by Asen Djinah
With the drug, the young boy became completely lost in a world of fantasy, building up an alternate blissful life in his mind. He was not interested in playing with the other children of the clan and would rather sit quietly on his own, lost in his own thoughts.
‘Fadel is such a well-behaved boy. His clothes are always clean. If only the others were like him,’ the women of the tribe used to compliment his mother.
Hashish opened his world of dreams even further. And since that first encounter with the drug, Fadel would cheat, steal and lie to feed his habit. While the other boys of the tribe would take care of the herd and carry out the many chores that the hard life of nomads demanded, Fadel was only concerned about his hashish. Under his care, goats would often go missing while grazing or he would simply forget to milk them. Camels were frequently left with their forelegs still strapped until late afternoon. Sometimes the boy would disappear from the camp for several days with no one knowing of his whereabouts. Soon the few valuables of the tribe like oil lamps, metal pots and women’s jewellery started to go missing from tents. By the time he was thirteen, Fadel had driven his parents and his clan to complete despair until eventually the elders banished him from the tribe. At last Fadel felt free and was more than happy to leave the desert.
‘I am going to move into town where the people are rich,’ he thought, thrilled at the future ahead as he stood in front of the council of elders while they informed him of their decision.
It was the best time of his life, and with neither parents nor tribal elders to lecture him, Fadel was free to live his chosen life. When he outstayed his welcome at one town, he would swiftly move onto the next. His only possessions were his stemless hashish pipe which he had carved out of soft stone himself, a small leather pouch containing some hashish, a small blunt knife, a piece of flint and a few coins if he had been fortunate.
Fadel had arrived in Kuffrat late the previous night after a long and tiring walk. His old, withered body was aching from walking continuously for the past two days. He had been forced to leave the town of Hayfah as the people were no longer responding to his begging. Not realising that he had long overstayed his welcome, he had been cursing them ever since he left the town.
‘May God destroy their houses and send them to hell. May they give birth to children without limbs,’ he swore irritably, being in a foul mood since he had run out of hashish.
On reaching Kuffrat, he decided to sleep at the edge of town in a copse of date palms due to the late hour. There was no chance for him to get anything to eat as everywhere would be closed and everyone would be indoors.
‘I will go into town first thing in the morning,’ he decided, resigned to sleeping without food or hashish.
He was awakened at dawn by the rumble of his stomach; the last time he had eaten was the previous morning. He drank copiously from the water-well in an attempt to quench his hunger and wandered around the grove to pick dates that had fallen.
‘At least this will keep me going till I get something substantial,’ he thought.
Although he was still tired, he set off on the long walk to the souk in the town centre.
The market was at its busiest as everyone wanted to complete their errands before the blistering midday sun made the heat unbearable. Housewives were looking for bargains with vendors being in a rush to clear their stock before closing for the midday prayer. Traders were calling out loudly in high-pitched voices that carried far, flattering their merchandise and advertising their low prices to attract customers. Everyone wanted to get rid of their stock before closing time. The stalls were typically arranged in rows with wide corridors in between, yet the space was crowded with men and women moving slowly, going back and forth to compare prices and get the best deal. Although moving through the dense crowd was difficult, Fadel opted for a scouting tour of the entire market and the various stalls to familiarise himself with the new surroundings.
‘First I have to find the herbal medicine stall before it closes for the day,’ the vagrant thought as he hurried and forced his way through the crowd.
His eyes lit up when he finally spotted the stall from a distance and hastily made his way through the crowd. After the customary haggling, he used his remaining coins to buy a small quantity of hashish, which he stored away safely in his leather pouch under his shirt. He then went over to the food stalls to beg for scraps. His laid-back attitude and constant grinning were his assets as far as begging was concerned. People found him harmless and made fun of him, but invariably they ended up giving him food or throwing him some loose change.
Fadel stopped at the bread stand and stood patiently, smiling and shuffling from one foot to the other. After he had served his customers, the baker finally noticed him.
‘Grandfather, what I can do for you?’ he asked.
The drifter extended his right hand and scratching his matted hair, he grinned.
‘Min fadlik ya sayyidi,’ he simply said, holding out his hand and shuffling from one foot to the other.
Fadel had mastered the art of begging over the years and had learned that his gesticulations were far more productive than his words. The baker looked underneath the counter where he kept pieces of damaged bread and fished out a flatbread that was split in half. Scratching and grinning, Fadel thanked and blessed the baker and his family profusely, knowing that he would be returning here daily whilst in town.
‘May God bless you for your generosity and bring prosperity to your business,’ the vagrant mumbled as he turned to leave.
Fadel made his way to the stall where a whole goat was being roasted over a charcoal pit. He watched as the seller cut off strips of meat with his sharp knife and chopped it into small pieces on his wooden board, before serving it inside a flatbread to his waiting customers. Most of the meat had already been trimmed off and the roasted goat was little more than a skeleton. Fadel held his flatbread forward in his right hand and grinned at the seller while scratching his beard with his left hand.
‘Min fadlik ya sayyidi,’ he said, grinning to expose his rotten teeth.
It is customary never to refuse food to anyone. It could be an angel sent in the form of a beggar as a test. The seller shook his head and smiled back.
‘Old man, I hope you bring luck and good blessing to my trade,’ he said.
He took the two pieces of bread from Fadel and with his knife, scraped the fat and tiny pieces of meat off his chopping board before wiping the knife clean inside the bread. He then handed the bread back to the vagrant, who lifted it up to his forehead as a sign of gratitude.
‘Shukran Jazilan – Thank you very much,’ Fadel mumbled, grinning and scratching.
With his stomach rumbling, Fadel found a cool spot in the shade of a narrow alleyway off the souk where he sat down, leaning against a wall. He ate the bread avidly, smacking his lips as he did so. Every so often, he lifted one side of his body off the ground and broke wind noisily. The bread was enough to feed two adults and Fadel felt full and contented when he was done. He burped several times and licked the flavoursome fat off his fingers. After such a hearty meal, he was craving to have a taste of hashish, but decided to wait. Not only were there no secluded or private spots in town, but he still had a couple of tasks to complete before allowing himself to succumb to his ultimate pleasure. He had spotted a couple of tea stands earlier, but one in particular had caught his attention. It was at the entrance of the souk and seemed to attract more affluent men. To his good fortune, there was a group of well-presented men sitting on a dusty rug around the low table, drinking tea and sharing a hookah. He squatted down as close as possible, patiently waiting for the men to notice him. When begging, one had to be patient.
Eventually, as one of the men turned his head to blow out a puff of smoke, he noticed Fadel. Immediately, the vagrant responded with his usual grin, scratched his backside and put his hand forward.
‘Min fadlik ya sayyidi,’ he mumbled.
The man turned and said something to his companions.
They all turned around and burst out laughing when they saw the old beggar. Fadel gave them his widest grin, displaying his few blackened teeth and demonstrated his most vigorous scratch.
‘Min fadlik ya sayyidi.’
One of them tossed a coin which the drifter quickly picked up. He kissed the coin and touched it to his forehead several times.
‘God bless you and give you long life, sayyidi,’ he thanked the man.
Then a second man flipped him a coin and very quickly the rest followed suit. Everyone liked to show off their generosity in the presence of others.
‘It is a good day and getting better,’ Fadel thought.
Seeing the beggar still waiting, the first man signalled the tea maker to serve Fadel a cup of tea. After all, he was the first to spot the vagrant and to give him money. Fadel put on his show; he slurped at his tea, mumbling incoherently, grinning and scratching as well as blinking repeatedly. Initially the men laughed as they watched his antics but soon they went back to their conversation after growing bored of the beggar.
The sun was at its highest when the call for the midday prayer suddenly shook Fadel back to reality. He quickly finished his tea and after bowing his head several times to the group of men, he hurriedly made his way towards the local mosque following the voice of the muezzin – the caller to prayer. Not that he particularly wanted to attend the prayer. To Fadel, the mosque was a good begging ground where many devotees took the opportunity to wash away their sins by giving alms. Soon he saw a number of devotees making their way to the mosque and followed them. He entered the courtyard where there were rows upon rows of slippers lined neatly outside the main entrance. He selected the area with the most expensive-looking slippers and squatted, waiting for the prayer to end.
‘It’s the first time I have received four coins before coming to the mosque. This town is good to me,’ Fadel thought while waiting.
Soon the first men started to trickle out of the mosque, but no one came towards where Fadel was waiting. After a while, he saw a well-dressed man approaching. As the man made a move to put his slippers on, Fadel quickly sprang from his squatting position to pick up the babush. With years of practice, he placed his left hand behind the man’s heel whilst at the same time he picked the slipper and guided it under the man’s foot. The man protested but Fadel just grinned and scratched his matted beard.
‘Min fadlik ya sayyidi.’
With one slipper already on, the man felt obliged to let the harmless old man put on the other one. Once he had done so, Fadel grinned and scratched his head as he held out his right hand. The man dutifully took a handful of loose change from his pocket, selected a coin and put it into the beggar’s hand.
‘Shukran, Shukran Jazilan – Thank you. Thank you very much.’
By the time the mosque was empty, the drifter had picked up coins from another four men. One was particularly generous, as the features of the beggar reminded him of his late grandfather. Fadel really liked this town. It had not been as easy when he was younger, but nowadays as an old-looking man, he found people were more generous towards him. With his tasks completed, he set off on the long walk back to the water-well where he’d slept the previous night. Although it was a bit far from the town centre Fadel quite liked the spot. It was secluded and had drinking water, and shade from the sun.
Chapter 3
The small oasis was deserted in the afternoon heat; even the birds were quiet, overwhelmed by the scorching sun. Fadel took a long drink at the water-well before wandering amongst the trees, looking for dates that had dropped on the ground. He lifted the bottom of his long shirt, exposing his wrinkled skinny legs and quickly filled the improvised pouch with two dozen dates, some ripe whilst others were still green. Carefully, he chose a shaded spot by the edge of the oasis, facing the desert where he would not be disturbed by women visiting the water-well. The previous night, Fadel had slept on the opposite side of the copse, facing the town to avoid the cold wind blowing from the desert. He separated the dates saving the ripe ones for his evening meal. Squatting down, he scraped a shallow hole in the sand and buried the green dates wrapped in a piece of palm leaf.
‘The heat of the sand will make them ready to be eaten in the morning,’ he told himself aloud.
With his evening meal and breakfast sorted, Fadel went out into the sun to find some camel dung, which did not take long. He picked up a dried piece that would burn easily and returned to his shaded spot. He half-filled his stone pipe with pieces of the dried dung and covered it up with bits of dried leaves to serve as tinder. After several attempts with his blunt knife and piece of flint, he managed to get the tinder smoking. Blowing hard, he eventually got the dung burning steadily. He then crumbled a piece of hashish into the pipe and with his lips around the hole at its side, he puffed hard. The acrid smoke from the camel dung would have made anyone else cough and throw up, but not Fadel. He had long become used to the pungent smoke. The drug hit his bloodstream and he was soon transported to his fantasy world. He puffed some more until the hashish was completely burned away and then stretched out on the soft sand. Fadel was at his happiest. He chuckled in his trance, oblivious of the afternoon heat.
A couple of hours later, Fadel was suddenly awakened from his blissful sleep by the sound of voices. It was late afternoon and women were coming to the water-well to fill their containers. As Fadel slowly emerged from his torpor, the distant sound of female voices and laughter sounded like music to him. He stretched his aching muscles and began to feel hungry again, as he always did after smoking hashish. Eating the dozen or so sweet dates, he felt satiated and immediately craved for another pipe. As the sun was low on the horizon, Fadel hurriedly lit his pipe before it got dark. By the time he had savoured his last smoke of the day, the sound of voices had died down and the sun was slowly disappearing behind the horizon. The wind had already started to turn and blow from the desert. When total silence had returned, Fadel decided that it was safe to move to the opposite side of the oasis facing the town. The desert wind had already turned chilly and made the scantily clad vagrant shiver.
‘It is unlikely that people will come to the well once it gets dark,’ he thought as he made his way through the copse.
In his intoxicated state, he stumbled past the well towards the spot where he had slept the previous night. After relieving himself in a hole he dug in the sand, he settled down for the night and soon drifted back to his dreams.
Sometime during the night, Fadel was suddenly awakened from his slumber and for a brief moment he was confused by the unfamiliar dark surroundings. Then he remembered where he was. Listening intently in the dark, he heard what sounded like animal grunts coming from the water-well. His hand shot to his pocket to grasp his knife, as he quietly got up and stealthily moved towards the sound.
‘It must be a desert hare,’ he thought expectantly, ‘It will make a nice meal if I can catch it.’
He heard the noise again and it definitely sounded like grunting. The moon was out and the space between the trees was fairly bright. It was then that Fadel saw them. Even from where he was crouching, he could clearly make out the two bodies lying on the ground. At first, Fadel thought they were locked in a silent struggle, but as he silently crept closer, staying in the shadows, he realised it was a couple having sex. The man was grunting and he saw the woman arching her body off the ground towards the man.
Fadel had never been interested in sex. Once, when he was young and still a member of the tribe, he had heard his cousins talking about goats and one of them had described what he had done with a female goat. At the time, he had felt repulsed by the image.
‘That is disgusting,’ he had said to his cousins before walking away.
However, the sight of the man and woman having sex mesmerised him and he watched intensely. After a while, the man made a prolonged groan and then quickly got up to disappear into the shadows. Fadel felt somewhat disappointed that the spectacle was over. He kept on watching as the woman slowly got to her feet.
After adjusting her clothes, she picked up her water bag and made her way towards the town. Fadel quietly followed her from a distance, though he was not quite sure why. When the woman left the oasis and stepped into the open area, he stayed further back. Fadel followed at a distance until he saw her entering a house facing the desert. He stood for a while in front of the house, shuffling from one foot to the other, trying to understand what had just happened. His head was still spinning from the effect of the hashish.
‘Why did the man and woman go their separate ways?’ he wondered.
Then he suddenly realised that the man and woman were clearly not married to each other, which meant their act must have been illicit. He had heard stories of women having been stoned to death for adultery and wondered how he could profit from what he had just witnessed. After some thinking, Fadel finally made his decision. First he made sure that he would be able to recognise the house before undertaking the long walk to the mosque. He prayed that there would still be religious guards on duty at this time of the night, for him to report the case.
‘I will surely get a reward for this,’ he thought, already thinking of getting a bigger purse to keep the stack of coins the authorities would give him.
Although Fadel had made the walk from the mosque to the oasis that same afternoon, despite the moonlight he lost his way a few times and had to backtrack. Everything looked completely different at night. By the time he reached his destination, the old man was panting and sweating. From the open courtyard of the mosque he could see light from oil lamps coming through the doorway. He was in luck. The evening prayer had long been over, but as usual a small group of followers had stayed behind to listen to the imam giving a discourse. The drifter ran into the mosque and burst onto the group.
