Excerpt: "We were sitting on a dune overlooking the glittering Red Sea east of Sinai. The mountains of Saudi Arabia could be seen in the distance. It was 1984.
With me were the renowned smuggler-poet Ayaad and his eldest son, Salim. They had asked me to join them “to discuss something serious,” out of earshot of those who were encamped with them. We knew each other well. I had been recording and studying Bedouin poetry for some fifteen years, and Ayaad was the best poet in Sinai.
Once we were seated in the sand, our legs folded before us, Salim, facing me, opened the...
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https://hudsonreview.com/2018/04/stories-from-sinai/
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