Live Like a Nomad
Lessons I’ve Learned from Real World Wanderers
I recently watched Lawrence of Arabia with my son. We’ve been enjoying war movies lately, and I’m embarrassed to say I had never seen the David Lean desert epic, even though friends have accused me of trying to recreate the plot myself.
“Wait, Dad. Is that Obi Wan Kenobi?” said my son as he pointed at Alec Guinness in his mascara and brown face paint.
“Yep.”
“Huh. Hey dad, have you ever been on a camel?”
“Yeah.”
“Was it cool?”
“Yeah. Don’t you want to watch the movie?”
“Hey Dad, did you ever meet any nomads?”
“Actually, I used to be one.”
“Whatever dad.”
For my son, “nomad” meant the dudes riding camels with Peter O’Toole. For me, the word held a lot more meaning.
In my twenties, I would have said being a nomad was synonymous with travel. At the time, my life’s goal was to visit every country in the atlas. By the time I was 26, I had visited more than 40 countries on four continents. But was that the key to happiness? Was being a nomad only about travel?
After years of visiting with real nomads, I’ve realized that there is so much more to life than just moving. Folks say it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. But I say it’s also the rules we play by along the way.
Being a Nomad
Today, there are a handful of nomadic cultures left in the world. I’ve had the honor of visiting with two of the most famous, the Bedouin and the Tuareg.
The Bedouin are the Arab tribes made famous by T.E. Lawrence. Their home turf is the Arabian Peninsula, and their caravans spill out into Iraq, Jordan, Syria, Israel and Egypt. Their Berber brothers, the Tuareg, are the nomads of the Sahara Desert. Famous for fighting the French around the turn of the 20th Century. Most Americans might recognize the name as a Volkswagen SUV. If you’re a world music fan, the Tuareg band Tinariwen won a Grammy in 2012.
I’ve been lucky enough to spend time with these nomads in the Erg Chebbi of Morocco, the West Bank in Israel, a music festival near Timbuktu, and a 10-day camel trek through Tunisia’s Grand Erg Oriental. All of these experiences were bucket list excursions. But was there a deeper lesson to explore? Was there a hidden meaning?
Travel Light
It goes without saying that nomads have to travel light. On my first trip to Morocco, my Tuareg guide carried an empty satchel and a pair of slippers. In Tunisia, all our supplies for ten days fit compactly into four small saddlebags slung over the sides of just two camels.
The Tuareg have a saying, “That which you do not need will kill you.” As a backcountry backpacking I learned that lesson the hard way. As a teenager on my first High Sierra trip, I crammed my sky blue external frame Alpenlite pack with more than 50 lbs of gear. Wobbling along the trail for five days, every step made me wish I was dead.
Still an avid hiker, I’ve learned my lesson. I bought lighter weight gear. I removed items that I never used, and I cut every superfluous tag, string, or pull from my bag. I even shaved the handle off my toothbrush. Despite some occasional protesting from my aging knees, I am now able to go longer, higher, and faster than ever.
“That which you do not need will kill you.” —Tuareg Proverb
My inner nomad has also taught me that traveling light goes beyond the trail, and can be applied to everyday life just as easily. I’ve acquired a lot of shit in 45 years, and I carry that weight with me everywhere I go. But do I need it all? When the burden grows too heavy, it’s time to clean out my closet, empty the junk drawer, and leave my extra anxieties behind on the therapist’s couch. The effort not only clears out space in my house, but it clears out room in my brain. After a good purge I’m mentally lighter, more flexible, adaptable, and receptive to new ideas.
Lavish Hospitality
Nomads have impeccable hospitality. For the Bedouin and Tuareg, not only is hospitality a pillar of their Islamic faith, but it’s a social contract that reinforces the mutual aid and solidarity that is essential to surviving their harsh living environments. It may seem counterintuitive, but the nomad will slaughter their last lamb to welcome a stranger, give away a precious family heirloom, or even offer protection to a known enemy. This act of travelers’ karma is so ingrained in the culture that it is compulsory. But it’s for a good cause.
Their lavish hospitality had always made me uncomfortable, for I had known that as a result of it they would go hungry for days. Yet when I left them they had almost convinced me that I had done them a kindness by staying with them” ― Wilfred Thesiger
My American friends might be shaking their heads wondering how this behavior helps? But after years of seeing its results, I appreciate the power of hospitality.
I don’t know about you, but in the post-COVID world, I could sure use a jumpstart to my interpersonal relationships. Maybe hospitality is the salve for that wound. It feeds the most basic human need, to feel loved and accepted. The act of giving to others can deepen existing relationships and create space for new ones to flourish. At the very least, it’s an excuse to open that nice bottle of wine, or chat late into the night with a friend who would have otherwise stayed in a hotel.
Hospitality is even good for business. At Electric City Butcher, we always referred to visitors as “guests,” never “customers.” We encouraged our employees to give out samples, discounts, and cooking tips. It was essential that each and every “guest” be honored in our “home.” Those acts paid off with loyal shoppers.
And if you’re still not convinced of the power of hospitality, it turns out that it’s also good for your health. Studies have shown that giving to others improves mental and physical well being, and can actually reduce the risk of heart attack. The Nomads continue to teach.
Sovereignty of the Heart
Governments don’t like nomads. In a world infatuated with private property and border crossings, it’s easier to count and tax folks when they’re staying put. But nomads are incredibly independent and proud of their sovereignty. They have been traversing the deserts of Africa and Asia for hundreds of years. As a result, many nomads have felt they must take up arms against governments to protect their way of life, and to challenge a world now filled with borders and boundaries.
To he who puts a cord around his neck, God will supply someone to pull it. —Tuareg Proverb
But what does the word sovereignty mean to a community that doesn’t believe in customs houses or constitutions? For many, autonomy and self determination are the goal. They want to be in control of their day to day lives. They want to live their values, and preserve their cultural identity. Nomads are fighting for their self respect in a world that no longer appreciates their role.
My inner nomad wants sovereignty of the heart. I want to follow my passions, and feel I have autonomy over my feelings and decisions. I want to own my life path, and expend every ounce of energy in achieving it. At one point, that meant leaving a successful corporate job where I had no voice, and instead become an entrepreneur where I could make a difference. Today, it means engaging my creativity and sense of purpose to identify real problems and offer solutions to people who value my work.
"The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page." —St. Augustine
I may be more sedentary today than at any other time in my entire life, but my inner nomad is enjoying one of the greatest voyages of my life without a single passport stamp.
Whether you are on an inner nomad journey, or if you pick up the bag and wander a bit if this planet for yourself, I encourage you to live the values of the nomads. Travel light by shed unnecessary possessions and expectations. Reinvigorate your hospitality by welcoming others into your life with open arms. And fight for sovereignty of the heart, by claiming your purpose, and living your values.
I’ll see you in the caravan.
Thank you for the article and advice, I enjoyed it very much. I think I’ll go clean out my junk drawer for starters.