by Asen Djinah
‘Of all the tribes in the land, why did the singing girl have to be from the Qufreid tribe?’ he lamented once again.
He became sullen as he thought of what the future could have been, had the girl been from a different tribe. When two young people married each other, it was not just a union between two individuals, but also one of their immediate and extended families. In the case of nomadic people, a marriage meant the alliance of two tribes, which not only made them stronger but also more influential in times of conflict. Little wonder that when Hayder learned of the girl’s tribe, he was crestfallen. Although he would never consider marriage without seeing the girl, he had been hopeful to have the option had she been suitable and interested.
‘Should I tell Asif about the girl?’ he asked himself.
Hayder was grateful to his uncle, who had always been there for him. Being well aware that he had been unusually quiet and morose lately, he decided that Asif deserved to know the cause of his conduct. However, he did not know how to approach the subject, fearing that Asif would think him foolish to have been besotted by just a voice.
‘Uncle, you remember that first visit I made to Rafiq’s factory?’ he said as he plucked up his courage.
‘Yes, I was away visiting the other towns. What about it? You did a fine job closing the deal on that very first meeting,’ Asif replied.
‘What I am going to tell you has nothing to do with business, Uncle. It’s just that I met an interesting girl there. She was working at the factory at the time,’ Hayder clarified.
Asif’s eyebrows went up. Hayder had never shown any interest in the opposite sex before, concentrating on his work instead. It was the first time that Asif had heard him talk of any girl.
‘He must be really infatuated,’ he thought.
‘Masha Allah. Is she pretty? Is she related to Rafiq?’ he asked, eager to know more.
‘Oh Uncle, you will think that I am being silly. I have not seen her face. I have only heard her singing. She had the most amazing voice, sweet and so melodious that it caused my heart to throb. Since then, her song has been haunting me,’ Hayder replied, glancing sideways to see if Asif was laughing.
But Asif kept a straight face. Ever since Hayder had come to live with him, he had realised that the young man was a romantic just like himself. He could see how taken his young nephew was by this mystery girl, whose face he had not even seen.
Hayder went on to describe how, after he became fascinated by the voice, he had gone back to the factory, to catch a glimpse of the girl’s face. He recounted how he had followed the girl and found out she was staying at Rafiq’s villa before returning to her tribe.
‘Although I have not seen her unveiled, she was tall and slender and moved with the grace of a gazelle, Uncle,’ he said in an attempt to justify his interest in the girl.
Asif did not say a word, for fear of interrupting Hayder’s emotional outpouring. And when Hayder finally told his uncle how he learned from the water boys that the girl was from the Qufreid tribe, Asif was lost for words.
‘Oh my God,’ he thought.
Asif did not respond for there was nothing he could possibly say to help. His heart went out to Hayder. For the first time Hayder bin Jalal Al-Din of the Juhayah tribe had shown interest in a girl, it was indeed his terrible fate that she was from the Qufreid tribe. Everyone knew about the long-standing feud between the Qufreids and the Juhayahs.
Chapter 4
It had all started sixty years ago with Mustafa, Hayder’s great-uncle who was fifteen at the time. When Mustafa was three years old, he contracted polio and since he did not show any symptoms, his parents were unaware of his illness. As any toddler, Mustafa loved running around, playing in the sand and chasing goats. Shortly afterwards, the first after-effect of his illness manifested itself when he fell to the ground whilst playing. Although this was a frequent occurrence for a three-year old, as soon as Mustafa got up he struggled to stand for long and fell again to the ground. After several failed attempts the toddler remained on the ground, wailing to attract his mother’s attention.
‘Oh my little Mafa, what’s the matter?’ his mother came running to pick the little boy up.
After trying to make the boy stand without success, she realised that there was something wrong. From that day, Mustafa’s days of running around were over. He would spend his days sitting in front of the tent watching the other children play or at the back of the tent while his mother attended to her chores. His parents hoped that with time he would get stronger and be able to stand and walk again. However, as he grew up they noticed his right leg was stunted. Every evening his mother would massage his thin right leg with mustard oil, which was a luxury to them. Still Mustafa grew up with a withered leg.
When he became older, the other boys teased him playfully about his limp, imitating the way he walked with his wooden stick which caused Mustafa much distress. The young boy vowed to stay away from his peers.
‘Come on Mafa, come play with us. We were only teasing,’ the boys would say to him.
However Mustafa remained aloof. And since he persistently refused to take part in any of their games, the other boys eventually left him alone. When he was older and eager to help with the chores, the same boys came to his aid whenever he struggled to lift the leather bucket from the well, or found it difficult to catch a stray goat. Instead of being grateful, Mustafa resented their pity.
‘They are making fun of me again,’ he thought, not realising the boys genuinely wanted to help.
And so he stopped helping out with the chores and kept aloof. Wherever the tribe set up camp, he would spend his days at the waterhole, observing the various travellers coming to water their camels and listening to the gossips, only to return back to camp in the evening. Everyone accepted the fact that the poor boy was unable to help with everyday tasks and left him alone. Mustafa grew up as a loner and when he was fifteen, something happened that affected the entire tribe.
One day, the teenager was sitting in the shade of a palm tree right by the water-well, when he saw a traveller in the distance. Although the well was close to the town, traffic had been sparse that particular morning with only the water boys from his own tribe coming to fill their goatskins. By now his peers had come to terms with his aloofness and only addressed him when necessary. Otherwise, they would just nod to him as they passed by. It was already midday and Mustafa was feeling bored when the lone rider approached the well. As the stranger came within sight, the boy’s attention was drawn to his mount.
‘What a truly magnificent animal!’ Mustafa thought in awe.
The camel had a silky brown coat and was unusually tall for a female. She walked with a graceful gait and held her head high and proud. When the rider reached the well, he became aware of the lanky boy. He hesitated briefly and then making up his mind he addressed Mustafa.
‘Are you interested in looking after my camel? I am willing to pay a silver coin,’ he asked.
‘I have to go into town on business and will return tomorrow,’ he explained.
Travellers usually left their camels unattended at water-wells with their front legs hobbled, so that the animals would be free to roam and feed on nearby plants and shrubs. On seeing an unattended camel at a well, any traveller drawing water would give the animal a drink. No one would ever think of striking or ill-treating a camel. To desert people, camels were a gift from God and they would always put the animals’ needs first. When a caravan reached a waterhole, the nomads would water their camels first and lead them to pastures before even thinking of having a drink, even though they themselves may have been without water the whole day.
So it was quite unusual for the rider to ask someone to look after his camel, let alone offer a silver coin for the task. Mustafa, like most boys of the tribe, had never held a silver coin in his life, or even seen one. It was quite a fortune in the eyes of the nomad boy.
‘No one in their right mind would part with a silver coin just for looking after a camel,�
� Mustafa thought, ‘he must be making fun of me.’
Seeing the boy’s incredulous expression, the rider repeated his offer.
‘My camel is very valuable and is a thoroughbred from Masqat. I would not like to leave her unattended. That is why I am willing to offer a silver coin,’ he explained.
Realising that the traveller was serious, Mustafa jumped to his feet and leaned on the wooden staff.
‘My tribe is camped over there,’ he pointed towards the group of tents in the distance, ‘I will keep your camel safely until you come back.’
The man nodded and thanked the boy before grasping his bag and making his way towards the town. After a short distance, he turned back and shouted out to Mustafa.
‘Her name is Al-Shamal. She is quick, like the north-westerly wind. Don’t attempt to ride her,’ he warned.
Mustafa proudly led the tall animal to camp. Everyone was in awe, as it was uncommon to see such a majestic and imposing animal.
‘Whose camel is she?’ one of the water boys asked as Mustafa walked past.
‘I am looking after her until tomorrow for a traveller who has promised me a silver coin in payment,’ he replied.
The boys looked at each other in bemusement. No one in their right mind would offer a silver coin just for looking after a camel. Mustafa did not take any notice, concentrating on leading the camel to camp.
Mustafa brushed the camel thoroughly, to get rid of any parasites and remove mats and loose hair from its mane. He gave her a salt block to lick while he oiled the leather halter with camel fat. Al-Shamal seemed to have taken a liking to the boy for while Mustafa had his back turned, working on the leathers, she nudged him between the shoulder blades making him lose his balance. Although he nearly fell, Mustafa burst out laughing. The sound of his own laughter sounded strange to him and he stopped abruptly. He could not remember the last time he’d laughed.
‘I wish I could keep you with me forever,’ he murmured to the animal.
When the rider turned up at the camp late the following morning, he immediately noticed the oiled harness, the gleaming coat of his camel and the washed saddle cloth.
‘You have taken good care of Al-Shamal,’ he said to Mustafa, looking pleased.
Even the two goatskins had been filled with fresh water ready for him to start his journey. All the other boys had turned up to see him take the magnificent animal away. As the rider mounted the crouched camel, he opened his purse and took out not one, but two silver coins, which he tossed to Mustafa.
‘Shukran,’ he said loudly for everyone to hear, ‘you have done a great job. God bless you.’
Everyone was in awe at the generosity of the stranger and for the first time in his life Mustafa felt important, while his peers looked stunned. More than the two silver coins, Mustafa was grateful to the stranger for making him feel respected and for the first time in his life he felt that he deserved his name.
‘I am Mustafa, the chosen one,’ he thought, feeling pleased as he looked at the two coins in his hand.
Mustafa turned around and without as much as a glance for the staring boys, he went to his tent.
‘Ummi, here take these,’ the boy handed the coins to his mother, who looked at her son proudly.
She had heard about Mustafa looking after the camel for a coin and had not really believed it. She hugged her son tightly as she took the coins. Mustafa knew his mother would hand the money to the tribe leader, who would use it to buy supplies for the tribe. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction for being able to contribute for the first time in his life. Mustafa felt ten feet tall.
‘May God bless you, stranger,’ he murmured under his breath.
From that day onwards, instead of just observing the various travellers at water-wells and listening to their conversations, Mustafa started to actively offer his service to look after their mounts.
‘Sayyidi, would you like me to look after your camel while you are away?’ he would ask with his widest smile.
He would only pick lone travellers, as those in groups usually belonged to a tribe probably camping nearby and would not require assistance. Despite his eagerness and innocent look, most travellers were not well-off enough to pay for his help. Instead, they simply left their camels unattended as they were used to. As the days went by, Mustafa felt disappointed that no one took him up on his offer. In his head he had already been counting the coins he would make in his new business.
‘Mafa, are you having any luck looking after camels?’ one of his peers innocently asked him, one evening when he was returning to camp.
Mustafa took it as an affront, thinking the boy was mocking him and became even more bitter. He stopped touting for business and went back to his usual occupation of watching the various wayfarers at the wells.
One particular day, the tribe had set up camp near an oasis close to a large town and the very next morning, Mustafa wandered over to the water-well. He looked for the best shaded vantage point from where he could watch the comings and goings, as well as listen to the exchanges. He found a nice secluded spot in direct view of the well and within hearing distance. There were already several hobbled, unattended camels roaming around, nibbling at the shrubs.
‘I hope to see some intriguing characters and listen to interesting conversations, otherwise the day will drag on,’ he thought as he sat down and chewed on a piece of dried bread he had brought along.
Soon enough, he saw a lone man approaching on his camel. With his neat attire, he appeared well-off and for a moment Mustafa was tempted to approach him and offer his service.
‘He looks mean and might shout at me,’ he decided against the idea, intimidated by the traveller’s stern look.
So he moved further back into the shadows and watched as the man watered his camel and led it to a cluster of bushes. After hobbling the animal’s front legs, the traveller collected his two bags and disappeared in the direction of the town. He had not seen Mustafa, whose vantage point was masked by bushes.
Mustafa watched as two camels snarled and tried to bite each other, but soon he became bored. There were no travellers arriving to pique his curiosity, nor any conversation to listen to. His thoughts returned to the traveller with the scowling face and Mustafa decided that he did not like him, when all of a sudden, he had an idea.
‘I am going to move his camel further inside the oasis and watch him get angry,’ he thought with excitement.
He got up and leaning on his wooden staff he limped to the camel left behind by the traveller. He started talking in a soft voice and with words of endearment he calmed the nervous animal while he untied its front legs.
‘Come on, my beauty. I am taking you to taste the juicy ghaf leaves,’ he murmured to the animal.
He was very careful, since camels were known to be unpredictable and their bites could cause appalling injuries. He had heard how one boy had his forearm crushed by the bite of a bad-tempered male. Females, like the one Mustafa was dealing with, were more docile in general. He led the camel deep into the oasis, right inside a thick cluster of ghaf trees where he left her untied.
‘When your master calls for you, you will be free to go to him,’ he told the camel, as if she could understand.
The ghaf branches, heavy with flowers, not only offered a perfect cover but also provided succulent leaves that camels relished. Satisfied with his effort, Mustafa went back to his resting place near the well.
‘I hope the traveller will be back before nightfall, otherwise I will have to wait till tomorrow to see his reaction,’ the boy thought.
After a while he heard a group of water boys from his own tribe approaching. He recognised their voices as they called out and bantered with one another. Mustafa crept deeper into the bushes to avoid being seen.
After the water boys had left, with the water-well void of further visitors, Mustafa dozed off intermittently. Suddenly he was awakened by a series of shouts. As he opened his eyes, he saw that the traveller had returned and was calling his
missing camel. The sun was high and Mustafa could see the man panting as he ran in all directions looking for the animal.
‘Malwah, you black-faced donkey, where have you gone?’ he called out, cursing his camel.
Mustafa was enjoying seeing the man in a bad temper and waited for the camel to respond to her master’s voice. But the camel was nowhere to be seen.
‘She must be enjoying the ghaf leaves too much to respond to her master,’ the boy thought.
After watching for a while, Mustafa decided it was time to put an end to the prank.
‘I have to go and get the camel myself,’ he thought as he got up and walked out into the open.
When the man noticed the gangly boy, he asked him curtly whether he had seen his camel. Mustafa innocently inquired what his camel looked like and the man gave him a description. Now red in the face, he mentioned that he wanted to leave promptly, so as to reach the next town before nightfall. Although he had not planned for this, Mustafa realised that he could make some money out of the situation.
‘Would you offer a reward if I help you look for your camel?’ he asked innocently, while he limped exaggeratedly towards the man.
The man looked at the boy’s withered leg and for a brief moment the scowl on his face disappeared as he felt pity for the boy.
‘I will give you a silver coin if you can find my camel. But only if you find her quickly; I must leave soon,’ he said.
The man immediately regretted his offer. He realised that he was being far too generous, but he had felt sorry for the boy who had offered to help him despite his disability. Mustafa was careful to hide his triumphant smile. As he wandered deep into the oasis, he made a show of looking around and calling out to the camel.