Stories of the Sahara

by Sanmao

  I wanted to yell out, but I couldn’t. I wanted to cry, but I choked. I wanted to watch, but couldn’t bear it. I wanted to not watch, but my eyes were fixed firmly on Shahida, unable to move elsewhere. Don’t… ah… don’t… I heard my own voice rasping and wheezing… Right at this moment I felt someone behind me fly past like a leopard, rushing through the crowd, pulling people aside one by one. He entered the scene like a flash of lightning and pulled off the men who were holding Shahida down. He dragged Shahida by the hair and retreated towards the empty slaughterhouse and higher ground behind him. Luat. He carried a handgun and looked like he’d gone mad. Foaming at the mouth, he brandished the gun at the crowd that was about to rush up there. Those seven or eight thugs flashed knives. The crowd started screaming and fleeing the scene. I desperately tried to get closer, but I got pushed and staggered backwards. I opened my eyes wide, looking at Luat surrounded on all sides. He was pulling Shahida along the ground, his eyes wild and alert, a ferocious glint in them. He waved his gun at the people who were pressing closer. Just then a person who had got behind him jumped up and threw himself at him. He fired a shot. The others took advantage of the moment and attacked. ‘Kill me, kill me, Luat. . . Kill me. . .’ Shahida screamed and kept screaming. I was so frightened I choked and started sobbing. Upon hearing another series of gunshots, everyone was crying and pushing and fleeing. I fell to the ground, people trampling over me. A few moments later, everything around me was open and empty, serene. I turned over and sat up. I saw Ajyeiba’s men hurriedly helping someone into the car. There were two corpses on the ground. Luat lay there dead, his eyes open. Shahida was sprawled on the ground. From Luat’s position, it looked like he had been trying to crawl towards Shahida to cover her with his body.

  I squatted in the sand at a distance, shivering and shaking uncontrollably. It was so dark, you could barely make them out any more. The wind had suddenly gone silent. Gradually, I saw less and less. I only heard the screaming and braying of the camels in the slaughterhouse grow louder and louder, higher and higher. The entire sky slowly filled with the immense echoes of the camels’ cries, coming down on me like thunder.

  Lonesome Land

  There were eight of us in total, with two cars and three tents. The last glimmers of the setting sun had disappeared. It was no longer twilight, but there was still a faint pigeon-grey colour in the sky. A bone-chilling wind began to rise up from the mournful wasteland. Night was spreading very gradually, but already we could see next to nothing of the woods behind us.

  No one had a chance to appreciate the blur of a desert dusk while pitching tents and setting out cookware. This time, we had already got off to a late start because of the woman and child who were tagging along. Manolín was meditating off to one side. He was a tall figure with a light brown beard down to his chest. He wore an old white shirt, as always, along with knee-length shorts and a little hat that looked like a kippah. His feet were bare. There was a fiery flicker in his eyes. He sat cross-legged, two hands rooted to the ground, his body partially suspended in the air like an ascetic from India. He spoke not a word.

  Miguel wore a striped shirt and a clean pair of over-washed jeans. His thick eyebrows, large eyes and thin nose complemented a sensual mouth. Of average height, he had elegant hands that were currently fiddling with his very expensive camera. No matter how much you looked, you could never find any flaws with Miguel. He looked picture-perfect, like an advertisement in Kodak colour. But for some reason, he could never blend into his surroundings. He was what you would consider a good companion, sociable, happy, open. No quirks or idiosyncrasies. He talked a lot, said mostly pleasant things. You’d never get into an argument with him. But there was something missing.

  Jerry was always shy. This strong and sturdy youth from the Canary Islands was the son of a fisherman. Like a piece of thick strawboard, he was simple in nature and stiff in his mannerisms. He had never spoken directly to me before. At work, he was known for being quiet and honest. Yet he was married to Tania, who was as jumpy as a deer in the headlights. She used to work at a hair salon. It was only after she married Jerry that she reluctantly relocated to the desert. She rarely spoke to other men. For the moment, the two of them were shut away in their new tent, the cooing sounds of their baby Isabel drifting out from time to time.

  José wore grass-green shorts with a khaki shirt. He had on basketball sneakers and a woollen cap for the winter. Bent over gathering firewood, he was the spitting image of a wretched farmer from an old Russian novel, or at least a foreigner from Eastern Europe. His Spanish air had pretty much entirely gone. José was always the one who did the most work. He liked it that way.

  Yadasi sat sombrely atop a large rock, smoking. His eyes were small and bright. In the twilight, his gaunt face gave off a golden metallic glow. His expression was always lazy and contemptuous. He didn’t get along with the Europeans at work, and he was also impatient with his own people. But he was fiercely loyal to José. His long blue gown dragged down to the ground, billowing in the wind. Looking closely at him, you wouldn’t think he was Sahrawi, but Tibetan, rather, a product of the Himalayan plateau, exuding an air of mystery.

  I had worn my bathing suit when we took off at noon. Now I put on one of José’s big coats, along with white wool socks that went up to my knees. I’d loosened my braids long ago. I was gently beating a bowful of eggs with one hand.

  Tania wouldn’t come out. She was afraid of absolutely everything in the desert, including Yadasi. The only reason she joined our troop this time was because her mother had returned to the Canary Islands, Jerry was coming with us and she would be scared to stay home alone. So she grudgingly came, looking pitiful with her three-month-old child in her arms. She and the desert weren’t meant for each other.

  Once José got the fire going, I set the bowl down and ran off towards the forest in the distance. ‘Where are you going?’ called Yadasi, who usually didn’t say much.

  ‘Picking— pine— branches—’ I said without turning around.

  ‘Don’t go into the woods!’ The wind carried the sound of his voice to me.

  ‘Don’t— worry—’ I still managed to run all the way there in one breath.

  Once I got into the woods, I whipped my head back around. Their figures were as tiny as chesspieces, scattered on the sandy ground. Just a moment ago, the wind rustling through the treetops sounded like it was right behind our tents. Strangely, though, it turned out to be quite a distance away.

  The woods were thickly forested. In a moment, my eyes became used to the darkness and I saw a pile of wood. But it was ironwood, not pine, so I went farther in, burying myself deeper in the shadows. In the dim light, something totally unexpected caught my eye through the thicket.

  There was a house of white stone with a semicircular roof and no windows or door. The stillness of its gloom was eerie and unsettling, almost like it was concealing the signs of some monstrous life. A wind rustled past, then quietly blew back in my direction. Shadows flickered all around, forces of yin pressing against me.

  I gulped and started backing up, my eyes fixed on the little house. When I was almost out of the woods, I pulled down a tree branch and started hacking wildly at it. Once I had hacked halfway through, I snapped off the branch with great effort and then turned to see if the mysterious thing was still there. I had a sense of déjà vu. This scene looked familiar to me, as though I’d seen it in a dream. I stood there gaping for a while. I felt like I could hear someone sighing quietly in the woods. The hairs all over my body stood up. I grabbed the branch and fled from the woods. I sensed a coldness behind me still giving chase, step by step. After running a few dozen paces, I saw and heard José’s campfire light up with a whoosh, as though competing with the sun that had just set.

  ‘I told you not to pour in any gasoline, and you still did!’ By the time I made my way over, all out of breath, the fire was already reaching high into the sky.

  ‘We can add the pine branches later when the fire dwindle
s.’

  ‘It’s not pine, it’s ironwood.’ I was still winded.

  ‘Just one branch?’

  ‘It’s creepy in there,’ I cried. ‘Go and see for yourself, if you dare.’

  ‘Give me the axe. I’ll go.’ Manolín came out of his yoga pose and took the machete from me.

  ‘Don’t go!’ Yadasi said lazily.

  ‘There’s an incredibly creepy house in there. Go and take a look.’

  Manolín still went. A little while later, he came out with a big pile of tree branches. ‘Hey, something’s not quite right in there,’ he said.

  ‘There are enough brambles here,’ José said casually. ‘No need to go back.’

  I looked up at Manolín. He was silently wiping sweat away despite the coldness of the early evening.

  ‘Miguel, come and help me with these kebabs.’ I squatted down and laid out the skewers, then looked back at Jerry’s tent. They had already lit their gas lamp, but there was no sign of them.

  Soon the food was prepared. Only then did I surreptitiously bring out the enamel bowl in which I had been beating eggs. I crept around, my body lowered, to the back of Jerry’s tent. ‘The djinni has come!’ I cried all of a sudden, banging on the bowl with a fork.

  ‘Sanmao, don’t scare us!’ yelled Tania from inside the tent.

  ‘Time for dinner! Come out, come out!’ I pulled aside the tent flap. Tania was squatting with a coat draped around her. Baby Isabel lay on the ground. Jerry was filling a milk bottle.

  ‘I’m not going out!’ Tania shook her head.

  ‘It’s too dark out to see any more. If you can’t see, then there’s nothing to be afraid of. Just pretend you’re not in the desert. Come on!’ She hesitated. ‘Are you eating or not?’ I cried. ‘If you are, then you have to come out.’

  Tania forced herself to look outside for a moment, her eyes wide.

  ‘There’s a fire,’ Miguel called out. ‘Don’t be afraid.’

  ‘Jerry. . .’ Tania turned, calling her husband’s name.

  Jerry scooped up his child and gave her a hug. ‘Don’t be scared,’ he said quietly. ‘Let’s go out there.’

  Right after sitting down, Tania started crying out again. ‘What are you roasting? It’s so black. Camel meat…?!’

  Everyone laughed at this. Only Yadasi looked a little annoyed. ‘Beef, with some soy sauce. Don’t worry. I’ll let you try the first one.’ He passed over a skewer, which Jerry took for his wife.

  José got the fire going good and strong. We even had to spread out some redwood branches on the fire or risk burning our eyebrows. It was still and silent all around us, except for the sound of barbecue drippings splattering on the firewood. ‘Eat at your leisure. There’s quiche.’ I started beating eggs again.

  ‘Sanmao likes to make grand gestures like this,’ José said. ‘It’s a feast every time we eat. I get stuffed to death.’

  ‘I just don’t want you guys to starve!’ I turned to Tania. ‘Do you eat onions?’ She immediately shook her head. ‘Alright, I’ll make a salad with no onions, then another with all the onions.’

  ‘If you really don’t mind?’ Miguel sighed, clicking his tongue.

  ‘When the fire gets small later, I’ll throw on a bunch of sweet potatoes.’

  ‘Are none of you planning to sleep at all?’ Tania asked.

  ‘Whether you want to sleep or not, you’re free to do what you want.’ I smiled at her. ‘You can sleep for a while and then get up, or just go on sleeping. Whatever makes you happy.’ I handed her another kebab.

  ‘We want to sleep,’ Tania said apologetically. No one said anything. Let them do as they please. I was still cleaning up after our meal when Tania said good night and walked off, dragging Jerry after her.

  When they were at the edge of the fire’s light, an impulse came over me. ‘Hey!’ I called out to Tania. ‘There are eyes staring out at you over there!’ Hearing this, Tania let go of Jerry and Isabel and fell to the ground with a yelp.

  ‘Sanmao…’ Manolín harrumphed and gave me a dirty look.

  ‘Sorry, sorry, I’m messing with you.’ I fell over on my knees, unable to stop chuckling. I must have seemed crazy to get so wound up by all this.

  The night grew colder, even as the fire continued to burn. José and I sat for a while, then went into our own little tent. We both slipped into our sleeping bags, turning our faces to each other to speak.

  ‘What did you say this place was called?’ I asked José.

  ‘I didn’t catch the name from Yadasi.’

  ‘Are there really crystals here?’

  ‘He told us that the one he gave us is from here. There should be some.’ After a brief silence, José turned over.

  ‘Going to sleep?’

  ‘Yep!’

  ‘Wake me up in the morning. Don’t forget, ’kay?’ I also turned, back to back with him, and closed my eyes.

  After a long while, José fell silent. I figured he was asleep. Unzipping the flap of the tent, I saw there were still three people sitting around the fire. Miguel was speaking quietly to Yadasi about something or other.

  I lay for a bit, listening to the doleful desert wind fly high like it had wings. The stakes of the tent had been blown loose and the canvas kept covering my face. Feeling suffocated, I thought I might as well get up. I put on long trousers and a thick coat and crawled over José. Dragging my sleeping bag, I quietly opened the tent and went out.

  ‘Where are you going?’ José whispered.

  ‘Out,’ I replied, also in a whisper.

  ‘People are still up?’

  ‘Three of them still haven’t gone to sleep!’

  ‘Sanmao. . .’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Don’t scare Tania.’

  ‘Got it. Go to sleep.’

  Holding my sleeping bag, I scurried over to the fire in my bare feet. I spread it out on the ground, then slipped in and lay down again. The three others were still talking in hushed tones.

  There were no stars or moon in the sky. The night was frozen black. A wind blew freely, making rustling noises in the forest behind us.

  ‘He must have been stoned,’ Miguel said to Yadasi, continuing a conversation I hadn’t overheard. ‘You can’t trust everything he says.’

  ‘He didn’t used to smoke,’ Yadasi said. ‘After he got into it, he was never clear-headed any more. You know how messy his stall is.’

  I pulled down the sleeping bag that had been covering my face and looked at them from the corner of my eye. Yadasi’s copper-coloured face was expressionless in the firelight.

  ‘Are you talking about old man Hanna?’ I asked quietly.

  ‘You know him, too?’ Miguel seemed very surprised.

  ‘Why wouldn’t I? I’ve gone to him for help on multiple occasions, but he always ignores me. He acts like he rules the roost, squatting on his counter in a daze. There are always coins scattered everywhere. I’ve even sold things on his behalf once or twice. He ignores his customers. He’s always tripping.’

  ‘Tripping?’ Miguel asked.

  ‘What Sanmao means is that he’s always floating in his happy haze,’ Manolín cut in.

  I turned over in my sleeping bag and lay on my stomach. ‘One time, I went over there to him and said, “Hanna, Hanna, draw us a map to the djinni,” ’ I said to them in a low voice. ‘He wasn’t muddled that day. As soon as I asked, he started crying—’

  ‘Why did you have to go to Hanna?’ Yadasi asked disapprovingly.

  ‘Don’t you know that he was the djinnis’ gravekeeper when he was young?’ I retorted, widening my eyes.

  ‘The other clansmen also know the way,’ Yadasi maintained.

  ‘Nobody else would dare to take us,’ I said, forcing my voice down. ‘Will you take us then, Yadasi?’

  He laughed ambiguously.

  ‘Hey, do you guys really believe in djinn?’ Miguel whispered to Yadasi.

  ‘They exist to those who believe in them. For non-believers, there’s no such thing.’


  ‘And you?’ I raised my head to ask.

  ‘Me? Not really.’

  ‘You either believe or you don’t. Tell us the truth.’

  There was that ambiguous laugh again. ‘You know, I—’

  ‘And yet you eat pork,’ I jabbed.

  ‘Well, there you go, then,’ Yadasi laughed, putting his hands up.

  ‘That time Hanna started crying…’ Manolín brought us back to the story I hadn’t finished telling.

  ‘I just wanted him to show us the way. He was waving his hands like crazy and said, “Señora, that is a forbidden place, you cannot go.” Two years ago he took a journalist there to take pictures. When he returned home, his old lady died out of the blue. It was the djinni’s vengeance. His wife paid with her life because he wanted that bit of money… After he told me this, he started weeping uncontrollably, slapping his hands and feet. And I could tell he wasn’t stoned that day…’

  ‘I heard that when Hanna’s wife was dead, her entire body was black,’ Miguel said. ‘Maggots came out of her nose straight away.’

  ‘Add some firewood.’ I tucked myself deeper into the sleeping bag and stopped speaking. The four of us faced each other in silence. Outside of the firelight, you couldn’t tell the sky from the ground. The wind blew more urgently, a cold and ghostly wail.

  After a long while, Yadasi spoke again. ‘The earth really did crack open. It cracks every time.’

  ‘You’ve seen it?’

  Yadasi nodded sombrely, his gaze directed at somewhere outside the fire. ‘Before, Hanna would walk for days at a time, then hurry back to report to the town. You’d always hear him shouting from afar, “It is cracked again! Cracked!” It was terrifying. Our clansmen would be scared out of their wits. In just a few days, there would be a death. Sometimes more than one.’