Yatimah

by Catherine Hapka

  Jumanah and the other mares were still eating when Nasr appeared at the entrance to the tent. He had his favorite falcon on his arm. He fussed with the bird’s feathers, merely chuckling when the falcon snapped at him with its sharp, curved beak.

  It looks as if Nasr is going hunting, Tawil observed. Mama says he uses that falcon to catch other birds that the humans can eat. I wonder if he’ll ride Zahrat again this time.

  I glanced at a horse standing with the others. She was tall for a mare, her coat the darkest bay with white coming halfway up all four legs and splashed onto her face. Her ears always seemed to be moving, swiveling about as if trying to hear everything that was happening in the entire desert, and her large eyes had a nervous expression.

  Jumanah says Nasr wants to make Zahrat his new war mare since she had no foal this year, I told Tawil. But Zahrat doesn’t think Nasr likes her.

  Mama says it’s because Zahrat sees danger where there is none, Tawil reported. That makes Nasr impatient with her, which only frightens her all the more.

  I wasn’t sure what to think of that. But later, I watched as Nasr rode Zahrat off into the desert with his falcon on his arm. Safiya was watching, too. She came over and stood with one hand resting on my withers. Horse and man were only a few yards away when the falcon let out a sudden cry, making Zahrat jump to one side and start trembling.

  “Oh, dear,” Safiya murmured. “That will not make Father think any more highly of poor Zahrat. But she cannot help it if she is more sensitive than the other mares.” She bit her lip and looked down at me. “All he can think about is that she is nothing like Sarab. Then again, no horse in the camp is, at least in his eyes.…”

  I didn’t know what she meant. But her expression made me feel sad, so I let out a snort and reared up on my hind legs to make myself feel better. Within seconds, Safiya was laughing, and all was well again in my world.

  A Desert Evening

  One evening, a stronger breeze than usual blew through the oasis, making the air feel cool and pleasant even before the sun had begun to set. It tickled my ears and made me shake my head. That movement made it seem like a good idea to leap straight up in the air and kick out.

  Oh, Yatimah, Jumanah said with a sigh. Can you ever be still?

  You know she cannot, wise old Ajouz replied. She is Sarab’s foal, after all, and Sarab was just like her at that age. If Yatimah can learn to channel her energy as her mother did …

  Tawil blinked sleepily. He had already collapsed on the sand near his dam’s feet. Be quiet, Yatimah, he complained. I’m tired. Stop jumping around like a silly sheep.

  How dare you call me a sheep? I challenged him. I struck out at him with one foreleg, spraying sand in his face. That made him sneeze, and he let out an annoyed snort.

  Safiya was just finishing with her chores. She laughed when she saw me dancing around the sleepy colt. “What’s the matter, Yatimah?” she asked. “Not ready for nighttime quite yet?”

  She reached down and patted a ewe that was following her around. It head-butted her insistently, looking for more food.

  “You’ll have to find the rest of your dinner yourself, my woolly friend,” the girl told the sheep with a fond smile. “Praise Allah, there is some grazing left for you yet, though the horses will be getting by on nothing but dates before long.”

  She gave the animal a slap on the rump, shooing it off after its herdmates, who were wandering toward their usual sleeping spot. Then she stood for a moment, watching a couple of goats snuffle among the stone for bits of grass and weeds. One of the salukis sat watching them as well, his ears and nose twitching with each shift of the wind.

  I left Tawil alone and bounded over to Safiya. She gave me a pat. Another breeze gusted past, but this time I stayed still. The girl tipped her face up.

  “That cool air feels good after this hot day.” She glanced at the western sky. “There’s still time for a walk. I think I spotted a patch of green just a little way out beyond the edge of the oasis. There must be another small spring there. Shall we see if there might be some extra grazing for you, little one?”

  I pricked up my ears. Though I was getting better all the time at reading the humans’ emotions and intentions, I still didn’t understand most of what they said in their language. However, I was beginning to pick up the meaning of certain words. One of those words was grazing, which I understood to mean food. Not the rich, delicious milk that Jumanah was still providing for both Tawil and me, but the food that the adult horses ate—grasses and certain tasty weeds. The older I got, the more I appreciated grazing.

  I followed willingly as Safiya wandered out into the desert, shading her eyes against the setting sun as she looked for the spot she wanted. Behind us drifted the sounds of human voices, the soft bleating of sheep and goats jostling for the best sleeping spots, and the occasional nicker of a horse, yip of a dog, or sigh of a camel. In other words, the ordinary evening sounds of the oasis.

  But I paid little attention, staying focused on Safiya. She began a game we played often, stopping and starting and turning while encouraging me to follow her every step. I was good at the game. Watching her, anticipating her next movement, gave my lively mind something to focus on. Safiya hardly had to move a muscle before I was with her, my muzzle at her shoulder.

  She finally tested me by turning in a complete circle. When I stayed right with her, pivoting my hind end around her, she laughed with delight. Then she looked around. We were perhaps a hundred paces out into the desert by now. The setting sun’s rays washed the sand with gold and crimson.

  “There it is.” Safiya peered down the slope of the next dune. Here the sand had a green tinge. “There’s not as much grass as I’d hoped. Still, it’s something.”

  I saw the grass, too, and bounded forward to eat it. It was sparse, but it tasted delicious after several days of nothing but milk and dates and the occasional weed.

  As I grazed, Safiya stroked me and worked a few twigs and burs out of my short mane. Then she ran her hands over my body, rubbing off bits of my foal coat to reveal the glossy black hair beneath. It felt so good that I stood there even after I’d eaten every blade of grass, simply enjoying the girl’s company.

  “I don’t know why Father can’t see how special you are,” Safiya whispered after a few moments of silence. “I miss Sarab, too. But at least I have you to comfort me for missing her. Father won’t even let himself have that. It’s not fair to him, or to you.”

  She sighed loudly. I swiveled my head around so I could see her face, wondering what was wrong.

  “Oh, Yatimah,” she said, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Everyone says I mustn’t pester Father about you. But how can he be so stubborn?”

  A gust of wind chased the last of her words away and blew up under my tail, making me jump. Safiya blinked and looked around. Night falls quickly in the desert, and the sky was already washed with deepest indigo.

  “We should get back,” the girl said, glancing across the dunes toward the oasis. Someone had lit a lantern near the tent, and its light flickered and danced in the increasing breeze. The strains of lively music came from that way.

  I lifted my head as my keen vision caught something strange in the opposite direction. It was farther out in the desert, a twisting, moving shape, larger than the largest camel. What could it be? I had no idea, but seeing it made me quiver with fear of the unknown.

  “What is it, girl?” Safiya followed my gaze, then let out a gasp. “Oh no! A sandstorm!” she cried. “Hurry, we have to get back to camp!”

  She turned and raced across the sand as fast as her human legs would take her. That wasn’t very fast, but I forced myself to remain at a trot, not wanting to leave her behind.

  Horses’ eyes are set on the sides of our heads, which means we can see a good distance behind us. I could see that the sandstorm was gathering size and strength as it roared toward us. My body trembled, aching to burst into a gallop to try to escape the fearsome creature bearing down on us
. But hearing Safiya’s frightened panting as she ran, I knew I couldn’t abandon her.

  We struggled on together as the sandstorm reached us like some enormous, screaming falcon. Dust and sand swirled around us, getting into my eyes and nose and making it difficult to see or breathe. The air felt alive; it sent sparks crackling through me like during a lightning storm.

  “I can’t see!” Safiya cried, holding on to my mane for all she was worth. “Yatimah, I don’t know which way to go! We’ll be lost in the desert!”

  The panic in her voice gripped my mind, causing me to tremble with fear. All I could think about was getting away from the terrible storm that was attacking us. For a moment, I nearly pulled free and galloped back to the camp, back to the safety of my familiar herd. There I could hide behind Jumanah’s comforting bulk until the storm passed.

  Instead, though, I forced myself to stay where I was. No matter what happened, I couldn’t leave Safiya. Especially when I knew she was frightened.

  This thought made me feel calmer. Whatever happened, we would be together to face it.

  And so I kept my pace slow and steady. The swirling sand forced itself into my nostrils, trying to trap the breath within my body. But I put my head down to block the worst of the wind, and in that way I was able to breathe well enough to keep going. Beside me, I heard Safiya coughing with almost every step.

  Home. I knew we needed to find our way home. We would be safe there in the shelter of the bluffs.

  It was impossible to see anything more than a step ahead. The air was thick with grit and dust and sand, like a living, churning wall blocking us off from the entire world.

  But I didn’t need to see. My instincts told me which way to go. I struggled on against the wind, hardly feeling Safiya’s hands clutching me, though I knew she was there. Soon we were almost at the edge of the trees.

  I heard one of the other horses cry out in alarm. That made me cry out in return and leap forward in a sudden panic. In my eagerness I paid no attention to where I was going, and I felt my leg scrape across a stray boulder that I hadn’t remembered was in our path. I staggered and almost fell, the howling sand stinging my eyes as they went wide with pain.

  “Yatimah!” Safiya cried, her voice almost instantly whipped away by the wind. “Are you all right?”

  My leg screamed with the impact, and for a moment I was ready to race off in any direction to try to escape the feeling. But Safiya was already bending over me, and so I forced myself to keep still, only turning my head away from the worst of the swirling wind. Sand pelted against me, adding to the pain in my leg, and I understood that I had to fight the urge to run. I had to trust Safiya. She would know what to do.

  “You’re bleeding,” Safiya said in a voice tight with anxiety. She coughed again as another gust blew sand into her face and mine. “Come, we have to get you into the tent!”

  Inside the Tent

  “Safiya!” one of the men called out with relief as the girl and I burst into the tent, bringing a whoosh of wind and a cloud of dust from the sandstorm along with us. “When the storm blew in with the speed of a gazelle, we feared you were lost in it!”

  “I’m all right.” The young girl was panting with the exertion of fighting the wind. “But Yatimah is hurt. She spooked just as we got back and cut her leg on a rock.”

  I had never been inside the humans’ tent before, though Jumanah had told me about it. It was a big, shadowy place lined with rugs and cushions and smelling strongly of the dark heated liquid the humans often drank. A falcon was perched upon a stick with a hood over its head; it turned its face toward us even though there was no way it could see us. Several dogs lounged near a small fire nearby. Nasr was sitting there as well, along with the other men of our camp. He looked up sharply at hearing my name, then frowned and turned away. But he said nothing as Safiya hurried me past and through a flap into another section of the tent.

  “Don’t pay any attention to Father,” she whispered to me. “I know he shows little care for you now. But it is only because he misses your mother so much. He’ll come around after a while.…”

  I hardly heard her. It was very strange being trapped within the woven walls, with more fabric blocking out all view of the sky overhead. Even the sounds of the storm were muffled in here. For a moment, I felt the urge to run, to fight my way back out into the openness of the oasis.

  But then I felt Safiya’s gentle hands upon me, and my mind cleared. I was with friends here. The humans had always taken care of me; they would allow no harm to come to me now.

  I found myself in another large room. This one was occupied by women and the younger children. The scents of human food hung in the air along with smoke from the fire. Soon I was surrounded by caring faces.

  “What have we here?” one of the women asked. “Ah, Yatimah, I see your liveliness has gotten you into some trouble. Never mind, it’s nothing serious. We’ll just clean the wound and you’ll be good as new in a week or so.…”

  There was more, but the words mattered little to me. My eyes and ears drooped with relaxation as the human voices washed over me, soothing and familiar. I hardly even felt the sting as Safiya gently scrubbed out my wound and applied some sort of salve to it. Before long the pain and throbbing had faded enough for me to collapse onto the ground and drift off to sleep.

  * * *

  The next morning, Safiya led me out of the tent through the men’s room. Nasr looked up from his breakfast as we passed.

  “That filly going to be all right?” he asked gruffly.

  “Yes, Father.” Safiya smiled at him hopefully. “Yatimah is a strong foal. Just like Sarab was. I know she’s going to make just as fine a war mare one day.”

  “We’ll see.” The man ran his eyes over me. “Sarab once carried me through a terrible sandstorm for nearly an hour without ever hesitating or taking a wrong step. Or spooking at a rock, of all things.”

  I was feeling impatient to get back outside. Wriggling beneath Safiya’s hands, I lunged toward the tent opening, my nostrils seeking the fresh air and my stomach crying out for Jumanah’s milk.

  “Wait, little one,” Safiya told me, trying to hang on to my short mane.

  “Skittish, is she?” Nasr’s frown deepened. “Not like her dam in that way, either.”

  “She’s not skittish,” Safiya said. “Just full of energy, that’s all.”

  Nasr stood and followed us out of the tent. I let out a whinny as I spotted the other horses drinking at the edge of the spring. Tawil heard me, his head shooting up as he returned my call.

  “Too bad the only other foal we got this year was that colt,” Nasr said. “Still, I suppose I can make do with Zahrat for a while. Or perhaps I can get Jumanah back into shape once the foals are weaned.…”

  I heard no more as I raced off to join the herd. Later, though, I remembered the sad look on Safiya’s face at her father’s words.

  Why does Nasr always frown when he looks at me? I asked that evening after Tawil and I had eaten some dates and then drunk our fill of Jumanah’s milk.

  Jumanah blew a long sigh out of her large nostrils. The ways of humans are a mystery, she said. But I do know that Sarab was very special to Nasr. She was his favorite war mare.

  Are you a war mare, Mama? Tawil asked.

  I was the war mare of Nasr’s son Basim before I became too heavy with foal, Jumanah replied. Now Basim rides Gameela, so I suppose I am just a mare again.

  But what does a war mare do that just a mare doesn’t? I asked.

  The men ride the war mares when they raid other men’s camps, Jumanah said.

  Raid? Tawil echoed. What does that mean?

  The sound of Nasr’s voice interrupted our discussion. He appeared with two of his sons at his side, all of them talking in loud, excited voices.

  What’s going on? I asked.

  Hush, little ones, Jumanah responded. Just stay out of their way and you shall see all in time.

  I watched as Nasr saddled and mounted Zahrat
, while his sons prepared their own mares, Gameela and Ibtisam. Tawil looked as perplexed as I.

  Where are they going? he asked as horses and riders disappeared into the darkening desert.

  Do not worry, Jumanah told us. They will return soon enough. Then you will understand what I mean by a raid.

  She refused to say any more. Several hours passed, enough for me to forget about the mystery of the humans’ behavior and drift off to sleep, even though it felt strange to have part of our herd missing.

  I was startled awake by shouts and the thunder of hooves. Scrambling to my feet, I saw men and horses galloping into the oasis. Basim and his brother were laughing and shouting, though Nasr was quiet. All three mares looked weary, but they started prancing with excitement when they saw us watching. There was a bleating lamb slung across the front of Zahrat’s saddle, while Ibtisam was carrying two young goats.

  Then my eyes widened as I saw that these were not the only strange new creatures with them. Gameela’s rider was leading an unfamiliar mare beside her!

  New Experiences

  I do not understand, I told Jumanah, who was watching along with Tawil, Ajouz, and me. Where did that horse come from?

  The newcomer was a shiny bay with a tiny star peeking out from beneath her long, silky forelock. Her legs were slender but strong, her body compact and graceful, her tail full and glossy.

  Old Ajouz heard my question and responded with excitement in her eyes. We took her in a raid. She will be part of our herd now.

  As far as I knew until that moment, my herdmates and I were the only horses in existence. Seeing this bay mare was a strange new experience for me. However, the strangeness soon gave way to curiosity. The humans seemed to be curious, too. Safiya, her mother, and the other women emerged from the tent along with the men who hadn’t gone on that night’s raid. They all exclaimed over the new animals.