To Believe: A Man’s Quest to Understand Reality

by M I A Harba

‘A guest, brother. A guest,’ a voice replied.

  Sam shone his torch through a slit between the timber in the barricade and looked. There was a man in Bedouin clothes, standing about 5 metres away. He couldn't see his face but saw a tall, broad-shouldered man, a very strong man. Slung upon his shoulders was an AK47 rifle, one of those folded-stoke types. It was not pointing at him but slung behind the man’s back and showed under his arm.

  That man did not appear threatening in his posture, at that moment anyway. He was standing away from the door and looked in need of help.

  ‘Welcome, visitor. Welcome,’ answered Sam with a pretended Bedouin accent.

  With the gun held in one arm behind his back, he removed the barricade to let the man in. As he entered, Sam kept his torch beam pointing at the man’s face, and now, he could see him better. He was a big man with rough complexions, typical of a rough Bedouins hardened by desert life. His sun-tanned face exhibited a large pointy nose, a small mouth hidden under his facial hair of beard and moustache. They were kempt well, a sign that this man looked after his appearance. As the man came in, Sam was apologetic,

  ‘I'm sorry. I'm sleeping in a tent because I didn't know whether it was going to rain. Please sit down and let me bring some bedding for you,’ he said because there was but the hard floor in the unfinished living room.

  Sam went to the store tent and fetched one of the spare sleeping bags he kept for necessity. He spread the sleeping bag on the floor and invited the Bedouin to sit down. As customary in the Bedouin culture, visitors are offered food, drink, and shelter without asking questions.

  He looked at the Bedouin and scrutinized his attire. He wore the customary headcloth and circled rope, known locally as ‘Yashmack and Igal,’ and a thin woollen gown hanging gently upon his shoulders, known locally as ‘Abaya.’ He also wore a western-style jacket under the Abaya, and a full-length folded garment under it, known locally as ‘Saya.’

  Without asking any questions, he excused himself from the Bedouin and went to the storeroom. He prepared quick sandwiches, with cheese and butter, and some dates on a separate small plate. The Bedouin was very thankful as he started eating.

  ‘Would you like water, coffee or tea?’ asked Sam.

  ‘Water and coffee will be great, brother. Thank you very much,’ answered the Bedouin.

  Sam went back to the store tent, put a kettle on the stove, and started brewing the coffee to the Arabic way, in a small pot with a long handle. He put ground coffee beans in it, poured boiling water, and left it to simmer on the stove for a few minutes. He came back to his guest, with a bottle of water and the coffee pot.

  The Bedouin continued eating, not saying much or even looking at Sam. He was very hungry. Sam kept quiet for he knew that in the Bedouin tradition, it is considered impolite to ask visitors why they are visiting, how long they will stay, and where they are heading. Only after three days of stay, the host may ask such questions. And if the visitor leaves before the three days, they can leave without saying where to, if they don’t volunteer the information themselves.

  Sam was a city man, unaccustomed to this tradition, but he tried his best to keep to it. He was living in their environment and should follow its etiquette if he could. He served the brewed coffee in a small cup, traditional in that area and is known as ‘Finjan.’ The Bedouin sipped the coffee and took a deep breath. He breathed out slowly in a sign of appreciation of the coffee. Once finished, Sam filled in the Finjan again, as one was not expected to ask if the visitor wanted more or not. One just offered until the guest said no more.

  After dinner and coffee, the Bedouin sat back against the wall.

  ‘I’m sorry if I startled you earlier,’ the Bedouin said.

  ‘No, I was awake. I wasn’t expecting anybody on this cold night, though,’ answered Sam.

  ‘Yes, it's a very cold night, and I've been walking for many hours,’ said the visitor.

  ‘Yes, absolutely. A very cold, moonless night. It is difficult to even find one’s way in such darkness,’ Sam said.

  Sam phrased his responses in such a way he wanted the visitor to open up without being asked directly. He wanted to know what he was doing out in the night, and ultimately, how he managed to stumble upon his place. But the Bedouin guest did not volunteer this information.

  ‘I needed shelter and was very glad to see light coming from your place, some two hours ago. I headed in this direction,’ answered the Bedouin.

  That must have been the time he had the light on in his tent, to read. But it was a faint light, how could anybody see it from far? But he saw it, so there's no point to ponder upon it now.

  ‘Why are you building a house out here? The nearest village or town is hundreds of kilometres away. Don't you think you're going to be lonely?’ asked the Bedouin.

  ‘Yes, I think I'm going to be lonely, but I'm here for a reason,’ said Sam.

  He didn't want to elaborate on the reasons for being out here. To a Bedouin, his reasons might sound hard to believe or accept.

  ‘I'm very glad you decided to build your house here because I needed a shelter for tonight. If your house wasn't here, I don't know where I could’ve stayed,’ answered the Bedouin.

  ‘Yes, it's in the middle of nowhere but I'm sure you would’ve managed.’

  ‘I see no goats… or camels… or cows. I can't see where you can possibly plant anything. How are you planning to survive here?’ asked the Bedouin.

  ‘Not going to be keeping animals or be planting any vegetables or crops. I have arranged for regular deliveries of foodstuff from Rawa… it comes out at regular intervals. I should be alright,’ answered Sam.

  ‘But you are used to TVs… phones and electricity. How are you going to manage?’ continued the Bedouin in his questioning to the discomfort of Sam.

  ‘I'll be using solar for my electricity, and I have no need for a phone or a TV. I have a few books that should keep me company,’ Sam answered, showing a slight annoyance.

  ‘Why are you on your own, building the house by yourself?’

  ‘No, no, I can't build this house all on my own. The labourers are in Rawa for their weekly holiday. They should be back within the next couple of days. They work for four weeks on, one week off. This is how we arranged it,’ answered Sam, lamenting in his mind that it was none of the guest’s business to ask such questions.

  ‘Yes, I understand,’ said the Bedouin, nodding his head, and continued, ‘It is difficult to be away from one’s family for a long time, though.’

  ‘Yes, it’s definitely so,’ Sam answered.

  ‘So, how are you managing… being away from your family?’

  ‘It's a long storey. But I'm going to manage, somehow,’ answered Sam.

  Sam didn't want to elaborate more because he felt the Bedouin wouldn’t understand it anyway.

  ‘Yes, it can be tough in the city, and I take it that you don't like it in the city… I don't blame you. Life in the city is boring. One feels confined to a small space. Here, you have the whole area for you. No one would come to tell you you're trespassing on his property or you should move away from here.’

  Sam was perplexed by the Bedouin’s response. What he just said was exactly what he thought and used almost identical words.

  ‘It's been like this for generations… for as long as I remember. The desert stretches out well into the South and West, and frankly, before the borders between us and Saudi Arabia or Jordan, we used to roam without any problem. No need for papers or permissions and all this rubbish. I wish it went to the good old days,’ elaborated the Bedouin.

  Sam couldn't resist asking a couple of questions, although it was considered impolite. He wanted to distract the Bedouin from his line of questioning.

  ‘Do you live far?’ asked Sam.

  ‘Yes, farther than you can imagine.’

  That was not the answer Sam was hoping for but didn't want to embarrass the visitor with more questions.

  ‘The desert gives you the freedom to think a
nd ponder on our existence. Old prophets and philosophers came with their revolutionary ideas, to live in such a secluded environment,’ said Bedouin.

  Here again, Sam was stunned by this response. The Bedouin almost read his mind and knew why Sam was here.

  ‘Yes, indeed.’

  ‘I often wondered myself about human’s existence in the universe. It’s very confusing and, sometimes, they don’t add up. I often felt I wanted to believe… and as of yet… I haven’t found it,’ explained the Bedouin, to the astonishment and bewilderment of Sam. The Bedouin was speaking almost his exact language and words.

  ‘Forgive me when I say, pondering on this in the city is not possible. Maybe you are here for this purpose?’ asked the Bedouin.

  Sam hesitated before he answered. The man knew too much about him.

  ‘In a way, this might be so. But I wanted to live the desert life, and I wanted to experience it,’ answered Sam.

  They kept chatting for a while about nothing in particular but life in the desert. How harsh it could be especially in the summertime where there is no vegetation for their animals or any means of cooling their tents. The Bedouin explained that these days, they brought water in big lorry tanks for themselves and their animals, something they did not do before.

  Sam thought this was the extent of how technology managed to reach them, bringing water from the city in lorry tanks. It is not that they are incapable of understanding new technologies. It is their way of keeping to the life they are used to and shying away from those aspects that belonged to the city.

  The Bedouin stretched on the sleeping bag and used his elbow as a pillow while chatting with Sam. Although the complexions of this Bedouin looked harsh, due to the desert environment and the hot sun, he had remarkably white teeth. He had been looking after his dental fairly well, Sam thought. This was unlike what one commonly saw in men and women from the desert. Their dental care was not as good as in the city for obvious reasons. Water is scarce, and dentists are hundreds of kilometres away. This is probably the reason why their teeth are usually brown, and sometimes, they have missing teeth. This gentleman here was completely different, which was a little surprising.

  Sam fetched his sleeping bag out of the tent and laid it somewhere near the Bedouin. Although he was planning to sleep in the tent that night, he wanted his guest not to feel shunned by him sleeping in a tent and leaving him outside. It would be considered impolite and bad manners. Further, the guest had been peaceful and showed no sign of hostility, although he appeared to read his mind. But that could be coincidental.

  Sam slept well, and all the visions of ghosts and the paranormal did not visit him that night. The presence of another fellow human being made all the difference, he thought. That was exactly how he felt when the camp was full of people. The paranormal and ghosts seemed to dislike groups of people but loved it when one was alone. The presence of even a single person made a huge difference.

  When he awoke the next morning, to greet the beautiful and warm sunshine after a good night's sleep, he wondered why he was sleeping outside the tent. Then he remembered his guest, but his guest was nowhere to be seen.

  The guest’s sleeping bag was folded and placed in a corner, and there was nothing of yesterday's hospitality in place. He went out and looked around. The Bedouin had disappeared. He went to the big water tank to wash at the tap. He noticed the little coffee cups already washed and neatly placed on the labourers’ dining table. So was the coffee pot he used to prepare coffee with last night. He went inside the store tent, and everything was exactly as he left it yesterday; nothing had been taken. Where was the guest? He kept repeating this question.

  He became totally puzzled when he saw his own footprints in the soil outside, with the soles of his shoes clearly visible, but there were no footprints of the guest whatsoever. It was as though he never came. Sam thought the footprints had probably disappeared due to sand movement by the strong wind. But his own footprints were there from yesterday, but not any of the Bedouin guest. Whatever happened to that guest!

  He looked around the camp and in the still erected tents of the labourers. All tents had their zips done, and there was no sign anybody had entered them. There were no footprints in that area, too. He went in a circle around the house and looked for any sign. All looked normal and as boring as they had always been. Was there a guest last night? He wondered. Was it in his imagination? Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. He wanted someone to be around so he could sleep without the vision of ghosts and the paranormal. Was it possible his mind conjured up such a guest? How could a complete stranger come along and disappear without a trace? It was a mystery.

  The labourers were due back in three days. He decided not to tell them about the debacle with the pickup the other night, nor about the mysterious Bedouin because they might laugh at him. They might think his mind went astray and would question again his motives for coming out to the desert. He must be mad, as there were no people around here.

  Then he remembered, what about these coffee cups? Who washed them and placed them on the table? He couldn't have done this himself, or were they there all this time without him noticing? Some labourers did use these cups for their coffee, and it was possible they used them, cleaned them, and left them on the table. What about the sleeping bag? Surely, it wasn't there before. There was no need to bring out a spare sleeping bag to where it was because he never needed to use one before. However, with his confused mind, he thought it possible he brought it himself as he imagined an accompanying human being. It was folded as though it was never used. If it was the Bedouin who folded it, he was sure the noise would have woken him up. It didn't add up, and his mind was totally lost in a swirl of conflicting thoughts.

  To pass his time and to kill his boredom, he decided to go for a walk but within a visible distance of the campsite. He wanted to investigate his surroundings, but not where he could lose his way since he had no GPS receiver. He put his jacket on and strapped a backpack to his shoulders, to bring back any artefacts of interest he might find. He also took a bottle of water and some sandwiches in case he decided to have his lunch out there.

  The sun was shining warm, and the sky was clear blue without any clouds. There was, however, a slight cool breeze.

  He walked in the direction of a dark patch in the plain ahead, thinking it might be a place of interest. He didn't consider dunes, or any mounds, to contain any interesting discoveries, or what he was looking for. But what was he looking for? He wasn't sure himself. He just wanted to take a stroll.

  He walked for almost 2 hours, looking back and keeping an eye on his campsite all the time. That dark patch was yet to be reached. He was looking back continuously at the building site, as this would be his direction back home. The campsite appeared as a faint blimp in the distance, and he still could see the white speck of the pickup parked there.

  He eventually reached the dark patch, and it was nothing, but fine gravel and stones sprinkled amongst some big rocks. There was nothing else. He sat on one rock and looked around. The stones and gravel looked boring and uninteresting. There was no sign of a habitation ever existed in this place.

  He drank from his water bottle and ate his sandwiches. The long walk had its toll on his body, and he needed refreshment. He remembered the clay artefacts he discovered on that unhappy trip in the pickup. He had put them in the pickup and forgotten about them.

  He looked more carefully around for any evidence of objects that had been left behind. To his absolute amazement, he saw a small blue stone bead, pierced in the middle to form a button or maybe a rosary bead. He picked it up, examined it closely, and shoved it in his backpack. Obviously, this was a village, or a night stay of a camel caravan. Camel caravans wandered in this area over the millennia. He was determined to send these to his friend at Baghdad University, for a closer examination. He could put them in a package and hand it to the driver of the supply truck, with money to post it.

  He sat on the ground with his bac
k against one of the rocks and looked at the horizon. It was mid-afternoon, and the sun was in its daily ritual of slowly pilgriming towards the horizon. He looked at it with a different perspective this time, and the confusion between real and imagined had become much more pronounced. He remembered what Dr Al-Harith was explaining about reality.

  What happened to the guest yesterday? He didn’t even ask him for his name. If he wasn't real, why didn’t all his demons or the feeling of the presence of ghosts and the paranormal come that night? Surely, can’t have been all in the mind, he thought.

  He looked at the sky, beautiful light blue, and saw nothing flying, not even jet planes one usually saw these days. It was complete silence, here on earth and in the sky.

  He kept gazing at the sky and remembering what Dr Al-Harith explained about consciousness. His attention was attracted by a speck of an unusual object, a piece of cloud, left behind by its mother cloud, tiny and lonely. He kept staring at it and was mesmerised by how fast it was moving, not in any particular direction but changing position as it went. He brushed his face with his hands whilst looking at that speck of cloud. He wondered if it exhibited characteristics similar to what he read about UFOs. They moved quickly and changed directions abruptly, disobeying the laws of physics. They appeared to have no momentum at all, and that little piece of cloud appeared to behave like this.

  Maybe this piece of cloud was flying in the jet stream high above that moved at 100 s of kilometres per hour around the globe. The stream was, maybe, 10 or 15 kilometres up in the sky. Planes use the jet stream to move faster and save on fuel. So that little cloud must be in the jet stream, and it was moving fast because of it. But all of the sudden, it changed direction and started moving in the opposite direction. It couldn't be in the jet stream. There must be another explanation for this.

  He was mesmerised by what he was seeing and wondered again if it was real or something he was imagining. His lonely mind wanted him to have a presence of any kind, to keep him company, he thought.

  That little cloud played its game for about 15 minutes and then dashed in the direction of the horizon. He could no longer see it, as it hid within the bright light of the sun.