Sahara

by Oscar Luis Rigiroli

  Cristian waited a few moments to see if his mother-in-law expanded her explanations and told him what she was expecting of him on the thorny issue she had entrusted to him. At the moment it did not occur and the meeting ended there.

  The man, impounded by mixed emotions chose to not return directly to his home, so that he made a wide detour through the forests of acacias to calm the turbulences of his spirit.

  CHAPTER 8

  Ousmar Djalali had invited his son-in-law to join him in one of his commercial travels in the neighboring villages to the South of their home town. The purpose was to travel about 50 kilometers in the savannah that covers the southern part of Chad. They had about a hundred head of cattle, in general young animals born in the breeding areas of the Centre of the country, bordering the Sahel, and sell them to farmers in grassland areas most suitable for the fattening of the beasts. Five villagers with experience in the herding of cattle accompanied them as well as several pack animals, carrying tents and supplies. Ousmar explained to Cristian that the purpose of including him in the group was that, as well as training in military arts by the conflicting ethnic and political situation in Chad, it was also expedient that the newcomer knew the economic activities that supported the clan. Cattle’s breeding was perhaps the main one.

  “By the rattle on neglected or even non-existent roads every day it becomes more difficult for me to travel on horseback and even in the old jeep that we have. I need someone who will replace me and you are now the closest male member of the family.” He spoke in French and Cristian noticed that also Ousmar was talking colloquially to him, what he had never done before, putting the youngster in the dilemma of how to reply.

  “Zoubaida told me that you come from a rural area?” Inquired Ousmar.

  “Yes, it is a grain and agricultural area and to a lesser extent cattle-growing.”

  “What are the main crops?

  “Traditionally corn although it has now been partially replaced by soybean.”

  “Having cereals and meat you eat soy?”

  “No, it is largely exported to China and other countries.”

  “And is your family dedicated to agriculture?”

  “Basically, my parents have a fraction of some 400 acres, a little less

  in reality.”

  “Then your father is a rich man.”

  “No, he is what we call a chacarero, i.e., a farmer.”

  “And the rest of your family?”

  “One of my brothers works on the farm with my father. The other is an agronomist and has a trade of agrochemicals and seeds. I also have a sister who is a housewife.”

  Cristian realized that his father-in-law carried on this interrogation for several reasons. One of them was to know the environment from which his son-in-law came, although imagining it was not easy for an African tribal chief. Another reason was to know to what extent Cristian rural experiences could be useful, either in Chad or in another environment if he were forced to split with his family. The worst fear of a father-in-law is the man that his daughter fell in love with is a good-for-nothing.

  At any given time he suddenly changed the subject.

  “I think that you've already formed an opinion about the situation in this country.”

  “Yes, to some extent.”

  “And would you share it with me?”

  “I see a great fragility because of the political and ethnic tensions, in a poor society and a natural environment that provides few resources.”

  Ousmar smiled. It was a good summary and there was no doubt that the man had come to that conclusion himself.

  “Well, remember our chat the other day, particularly the last part.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “What do you think we are doing at this moment with these bulls?”

  “You are transforming livestock capital in cash, in case you need to flee the country.”

  Ousmar, whose horse was a step forward, turned and looked at the young man with a wide smile.

  “Well, you are astute, as a good son of peasants.”

  “I come from a country with not as much violence as Africa but much economic turbulence. Argentines are survivors of recurring crises.”

  “Not a bad training for difficult and changing circumstances.”

  He pondered in silence for a while and then said in a low voice.

  “Worthy daughter of her father.”

  “Excuse me, what did you say?” Cristian had been distracted.

  “Zoubaida. She knows how to choose a man.”

  The young man understood that it was a compliment but preferred not to make any comment.

  In their stages in various villages Ousmar exchanged animals and other goods they were carrying by local products in a basically barter economy, with occasional sales in money. Each transaction was arduously discussed by Ousmar with their buyers, in hot discussions that finally concluded in agreements. Cristian saw the merchant skills of his father-in-law, who always managed to close a sale. The cash obtained on a site was never used to buy, and evidently his purpose was to return to the village with only money.

  Between two stages Cristian made questions about his father-in-law business model.

  “Not everything what you sell is self-produced. Right?” Asked the boy.

  “No, my subjects deliver me things for sale, relying on my ability.”

  “A kind of consignment.”

  “If you say so.”

  “My questions are aimed at understanding your business.”

  “I hope you make them, it is really is our business.”

  Cristian began to understand tasks Ousmar carried out for its individual subjects and the ones he carried out for the village as a whole, and which were the counterpart of the obedience they owed him. He wondered if it was a feudal relationship or whether it was the nature of the State in its intimate essence.

  In the next village Ousmar entered into an Evangelical Church while Cristian was walking in the surrounding area. When they met again for lunch the chief told him that he had gotten teaching support for the small school the community was building in the village.

  The days were overwhelming for the long stretches that were needed to carry on their trip, leading the beasts under the strong heat at the end of the rainy season. They started each stage very early before dawn and continued traveling up to one hour before noon; then they were stopped in the village at which they had arrived or otherwise under the trees of a some isolated grove, if possible near some water well and pastures for the animals. They thus arrived at the last village they were planning to visit in their trip southbound. Obeying Ousmar´s orders they then undertook the return by another route. Cristian noticed that Ousmar was recognized and honored everywhere.

  Already in the midst of the return trip Ousmar had sold all cattle and other goods they were carrying and had transformed them into cash, including different currencies. He was elated and sang a tribal song while he rode. Cristian was riding by him half asleep, since one of the skills he had acquired was to snooze without falling off the horseback.

  The shot spooked the horses, some of which tried to run away terrified in any direction. Cristian awaked suddenly completely disoriented and looked to her around. Ousmar was grabbing his left arm covered in blood, while trying to control his horse. Several shots whistled among them. Yussuf, one of the horsemen drew a long carbine from his chair while the other carriers sought to hide away behind the trees of a grove. Without thinking, Cristian took the flanges of his father-in-law horse and drove it gallop after his, while Ousmar was juggling to be mounted with his wounded arm. They soon came to some tall trees, behind which they hid. Yusuff was already on foot hiding behind one tree and Cristian saw that he pointed his rifle in a direction. He followed it with his eyes and distinguished five figures on horseback that precipitated upon them. The young man pointed his finger indicating Ousmar the direction of the danger, a gesture that was immediately understood. The tribal chief took a gun in his hand, and
his and old Yusuff´s gun sounded simultaneously. Two of the figures rolled along the ground; one of them stood up and rode behind one of his companions, while the other was lying on the ground. Cristian invaded by a wave of adrenaline unknown to him until that moment pulled out the rifle that had been on his horse chair and made three shots in succession towards the attackers. Another man fell on the ground as his horse suddenly freed of its load fled terrified. The surviving attackers opened fire without greater consequences, and in sight of the disastrous outcome chose to flight, three men in two horses. One of the carriers still mounted on his horse made gesture followed them but Ousmar dissuaded him with a scream.

  “Let´s us stay us together.” He ordered. “We do not know if they will return with reinforcements.”

  At that time, they saw a body lying on the grass under one of the trees behind them.

  “Oh! No” Cried anguished Ousmar.” Mahamat.”

  They dismounted and approached the wounded comrade. Yusuff already had preceded them and was kneeling next to the fallen. He looked at Ousmar and shook his head in gesture of negation.

  “Nooo! I know him since he was born, I know his wife and their three children.” The gesture of despair of the chief was heartbreaking; the carriers turned their heads down in silence. Cristian took his father-in-law's arm in an attempt to comfort him, until he regained his control.

  Yusuff had extracted an unsuspected dagger from within his clothes and silently approached the bodies of fallen attackers. As he plunged the dagger into their breasts Cristian saw with horror that the body of one of the attackers-still alive- revolved in agony.

  They conditioned Mahamat´s body as they could on his horseback. Yusuff made an emergency bandage on the arm of his boss who was still bleeding in profusion. Ousmar looked him in the eyes, and the muleteer whispered referring the attackers.

  “Saharan. I cannot know who they are, militia or just bandits.”

  They rode away from the site of the battle devastated and in complete silence. The bodies of two fallen aggressors were to the hyenas.

  After two hours of march Ousmar broke his silence and turned to his son-in-law.

  “You have been brave and determined; no doubt you have saved my life.”

  Then he looked to the carriers and said in a loud voice.

  “All the gain that I've got in this ill-fated trip will be for Mahamat´s widow and her children.”

  “Also mine.” Added Yusuff and thus each of the rest of the men.

  That night they arrived at the village. No doubt the news about what happened had preceded them. All the inhabitants were at the southern entrance of the village. The scenes of mourning for Mahamat were heartbreaking particularly for Cristian, not accustomed to such circumstances.

  The chief family had gathered in front of their house. Souady barely could hold back the tears, Charfadine had her face covered by a veil and only showed her reddened eyes, who alternately watched Cristian and his father.

  Yusuff helped Ousmar to dismount with an unexpected delicacy in a man so rough.

  Zoubaida arrived at the time the men were already walking towards the houses. Wordless she stroked her husband´s head in a gesture full of tenderness.

  “I remember when I was a child my father and his men brought my uncle on horsebacks after a clash in the desert. It was one of the reasons why I went away at the time.”

  “But you returned.” Answered Cristian.

  “I came back, yes. You cannot escape your destiny.”

  “It is a fatalistic vision.”

  “The desert generates fatalistic creatures.” They had entered their home and taken a seat, and then she placed Cristian head on her shoulder. “Rest here, my love.”

  Cristian could not overcome his despondency; the scenes of violence and bloodshed did not leave his mind. The fact of having wounded a man who ended up dead was a very strong experience. He lay in bed and was in a state of stupor by hours.

  That night broke a strong storm, one of the last in the inter-tropical convergence zone during that year after which the temperature fell sharply. Zoubaida passed by the bedroom and saw her husband in bed, still asleep by the great fatigue of the previous fortnight, but prey to intense agitation, undoubtedly a nightmare. The woman went to nurse her child, and then slept with Cristian and hugged him strongly. Despite the cold night he was drenched in sweat. She stroked his head and began to sing an old song learned of his grandmother in a very low voice. The sleeping man began to compose in the tender breast of his wife. Zoubaida, like all African women for generations, knew well what their offspring needed and gave it them tenderly.

  The next day Haroun showed up in Zoubaida´s house. In an unexpected gesture the grim warrior tightened Christian in his arms.

  “You've acted with bravery and autonomy.” And with a slightly bitter smile added. “My shooting lessons have not been in vain.” And added winking an eye “Though out of three shots you've only achieved one.”

  “Haroun.” Replied the young. “What is the meaning of what happened?”

  “That our prevention and efforts have not been without reason, and that the danger is closer than we think. These men got considerably further South of our village, it is an alarm signal.”

  “I feel that a glass has been broken in my life. Not only because of the risk situation we went through but because I had to shoot a man, who is now dead.”

  “Welcome to Central Africa, Cristian. In fact, you are just arriving now.”

  CHAPTER 9

  On the day following Cristian was dressing up to visit his father-in-law who was recovering from his wound, apparently with a good evolution after receiving professional medical attention. Cristian´s energies had been replenished after sleeping fourteen hours. Zoubaida had risen early and left the house to the same destination.

  As soon as he arrived the young man met Charfadine who despite her usual timidity approached him and placed her hand on Cristian´s arm although she withdrew it immediately as she became conscious of her spontaneous gesture. Her face showed anxiety.

  “How are you? Have you been injured?” Her voice inflection was equally tense.

  Cristian felt a sudden impulse and in turn retained tightly the girl´s little hand between his own. He swallowed, tried to control his emotions and answered in a not very firm voice.

  “Do not worry Charfadine about me. I am fine.”

  “It has been a horrible experience for you.” She said.

  “Yes, but I've been able to get away uninjured from it.” Both looked at the other´s eyes holding the glance for the first time. Cristian guilt was intense, but could not overcome his impulse. After a few intense moments he let go the woman hand and said awkwardly.

  “I came to see your father. I know that Zoubaida has already arrived.”

  Charfadine also reconvened her attitude and answered.

  “Yes, I won´t retain you anymore. Come in!

  Both youths were completely confused by the trick feelings had played them, on the one hand by being under the rule of drives which were unfair for Zoubaida, but on the other hand with a certain joy of knowing that their feelings were shared. Definitely they could not nor want to delete what had happened with them at that time.

  The doctor had withdrawn a few minutes earlier and Ousmar was sitting on his bed, accompanied by Souady and Zoubaida. He tried to be cheerful though the wound paint was intense.

  “How are you Cristian? How have you reacted to your baptism of fire?”

  “Well, the experience has been strong, but I am trying to turn the page.”

  “In accordance with our beliefs, having shed our enemy’s blood incorporates you definitely to our people. Personally, I have to thank you for having saved my life.”

  “No a big deal.”

  “How can you say that? You have pulled me out of the line of fire. Left where I was surely I would not have saved my life. The most important thing has been your spontaneous reaction, just what it was needed. I'm glad
that my grandson has your blood.”

  Ousmar strongly reiterated his gratitude in front of the family so that everyone would be aware of the role of his son-in-law in the combat. Zoubaida, who knew how to construe well his father words in its personal and political dimensions, could not avoid a gesture of pride. After all she was who had carried this pale and skinny alien into the clan.

  The conversation continued on the meaning of the encounter and clash with the Saharans for the village. Ousmar was more worried about that than by his wound. Their thinking was the same that Haroun had anticipated last night.

  “Never had they dared so far South. There is no doubt that you have no restrictions and their audacity has grown.” Then he paused and added in a bitter tone. “I’m afraid that the question is not whether we are going to a conflict with them but when.”

  The present heard the premonitory sentence silently; aware of what was at stake in their lives. Ousmar shook his head to ward off pesky thoughts and added.

  “I already called a meeting of the tribal Council the day after tomorrow. You'll come.” He told Cristian and completed the reflection “I want to hear the thoughts of elders and warriors.”

  This time Cristian became among the first attendees because he accompanied his father-in-law who was still weak. The members of the Council were arriving, some of them from remote villages because the seriousness of the issue warranted it.

  When they had all arrived the oldest of the members made known his desire to be him who opened the meeting, what everyone agreed.

  “On behalf of all the present here I want to express our joy for the fact that spirits who govern the destinies of our community have protected our beloved leader of the evil designs of our enemies.”

  Said that he rose with difficulty, approached the fire around which all participants were gathered together, extracted a handful of dust from a pocket of his robe and threw it at flames which sizzled vividly illuminating the meeting. A strong emotion seized all participants of the silent audience before the symbol loaded with shared meanings.