The Camel's Nose Is a Water-Saving Machine
The Camel's Nose Is a Water-Saving Machine — a science story. 10 illustrated pages, narrated, on the kids shelf, free to read on Wonder Science.
Page 1
The dune crest caught the last climb of the morning, and Ghazala's long legs planted themselves at the top just as the strap on her saddle gave way. Amina heard the soft thud before she understood it — the goatskin water bag, fat and heavy as a sleeping lamb, slid off the saddle blanket and tumbled down the steep face of sand. She scrambled after it, bare feet sinking to the ankle, bells jingling wildly on her wrist, but the skin struck a buried stone and burst with a wet slap. Water fanned out dark across the pale sand, vanishing almost as fast as it spread. Amina dropped to her knees and scooped with both hands, again and again, but the sand only drank faster than she could gather. Hamid planted his tall staff and hurried down in long careful strides, grabbing her shoulder before she slid further, steadying her against the slope while they both stared at the spreading stain fading to nothing, the whole oasis of El Oued glittering uselessly far below them.
Page 2
The jeep rattled into the market square and Knut yanked the hand brake so hard the whole roof rack shuddered. A wooden crate of glass instruments, lashed loosely with fraying rope, lurched sideways off the top and began to slide. Amina was already running, sandals slapping the cobbles, and she flung herself under the falling crate, catching its full weight hard against her chest with a grunt. At the same instant the jeep's bumper clipped a trader's basket, and glossy dates burst across the stones in a brown tumbling flood. Traders dropped to their knees, scrambling and scooping dates back into baskets before the brass scales toppled too. Hamid planted his tall staff and steadied the rocking scale pan with one hand. Bodil darted in, hauling the crate from Amina's arms before her knees buckled, while Ghazala, tied at the awning post, stamped and swung her head away from the rolling fruit, snorting through her dark-masked nose. Knut leapt down at last, red-faced, patting pockets for his notebook.
Page 3
The white crust cracked like a biscuit and the jeep's rear wheel dropped through with a wet crunch, sinking to the axle in grey mud. Knut slammed the gearstick and only spun the wheel deeper. Everyone scrambled off at once. Bodil dropped to her knees and dug with both hands, flinging salty mud behind her, while Hamid used his tall staff to lever broken crust away from the tyre. Amina went running for the palm-frond mats lashed to the roof rack, dragging two down and wedging them hard under the sinking wheel, her wrist bells jingling with every shove. Knut tied a long rope to the front axle and looped the other end around Ghazala's broad chest harness. At the signal, Ghazala leaned forward, legs digging, huge feet splaying against the crust, and hauled steadily as the jeep lurched, rocked, and finally climbed free with a spray of salt crystals and a splatter of grey mud over everybody's knees.
Page 4
The stairs of Ghardaïa climb like a stone ladder, each step knee-high, pink and ochre walls pressing close on either side. Bodil braces the fat clay jar, wide as her own ribs, against her hip and hauls it up one step, then another, her boots scraping on worn stone. On the third step her grip slips. The jar bounces free, thudding down three steps in quick jolts, water sloshing wildly inside. Amina gasps and lunges but is too far below. Hamid, already a step above, swings his tall brass-tipped staff down in one smooth motion and hooks the jar's handle just before it tips over the final drop. He hauls it upright with a grunt, his thin arms straining. Knut scrambles sideways to steady a crate sliding off his own shoulder, nearly toppling into the wall. Down at the alley mouth, too narrow and steep for her huge splayed feet, Ghazala waits, swinging her masked nose toward them and stamping once, her brass bell clanking against the quiet stone street.
Page 5
Ropes creaked as Hamid hauled a palm beam across two forked posts, lashing the ends tight with quick loops while Amina scrambled underneath to knot the cradle's belly-sling. Bodil dragged the saddlebags over, grunting as she heaved them into the swinging rope cradle, and Knut steadied the beam with both long arms so it wouldn't swing wild. "Hold it level!" Bodil called, and Hamid leaned his whole weight on the post to keep the beam from tipping. Amina clipped the last loop and jumped back as the bags settled, creaking, into place. Meanwhile Ghazala, unburdened, nosed at a bucket Knut had just filled, and when he tipped it out across the hot flagstones to test the ground's thirst, the water spread into a dark sheet — then vanished, hissing into steam before he'd even flipped open his stopwatch. "One minute, not even!" he shouted, staring at the dry stone. Bodil laughed and wiped her hands on her trousers, while Amina pressed her palm flat on the flagstone, yelping at the heat, and yanked it back laughing.
Page 6
They had scrambled up before dawn, knees scraping on black stones twice the height of a stacked crate, Hamid's staff clacking out footholds while the palm grove below shrank to a green thread beside the river bend. At the top Amina pulled the steel mirror, cold as well-water, from inside her shawl. She climbed onto a flat boulder level with Ghazala's long face and held the mirror flat before the dark-masked nostrils. Ghazala breathed out once, slow and warm, and the steel bloomed instantly with grey mist. A fat drop gathered, trembled, and slid down to hang off the mirror's edge before dropping cleanly into the thimble-jar Bodil thrust underneath. Amina whooped, her bell bracelet jangling as she shifted her grip — and the mirror slipped from her cold fingers, spinning down toward the rocks. Hamid's staff shot out, brass knob flashing, and he caught the mirror's edge an inch above the stones, holding it steady until Amina snatched it back, laughing and breathless.
Page 7
The gravel plain stretched flat and shining with heat, wider than the eye could hold, when a sudden gust came roaring across the stones. It snatched the knot behind Bodil's neck and tore her cornflower-blue headscarf clean off, sending it tumbling and skipping over the hot rubble like a live thing. "My scarf!" Bodil shouted, already running, boots skidding on loose gravel. Amina scrambled after it, bells jingling wildly on her wrist, grabbing at empty air as the wind flicked the cloth away again. Hamid lunged with his tall staff, trying to pin it down, but the brass knob only sent it spinning sideways. Knut pelted past them both, notebook flapping from his pocket, shouting numbers nobody needed. Just when the scarf seemed about to sail off toward the horizon forever, Ghazala took three long strides, swung her huge splayed foot forward, and planted it flat and firm on the fluttering cloth, pinning it hard against the stones until the wind gave up and dropped.
Page 8
The sand haze rolled thick through the broken doorway, taller than Hamid's own head, and nobody saw the last water drum shiver loose from its jeep straps until it was already rolling. It struck the threshold, bounced over the sill, and went bumping down the slope of drifted sand piled against the outer wall. Knut lunged after it, boots slipping, arms outstretched, but the drum outpaced him, spun sideways and split its seam against a buried stone at the bottom with a hollow crack. Water fanned out dark across the sand and vanished almost instantly. Bodil scrambled down behind him, dropping to her knees to cup what little pooled in a hollow, but it was already gone. Amina came running with the small drinking skin clutched to her chest, holding it up like the last coin in the world. Hamid planted his tall staff hard into the sand, steadying himself against the gritty wind, and called them back inside the crumbling walls before the haze swallowed them whole. Ghazala pressed her shaggy flank against the broken doorway, the only shelter big enough to block the worst of the blowing sand from the huddled group.
Page 9
Under the leaning palms the stone-rimmed well rises hip-high to Amina, its mouth black and cool. Ghazala has not had a drop for days, yet she walks as steady as ever, her huge splayed feet padding straight toward the shade. She swings her dark masked nose toward the palms, lets out a long groaning sigh, and folds her knobbly legs to kneel at the rim, nudging the stone with her muzzle. Hamid plants his tall staff and leans his weight into the rope, hauling hand over hand while Knut grips below him, boots braced against the stone lip. Bodil throws her whole body backward to add pull, her satchel of vials swinging and clinking. The bucket comes up slopping, water sloshing over its edge, and as Amina darts forward to steady it, a wave slaps loose and drenches her yellow shawl from shoulder to hem. She gasps, laughing despite the soaking, and tips the bucket toward Ghazala's broad lips.
Page 10
The dune ridge glowed red as the sun dropped toward the great sand wall, and the loaded caravan began its slow way down the slope toward Taghit's palms. Hamid planted his tall staff, bent, and gripped Amina under the arms, swinging her up in one strong motion onto Ghazala's saddle, the cream flank rising higher than his own shoulder. Amina laughed, caught the saddle blanket's striped edge with both hands, and steadied herself as Ghazala started forward with her huge splayed feet pressing easy prints into the sand. Then Amina reached into her yellow shawl, pulled out her big rolled sheet of charcoal paper, and shook it open against the darkening sky. Knut, walking below with his stopwatch swinging, tipped his head back to look up. Bodil, her satchel clinking, grabbed Knut's sleeve and pulled him round for a better view of the drawing: a camel's nose, every fold and dark patch carefully marked. "That is exactly how it traps the mist," Bodil said. Knut pushed his glasses up. "Better than any instrument we carried." Hamid walked alongside, one hand resting on Ghazala's shoulder, guiding her down the slope.
About this story
- Audience: kids (ages 6–12)
- Format: 10 illustrated pages, narrated, on the kids shelf, free to read on Wonder Science
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