In a vast Wadi Rum desert, which is known to be loved by jinn, beneath the dark sky, we found ourselves in nomad tents, where modern comforts met ancient traditions. These “tents,” often elaborate structures, showcased the Bedouin ability to adapt, blending their heritage with the needs of modern travelers. Electricity, once supplied by noisy diesel generators, was now primarily sourced from solar panels during the day, with batteries providing power at night. After feasting on food unearthed from the sands – a traditional Zarb, slow-cooked to perfection – we gathered by the fire in a grander tent. Bedouin music filled the air, the haunting melodies of the Oud (a string instrument somewhat similar to a guitar), which is popular among bedouins in Jordan, weaving through the night as we sipped warm, sweet tea, a staple of Bedouin hospitality.
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Our host, a Bedouin elder, shared tales of their changing world, of marriage customs and traditions fading among the youth, and of the desert’s own laws – a complex system of tribal justice, independent of the central government.
“We protect our guests as family,” he declared, his voice filled with pride, “Even unto death. It is a matter of honour. To violate this trust is the greatest shame.”
The host also mentioned that those new style martian domes, which are so much loved by instagram influencers, do not offer the authentic experience in the desert. Some bedouin tribes build them to attract the tourists, but they not only require a lot of electricity for air conditioning, but also vasts amounts of water, especially for the places that have a hot tub. And the water is scarce here in Wadi Rum desert, and in all Jordan for that matter, and being delivered by the water trucks to refill the water tanks. In my opinion. that is just disrespectful to the local people who cherish the water like gold.
Bedouin Jinn Stories
As the night deepened, the silence was broken when the Bedouin elder asked:
“Does anyone have any questions?”
The silence in the tent was deafening, I could hear only the fireplace crackle. It was then that I asked: “What about jinn? What do you know about them in Wadi Rum?”
The Bedouin was reluctant. These supernatural beings, woven into the fabric of Islamic and pre-Islamic belief, are often viewed with a mixture of fear and respect. Then another visitor’s voice spoke, mentioning the rare and forbidden book “Shams Al-Ma’arif“and its power to control these beings.
The Bedouin’s got very annoyed and almost angry, his voice rising as he spoke of the book’s danger:
“Shams Al-Ma’arif!” he exclaimed, “It is a cursed text! It speaks of things best left undisturbed. It is a path to darkness, to dealing with forces you cannot comprehend.”
He spoke of lost control, of the dark consequences that awaited those who even dared to seek its secrets:
“It promises power, but delivers only chaos and despair. Those who seek to control the jinn become their slaves, their puppets. This book… it is not meant for us mortals.”
This intense exchange sparked a shift in the evening’s course. The air, thick with unspoken unease, soon gave way to a shared desire for connection and understanding. The Bedouin, perhaps sensing our curiosity and the need to bridge the gap between worlds seen and unseen, began to share more traditional stories, tales of desert life, how no one should stay alone overnight in the desert, and the ever-present influence of the supernatural, jinn included. He also mentioned that no one should travel and stay in the desert alone at night.
Both “jinn” and “djinn” refer to the same supernatural beings in Arabian and Islamic mythology. “Jinn” is the more direct transliteration from the Arabic word, while “djinn” is an older, less common rendering. These beings are often described as having free will, created from smokeless fire, and capable of both good and evil. They are frequently associated with the desert and are believed to be able to interact with the human world in various ways, sometimes causing mischief or more serious disturbances.
The term “genie” is essentially the English translation of the Arabic word “jinn,” but the popular Western understanding largely presents a commercialised version that dramatically differs from the original concept. In Islamic and pre-Islamic belief, jinn are complex supernatural beings, created from a smokeless fire, possessing free will much like humans, and living in a parallel world. They are not inherently bound to servitude or wish-granting. The familiar image of a genie trapped in a lamp, ready to grant three wishes, stems primarily from the exoticised and romanticised tales translated as One Thousand and One Nights. This portrayal, while popular in books, movies, and media, is a simplified and often exaggerated adaptation for Western audiences, effectively a commercialised caricature distinct from the diverse, independent, and theologically significant beings known as jinn in the Islamic tradition.
Story: Strange Sounds in The desert
Two brothers’ bet for a night in a desert
The Bedouin storyteller recalled a tale of four brothers who made a bet: two would spend a night in the haunted Braide’s (or similar-sounding) area of the desert and other brothers wouldn’t eat until they will come back. This was no ordinary challenge, as Braide’s was a place surroundedwith fear and reverence, a location where the veil between worlds was believed to be thin.
As the brothers prepared their tea and dinner by the fire, under the vast, star-strewn desert sky, an unsettling whistling began, as if right beside them. It moved around their campsite, and soon, the whistling was joined by disembodied laughter. Then, they heard the sounds of voices, chatting and dining, seemingly from beneath the earth.
Fear began to creep in, but the brothers tried to remain calm. Suddenly, small rocks were thrown at their car, but left no mark and the laughter was getting louder.
“What was that?” one brother exclaimed, his voice trembling.
“Just the wind,” the other replied, trying to sound brave, though his eyes darted nervously into the darkness.
The bombardment escalated, the sounds growing louder as if larger and larger stones were thrown at the car, smashing the glass, yet the car remained untouched.
“We have to get out of here!” the first brother yelled, panic rising in his voice.
“But we can’t back down,” the other argued, though his resolve was clearly weakening.
Finally, overwhelmed by the unseen onslaught, they abandoned their camp and fled home.
Story: The Stranger in the Night
The Whispers of the Sands
Khaled, a Bedouin father, and his young son, Salim, were returning from a long journey to the market in the neighbouring oasis. The sun was setting, casting long, eerie shadows across the desert landscape. The wind, a constant companion in the desert, whispered through the cracks of their aging Land Cruiser.
Salim, his eyes wide with the stories his grandmother told, suddenly tugged at his father’s sleeve.
“Father,” he whispered, his voice trembling, “I see someone… in the back.”
Khaled, a man of practical experience, glanced in the rearview mirror. The back of the vehicle was filled with their market wares: sacks of dates, bundles of herbs, and woven rugs. “Salim, my son, it is only the shadows playing tricks on your eyes. The desert wind makes phantoms of us all.”
But Salim insisted. “No, Father. It is a figure. Tall, and dark. It is watching us.”
Khaled, though skeptical, felt a chill creep down his spine. He knew the desert held mysteries beyond their understanding. Bedouin tales spoke of jinn, spirits that roamed the sands, sometimes benevolent, sometimes mischievous, sometimes malevolent.
He pulled the vehicle over, the tires crunching on the gravel. He turned to face the back, his gaze sweeping over the cargo. The shadows danced, and the wind seemed to moan.
“Salim,” he said, his voice firm, “if it is a guest, we must offer hospitality. That is the way of our people.”
He took a small flask of strong, sweet tea from the front and placed it in the back. “If you are a traveler, partake of our offering. If you mean us no harm, leave us in peace.”
He then returned to the drivers seat, and continued the journey. Salim, still nervous, kept his eyes fixed on the back. After a while, Salim said “Father, it is gone.”
Khaled nodded. “The desert tests us, Salim. It tests our courage, our faith, and our respect for the unseen. Remember, even in the face of the unknown, we must remain true to our traditions.”
As they reached their encampment, the flickering lights of the tents welcomed them home. Khaled knew that whether it was a trick of the light, a jinn, or simply Salim’s imagination, the desert had once again reminded them of its ancient power. And that the traditions of hospitality, and respect for the unseen, was paramount.
Story: Two Dancing Jinns
The Whispers of Wadi Rum
Khalil and Salim, brothers of the Al-Naimi tribe, were journeying across Wadi Rum. Night fell, casting long, eerie shadows across the sandstone cliffs. They decided to camp in a sheltered hollow, the wind whispering secrets through the rock formations.
As they brewed strong, bitter coffee over their small fire, Salim, the younger and more impetuous brother, began to recount old tales of the jinn. “They say,” he whispered, his eyes wide, “that the jinn favour this Wadi. They say they dance in the moonlight, their forms shifting like the desert mirages.”
Khalil, the elder and more pragmatic, scoffed. “Old wives’ tales, Salim. The desert plays tricks on the mind. It is the wind, the shadows, that create these illusions.”
As the night deepened, an unnatural silence fell over the wadi. The air grew heavy, and the fire flickered erratically. Suddenly, a faint, ethereal music drifted on the wind, a haunting melody that seemed to come from the very rocks themselves.
Salim’s eyes widened in fear, and he clutched his brother’s arm. “Khalil, did you hear that?”
Khalil, though shaken, tried to maintain his composure. “It is just the wind,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction.
Then, they saw them. Flickering shapes, like heat haze given form, danced in the distance. They moved with an otherworldly grace, their forms shifting and swirling in the moonlight. The music grew louder, more insistent.
Fear gripped Salim, and he begged his brother to leave. But Khalil, despite his fear, was rooted to the spot, his curiosity piqued.
As the jinn drew closer, Khalil noticed that they were not malevolent. They danced with a strange, melancholic beauty, their movements telling a story of ancient sorrow.
Then, one of the jinn broke away from the others and approached the brothers. It was a tall, slender figure, its form shimmering like desert glass. It raised a hand, and a voice, like the rustling of sand, echoed in their minds.
“You have witnessed our dance,” the jinn said. “We are the guardians of this Wadi, and we mourn the passing of time, the fading of the old ways.”
The jinn then showed them visions of ancient Bedouin tribes, their lives intertwined with the desert, their respect for the unseen world. It showed them how modern times were changing those ancient ways.
Then the jinn faded, and the music died away. The brothers were left in silence, the desert night seeming even more profound.
From that night on, both brothers held a greater respect for the old stories and the unseen world. They understood that the desert held secrets, and that some things were best left undisturbed. They also learned that not all jinn are evil, and that some carry great sorrow.
The Bedouin explained that the area was believed to be haunted due to its history as the site of much bloodshed from tribal conflicts and battles against invaders or even in between tribes. The desert, while beautiful, can also be a harsh and unforgiving place, and the echoes of violence and loss are believed to linger, creating a fertile ground for supernatural occurrences.
To truly understand the fear of the jinn, one must understand the Bedouin worldview. The Bedouin have a rich oral tradition, filled with stories of jinn – supernatural beings that inhabit the desert alongside humans. These jinn are not always malevolent, but they are powerful and unpredictable, and encounters with them are treated with utmost caution.
In pre-Islamic Arabian beliefs, jinn were associated with the harsh and desolate places of the desert, often seen as the cause of strange phenomena such as whirlwinds and mirages. With the arrival of Islam, the concept of jinn was incorporated into the faith. The Quran describes jinn as beings created from smokeless fire, possessing free will and capable of both good and evil.
The whistling, laughter, and disembodied voices in the story are classic signs of jinn activity. The fact that the rocks caused no damage to the car is particularly unsettling; it suggests a deliberate act, not bound by the laws of physics, and indicates that the brothers were dealing with something beyond the natural world.
The storyteller’s explanation of the area’s bloody history adds another layer to the haunting. The Bedouin believe that violent death can leave a stain on the land, and the spirits of those who died unjustly may linger, unable to find peace. These restless spirits are believed to be more likely to manifest in places where their blood was shed, creating a location where the veil between the living and the dead is thin.
Story: The Solitary Traveller in the Desert
The Solitary Traveller in the Desert
Khalid, a seasoned Bedouin, chose to venture deep into the vast, silent expanse of the Wadi Rum. He sought solitude, a chance to reconnect with the ancient rhythms of the desert. He set up his simple camp as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sand in hues of orange and purple. As night fell, and the stars blazed with an intensity only the desert could offer, Khalid brewed his strong, sweet tea. The silence was profound, broken only by the crackling of his small fire.
He noticed subtle shifts in the air, a sense of being watched. At first, he attributed it to the desert’s inherent mystery. But then, he began to perceive more distinct occurrences.
If he adjusted his blanket, he would hear a faint rustling, as if another blanket was being moved. When he took a sip of tea, a soft, almost imperceptible sound mimicked the act.
Khalid, a man of strong traditions, understood that the desert held more than what was visible. Stories of Jinn, and other desert spirits, were part of his cultural upbringing.
Instead of fear, Khalid felt a sense of quiet curiosity. He knew that showing fear would be disrespectful. He began to speak aloud, sharing stories of his ancestors, of the desert’s beauty, and of the importance of respect.
He offered his tea, and some of his dates, out into the darkness.
As the first light of dawn touched the dunes, the feeling of the presence faded. Khalid found a small, intricately woven bracelet, left near his fire. He understood it as a sign, a silent acknowledgment.
Khalid understood that the desert held secrets, and that respect was paramount. The unseen presence was not necessarily malevolent, but rather a reminder that he was a guest in a place of ancient power. The bracelet was a token of that encounter.
Story: The Jinn’s reflection
The Mimicking Fire of Wadi Rum
In the vast quiet of Wadi Rum, where the stars seem close enough to touch, there was once a young Bedouin man named Tariq. He was known for his courage and his love for the solitude of the desert, often venturing out alone for days at a time, seeking the peace that the wide-open spaces offered. One cold desert night, after a long day’s journey, Tariq found a sheltered spot between two towering rock formations to make his camp. The wind was sharp, and the temperature was dropping quickly as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep blues and purples.
Tariq set about gathering dry brush and twigs, his movements practiced and efficient. He knelt down, shielded the small pile with his body, and struck a spark. A small flame flickered to life, then grew, casting dancing shadows against the rocks. As the fire began to offer its warmth, Tariq looked up and saw, a short distance away, another fire being kindled. He was surprised, as he thought he was alone in this part of the desert. Beside the second fire, he could just make out the shape of a woman, her figure silhouetted against the growing flames.
Curiosity mixed with caution, Tariq watched her. To his astonishment, as he reached out to add more wood to his fire, the woman at the other fire did the exact same movement at the same time. When he shifted his position to get more comfortable, she mirrored his action. Every time he moved, she moved. When he added a large branch, she added a large branch. Her movements were perfectly synchronised with his, a silent, unsettling echo in the desert night. Tariq felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold.
Suddenly, he remembered the old stories of the desert, of figures seen out of the corner of the eye, of the jinn who sometimes took forms to interact with humans, often in strange and unnerving ways. He neither spoke nor made any sudden moves, simply tending his fire while the figure across the way continued her silent, perfect imitation.
As the night deepened, Tariq, scared by the uncanny mimicry, slowly reached for a piece of burning wood from his fire and brought it close to his head. The woman across the way did the same, her hand, holding the fiery wood, moving towards her own head. But just before the burning wood touched her, she dissolved into a shower of fire sparkles and vanished completely, leaving only the dying embers of her fire and the vast, silent desert night.
Tariq spent the rest of the night awake, the memory of the silent mimicry and the fiery disappearance a stark reminder that even in the deepest solitude of Wadi Rum, one is never truly alone, and the desert holds mysteries beyond human understanding.
Jinns outside of Wadi Rum
One of the guests in the tent was a film director – Leonardo, the same person who followed up on my question about the jinns and asked about the forbidden book. He told us about his non-conventional photography work, where he and his team are taking very long exposure photographs (we are talking about several hours to 10 hours) through different filters and combine them into one picture. He claimed that they can see the things that are not visible to the naked eye.
He also share the story about thousands of drawings they discovered in Algeria in that way, which are very old and some potentially capturing the jinn figures, one holding hands up.
It was fascinating and scary to listen to this man’s stores and he had many of them. One time he camped in between rocks of Little Petra and as he walked at night he could hear the steps once he finished walking. Whenever he stopped there would be a sound of someone putting one more step until stopping, as if they were following him.
Another story he told us was about a Sebiba ceremony in Djanet (Algerian Sahara Desert), where he was taking photos of the event. Only on that event the village women can be seen to the outsiders. One of the photos he took completely shocked him. Behind a woman there was figure of another woman in a hood and face covered in a veil as if it was whispering something to the living woman. The dark figure wasn’t there when he took the picture though.
That image kept us all awake at night and even remembering it gives me goosebumps. Also, that night I had a dream that bedouin woman was standing next to me and staring at my face with an angry look. I literally tried to scream, but the things to make worse I couldn’t scream, just muffled sound from my mouth was barely coming out as I struggled. As she walked away she said: “You shouldn’t be sleeping in one bed with her”, which was referred to my friend who slept there. I literally sat down in my bed the moment I woke up, terrified and my heart pounding and it was pitch black in the room and I could hear only the desert winds howling. It was a terrible nightmare!
The Forbidden Book of the Jinn
As we touched upon earlier, the book in question is Shams al-Ma’arif, or “The Sun of Gnosis,” a remarkable and highly controversial work attributed to the 13th-century scholar Ahmad al-Buni. This ancient Arabic manuscript delves into the complex realms of Arabic magic, astrology, numerology, and the esoteric understanding of letters and their connection to the spiritual world. It’s a text that explores methods for engaging with unseen forces, including detailed sections on the nature of jinn and techniques for communication or interaction with them, alongside instructions for creating talismans and engaging in various occult practices. While some view it as a historical artifact of mystical knowledge and a guide to deeper spiritual understanding, its content places it squarely outside the bounds of accepted religious practice for many in the Islamic world, leading to its condemnation as a source of sorcery and forbidden knowledge.
This contentious nature has given rise to a wealth of legends and superstitions surrounding Shams al-Ma’arif. It’s widely believed to be a cursed book, capable of bringing misfortune, spiritual disturbance, or even physical harm to those who read it or attempt to enact its rituals without adequate knowledge, protection, or purity of intention. Stories abound of individuals facing dire consequences after delving into its pages, from unexplained illnesses and psychological distress to unsettling paranormal occurrences and personal tragedies. The very act of possessing the book is considered risky by some, believed to attract unwanted spiritual attention. These potent narratives contribute to Shams al-Ma’arif‘s enduring reputation not just as a significant historical text, but as a genuinely feared object in popular folklore.
If we assume that the idea of the book being cursed is true, then it would imply that jinns do exist as well. Imagine the power one could poses from the knowledge of that book! It would make sense to make scary stories and legends to deter people from learning the knowledge hidden in those pages or gaining insights that can give them any type of power. But it is all based on an assumption after all.
To sum up, Wadi Rum and Bedouin stories have their charm, especially when sitting by the fire in bayt al-shar (the tent) and sipping delicous tea. However, there is a logical explanation to these stories. If you do have a chance to walk in the desert, try talking to your friends from a distance, especially from higher ground. On a coold day in the desert I was able to talk from at least 0.5km (~0.3mi) standing on a sand dune without shouting and they could hear what I was saying as well as I could hear them back. It was really surprising!
How sound travels depends on things like how hot the air is, how much moisture is in it, and how thick the air is. Sound moves quicker in warm air, but that doesn’t always mean you’ll hear it from further away. In dry, hot places like deserts, sound actually gets soaked up more easily.
But here’s a neat trick: if the air gets weird, like when warm air sits above cooler air (this is called a temperature inversion), sound can bend. This bending helps sound travel much, much further than usual. That’s why you’re most likely to hear distant sounds when it’s cooler, especially at night, when people having their dinner by the fire, talking and having a laugh. Have you noticed what time of day these stories usually happen?