Sahara

by Oscar Luis Rigiroli

  The meeting concluded Ousmar and Haroun accompanied the French military who were riding their jeep and returning to their distant base, whilst the rest of the attendees dispersed strongly arguing about the message received.

  A little later Cristian reunited with Haroun, who asked.

  “What do you think of Romand´s speech?”

  “Hypocrite. You know what I think of the French. They declaim beautiful principles but deny them with their actions.”

  “Your inexperience makes you to be unfair. A Government must prioritize their actions and manage their financial, physical and psychic resources, always scarce.”

  “What psychic resources?”

  “The State of the opinion public, essential in democracies but always volatile.

  “Well, I see that you accept the situation.”

  “As I already told you, in an extreme case we will have them here. Our lawyers in Paris, Washington and New York will make sure of that, but we have to make our effort here.”

  Cristian grimaced. He was well aware of Zoubaida´s action in New York in favor of Chad refugees.

  “I still did not like much his recommendation to join the rest of the Sara.” Haroun completed his assessment of the meeting.

  “That was however the part that sounded more reasonable to me. Why didn't you like it?”

  “Because carrying it out would subordinate us to some of the big clans of the ethnic Sara: the Mbaye, the Goulaye, the Kaba and the Ngana.”

  “That is to say, it does not guarantee the preservation of the role of our clan leaders.”

  “Among which are you! And I'm glad to hear you talking of our clan.”

  “It is definitely also my clan. My son already includes also my blood in it.”

  Haroun festively patted his friend back. His claim had the flavor of a personal success.

  At home Cristian found a radiant Zoubaida. Her participation in all the party had been dazzling, her parents were proud of her and few doubted that Ousmar leaned in her eldest daughter for the village government.

  The woman asked Cristian to share with her what had happened in the meeting at the tent. He did it with detailed as possible and she interrupted him every now and then to ask for clarification on some points, in particular expressions poured in the conclave.

  “Hummm! “ She said enigmatically at the end “I think that some of this will bring consequences.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To links with the rest of the Sara clans.”

  “Another bigot. You speak as Haroun.”

  “What you do not realize is that ethnic ties are not just political. They have personal implications.” Although Cristian was intrigued for that statement he asked no further explanations.

  That afternoon Zoubaida went with Hubert to her parent's house, to meet with Ousmar and Souady; she returned late at night, just in time for dinner with her husband. She did not make any comments pretexting being very fatigued.

  A month later, Cristian was playing with his son, who had already begun to crawl, when Souady entered the house quite altered. Zoubaida, who was in the kitchen, looked out upon hearing the nervous tone of her mother.

  “Take a deep breath.” She said, and once achieved its objective asked. “Now tell us what is happening?”

  “Refugees are coming to the village from the North. Muslim militiamen have ravaged several villages. There are many injured among those who arrive.”

  Zoubaida and Cristian commissioned Souady to stay to care for the child and went to the northern end of the village to get first hand news.

  Men, women and children were located at the edges of the road and more were permanently arriving on horseback, some old cars and on foot; the lucky ones brought with them possessions and some goats, the rest, just the clothes they were wearing. Cristian saw Haroun from afar; he was surrounded by a group of his men trying to help those who arrived. The warrior called him with a gesture and the young man was to trot where his friend was. Zoubaida joined a group of women distributing water among the refugees, being that the first necessity after dehydrate hours or days along the Sahel. The first aid room staff was already taking care of those who arrived injured, but the capacity of the venue was already filled.

  While Zoubaida was distributing water and some food heard the stories of murder, rape, fire and horror of the displaced. She saw her father deeply shocked organizing the help with the scarce resources of the village. A deep emotion, between despair and pride nested in the breast of the woman. She approached Ousmar who as he saw her only managed to say.

  “They will pay for it. They will not get away with it.”

  “You must contact Romand immediately and let he know what is happening.”

  In moments of a great commotion, Ousmar thanked to have his eldest daughter beside him., able to keep a cool head in the most distressing moments, Zoubaida was exactly the psychic reserve that the leader needed in that moment. He hugged her strongly and a few tears appeared in the eyes of the old warrior.

  “You cannot break down now.” She said. “Now all depend on your orders and example.”

  The next day two helicopters descended on the desert plain to the North of the village. Their insignia were covered and only its camouflaged fuselage could be seen. Soldiers that descended from it had no identification either. Ousmar led an African Lieutenant to the refugee camp which had been erected in pitiful conditions by some groves and near a water spring.

  “How many people are there? Have you counted them?” Asked the officer, visibly shocked.

  “One thousand three hundred twenty-.” “Responded Haroun before an inquisitive look of Ousmar.

  “Wounded?

  “One hundred fifty, of which twenty-six have serious injuries.”

  “Relatively few.”

  “We do not know how many have been left in the desert.”

  “Well, now we've brought 10 paramedics and plenty of medical equipment, some additional heavy weapons, and two tons of rice. In three days we will return.”

  “What will say it to your superiors?”

  “I will show them an accurate picture of what is happening. We are indeed filming the camp and we need all the hard data that you have on the situation.”

  “Among the refugees have arrived some two hundred fit men.” Added Haroun.” We are going to incorporate them into our militia. We need weaponry for them.”

  “I will have that into account.”

  Zoubaida watched the scene from a distance. She knew that crucial days were approaching and that she needed to make plans for her people and her family.

  CHAPTER 11

  Cristian observed the row of new recruits while waiting for the moment of their entry into action. As that the majority of them spoke only Arabic or Chadian dialects, the young man would be in charge of the magazine of uniforms, weapons control and shooting practices where he could make understood only with signs.

  The majority of selected refugees were very young, following an old and sad African tradition of children-soldiers. Few had any military training since they had been shepherds of goats, but they were superb horsemen and knew better than Cristian how to guide a camel. A detail that impressed him was their absent gaze, their lost expressions, possibly still under the weight of experienced hardships, something like the post-traumatic shock of certain war wounded. It didn't cost him much to guess the burden of hatred that nested under the veil of stupor. If there would be fighting, it would be to kill or be killed.

  When Haroun freed him from his task, he returned home, finding that Zoubaida had gone, leaving the child in charge of Haiwanda, one of the maids. The girl informed him that the Lady had left two hours earlier, and that she had gone to her parents. It was unusual that his wife left the child only with maids for extended periods of time so he guessed something thick would be preparing at Djalali home.

  Zoubaida returned still an hour later, and when her husband questioned her about the purpose of the meeting replie
d evasively pretexting a headache, a traditional excuse women use to avoid themes or actions. Cristian decided not to insist knowing that ultimately he would learn what happened one way or another.

  That night, while they were eating supper, Zoubaida decided to spontaneously share some of what had been spoken. However Cristian realized that there was something that bothered her.

  “Has been an emissary of a tribal chieftain of the clan Mbaye with certain proposals and conditions for his support in the event of an attack.” She said, and then remained silent.

  “Well?”asked Cristian.

  “Well, nothing. My father will evaluate the conditions.”

  “And have you given some opinion?”

  “No, no, nothing in particular.”

  Given that she would him nothing more, he ceased in asking. As he realized that his wife was entering her feline phase he decided to take advantage of it; at least it would shake from the mind of both the bad shots of the day.

  The next day as Cristian met Haroun he questioned him somewhat abruptly about what happened in the meeting with the clan Mbaye.

  “As I have not been present I have no firm version, only a few transcended comments. The Sougui chief delegate raised some conditions to support us with his clansmen in case of aggression.”

  He looked at him rummaging through his head how to follow.

  “The conditions seem to include the appointment of one of his delegates overseeing our tribal council meetings, the subordination of all our troops to a captain sent by him and delivery of twenty virgins to marry his son and his lieutenants including ...”

  “¿Including whom?” Cristian asked anxiously.

  It was obvious that Haroun would rather circumvent the answer.

  “Well ... they are just versions.”

  “¿Including whom?” Insisted the young man.

  “Well” Haroun sighed. “Including Charfadine. Her beauty could not go unnoticed.”

  Cristian was invaded by a wave of emotions that showed in his face, which turned livid. Haroun immediately became aware of it.

  -¿You know what response has given Ousmar?”

  “I think only evasive.”

  Cristian tried to pull himself together and put his ideas in order. He finally asked.

  “What do you think that it will happen with these demands?”

  “On the one hand the Mbaye are powerful and have a large and well-armed, militia even though I have my doubts about the readiness of their reaction in the event of an attack, given their distance to our village. I'm not sure of how fiercely they would combat for us. On the other hand, Chief Sougui is proud and I do not know how he would take a negative by Ousmar. It is a difficult position given the implications.”

  “What implications do you mean?

  “The loss of power of our Council and Ousmar, the lack of control over our own warriors... and the situation of Charfadine and other young women.”

  Haroun realized the state of bewilderment that the news had brought on Cristian, and did everything possible to calm him down. He decided not to continue with the concealment, since he had enough confidence and ascendancy over Cristian.

  “Don't worry about Charfadine. The case is in the hands of Ousmar, who is both the father and a true negotiator. He will know how to fix this snare of destiny. Be confident in our leader.”

  They were arriving at the site where recruits were waiting for them to continue with the training.

  “Take a charge from the control of the guns.” Haroun ordered.

  Cristian returned home crestfallen. He could not accept the idea that Charfadine was delivered to another man, when he knew perfectly the young girl´s feelings for him. At the same time, his own feelings were exposed, freed from the moral conscious repression by the shock of the news. He could not accept that a question of love would be subject to state reasons.

  Zoubaida saw him arriving and not even tried to talk to him; she knew too well what was happening to her husband.

  One of the watchmen was the first is to see them. In the distance, almost on the desert horizon several clouds of dust were approaching.

  Cristian looked at Haroun and soothed at seeing his friend´s attitude.

  “There are too few to be a danger.” Said the war chief as guessing the thoughts of the young man.

  Indeed, half an hour later five members of the militia arrived under the command of a young lieutenant named Abakar. They were carrying another man on top of a sixth horse, injured and tied down, obviously a prisoner.

  “We had a strong clash with a patrol of some fifteen Goran tribesmen, we could finally reject them, we lost five men and they four and we took this wounded dog.”

  “Well, bring him to Ousmar. He will know what to do, we need all the information you can get. I am already sending reinforcements in case the Goran come back.

  Abakar and four of his men continued their travel and Haroun ordered ten of his men accompany the fifth rider to the border in the desert.

  “How are you going to interrogate the wounded man?” Asked Cristian, sensing the response.

  “You do not want to know.” Was the laconic reply.

  Upon returning home, Cristian found Zoubaida breast-feeding her child. Just as he talked only a few words with her, he realized that there was a change in her attitude, less contractured and tense. The young man was very sensitive to his wife´s moods and had noticed that lately she had been under strong tension, which exacerbated his own discomfort. He decided not to ask about something as subjective as this impression and left time to clarify it.

  When she finished feeding Hubert, Zoubaida approached her husband and kissed him on the cheek. She knew how much he was aware of her signs of affection.

  “Ah!” She told him as passing. “My father has called a family meeting for tomorrow. All will attend.”

  “Am I invited?”

  “Of course; you already know your position in the family.”

  Cristian glimpsed a carrion birds flitting about three hundred meters from the site where he was. With some frequency there were carcasses of camels, horses or goats abandoned in the desert, so that already knew what kind of spectacle he was going to find. Anyway he felt that he had to go to investigate so he delegated command to Abakar and led his horse towards the place.

  Arriving near felt that stomach churned him realizing that the remains were human. Overcoming his disgust he approached and saw with horror that it was a body completely disfigured and covered in blood, whose hands had been cut off and his chest open in channel. Vomiting finally arrived and he was bent in two for a few moments. He immediately recognized by the clothes who the man had been. It was the prisoner who had been taken the previous day by Abakar and his men, and who had been carried to the village. The fact did not surprise him because he had already anticipated the reactions, particularly of refugees who had arrived a fortnight ago. The struggles in the desert had a load of ferocity for which Cristian was not mentally prepared.

  He returned to the place where his detachment was and ordered Abakar that to bury the remains. The Lieutenant argued that it had been left there to be seen, to serve as I warning to potential attackers and to deter them, but Cristian did not compromise and reiterated his strict order to bury the body.

  What most bothered the young man was the consciousness that the barbaric execution could not have happened without participation of Ousmar. He also knew that any complaint that he could make to Ousmar, Haroun or even Zoubaida was doomed to failure. The only option was to shut up, and know that silence turned him into an accomplice.

  The next morning Cristian and Zoubaida went to the Djalali house. The woman had left Hubert with the maid and her husband had requested Haroun to replace him in his task.

  Ousmar, Souady and a couple of younger brothers of the Chief were already assembled. Charfadine was not present.

  Without any preambles Ousmar began to speak.

  “The reason for this meeting is to explain the grounds of
the answer that I must give to the demands of the Chief of the clan Mbaye. I have already consulted with all the elders and I have made my decision. Tomorrow we will make it official in the tribal Council.”

  Then he began to explain the decisions taken and their rationale.

  “We cannot accept that they appoint a delegate to participate in our tribal councils because he would become the power behind the throne, to give him a name, and our decisions rather than favoring our people would be serving other interests and a different agenda.” Ousmar did a brief respite. “The same criteria apply to the claim of our militia being subordinated to an external chief.”

  Ousmar was detailing one by one the decisions taken, which coincided in general with what Haroun had anticipated to Cristian. The man was tense waiting for the rest of the topics, notably the fate of Charfadine. He looked briefly at Zoubaida whose moods he had learned to read accurately and saw her serene, that feeling that somehow was transmitted to his spirit.

  “Last but most important.” Continued Ousmar. “We have the theme of the women who the Mbaye asked us to give them. We will ask the potential candidates if any of them wants to join the Mbaye. Otherwise the answer will be negative.”

  Here, Cristian had a break; things were moving in the desired direction.

  “A special case is that of my daughter Charfadine.” Ousmar´s voice almost broke here. “This issue was of the utmost importance for Chief Mbaye, since a dynastic union would mean their future domain. It is therefore a very important goal for the Mbaye, and a negative response would be expensive for us in terms of external support.”

  Ousmar made a stop; Cristian felt that his head was spinning around. Zoubaida stared at him to analyze his reactions.

  “But I will not deliver my daughter against her will.” Ousmar continued talking, Cristian produced a notorious exhalation. The head continued. “There is a unique way to deal with this it without seriously offending the Mbaye.”

  Ousmar silences had the purpose to underline the reasons and consequences of their decisions, but had the young man in suspense.

  “To achieve our goals without consequences Charfadine must be married and this marriage has to be consummated. This will put an end to the interest of the Mbaye Chief.”