The Day We Tried to Outdrive a
Desert Sandstorm

Inland Sea, Qatar 🇶🇦

It doesn’t really rain in Doha.
But when it does, it pours.

My sister and her family had come to visit, and Doha had turned into a swimming pool.
(IFYKYK the drainage system there pools water rather than drains it).

So, we had to outsmart it and decided a camping trip in the desert would be perfect.

I’d checked the weather app.

No rains on that side. Let’s go!

A friend of mine had a Land Cruiser and offered to drive us out to a desert camp he’d once shown me.
It wasn’t particularly difficult to get to.

A bit of driving over the dunes and then we’d arrive at this beautiful camp, spend the night in the desert, under the stars and escape the rain.

Win Win.

Perfect.

We packed a picnic as if it was an apocalypse (my sister in law will know that family traditon) and off we went.

My nephew was having the time of his life. Squealing, head sticking out of the sun roof, giggling hysterically as the Land Cruiser flew over the dunes.

My niece, not so much.

She was somewhere between terrified and wondering why we her auntie had to be such an adrenaline junkie.

My brother-in-law, meanwhile, was doing what any sensible man does when hurtling across the desert with his family.

Filming it.

Everything was going brilliantly.

Until the weather changed.

Is That a Sandstorm?

Out of nowhere, the sky changed.

Sand started whipping around us.

Visibility dropped.

And it felt we had been transported on set to the movie Twister.

My friend seemed to decide there was only one sensible response.

Outrace it.

So we went faster.

In hindsight, not sure that was the best idea. But you know me by now, I just go with the flow.

We flew towards another dune.

Up we went.

Sand hurling onto the front windscreen, wipers swaying like crazy.

And then—

DUFF.

We went straight over it.

Not gracefully.

Not in the exhilarating Wheeee!
We’d been doing five minutes earlier.

We came down hard.
Necks slamming hard into the seats.
(I think my sunglasses may have even fallen off!)

The car landed at a ninety degrees angle and buried itself into the sand.

Silence.

I think there was a collective moment of:

What. Just. Happened?

Then came the realisation.

We were stuck.

Properly stuck.

All four wheels buried deep in the sand.

---

The weather was awful, hardly anyone else was stupid enough to be out in the desert, and we had no signal.

Excellent.

The Men Enter Macho Mode

My friend and brother-in-law immediately sprang into action.

There was digging.

There was inspecting of tyres.

There was discussion about angles and sand and traction.

I stayed in the back with my niece and nephews, trying to project the calm confidence of an adult who definitely knew everything was going to be fine.

Inside, I was thinking:

Oh shit.

My sister, however, couldn’t sit still.

Mum Mode had kicked in.

“We need to find help.”

We tried telling her to stay with us.

No.

She had to do something.

So off she went.

Up a sand dune.

Into a sandstorm.

---

Meanwhile, Back at the Car…

Now, I don’t actually remember this next bit.

But my niece and nephew conveniently do.

Apparently, while their mother was wandering across the desert looking for rescue and the men were attempting to excavate a Land Cruiser, I decided this was an appropriate moment to relax.

According to them, I was sitting in the back of the car.

Eating Pringles.

While getting them to massage my feet.

I would like to say this account has been exaggerated over the years.

However, I can’t deny it does sound very plausible.

So there we were.

My sister: searching the desert for help.

The men: fighting the sand.

Me: Pringles. Foot massage.

I guess, everyone contributes differently in a crisis.

Then the sun started going down.

---

And that’s when the reality began to sink in.

There are no streetlights in the middle of the desert.

There was still no one around.

We still didn’t have signal.

And now it was getting eerie and dark.

So I started doing calculations in my head.

We had food.

We had water.

We had a car.

Worst-case scenario, we could stay there overnight.

It wouldn’t be ideal.

But we’d survive.

And then, in the distance—

cars.

Not one.

Two.

Coming towards us.

And my sister was running in front of them, leading them to us.

---

The Red Hijab Rescue Mission

“HOW DID YOU FIND THEM?”

It turned out my sister had climbed to the top of a dune, started praying and waving her red hijab in the air to attract attention.

Eventually, some local men who were taking tourists through the desert spotted her.

A woman standing dramatically on top of a sand dune.

Red hijab blowing in the wind.

Apparently, their first thought wasn’t:

That woman needs rescuing.

It was:

Is she doing a Bollywood photoshoot?
(I am pretty sure Kajol does a similar scene in one of her songs)

So they drove over to investigate.

I found the video on my phone, in her words:
‘I was standing on top of the dune, crying and reading Surah Fatiha and then this guy just horned behind me! ‘ I told him, ‘I am so happy to see you, we have been stranded here for 2 hours!!’

They came to help.

Then another vehicle appeared.

And suddenly, after hours of having absolutely nobody to rescue us, we had two separate groups competing for the privilege.

“No, we’ll pull them out.”

“No, we’ll do it.”

At this point, we didn’t care who did it.

Please, just get us out of here!

Eventually, with tow ropes, much manoeuvring and a lot of discussions the Land Cruiser was freed.

We were moving again.

We had survived.

But What About the Camp?

Eventually we reached somewhere with phone signal.

I called the desert camp.

“I’m really sorry, but I don’t think we’re going to make it tonight. We got stuck in the desert.”

There was a pause.

Then came the response.

Well, you’ll lose your deposit.

…

A few hours earlier I’d been mentally calculating whether we could survive a night stranded in the desert.

My sister had been standing on top of a dune waving her hijab like an emergency flare.

We’d been rescued by people who initially thought they’d stumbled across a Bollywood photoshoot.

And you’re worried about the deposit?

Fair enough.

---

We abandoned the camping plan and drove to Al Wakrah instead.

There, slightly shell-shocked but very much alive, we sat down for a fish dinner surrounded by the local stray cats.

Not quite the glamorous desert evening we’d planned. No cosy camp fire or twinkling stars here.

But at that point, nobody was complaining. We still had beach and sea.
(For anyone visiting Qatar, Souq Al Wakrah was one of my favourite places, highly recommended).

Over the years, different members of my family came to visit me in Qatar.

My parents.

My other siblings.

My cousin.

And I took them to that same desert camp.

Everyone, eventually, got their beautiful night under the stars. I think mum and dad a few times!

Except my sister and her family.

They were supposed to get another chance.

I had booked the camp with special decorations for my niece and nephew’s birthday, a year later.

You wouldn’t believe their luck, Covid happened and the trip was cancelled.

Apparently. this particular night in the desert really wanted to make them wait for it.

They visited again during my final year in Qatar.
(I didn’t even know I was leaving at this point).

And in perfect timing, we finally got them to the desert camp.
And they loved it ❤️

No sandstorm.
No rescue mission.
No Bollywood photoshoot needed.

My time in Qatar came to a full-circle ending.
What is written for you will never miss you.