At Dr Ahmed’s apothecary shop
The Sinai Peninsula appears arid and barren, and, admittedly, for the largest part, it is. Vast, desert expanses, wadis sculpted through sandstones, a few acacia trees, and scattered oases compose a landscape that, since time immemorial, has been inhabited, respected, and protected by the Bedouins. Amidst this somewhat desolate wilderness, the region around the St Catherine Monastery stands out with its fertility, despite the mountainous terrain – or, actually, because of it. Its inhabitants, the Jebeleya tribe (the Highlanders of the Sinai), have almost abolished their nomadic nature, cultivating for centuries their gardens which, though dusty and less lush than expected, are full of olive and fruit-bearing trees, vegetables, and medicinal herbs (in total 472, out of which 19 are unique to the region).
An example of a garden, where we had lunch.
Fresh ingredients for lunch, directly from the source.
Another garden in the area of the Jebelaya tribe, surrounded by stone walls. Here, tobacco plants are cultivated: perhaps the most beloved plant of all Bedouins who are heavy smokers
This is what gardens or olive groves look from afar. They don’t seem lush; yet, they are the pride of the Jebeleya tribe and what has set them apart from the rest of the tribes in Sinai.
I had the privilege to pitch my tent for the night in some of these gardens, enjoy delicious meals on freshly harvested veggies, or even taste an assortment of fruits, naturally dehydrated in the dry air of St Catherine. My best experience, though, was in the apothecary shop of Dr Ahmed Salah, located on the ground floor of his home, close to the Monastery.
Despite his fancy title, I doubt the middle-aged Bedouin with the wide smile and the peaceful, almost spiritual disposition has any medical degree. Still, he is well respected by his community as he has dedicated more than 25 years of his life (including a few years in Austria and Greece) studying the medicinal value of the local herbs and creating countless concoctions to address a large variety of ailments. I visited his store mostly out of curiosity. If I remember correctly, I just wanted to purchase local olive oil and honey, enthusiastically promoted by our Jebeleya guide from the moment we stepped into his tribal territory.
It was a sunny day, yet, the shop – a simple, unpretentious room – was dim and cool. The walls were covered with wooden shelves carrying a few bottles of olive oil and honey and hundreds of small plastic bags of herbal mixtures (the lot harvested from the garden behind the building) with signs in English and Arabic.
As we entered, Dr Ahmed stood up from behind his desk and welcomed us heartily, spending time with each one of us, asking questions, listening carefully, and trying to figure out how he could be of help. His English was adequate, so we all enjoyed lengthy conversations; with me, he also exchanged some phrases in Greek, given his experience in my country and the general knowledge of my language that most Jebelaya people acquire thanks to their collaboration with the Greek Orthodox Monastery. Unlike most merchants in Egypt who prefer a pushy selling technique, Dr Ahmed was gentle and understanding – a veritable doctor – focusing exclusively on adding value rather than selling. Like many other Bedouins with whom we had the privilege to interact along the Sinai Trail, he embraced life with such passion that was inevitably contagious and emanated an aura of inner peace that could put any visitor at ease. Ultimately, this little shop was not just a herbalist’s corner but, instead, a sanctuary: a place where, much like in the nearby Monastery, solace was amply offered to those in need, and serenity settled, like the grains of the sand, on any troubled soul, healing physical or emotional wounds alike.
Photo credits: © Konstantina Sakellariou
