A man once told me, “My friend’s father, he loved his camels, one in particular. You know Camel cigarettes? Let me tell me you about the original camel cigarette...”
This camel, he told me, loved her owner very deeply. Above all, she loved his fragrance.
It was not his cologne. She loved the smell of his dokha, which means dizzy, the crushed mountain tobacco that Gulf men smoke in tiny wooden pipes.
In the northern emirates, men create their own blends. Strength and flavour vary according to where and when the tobacco was harvested and the height of the leaves on the plant. The higher the leaves are, the stronger the buzz that lends the tobacco its name.
Now this camel, he continued, knew the scent of her owner’s dokha blend and if she caught this scent, she would follow her nose, race towards her beloved owner and place her head over his head. Then she’d breath in his dokha, flaring her nostrils in delight.
And then the camel would smile. Every time.
