Beyond the Sand Dune

by Asen Djinah

  ‘Malwah, Malwah, where are you?’ he called out.

  He took a large detour and made his way to the cluster of tress where he had hidden the camel. Holding its head rope, he led the animal back to the water-well while calling out to her owner.

  ‘Sayyidi, I have found Malwah!’ he called out.

  The traveller rushed back to the well and was relieved to see his camel.

  ‘She has found some ghaf trees and was busy stripping off its juicy bark. That is why she was not responding to your call,’ Mustafa explained.

  Barely listening to Mustafa’s explanation, the traveller thanked the young boy grumpily. Reluctantly, he threw him a silver coin before mounting his animal and rode away.

  Mustafa felt elated that he had tricked the angry-looking man. On his way back to camp he realised that with careful planning he could make a lot of money carrying out this deception. He went straight to his tent, intending to hand the coin to his mother.

  ‘But how do I explain to Ummi where I got the money?’ he wondered.

  So Mustafa changed his mind and hid the coin under his sleeping rug; he did not want to lie to his mother. Over the next few months, Mustafa perfected his trick. With his limp and his innocent look, no one suspected that he was deceiving them. He always targeted lone travellers at wells where there was little traffic and only those who looked like they could afford to offer a reward for finding their missing camel.

  Once a lone traveller left his camel by the well, Mustafa would choose his moment to lead the camel away and hide it in a suitable place. It could be far away in a dried wadi – riverbed – or among the huge boulders by the foot of a mountain and sometimes even in the narrow alleyways of a nearby town. If there was no place to hide the animal, Mustafa would not attempt his trick. He was scared of getting caught and was always thorough in his planning and careful in his execution. He would carry out only one such deception at any given place. Sometimes he would be given a silver coin, but more often he would get a couple of copper coins for his effort. Soon he had collected a small handful of coins, hidden underneath his sleeping rug. He had no plan on how to spend the money, but the fact that he had a small fortune compared to his peers gave him a sense of satisfaction. Everyone in the tribe had noticed that despite his limp, Mustafa now walked with his shoulders straight, his head held high and not stooped like before. They were pleased for him.

  Chapter 5

  Unfortunately for Mustafa, the good times did not last very long and ended tragically a few months later. That particular morning as soon as he woke up, his mother asked for his help.

  ‘Mafa, I need to grind some rice to make baby food for the tribe. I have a lot of other work to do. Can you do it for me please? It should not take long,’ she said.

  Mustafa was eager to be of use since it was not very often that his mother asked for his assistance.

  ‘Poor ummi, she must be overwhelmed with her chores to ask for my help,’ he thought as he pounded hard on the rice in the large stone mortar.

  It was only in the afternoon that he was finally free to go to the watering well, half a mile away from where the tribe had set up camp a few days earlier.

  Unknown to Mustafa, another tribe was on their way to the waterhole. The leader had sent one of their young men to scout the area and find the best spot to set up camp. It was the first time that Rashaad had been assigned such an important task of choosing a camp site and he was keen to impress. On his approach, he saw Mustafa’s tribe camping out the south-east of the oasis.

  ‘They have taken the best site, for the trees will break the force of the Al Shamal winds blowing from the north-west,’ he thought with disappointment.

  When he reached the oasis, Rashaad left his camel next to some bushes and walked into the dense growth of trees on foot.

  ‘I don’t have much choice but to propose that we set up camp on the opposite side of the copse, away from the waterhole and facing the wind,’ he decided.

  He knew very well that the privacy of a camp was important, especially for women who, like the men, attended to the call of nature in the open. The camp had to be shielded from prying eyes. From the other side of the copse they would be out of sight from the other camp, but would be away from the water-well.

  ‘We will have to cut through the undergrowth to get water if we want to avoid going round the outside of the copse,’ he thought.

  ‘There must be a path that cuts across to the opposite side,’ he told himself as he wandered further into the copse to investigate.

  Meanwhile Mustafa reached the well and saw Rashaad’s lone camel. He had not seen the rider and therefore could not decide whether he was well-off or not. Nevertheless, on an impulse he decided to take a gamble.

  ‘It’s a lone camel and therefore must belong to a lone traveller. Let me try my luck,’ he decided.

  Heart thumping, he quickly led the camel away into the undergrowth. A few days earlier when he had first arrived, he had spotted a dense thicket where he could easily conceal a camel out of view. It was just at that moment, as he was leading the camel into the thick vegetation, that Rashaad emerged from the undergrowth and saw Mustafa with his animal.

  ‘Is he trying to steal my camel?’ he thought, knowing very well that camel theft was a serious crime.

  Instead of calling out, Rashaad crept back into the bushes and surreptitiously watched the boy. He saw Mustafa leaving the undergrowth without the camel and limping back towards the well. He waited until the boy was out of sight before checking on his camel. He found the animal happily nibbling away at the leaves. Puzzled, Rashaad decided to go and confront the lad.

  He found Mustafa squatting in the shade. On seeing the traveller, the lanky boy jumped clumsily to his feet, looking flustered.

  ‘He must be the owner of the camel,’ it suddenly dawned upon him.

  Taken by surprise, Mustafa made a crucial mistake.

  ‘Salaam Alaikum, are you looking for your camel?’ he asked and then suddenly realising his slip-up, he put his hand to his mouth.

  Rashaad made as if he had not noticed the blunder and feigned ignorance.

  ‘Yes, I left my camel just here earlier and she seems to have disappeared,’ he replied with an air of innocence.

  Mustafa was relieved that the stranger had not caught on his near admission.

  ‘I can help you find your camel,’ Mustafa volunteered.

  ‘You can give me any reward you can afford,’ he added, seeing that the stranger did not look well-off.

  Immediately Rashaad understood the boy’s trick; he was trying to con him of some money.

  ‘You have taken my camel and hidden her away and now you want payment to look for her? I saw you earlier and followed you. Don’t you deny it? May God blacken your face,’ he cursed the boy angrily.

  As he advanced towards Mustafa, accusing him of dishonesty, Rashaad pushed the young boy in the chest. Anyone else would have simply stumbled, but with his weak leg Mustafa fell backwards and his head hit the ground hard. He lay motionless, his eyes closed. Thinking that he was pretending to be hurt, Rashaad shoved him with his foot.

  ‘Get up and acknowledge your deceit, you ibn himmar – son of a donkey,’ he shouted at the boy.

  Mustafa remained motionless and it suddenly dawned on Rashaad that the boy may be injured after all. He bent down to pull the boy up when he saw a pool of blood under his head – he must have hit it against a rock when he fell. Panicking and not knowing what to do, Rashaad quickly went to retrieve his camel and rode furiously back to his tribe.

  Rashaad’s tribe was half an hour away from the well and the long caravan was moving slowly. They still had a good few hours of daylight to reach the oasis and set up camp. On seeing Rashaad riding his camel hard, Hamza the tribe leader waved to attract his attention.

  ‘Have you found a good site for us, Rashaad?’ Hamza called out when the rider was within earshot.

  As soon as he reached the leader, Rashaad blurted out the incident abou
t the injured boy. Hamza could not make sense of what the young man was saying, but seeing the look of fear on his face, he was quick to realise that something terrible had happened. He made Rashaad slow down and start again from the beginning. Finally, he understood the situation.

  ‘Did you identify a good site for us to set camp?’ he asked again, changing the subject to calm the young man.

  Rashaad explained how another tribe was camping on the waterhole side of the copse and that it would be best to camp on the opposite side, cutting across via the path he had found through the woods to gain access to the well.

  ‘Although it faces the wind and is further away from the well, we will have privacy,’ he explained his suggestion.

  Hamza immediately called out to his men and told them to make the caravan move faster, but also to take a large detour to reach the north-west side of the copse.

  ‘As a matter of urgency, send the water boys directly to the well to get a load of water as quickly as possible and meet us at the camp. We may not have any more water till tomorrow morning,’ he said, without further explanation.

  The men proceeded to carry out his instructions without asking any question, for they had sensed the urgency in the leader’s voice. Hamza had calculated that the young boy who had been injured was most likely from the tribe whose camp Rashaad had spotted earlier.

  ‘It will be too late to go and assist the injured boy now. By the time we reach the well it will have been well over an hour and by then he would have been rescued by members of his own tribe,’ Hamza thought to himself and decided to go along with the caravan instead.

  ‘It is only a matter of time before the other party will come to demand retribution,’ he thought grimly.

  Within a few hours they had set up camp, built a rudimentary goat pen and watered the livestock. Immediately after, Hamza gathered all the men round him and addressed them.

  ‘Rashaad had an encounter with a boy who was attempting to steal his camel. During the altercation the boy was accidentally injured. He is likely to be from the camp we saw on the way and his kin will most certainly pay us a visit. Grab your weapons and be ready, but stay out of sight inside your tents. Under no circumstances are you to engage in any fight without my say so. Needless to say, no one is to leave camp and water rationing is in place. Until this matter is resolved, we do not have safe access to the well,’ he said gravely.

  ‘Even though it looks unlikely that they will come before sunrise, we will post guards throughout the night,’ he then added.

  The men looked at each other in dismay as they knew this could easily lead to bloodshed and even potential loss of lives. They trusted their leader to manage and diffuse the situation. Later in the evening, Hamza summoned the elders to his tent for Rashaad to go through the incident once again for the benefit of the group. As the young man described the details of the altercation, he was interrupted a few times by the elders seeking clarification on certain points. Afterwards, everyone remained silent, quietly reflecting upon the consequences. Then one of the elders broke the silence.

  ‘I say Rashaad was not at fault. He has my support,’ he voted.

  One by one the elders, including Hamza unanimously voiced their support for the young man.

  Descending from a common ancestor, all members of a tribe were kinsmen and shared the belief of collective responsibility. Any individual would think twice before committing any offence for he would be implicating the entire tribe through his action. Anyone in need of support can rely upon his kin. The closer the relationship between two members, the stronger was the loyalty which superseded individual feelings.

  As the saying goes, “I against my brother, my brother and I against my cousin, and my cousin and I against the stranger.”

  When an offence had been committed, the elders would decide whether to support the offender or to banish him from the tribe. There was no worse sentence than being ostracised from one’s tribe, for it was near impossible for a nomad to live on his own in the desert, especially without protection to face the offended party. In Rashaad’s case, the injury befalling the young boy was purely accidental and there was clearly no intent. That was the unanimous conclusion reached by the elders.

  The night went by quietly, without incident. After a restless night, Hamza got up, apprehensive of what was to come. At first light he called out one of his most trusted men.

  ‘I want you to reconnoitre the opposite side of the copse and report back any movement by the well. Be careful not to be seen,’ he directed him.

  Less than half an hour later the scout came back, reporting that everything was quiet and that from afar the other camp looked normal, without any unusual activity.

  ‘I need a group of men, rather than the water boys, to go to the well quickly and get a load of water for the animals,’ Hamza instructed.

  The team managed to do two runs when the men saw a group leaving the other camp and making their way towards the well. As soon as their waterskins were filled, they quickly returned to camp and informed Hamza of the development.

  ‘There were no camels in the group, which means they are not going for water,’ they added.

  Hamza was almost relieved that the waiting was finally over and he could face the issue head-on.

  ‘Remain inside your tents out of sight and be ready for any eventuality. Do not come out under any circumstance without my say-so,’ he reminded the men.

  After the morning prayers, Hamza had asked his men to stretch a woollen sheet over four poles about a hundred yards from their camp, hallway between the camp and the edge of the copse, to provide a shaded shelter. He went and sat out under the shade of the stretched sheet waiting for the other party to appear, a lone and isolated figure in the open area. Though Hamza’s heart was thumping and his mind racing, outwardly he maintained a calm composure.

  ‘Things could turn sour very quickly if the leader of the other tribe is of an aggressive nature,’ Hamza thought.

  He took out his tasbih – rosary and prayed in silence while he waited.

  Soon, Hamza saw a stream of men pouring out from the path in the woods. There were about thirty of them, armed with swords, daggers and clubs. Hamza was glad he had asked his men to stay out of sight otherwise the situation could easily degenerate had the two groups of men confronted each other. When they saw the lone figure of Hamza waiting for them, the men stopped abruptly. After a few minutes, one of them peeled off the group and came forward towards the makeshift tent. As he approached, Hamza got up and moved a few steps into the open to welcome him.

  ‘Salam Alaikum, I am Hamza Ibn Ubayd of the Qufreid tribe. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?’ he said calmly as he gestured to the other man to take a seat in the open tent.

  ‘Alaikum Salam, I am Mahafuz bin Kasim, leader of the Juhayah tribe. I have come to discuss a matter of utmost importance,’ the other party replied in a similar calm voice.

  Despite the civility between the two leaders, there was an underlying tension in the air. Hamza made no reference to the armed men, nor did Mahafuz mention the deserted camp, knowing very well that the men would be armed and ready, out of sight inside the tents.

  ‘Let us have some sherbet first, before talking business,’ proposed Hamza.

  Mahafuz understood Hamza’s subtle message. By inviting his adversary to share a drink, Hamza was conveying that he was more interested in talk and settlement than violence. Mahafuz too was a pacifist and felt that as a leader he had a responsibility to avoid bloodshed at any cost. Life in the desert was in itself hard enough, without the further complication of violence. But he also knew that to maintain his tribe’s honour he would have to stand his ground and demand retribution.

  ‘I will gladly accept one cup only,’ he replied.

  By limiting himself to one cup rather than the customary two, he too was sending the message that he was also open to negotiation, but only to a certain extent.

  The two men sipped their drinks in silence, unif
ied by the sheer burden on their shoulders. They both knew that they would have to come to a settlement that would satisfy the men from both tribes. Anything less would lead to violence and bloodshed. When they had finished their drinks, Hamza looked Mahafuz straight in the eyes.

  ‘So what is this important matter that you wish to discuss, Mahafuz bin Kasim of the Juhayah tribe?’ he asked formally.

  ‘We believe that one of your men has murdered one of our boys,’ Mahafuz replied without any preamble.

  Hamza gasped. He was utterly shocked by what he had just heard as this was the last thing he had expected. From Rashaad’s account of the incident, he had been made to believe that the boy had been injured and not dead. For a moment his mind went blank at the enormity of the accusation and he didn’t know what to say. He slowly regained his composure.

  ‘We surely belong to God and to Him we shall return,’ Hamza replied, offering his condolence.

  ‘How did you come to the conclusion that it was one of my men?’ he then asked.

  Mahafuz smiled wryly as he noted that Hamza had not denied the accusation, but was merely trying to get more information.

  ‘We buried the boy after the morning prayers. When we found his body last night it was too dark for our tracker to study the ground. But this morning he went back and found out that there was another man involved. He found the footprints of the man and his camel. It will be very easy for our tracker to go through your livestock and point the camel out,’ he explained.

  Hamza knew that any good tracker could easily identify a camel from its footprints. He sighed and resigned himself to be upfront and stick to the truth. He described the whole incident just like Rashaad had reported, starting from when he found the young boy hiding his camel to the moment he pushed him.

  ‘My man had believed that the boy was only injured, just as I myself had believed until a moment ago. I swear on the Holy Prophet’s name that I did not know that the boy had passed away,’ he emphasised.