Three Camels For Your Daughter

“Two camels for your daughter?”

Lost in thought, or maybe just trying to stay alive in the sizzling heat, I didn’t pay much attention until my dad replied, “Two camels?”

“Three camels for your daughter.” This time a statement rather than a question.

What is going on here?

“Hun, what do you think?” He asked and all eyes turned to his wife sitting coolly sipping an iced tea. 

“That’s my daughter,” she said, not missing a beat. “She is not for sale.”

“You heard the boss.”

The stranger walked away, and my parents continued their meal as if nothing had happened.

“Dude” I typed into my phone. What time was it in Chicago? I had no idea but sent it anyway. He promised he would be waiting for my texts.

“Dudette” My phone chimed seconds later. I sighed, relieved at the normalcy after what had just happened.

“Some guy just offered my dad three camels for me.”

“What? Am I going to have to come over there and take care of him?”

“No. My mom shot down the offer.”

“I have no words.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

“Anyone want dessert?” The waiter stood at the table with a wrinkled notepad and stub of pencil.

“Maybe later, my kind sir. We are off to the market for some shopping.” He reached into his pocket and left a pile of unrecognizable coins on the table. Apparently, based on the waiter’s broad smile, it included a generous tip. “Shall we?” 

All eyes again turned to my mother who stood up and put on her oversized sunglasses. “We shall.”

***

The sights and sounds of the marketplace were threatening sensory overload for me but in a good way. The maze of vendors was nothing that you would ever see in the Windy City and despite the stifling heat I was enjoying myself.

“Dude. The aroma here is crazy.”

“Dudette. Bring me back some of that.”

“Ummm no thanks. They search your luggage at the airport. Not in the mood for jail here.”

“I was kidding. You know that’s not my thing.”

I clicked the heart emoji and looked around to see what kind of retail therapy my parents were pursuing. Our home was decorated in an eclectic manner with treasures accumulated from our yearly adventures, each item holding its own special story. 

“How much?” My mom was asking the jewelry vendor. 

“For your daughter? Three camels.”

Again with this? I bristled at the exchange. The first time was quirky, the second time was downright disturbing. My dad slapped him on the back laughing, and they did some kind of weird handshake. It was quick, almost imperceptible, but did they exchange something in that handshake? Looking closely at my father with his hand in his pocket it was possible. His expression was unreadable, but it usually was.

“Darling, would you like a cartouche? We can order it for you and have it delivered to the hotel.”

I looked at the selection of hieroglyphic nameplates displayed under the glass. They were kind of cool. I wasn’t sure I would wear it, but it would be a fun addition to the jewelry tree I had back home. 

The vendor pushed a pad at me. “Name.”

I looked at my mother for reassurance. He was a bit pushy for my liking, but she nodded subtly. “Keep the evil spirits away,” she whispered to me.

Not sure about the spirit aspect of the necklace but hey, when in Egypt. I wrote my name on the pad and slid it across the glass back at the vendor.

***

I wished I had chosen a different seat on the tour bus and fought the urge to pop in my earbuds. Being more of a show me, don’t tell me type of girl, my dad’s endless facts about Egypt were draining. Putting myself on automatic answer mode, I inserted the appropriate “Uh huh” and “Wow” responses into his textbook style monologue. I looked through the dusty window at the vast desert and waited for the pyramids to appear like a mirage.

“Dude. My dad’s acting all history teacher right now.”

“Dudette. I mean he is a history teacher. Am I right?”

“Yeah. But we’re on vacation and I’m not his student.”

“Ya know…”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

“I mean these trips must cost like mad money.”

“I guess. IDK we’ve always done a big summer trip.”

“That’s what I’m saying. A teacher and a secretary?”

“What are you getting at?”

“It’s not my place but IMO that’s kinda out of their means, no?”

I looked at that text stunned. My mind started flipping through previous summers, like a Netflix show showing scenes from last season to catch you up. The Taj Mahal, The Great Wall of China. Last summer we bounced along in a jeep on an African Safari. Thoughts started tumbling about haphazardly. This is normal, though, right? I opened social media and did a quick scroll. It’s summer; everyone is on vacation, right? See, there’s Brittney at the lake; she’s on vacation. Glancing up from my phone I felt a flutter of excitement as the first glimpse of the pyramids appeared on the horizon. This was not a weekend getaway at the lake. I looked at my parents, a teacher and a secretary. 

“Dude. You’re right. WTF? How did I miss this?”

“IDK denial maybe?”

“Denial at The Nile?”

“OMG”

“Yeah that was pretty bad.”

“Keep your eyes open. Maybe there’s a simple explanation.”

“Maybe. But suddenly I doubt it.”

***

I studied my parents as if they were one of the great wonders of the world rather than the pyramids. My mother not only wore her gigantic, oversized sunglasses but also a shawl that was one of her extraordinarily expensive marketplace buys. Why the shawl? She was being so dramatic.

My father also sported one of his marketplace finds, although it was not the best look on him. The head covering seemed completely wrong to me; either he was wearing it incorrectly, or it wasn’t appropriate for the occasion. As a history teacher and self-appointed tour guide on the bus, wouldn’t he know better? Glancing around I saw he was getting looks from the locals. They motioned to each other, nodded their heads in our direction. Something was very wrong.

I leaned against the smooth stone to catch my breath. The fact that I was actually climbing the pyramids felt secondary to what was transpiring below. Attention was definitely coming our way and I wasn’t liking it at all.

I hoisted myself up to another level. Who knew these stones were gigantic; the photos were deceiving. Definitely not a simple walk in the park or a hike up a mountain trail. Each stone was almost the same height as me and a real workout to climb. I sat for a moment with my legs dangling over the edge. The inner voice said to absorb the history, appreciate the journey, it’s a once in a lifetime experience. But suddenly I knew better, something was not what it appeared to be, and it was about to go down. 

My mother was one level below me and my father was still at the bottom, walking along the perimeter rather than climbing up to join us. Several men approached him, said something that I was unable to hear, and they shook hands. Where did I see that before? Think, think. The sun was so strong I felt dizzy and sightly nauseous. Sweat was rolling down my back. Yes, the marketplace. The vendor who offered him three camels for me. They did that same handshake. Fully alert, with my heart pounding, I lifted my hand over my eyes to provide shade. My father put something into his pocket. This time I was sure.

***

“Ah, you are back.” The waiter motioned us to the same plastic table where we had dined the previous night. 

“Yes, we are now ready for dessert. Please bring us your specialty.”

“Of course, sir. With pleasure.”

I sat on the plastic chair still feeling dirty and sweaty from the desert sun, my lips dry and my hair disheveled. Worse than my physical discomfort was the knowledge that I somehow had been living in a false sense of security. If someone even mentioned three camels again they were going to see some serious trouble.

The waiter brought what I assumed was melted ice cream. Three bowls of puddles. It didn’t matter as I had no appetite and no intention of eating more than a bite or in this case a slurp. I was participating in a stakeout not a pleasant family night on the town.

A stranger approached the family on our left. “Two camels for your daughter?” The now familiar opening line didn’t work; they had the wrong family, and in horror those parents whisked their young daughter away quickly. My father looked nonchalant as he rose from the table announcing his need to ‘freshen up’ and would ‘be right back’. I watched like a hawk as he did not go towards the restrooms but rather to the kitchen. Clear as day I saw him through the doorway open a drawstring pouch and drop something into a pitcher. Smooth as silk, he was completely unnoticed by everyone but me. I felt my one and only spoonful of the puddled ice cream threaten to come shooting out, sweat continued to roll down my back.

Returning to the table, he addressed my mother who was cool as a cucumber as always. “Shall we, darling?” She rose and smiled. “We shall.” 

He dug into his pocket and left a large pile of coins on the table. 

***

“Dude. We landed.”

“Dudette. OMG.”

“What?”

“You don’t know?”

“know what? You’re scaring me.”

“There was an incident in Egypt near the Nile River.”

“That’s where we were! What happened?”

“IDK A few people got sick and died at an outdoor café.”

“Food poisoning?” I thought of that ice cream sitting out long enough to melt. I felt sick.

“No. They’re thinking foul play.”

“Like they were poisoned on purpose?”

“Yeah.”

I darted a look at my parents. They were holding hands looking happy. My mother had her new jewelry on. I noticed she bought more than just a simple gold necklace, more like several gold necklaces and earrings also. I looked closer at my father. He had on several gold chains as well. Definitely not a good look on him. He turned to my mother and winked.