Almost as an afterthought, he realized that he wasn’t breathing. The wind had been knocked out of him. His body began to ache unmercifully in a hundred places. He tried to breathe and couldn’t. He tried again and again, but still couldn’t. Close to panic, he tried desperately, his fingers clawing at the sand and managed a slight breath mingled with a groan. The next breath came easier and soon he was breathing again. He was very tired; almost asleep. One by one, the stars began to come out, blinking on like window lights in a distant city.

Then he heard them, clattering slowly down the slope. What was he about, lolling on the sand as if he were at the beach? he thought, horrified. He had to get going.

He somehow managed to roll over and on to his hands and knees. Sweat poured off his face into the sand. The effort made him dizzy. He heard voices. They were much closer. He had to go on. There was nowhere left to hide.

He began to move on all fours in odd, jerky movements. Like a wounded crab, he scuttled silently into the shadows.

Riyadh

Riyadh

THE WORD OF GOD was heard all over the souk, the muezzin’s voice echoing from a thousand transistor radios like a tinny chorus of magpies. Cries of vendors and the tinkling bells of the water sellers could be heard amidst shouted wagers on the race and the ear-splitting howls of motorcycles churning up fountains of sand, as teenaged dirt-bikers weaved through the crowds. Bedu tribesmen leading silky saluki hunting dogs or holding their favorite falcons on leather gauntlets mingled with fashionable Arab city dwellers whose closest contact with the desert came from watching reruns of Bonanza on television. Thousands of canvas market stalls had sprouted overnight like mushrooms on the sands outside Riyadh where the race was to be held.

Close to half a million onlookers pressed against the barrier of rope strung between empty oil drums along the entire length of the twenty-two-kilometer course. Members of the Saudi National Guard, easily spotted by their red-checked headcloths and the gold crossed swords-and-palm-tree emblem on their headbands, were stationed at twenty-foot intervals to keep the crowd from spilling onto the course.

The greatest crowding was near the starting line, where bettors gathered to see the camels. Over five thousand camels, their riders and attendants were already assembled in the starting area. Another large mass of people had gathered around the royal reviewing stand near the finish line. From afar, it looked like the Costa Brava in summer, the families packed together like sardines under colorful umbrellas unfurled to protect against the relentless sun. Just beyond the TV cameras and vans, green silk pennants flew over the Saudi royal pavilion, densely guarded by Guardsmen carrying loaded M-16s. Veiled princesses, concubines and serving girls mingled freely inside the roped-off women’s enclosure, visiting each other’s tents.