The Eye of a Needle

Dear Whoever You Might Be,

      I read a poem. A Russian poem. A poem about camels. A poem entitled "Camel."

      Written by Boris Chichibabin (first of all, what an incredibly awesome last night, right?) and translated by Albert C. Todd, this poem made me think, laugh and reminisce.  Here it is for your enjoyment as well:

Of all the animals, my heart belongs to the camel.

He takes a rest- and once again is on his way, overloaded.

In his humps is a somber vitality,

poured in by centuries of slavery.

 

He hauls his burden, but longs for the cloudy blue,

he howls with the fury of love.

His patience nurdes the desert.

I am wholly like him- from my songs to my hooves.

 

Don't think poorly of the camel.

His features are squeamish, but kind.

Look at him, more ancient than the lyre,

and he knows everything that people don't.

 

He strides on, stretching the neck of a whisper,

regal and amaciated he carries his burden-

the swan of the dunes, a sorrowful workaholic,

the most beautiful monster a camel.

His destiny is horrible and lofty,

and amidst the pink waves of the desert,

watching with tender contempt through his dusty baggage,

I would like to piss together with him in the sand.

 

Like him, I was not spoiled by my God.

I grind the same fodder wisely,

and all I am is a winking mug,

and not a hot hump, and the legs of a hobo.

      Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you really did just read that. And don't deny that you were a bit taken aback by the language and reverence used to describe a camel. I certaintly was. Who wouldn't be?

      Now, the reason I read this poem in the first place was because I once had a fascination with camels. I wish I could eschew any further explanation and just move on, but I promised to share my thoughts. So, I will.

      Three years ago, almost to the date, I travelled to Israel with my mother and a large group of ancients from my church. Alright, they were not ancient at all; I was just the youngest person in the group, my mother was the second youngest...and the age gap just grew from there. Our expedition was ten days altogether and it was one of the best trips of my life...I am only twenty, so making such a definitive statement really means something. Amongst the fanny packs and orthopedic shoes, I had the pleasure to experience such magnificence in one of the oldest and sacred places on earth.

      The first day was not so life-changing because I got sick three times...I often suffer from acute motion sickness so between the planes, trains and automobiles, I was basically out for the count during the inauguration of the trip. My recovery was expediant though, and for the next nine days, I absorbed as much history, culture and desert dust as possible. To sum it all up, I was a stereotypical tourist: I took way too many pictures of exactly the same scenes as everyone else, drank coca-cola at every meal, and, here it is, paid too much money for a camel ride around a parking lot.

      You may not be familiar with the anatomy of camels, and so I will do my best to convince you that camels are inordinately huge. And tall. And awkward.  The quote about camels being able to pass through the eye of a needle took on a whole new coloring. When the nice man who owned the camel helped me straddle the saddle, the beast was basically laying on the ground with its knees tucked under its body. When it was confirmed that my grip on the harness was secure, the man tapped the camel and pulled the reins. Faster than I could have imaged, the camel sprung up like a jack-in-the-box. I realized that my grip was not as tight as I promised and latched on to the harness like nothing else in the world mattered.
     
      I had no clue how tall camels were; none whatsoever. I felt as if a mountain erputed from the pavement and carried me to the sky. Once the camel took a few steps, I also learned that their entire upper body sways like the boughs of trees from a gust of wind or like a small boat floating along in tumultuous waters.  I used the word "like" because there really isn't any other way to describe the sensation of riding a camel. We took two laps around the parking lot and by the second, I felt comfortable enough to pose dramatically for pictures. Yes, I did the princess diaries wave: elbow squared, palm out, and move only the wrist. It was great. After that ride, I had a newfound appreciation for camels.

      When I came across the aforementioned poem, I thought "Oh camels, how endearing."  Your brow might now have a quizzical expression, but the memories of my trip were consuming my mind's eye.  But when my eyes scanned the stanza's I couln't help but guffaw.  Sure, I too think camels are majestic and unappreciated animals, but my goodness, the speaker's admiration reaches a whole new level of admiration. When I think camel, I think "egypt," "pyramids," "desert," "humps," "water." Don't you?
     
      Or, do you too wish to use the restroom with a camel? It is absolutely your own prerogative if you do...I will not judge, I promise.

                                                                  Sincerely,
                                                                           Me