Girl in the desert

Another in my occasional series of "Magic Moments".
This happened 30 years ago, but I never forgot it and I swear it is true in every detail.
Three of us were camping in the Sinai desert, on the coast near Dahab. This was long ago before the tourists got to it. A mixed group - one German, one Dutch, one English.
We got up early in the morning to make a hike off road into the desert ravines and sandtone hills around the oasis. After several hours in the parched, rocky wilderness, we made our way back towards the coast and ended up following a small dry wadi down to the gritty, gravelly beach.
As we reached the level ground, we came across someone else by the path. A youngish woman, though it is hard to tell the age of desert dwellers, sat on the ground by a small shelter, barely more than a windbreak. A tiny fire smouldered in front of her, a few possessions lay behind her.
She paid no attention to us - these foreign interlopers into her world. She sat impassive, in her black and dark blue robes, a head covering hanging loosely round her shoulders.
We did not pause long. But it was long enough for the complete "otherness" of the Bedouin woman to penetrate. I realised, without words, that she was utterly different from us. I felt, bizarrely, that she was not human like us, but had grown there, out of the ground.
And then - I promise this is true - the following words came to me:
"For God has made of one blood all nations of men . . . for we are all children of Adam".

We passed on, back to the Bedouin village and the primitive tourist site where we stayed. We will never know why she was there, away from the others. But I never forgot it either.