My family is the last of a dying breed.
We are replaced by technology, mechanical advances, and electrical fuel over organic strength and will.
Every time he leaves for his month-and-a-half ventures, he kisses my mother on the forehead and says, “This could be the last trip, you know.”
But it never was, and we all knew it. Until now.
The money has run out, and the business is dying. There are a million faster, more efficient ways to transport salt, and our way is at the bottom of the list. We knew this day would come, but we didn’t know it would arrive so soon.
When my father arrived home last week, he had gathered us all together- my mom, my sister, my two brothers, and I- to tell us the news: he had found work in his sister-city, where all the salt went. We were to move in just two weeks- two weeks!- and settle there instead of here.
At first, I was afraid. I didn’t want to move. But the adventure called to me. My father had never taken us with him on the salt trips. It was too dangerous, he had said, and we would just cause problems. But that was his reward, or at least it seemed like a reward to me: we all got to travel with the caravan to the sister-city with him on his last trip.
Me and my one bag of things. Everything else of mine would stay. One dromedary to carry the rest of our worldly goods onto our new adventure. To where, though, has yet to be seen.
Source: This blog series is inspired by the book “Earth from Above: 365 Days” by Yann Arthus-Bertrand. Click here to read more about my Creation365 series.
The top picture is from “Niger. Air Massif. Caravans of dromedaries near Fachi.”
Arthus-Bertrand, Yann, Isabelle Delannoy, and Christian Balmes. 2005. The Earth from above: 365 days. New York: Harry N. Abrams.