Taj and the Great Camel Trek

Rosanne Hawke is an award-winning South Australian author. She has lived in Pakistan and the United Arab Emirates as an aid worker for ten years. Her books include
The Keeper, Soraya, the Storyteller
and
Mustara.
She is a Carclew, Asialink, Varuna and May Gibbs Fellow, and a Bard of Cornwall. She teaches Creative Writing at Tabor Adelaide, and writes in an old Cornish farmhouse with underground rooms near Kapunda.

Mr Giles and his explorers had come to Beltana to choose camels for their new expedition. Padar said a man had died on Mr Giles' last trip into the desert. If they'd had camels they would have all survived.

We were having a camel race to show the explorers how good our camels were. I wanted to beat Tommy Oldham. Before he came to Beltana, Mustara and I had been the fastest.

‘Mustara! Hooshta, kneel,' I said. Keeping the camels down at the beginning was the biggest problem. They never stayed on the line if they were left to stand.

Mustara kissed me on the head and gave a gentle moan before he folded himself to the ground. I glanced at Tommy. He couldn't control his camel at all. He had Salmah, which was not a good name for her because it means submissive and obedient. She roared and tried to bite his leg but he managed to jump out of the way.

‘Tommy Oldham! Get that camel down,' Mr Giles called from the side.

I shouted ‘Hooshta' at Salmah. She swayed for a moment, then sat, grumping all the way down. Had I meant to help Tommy or to show him up? Lately, I hardly knew myself. Tommy grinned his thanks at me. He was a Wirangu boy from Fowler's Bay who had been on Mr Giles' last exploring expedition.

There were six of us racing: Mustara and I on the left side, Tommy next to us, and four of the Nunga boys from Beltana.

The Beltana blacksmith held the gun to start the race. He raised his arm. I tickled Mustara's ears and whistled for him to rise.

By the time the gun fired, Mustara was up and racing out in front. He was light, not fully grown, yet he could beat the others. Soon Tommy on Salmah pulled ahead. She ran like the desert wind; I felt the stones rise up and sting us as she passed.

‘Come on, Mustara. Faster.' Mustara's muscles strained; we gained some ground. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Salmah. Tommy was slapping her rump with a stick, kicking her sides. I'd never seen her run so fast.

‘Faster, faster.' Then we were in front. I could see Padar at the end. I could smell the dust; hear the dull thump of Mustara's feet on the sand, the shouts from
the onlookers. Among them would be Emmeline, squealing. She'd be so proud – we had to beat Tommy and Salmah.

Then a shadow flicked across our path from the left. I never saw what it was – a dog, or a child pulled hurriedly back – but it made Mustara falter. ‘Don't stop, Mustara. Come on.' But every second counts in a camel race. We couldn't make up that second. Salmah finished half a length before us, so close Mustara could have bitten her tail.

There was Padar lifting Tommy's arm high, saying what a good rider he was, especially for a beginner. Mr Giles patted him on the back. I sat on Mustara watching, until Padar noticed me. ‘Good riding, beta.' I shook my head; it wasn't good enough. If Mustara hadn't been startled we would have beaten Tommy.

Emmeline raced over, her dress riding up her shins, her hat falling off. ‘Taj.' She was breathless for a moment. ‘That was fun to watch.'

I said ‘Hooshta' to Mustara and jumped off as he lowered himself to the ground. ‘We didn't win.' I was horrified that it was all I could say.

‘What does that matter? Mustara did well – all the riding we did in the desert helped him.'

I grinned at her. Emmeline could always see another side. ‘I suppose it did.'

‘Come home with me. Mama's made honey biscuits.'
in the tin oven.' Emmeline was the manager's daughter and my friend. She was twelve and, like me, she had no sisters or brothers so I was often invited to her veranda for afternoon tea.

‘Mustara can take us,' I said. We both climbed on, Emmeline in front. I whistled and Mustara rose to his feet in one fluid movement. I loved the way he did that. Emmeline clutched her hat and laughed at the sky. She loved Mustara almost as much as I did.

When I had eaten three biscuits I said, without looking at Emmeline, ‘Tomorrow the explorers will choose the camels for the expedition to Perth.'

She didn't say anything and I looked up. She had her bottom lip between her teeth. She always did that when she wasn't sure what I'd think of her words. ‘You truly want to go, don't you?'

I tried not to look too excited and just nodded at her. I couldn't tell her how wonderful an exploring expedition would be, or how lonely it was in the hut the last time Padar went with explorers. She'd say I still had her but she wasn't there at night time. Besides, I wanted to be with Padar and that is what I said. ‘It would be good for Padar and me to be together on an expedition. Around here we don't talk much.'

Emmeline stared at me. An image of her and her
father came to mind – a picture of him lifting her up and laughing, hugging her as she told him details of her day. All the things Padar didn't do to me anymore, not since my mother went. Padar and I needed to talk about it but I didn't know how to begin.

Then Emmeline said something we'd both been frightened of discussing. ‘Mustara is not as big as the other camels. Why would they choose him?'

‘He's strong now. We've taken him into the desert so many times. I could ask Padar to–'

‘Would you go without him?'

My mouth opened in horror. ‘Without Mustara? How could you even think of such a thing?'

She leant forward and her look was kind. ‘Just be prepared – if they don't choose him, you will have to stay.'