A story about Dahab...

One of my "historically plausible" stories written at the new job...

Dahab, The City of Gold

Disturbed by the sudden darkness, the traveler stirs from his nap. It is mid-day, and yet the sun is obscured by storm clouds, something he has rarely seen in Egypt, even growing up in Cairo. He glances over questioningly at the Dahab local who had agreed to take him out for a boat ride on the Red Sea. In response, the boat captain silently lifts a wrinkled hand from the folds of his gallabeya robe to point toward the shore. Following the captain's finger, the traveler can see storm clouds collecting over the golden-red mountains behind the town.

As the boat captain begins to paddle them back to town, the traveler thinks regretfully about ending the relaxing boat ride so soon, but he notices how the sea around them is already getting choppy. The boat rocks this way and that in the waves, and rain drops start falling with little splashes all around them.

Back on shore, the distant thunder echoing from the mountain range makes the light rain sprinkling the town seem cinematic. On shore, the boat driver tells the traveler to wait as he hurriedly ties his boat to the pier. The driver grabs him by the arm and pulls the traveler toward the town's main walkway, and they walk south toward the bridge stretching over an empty sunken concrete lot the traveler assumed was a parking lot in the middle of town.

He sees that the bridge is full of locals talking and laughing amongst themselves. They lean on the balcony facing the mountains waiting for something. Even the banks of the parking lot are filling with people. Some have set up chairs and sheesha pipes. Young boys carry trays with cups of tea between the men, looking to make an extra pound. The traveler laughs—some things are the same everywhere in this country, entrepreneurial ten-year-olds being one of them.

A handful of foreigners also hang about. The traveler can pick the tourists out from the diving instructors (that group of more permanent foreign residents) by the uncomfortable looks of confusion on their faces. They can hear the storm raging over the mountain range in the distance.

Minutes pass--maybe an hour--and the traveler does not notice the steady trickle of water that has started running down the concrete of the parking lot toward the sea. Only when the trickle becomes a stream and then a river does the traveler understand that everyone is now watching the water. The rain in the town has strengthened. The men's sheesha coals sizzle as the drops make their way into the covers. No one minds seems to mind being soaked.

All at once he realizes the rushing, roaring sound approaching from the distance. An avalanche of muddy, golden water has steadily covered the planes leading from the mountain and crossed over the road separating the city from the desert. The flood is almost the same color as the ground, so from afar it just looks like the earth is being smoothed over.  The water reaches the city and merges with the puddles in the concrete lot, and soon the concrete lot is filled with a sandy, churning golden lake.

The onlookers on the bridge begin shifting over to the side facing the sea. The traveler sees golden tendrils from the sandy pool reaching slowly out into the sea beyond. It is as if someone poured thousands of tons of gold flecks into the waters as the mountain sand enters the water.

Later the traveler will have no idea how long he stood mesmerized by the shimmering golden invasion of the sea, but some time later, he realizes he is wet and cold, so he heads back to his hotel to dry off and to get dinner. The rain does not cease until late in the night.

The morning after, he is awoken early by rays of sunlight pouring through the window. He dresses and eats quickly before calling the boat captain for another ride. Soon he is sitting on the boat as it cuts through the sandy sea of gold. 

The water reflects and magnifies the shining of the sun. The water is still, and the traveler has the feeling he is gliding across a vast golden mirror. Seeing the look on the traveler's face, the quiet boat captain says to him, “and now you know why we call this place Dahab.”

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Without cheating and going back to my blog post about it, can you guess what the word "Dahab" in Arabic means?