It’s not easy to have afternoon tea with the Nomads. We had to hike for over an hour up steep rocky paths (Mary was ready to turn back) when ALAS, we spied a small spiral of smoke rising from a seemingly endless horizon of barren mountains. From a rocky outcropping stood a small solitary Nomad women who welcomed us to tea. As she boiled water over an open fire in her cave like dwelling, we played with the baby goat (unbilical cord still attached). Interesting story about death among the Nomatic tribes: Hakim tells us that when someone in the Nomad caravan dies, they are buried in a shallow grave which is covered with a small structure of rocks. Along the paths and as we drove, we noticed many of these burial sights.
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