert.
But believe me, my friend, we always know exactly where we are going and why.
When my family travels from water hole to water hole, all our animals travel with us.
My sweet wife, Rana, is the wonderful mother of our son, Falid, who is with our herd of goats right now.
She takes care of our tent, which is made of goat hair and easily portable.
You can see that the tent is divided into two sections: one for the men and one for the women.
All the cooking utensils are stored on Rana's side of the tent, and we entertain our guests on my side.
Look at the beautiful curtain Rana has made to divide our tent!
In fact, Rana wove the tent, the carpets we are sitting on, and even my clothes.
Falid and I couldn't live without her and her many talents.
When our family and friends gather to eat and drink coffee, we like to tell stories.
Some tales are about our brave ancestors and their many adventures—about living and fighting in the desert.
Other stories are about a wise fool named Goha.
These stories are always the funniest. Would you like to hear one?
I think "Goha's Kettle" would be fitting for this occasion.
One day Goha borrowed a large pot from a neighbor.
Several days later he returned it, but with a smaller pot inside.
His neighbor stared at the little pot in surprise and asked Goha, "Where did this come from?"
"The big pot gave birth," Goha replied matter-of-factly.
Laughing at Goha's foolishness and happy at his own good fortune, the neighbor took both pots.
A few weeks later, Goha asked his neighbor whether he could borrow the large pot again.
The neighbor eagerly lent it to him of course.
But months went by, and Goha did not return the pot.
The neighbor became more and more upset.
At last he went to Goha and asked for it.
"My good friend, something horrible has happened.
Your pot died," replied Goha. Shocked, his neighbor screamed, "Died? Since when do kettles die?"
"Ever since they've been able to have children," Goha answered. That is a good story!
Come, it is getting late, and I must go to my son, who is tending our goats not far from here.
My father showed me all the best spots for grazing goats, and he knew of these places because his father had taught him,
so my herd is one of the largest.
I have taught Falid to care for the herd as well.
Our black goats survive well in the desert.
They eat almost anything that grows, which is good because very little grows in the desert except for woody shrubs and an occasional weed.
Black goats are special because they can survive without water for four days, so we can graze our herd far from the water holes.
Our goats produce milk for our family, and we use everything from the animal—hair, skin, and dung. Nothing goes to waste!
The goat hair is used to make our tents and blankets,
the hides are used to make bags to carry our water, and the dung is used as fuel for our fires.
When we host a feast, we love to roast a whole goat using our traditional underground oven.
We dig a deep hole and line the inside with clay and stones.
Then we burn wood in the bottom of the hole until it turns to charcoal.
Finally we skewer a skinned goat and suspend it above the charcoal on a spit.
We add some spices and roast the goat for many hours, turning it once in a while.
The aroma is wonderful, and the smoke makes our mouths water as it winds around our camp.
My tribe has existed in this region for a very long time and fought many battles with other tribes.
The grazing lands that we use and the water holes where we drink belong to our tribe—the ancient and noble Bani Khalid tribe.
Each tent represents a family, and our tent is part of a larger group of tents called a camp.
All the people who live in our camp are closely related, and everyone in the camp is related to an even larger group called a clan.
A number of related clans make up an even larger group called a tribe.
Each family, camp, and clan is headed by an elder, and the entire tribe has a leader.
But never forget that the Bedouin are independent people—we like complete freedom.
We live in a harsh land, so we live simply.
Our people are always courteous and generous to one another and to our guests because we consider it our duty, and honor is very important to us.
There is my son. We had better get back to our tent.
Rana is waiting for us with something special to eat.
Come, I know many more Goha stories to make you laugh!