We departed
from Herat and finally said goodbye to Afghanistan, we drove into Iran or should I say, bumped our way, as usual the roads were not roads at all, but tracks with ruts deep enough to hide in, we finally overnighted at Mashhad.
This city is a very religious place but it has some really beautiful Mosques. However it is not the place to linger any longer than necessary, so early
the next morning we were on our way heading along the top northern road towards the Caspian sea, to travel through the towns of Bojnurd and Gorgan.
Some miles out of Mashhad we had a flat tyre, having
stopped and changed the wheel, I decided to do a u turn and return to Mashhad for
a new tyre and tube or the tyre to be repaired, it's a long way to anywhere out there, no place to be caught without a wheel..
By the time it was ready it was passed lunch time, It was mentioned about us staying the night again, but I was anxious to get away and be on the road again, for I had been there
several times, and once before the locals didn't take kindly to us and decided to use the coach as target practice, throwing every stone they could lay their hands on. They obviously couldn't spell well either,
for the words SUNDOWNERS OVERLAND I was certain they believed,
read, We come from America.
We travelled until the
late afternoon, and we found good a place to pull over and we set up our camp for the night.
The group made our evening meal, and finally we all sat about and talked
of our travels and enjoyed the
beauty of the millions of stars that were shining way up there in the sky.
I was awakened by someone calling my name and hitting on the tent, it was one of the
passengers,
Hurry, she said I can see a light coming towards us from way over there, she says pointing off into the darkness.
I looked and soon I could see it too, by this time everyone was awake and out of their sleeping bags.
The light wasn't a constant light but each time it reappeared it was closer, we all watched for sometime, until
it became that close that I decided to walk out a little to see what it was all about.
It was a man, and I knew that he must have come from the nomad tents that were some miles away, further up on the sides of the hills.
We had seen the black tents when we were setting up our camp, however they were many miles away further up the slopes, and I knew we would have more interest in them,
than they in us, for they avoid contact with towns and people at all costs, and are unwilling to have any contact for health reasons for they could cure most of their own illness but not those put upon them by towns and strangers etc.
I realized it must be a very good reason for him to come down to make some sort of contact with us, so I approached him, and used the few limited words I knew.
He indicated he wanted water, and in his hand he held a tin mug, I called to the others of our group standing back behind us for some water and he soon
we filled his tin mug and he drank this and then thanked me, then turned and walked away into the night.
There was plenty of talking about why he came, but finally we all went back to bed, though I
knew some wouldn't sleep well with the worry that we might be attacked while they slept, because they thought the nomad fellow was only coming to spy on us.
We were
all awake bright and early, but not as early as the neighbours, when we looked up on the
hills the black tents were gone, there was nothing to see.
However it wasn't long before
over the rises came the
animals, we were all to witness a sight that all of us, would long remember, we were to witness a parade
that very few people ever get to experience with all the
animals goats, sheep, and camels and horses, also amongst it all the most colourfully dressed women, all walking along behind.
There were several thousands of the animals, passing nearby with the women and children following along behind picking up the animal dropping, and any sticks or anything
else that might be of some
value to them to be used
later.
A little while later
riding a fine horse came
the chief with his rifle held across the saddle, he was
sitting very upright and watching everything that was going on, all except us, it seemed.
I noticed that the
water skins they carried their water in on the donkeys were covered in mud, and it dawned on me then that
perhaps the man from last night who
was wanting a drink
it might mean they were low in water.
I stepped out to be more in front of their leader and held up my hand for him to stop,
however he hesitated a moment and then tried to
ride around me but I moved also and with that he
stopped the horse and sat looking at me and all the others of our group
who were behind me. I said the words
that I knew were used in these countries for water and he indicated he couldn't help us.
I then called for some of the group to bring three of our water drums which held 20 litres each .
At first he misunderstood, but soon he got the idea, that we had water and we were offering it to them.
There was plenty of yabber amongst those Bedouins who had come over to see what was going on, and soon they had the water containers off the donkeys and we poured our 60 litres of water
into their water skins.
When it was done the leader gave a sort of nod and with a straight back rode on passed our yellow bus with the green stripe.
Meanwhile the animals continued to pass us
for some time and our group were all very excited about the rare opportunity that had come their way and they got some fine camera shots.
We finished our tour of a lifetime
in London.
Some weeks later I was on my way out
of London again with another group heading once more for India.
A month or so
later we had left the Caspian sea behind
and was driving along
the top northern road near the same area where on the previous tour we had given the Bedouins the water, and I was telling the new group of the excitement of
seeing the black tents and our visit from the Bedouins.
The roads hadn't improved any and we were driving along at a slow speed, it was all we could do without being shaken to pieces.
Some miles further on,
there were the yells from the
group, they could see black tents.
On the side of the rising slopes were some dozens of the black tents and all the animals spread out for miles
behind.
We were driving along very slow, and everyone wanted a photo shot, I explained to the group that most of these people didn't like having cameras pointed at them, and could become unhappy
and if close enough could grab the camera and break it.
So I warned them to act with caution, and to wait to see what the reaction might be from the black tent
people.
I stopped the yellow and bus and we stood beside it watching and waiting.
Then up on the hill there was much yelling and calling out and soon there appeared the man who
we had given the water to on the previous tour, he took a few steps out of the black tent and said something to one of the young people standing by his side.
That person hurried down towards us and indicated for us to approach, and when I did he said something, of which I only understood the word chai or tea.
He turned and waved us on and to follow him, which we did right up to the black tent and I stood in front of the leader who was saying a lot, about what,
I could only guess.
However he was giving me a sort of grin and then held out his hand for me to shake.
He then ushered all of the group into the black tent where we
all sat on the bright coloured rugs and enjoyed the chai and their ate the flat bread.
Sometimes words are not necessary, for I knew he was returning the favour of the gift of water we gave them all those months before, we all sat and looked at each other and neither could
understand what the words were but the intentions were clear.
We stayed for as long as we needed too in the tent, and finally I stood up and we all walked out of the black tent.
He sort of indicated that if we wished we could take some photos, which our group did.
He held out his hand and I shook it once more, we all turned and walked down to our bus.
We were followed by dozens of their kids all excited and yabbering away.
We
still had a long way go that day before we were out of Iran, and several weeks more of travel through Afghanistan, Pakistan and into India.
Everyone was back on board, and as I sat behind the steering wheel of our yellow bus with the green stripe,
I started the engine, it was then that I noticed that all of those of the Bedouins we had touched, like me shaking hands, they all went to the stream nearby to wash their hands.
Fond memories and just a few minutes on the tour of a lifetime. OR SHOULD WE SAY PERHAPS
( A TEAR DROP ON THE CHEEK OF TIME )
In those days these Bedouin people came down from the Kara Kum regions when the first snow fell, to then farm on the plains below, when the snows began to melt and the creeks ran with water they then
returned to the high country. Each and every year was the same until they enforced the borders, their way of life was curtailed.
Then thats another story.
To all those who drove, or travelled with us on the Sundowners Overland tours and who all have
their special moments to recall and who made it all possible.
Robert ( Bob Wilko ) Wilkinson. Sundowners of London Overland tours July
1964 -----
November 1977.
Robe, Limestone coast
S. A
Locked
