Off to the races
Doha, Qatar
I AM SITTING in the front seat of my guide Sayeed’s big white SUV in Doha, Qatar, waiting for the camel races at the Al Shahaniyah racetrack to begin. Qataris treat their camels like racehorses, competing against other camels shipped in from all over the world. A racing camel can easily cost $25,000—or more.
Each shambling beast is outfitted with a little robotic jockey dressed in racing silks, holding a long flexible crop. Small children once were conscripted as camel jockeys until an uproar over this violation of human rights stopped the practice, the Emir of Qatar outlawing it 13 years before my visit.
There are no grandstands, box seats or betting windows at this racetrack, just a lot of white SUVs lined up on paved lanes running parallel to the sandy racetrack. Camel owners and the media claim the inside lane, while the rest of us are in the outer lanes. We will drive around the track like crazy people, chasing the camels once they leave the starting gate. I hope the Al Jazeera television trucks with their large roof-mounted cameras won’t obscure my view.
An announcement is made and the starting gate lifts upward. The camels are off and so are we. Sayeed expertly drives his Land Cruiser in the convoy while I lean out the window taking photos and videos of the action. The camels are surprisingly fast, the little robots mounted on their backs wobbling slightly. Remote instructions are received by transmitter, words of encouragement or commands to pull on the reins or thwack the crop on the hapless camel’s back.
The camels sprint hard and fast, those long ungainly legs surprisingly swift. Then they quickly slow down, almost seeming to lose interest. A winner is declared, the racetrack is cleared, and another group of camels is led from the paddock to the starting line.
I find this hilarious, driving 40 mph around the outside of a racetrack, following a bunch of galloping camels sporting little whip-toting robots on their backs. It’s a Qatari guy thing- I am the only woman here. And of course, the only Westerner.
First prize is nothing as mundane as a trophy- it’s a BENTLEY!
