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" Subject: Camel Somali-style  Species name: Camelidae abyssinius  Habitat: Camel meat can be found wherever there are camels (think the Sahara and Arabia for single-humped dromedaries, or the Gobi Desert in Asia for the twin-humped Bactrian kind), but camel Somali-style can be found between &amp;quot;Little Mogadishu&amp;quot; on the outskirts of Addis Ababa and Mogadishu itself on the Horn of Africa. I sampled my specimen during lunchtime at a restaurant/mosque/motel/bus depot in Little Mogadishu named Jama&amp;#039;s, surrounded by Somalis literally stuffing their faces with rice, pasta, and camel -- all using only their right hand. (The left, which is the ass-wiping hand, is considered &amp;quot;unclean&amp;quot; in Muslim societies.) Camel is typically available only at lunchtime in Addis Ababa, as afternoons in Little Mogadishu are set aside for  chewing khat, an especially lucid stimulant that helps pass the time in this crushingly poor city. Origin: Camel is eaten wherever it&amp;#039;s found. Roasted camel was on the menu at Persian banquets and Roman feasts, and it still eaten in Egypt, Sudan, and the Horn of Africa all the way down into Kenya. Jama&amp;#039;s was supplied by Somalis living in the Ethiopian town of Nazareth, about two hours south of the city, where a pair of camels were dispatched each day to fill the bellies of customers like me. Slaughtering camels is a tough business -- unlike cattle they&amp;#039;re foul-tempered and smart. They know what&amp;#039;s happening when the end comes, and they fight against it with everything they&amp;#039;ve got. Description: Our platter of camel meat was plunked onto our table, with no plates offered and utensils only because two of us at the table were white. (My lunch companions were Will Connors, an American who is The New York Times&amp;#039;s de facto man in Addis Ababa, and his pal Abdulkader, the director of the Somali Literacy Project.) Bits of camel meat rested atop a bed of pasta, rice, and stewed vegetables, which we were expected to scoop into our hands. Random cubes of meat with thin layers of fat attached had the rich, gamy taste I associated with venison, as did the huge chunk of hindquarters we took turns clasping in our right hands while tearing at with our teeth. And then there was the hump. Or, I should say, strips of the hump -- white slabs of pure fat that tasted as if they&amp;#039;d been smoked in the diesel engine of the vintage Mercedes cab that had brought us here. It was delicious, but the repulsive texture and minimal nutrition was too much to bear. The cost of our meal for three, along with Cokes to wash down the hump: $7. As I went to pay, the cashier spritzed lemon-scented sanitizer in the palm of my right hand. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.esquire.com/food-drink/food/a3200/foodsafari071907/>