by Asen Djinah
The others nodded their head understandingly, but Leila knew that he was lying. Everyone was saddened by his words as they realised it was only a matter of time before Asif would leave the tribe.
‘I see,’ Mahafuz simply said.
He sighed, took a pull on his hookah and sat in reflection, watching the blue smoke rising. Neither Hisham nor Leila dared to speak, although they both wanted to scream at Asif and tell him to stay. But it was for their father to decide. After a long time, Mahafuz let out a puff of smoke.
‘Life in the desert is hard, even for us who are born here. I guess it is even harder for someone used to living in town and to the essentials of civilised life. I fear you will feel more and more restless as time passes, my son. If you wish to go back, I give you my blessing; but on one condition. If you ever run into difficulty, you must promise to come back to your family for help. You are my son and will always be. Needless to say, you have to visit us often.’
The following week, after nearly four years in the desert, Asif left his tribe with a broken heart. He spent the last evening going from tent to tent to say farewell to every member of the tribe. Everyone was sad to see him go, but respected his decision. On the morning of his departure, only his close family was there to see him off. Maryam handed him a bag with some clothes and food. Mahafuz gave him a camel and a purse with money.
When Asif protested, Mahafuz replied, ‘It is a loan. When you start earning, you can pay me back bit by bit, each time you visit.’
Little did Mahafuz realise that Asif would repay the loan a thousand-fold by helping the tribe survive during the harsh times in the years to come. Without a word the young man hugged Mahafuz tightly and then Maryam. He avoided looking into their eyes afraid that he might change his mind at the last minute. As usual, Hisham tried to appear brave, but at the last minute when the two brothers embraced, he could no longer contain his emotions and broke down. Keeping his expression blank, a solemn Asif turned to Leila last and they embraced each other in silence. It was then that Maryam suddenly realised the true reason why Asif was leaving. She finally understood that her daughter and adopted son had become very close to each other. Although heartbroken to see Asif leaving the tribe, she also felt a sense of relief. Asif mounted his crouched camel expertly like a true bedouin and without looking back made his way towards Kuffrat.
Hayder was the son of Leila and her husband, Jalal Al-Din.
Chapter 8
When Asif answered the door, he was taken aback to see Hayder standing there, so late into the night. They had only met that very afternoon when he took stock of the various goods Hayder had brought back from his travel. But one look at the young man’s face was enough for Asif to know something was amiss. He pulled his nephew inside.
‘What is the matter, son? How can I help?’ he asked straight away.
Hayder told him the whole story without omitting a single detail. By the time he finished, Asif had tears in his eyes. He was very fond of Amel. Just as Hayder was like a son to him, Amel was like his daughter.
‘I will come with you to Qadday,’ he said without hesitation.
‘No, Uncle. One of us must stay and take care of the business. I will leave tomorrow. May I stay over tonight as it is only a short walk from here to the caravan stop?’ Hayder asked.
‘Certainly, son. Let me get you something to eat,’ Asif replied, guessing that the young man had not yet eaten.
Asif had never married. His only love had been Leila, Hayder’s mother whom he had reluctantly given up out of loyalty to his adopted parents. Hayder was the closest he would ever get to feeling Leila in his life. Almost thirty-five years later, Asif still had fond memories of his childhood sweetheart and never once felt any resentment towards her for marrying Jalal Al-Din. He had long accepted that since he had decided not to pursue his love, there was no reason for his adopted sister not to move forward in her life and get married.
‘After all, a girl should obey her parents otherwise there would be no order in society,’ he had convinced himself, in order to accept his fate.
Asif had vowed never to marry, for no one could ever take the place of Leila in his heart. Instead, he had devoted his life to building his business. His friends often asked him why he was still single.
‘I was abandoned by my parents when I was just a baby and had a horrible childhood. This has put me off marriage and raising a family,’ he would invariably answer.
He had never confessed the real reason to anyone. Even Hayder had no idea of the feelings shared by Asif and his mother all those years ago. Hayder and Amel had become Asif’s closest family. When they married, he had pleaded with the couple to come and stay with him in his large house in the centre of town. But when they explained how they both missed the openness of the desert and preferred their own house facing the open space, he understood. Just as Mahafuz had understood when he gave Asif permission to leave the tribe.
As soon as he had finished eating, Hayder was overcome by a sudden tiredness. Asif, who was watching him closely, steered him to the spare room that he kept for Amel and Hayder whenever they visited. The moment his head hit the pillow, Hayder fell asleep, exhausted. He had been on his feet since early morning and the worries on his mind had drained him of all energy. His sleep was deep and dreamless. The next thing he was aware of was Asif shaking his shoulder to wake him up. As his uncle pushed open the window shutters, Hayder saw that it was nearly midday with the sun already high in the sky.
‘I must have been really exhausted to have missed the call of the muezzin,’ he said to Asif as he got up.
The two men sat down for a meal the servant had prepared. They ate in silence as there was not much to say under the circumstances. Hayder was lost in his thoughts, wondering what Amel was doing at this very minute. Although he was still worried, he felt far more in control of his emotions than the previous night. After having some tea, Asif forced him back to his room to take a nap.
‘You will be travelling all night and once you arrive in the morning, you will be busy with the officials. So it would be best to rest now while you can,’ he said wisely.
Later that evening when Hayder left the house to make his way to the caravan stop, Asif hugged him tightly.
‘Go, son, go get her,’ he simply said in a trembling voice.
The caravan stop in the north of the town was always busy, crowded with traders and travellers alike. There was a collection of buildings on three sides of a huge open court. Some were offices where traders had to declare their goods and pay the relevant taxes, while others served as lodgings for well-to-do travellers. The less fortunate slept on the bare ground in the court itself, wherever they could find a suitable place in the busy area. There were people everywhere, some dragging bundles of luggage, others surrounding the numerous stalls and haggling for the best price. There were food stalls, tea stalls, bread stalls and even a cobbler and a tailor shop. Immediately one of the many beggars accosted Hayder.
‘Please sayyidi, I have not eaten and am hungry,’ he said with a plaintive voice.
‘Shukran, I pray to God that you will succeed in your endeavour,’ the beggar replied when Hayder gave him a coin.
Outside the court on the left of the buildings was a large camel pen. The low rumbling growl of the camels and the roars of the agitated ones added to the cacophony of noises. The smell of dried fish used to feed the camels hung heavily in the air. Near the pen, a trade caravan was getting ready to depart and a group of crouched camels were being loaded with bales of goods.
Behind the buildings, away from the crowd, there were a number of stand-alone structures serving as warehouses. Wholesale merchants would store their goods there before selling them on to other traders along the trade route. Hayder and Asif had rented one such warehouse from the town authorities. Guards, armed with swords and daggers, were patrolling and guarding the precious goods. A caravan had just arrived on the opposite side of the courtyard and slaves dressed in simple loin cloths were unloading the goods. Beads
of sweat glistened in the setting sun as their muscles moved gracefully under their skin. In the evening, the same slaves would clean up and after changing into their thawbs – robes, they would stand shoulder to shoulder with their masters to pray at the mosque. Some would even eat from the same large communal plate with the families they lived with.
Caravaners were calling out their destinations, touting for fares. If a traveller brought his own camel for the journey, he only had to pay a nominal fee to join the safety of a caravan. Foot travellers, on the other hand, had to pay an additional charge for the hire of a camel. Hayder’s usual caravaner, whom he retained for his travels, did not take passengers and relied exclusively on trade. So the young man booked a camel in a caravan which would be leaving for Qadday later that evening.
‘We will be leaving in two hours,’ the caravaner informed him, ‘Make sure you are here and don’t forget to bring your own water. There is no waterhole along the way.’
‘When will we reach Qadday?’ Hayder asked.
‘Sometime around midday tomorrow,’ the caravaner replied.
Hayder always preferred to travel at night as he found the journey more comfortable than in the heat of the day. Having secured his fare, he bought some food for the journey and waited for his caravan to depart.
There was still light when the caravan finally set off. About two-thirds of the thirty camels were carrying goods to Qadday while the rest had passengers, all of them men. The camels carrying goods had their head-rope tied to the tail of the animal in front so that a long line was formed, with their tenders walking alongside. The passenger camels, also in single file, closed the rear. Camel tenders and passengers alike had large woollen blankets wrapped over their shoulders as it would soon get cold in the desert. Shrubs lined both sides of the wide track leading out into the open desert. In the distance, the sun was already disappearing behind the horizon, casting long shadows of the camels onto the sand. As the convoy headed out, the blue of the sky gradually changed to hues of yellow and orange. With the sun finally disappearing from view, a red glow rose from the golden sand into the sky above, slowly fading until the entire sky was dark.
With the sun gone, a light breeze started to blow from the east. The familiar desert landscape looked different in the total darkness. After some time the North Star appeared, a lonely bright spot in the dark void. However, by the time the caravan reached the open desert, the vast sky was populated with millions of bright, twinkling stars. It was so peaceful and eerie that even the camel tenders who had been talking loudly among themselves, fell silent. As the caravan made its slow progress, the only sounds heard were those of the footsteps of the camels on the soft sand. Soon the moon appeared, illuminating the sand dunes. When Hayder turned to see how far behind they had left Kuffrat, he saw the long line of camel tracks in the vast undulating sea of undisturbed sand. The sight brought back memories of the time he lived in the desert.
Before long the monotony of the journey took over and everyone became lost in their own thoughts. Like all travellers in the desert, the passengers lost sense of time. Even Hayder, despite his worries, fell into the same trance and his mind slipped into a state of torpor. Halfway through the journey, the caravan stopped under a cluster of acacia trees standing alone in the vastness of the desert.
‘We will stop here for two hours. Make sure that you get some rest as we will not stop again until dawn,’ the caravaner told them.
The camel tenders, who had been walking alongside the caravan for the last five hours, needed a rest. They unloaded the camels before hobbling their front legs loosely together so that they would still be able to move around and strip mouthful of leaves and thorns off the acacia trees. Camels can eat thorny twigs without any trouble, due to the tough lining of their mouth. The passengers were helped down and some immediately disappeared into the shadows to relieve themselves. Others sat down and opened their food bags for refreshments. Hayder did likewise, but sat separately on his own as he was not in the mood for conversation. The tenders had already rolled themselves in their blankets and soon their snoring could be heard in the silence of the desert. After a while, one by one, the passengers followed suit.
A couple of hours later Hayder was awakened by the growling and groaning of the camels that the tenders were readying once more for the remaining journey. Loading camels was a noisy affair, as they snarled and roared whenever the heavy bales of goods were placed on their backs. To prevent them from standing up before being fully loaded, the camel tenders wrapped a rope around their bent knees as they lay crouched on the ground. With all the goods loaded, the caravan was finally ready to resume its journey. Hayder stood behind the tail of his crouched camel, leant forward and grasped the horn of the saddle with his right hand while placing his right knee on the seat. As the camel felt his weight, it slowly started to rise lifting the hindquarters off the ground and Hayder swung his left leg over the saddle. He firmly grasped the saddle with both hands as he settled into the seat. The camel then rose to its knees and with another jerk, to its feet. Some of the other passengers needed help from the tenders to hold their camels in the crouched position until they were securely seated. Eventually, all were ready to depart and the procession slowly got back into its familiar, monotonous stride.
Leaving the acacia trees – the only vegetation for miles – Hayder and his travelling companions faced the mesmerising landscape of sand dunes, some rising over a hundred feet high. One of the camel tenders started to sing, his coarse voice spreading out over the open landscape. Although Hayder did not understand all the words which were in a tribal dialect, he found the song soothing as it broke the monotony of the journey and filled the surrounding emptiness. Having acquired the technique of sleeping in the saddle during his numerous journeys, Hayder dozed on and off, precariously perched on his camel. Time passed slowly as the caravan made its progress through the emptiness of the desert. Hayder came out of his slumber when, through half-closed eyes, he noticed the lightening of the sky to the east. Sunrises brought with them a different kind of beauty to sunsets. They symbolised the promise of a new day, of a new beginning. Seeing the dark horizon slowly ignited to a magnificent and fiery bright orange, he was reminded how Amel cherished that magical moment when the sun set the entire world aglow.
‘Amel will surely miss her morning routine for the first time in her life. I wonder what she is doing at this very moment,’ Hayder suddenly realised, as the image of Amel being locked in a room came to his mind.
The tenders called for one last stop for refreshment and the morning prayers. Passengers and camel tenders alike stood in two rows behind an elderly man who led the prayer. Afterwards, Hayder finished the rest of his packed food and lay on his blanket to rest like the others. After this short break, the caravan resumed its journey.
By mid-morning, the sun was halfway up the sky and the passengers began to feel the heat. The blankets had long been rolled up and put behind the saddles. Suddenly there was a shout from one of the camel tenders as he pointed ahead. In the distance, through the shimmering heat haze, Hayder could just make out the skyline of Qadday. It looked like a mirage on the horizon.
‘At last,’ he sighed, ‘I will finally be able to see Amel.’
Despite the tiring journey, Hayder felt reinvigorated at the thought of seeing his wife. Now that the town was in sight, he could no longer contain his impatience. The slow, majestic pace of the camels which he usually found appealing suddenly became unbearable. After what seemed an eternity, the caravan finally reached the caravan stop in Qadday and Hayder leapt off his camel. After bidding polite goodbyes to his fellow travellers, he hastily made his way to the mosque. The call of the muezzin brusquely dampened his spirits. He realised that the administrative offices would be closed for the midday prayer and would only open much later, after the qailulah – afternoon nap. He could do nothing but wait. On reaching the mosque, Hayder headed for the main entrance to join in the prayer. Afterwards, he went to look for a boarding h
ouse for his stay. There were a number of them to accommodate the many visitors to the Grand Mosque. He chose one close by and retired in his room to rest.
The call for the afternoon prayer, signalling the end of the afternoon nap, woke him up. Hayder hurried back to the mosque and immediately after prayer, he walked round the main building to reach the administrative section at the rear. He had to wait patiently while two officials unhurriedly opened the office for the afternoon.
‘How can I help you?’ the older of the two men finally asked, after they had taken their time to settle on their cushions.
‘Salam Alaikum, my wife is being detained,’ Hayder said to the point, ‘and I would like to see her. I am her husband.’
The two men looked at each other awkwardly and then back at him. They didn’t have to consult their records since it was not often that they had a female prisoner and at that, one accused of adultery.
‘Alaikum Salam,’ the older man replied apologetically, ‘your wife is not detained here as we do not have facilities for women. She is being held at one of the female guards’ houses. As for seeing her, it will not be possible today, for the court ulamas – scholars are presently interviewing her in preparation for tomorrow’s hearing.’
At the news that he could not see his wife, for a brief instant Hayder couldn’t think straight and felt his temper rising.
‘What about later this evening?’ he blurted out sharply.
‘As she is held in someone’s private house, due to security and the safety of our personnel, we do not allow visits. An irate relative can easily become difficult and even violent when visiting an accused family member. In your wife’s case, any visit will have to take place in one of the rooms of the mosque. Since the court hearing will take place in the morning, a visit can only be arranged for tomorrow afternoon at the earliest,’ the man explained in a contrite voice, feeling sorry for the poor husband.
