Beyond the Sand Dune

by Asen Djinah

  Doran did not pay any attention to him. Instead he made his camel crouch and dismounted. He then helped Jaffar down.

  ‘You heard what he said? Visitors are not allowed,’ the older guard joined in.

  Doran took out his last two remaining coins and flashed them in the palm of his hand to gain the attention of the guards.

  ‘Shalom Aleichem – Peace be upon you,’ Doran greeted in Hebrew.

  On seeing the coins, the two guards’ attitude immediately softened.

  ‘Alaikum Salaam,’ the older one replied, his eyes fixed on Doran’s hand.

  ‘We want to speak with Thawfik and Feryal. Are they here?’ Doran asked, playing with the two coins and rolling them between his fingers.

  The guards had no knowledge of the people living in the colony. They never went inside the compound nor kept a record of who lived there. All they knew was not to allow visitors in and to prevent any lepers from leaving. They had no idea who Thawfik and Feryal were.

  ‘We can call out their names and if they are here, they will come out. But you can’t go inside and you will have to speak to them from outside the gate,’ the older guard explained.

  He turned and bellowed the two names in a loud voice and they all waited. No one came out. Although Jaffar was quiet all this time, his heart had been pounding loudly against his ribs ever since they had reached the gate.

  ‘Dear God, let them be here,’ he prayed silently, with all his soul.

  The guard called out once more and still no one came out. He turned to Doran and shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘I guess they are not here in this settlement,’ he said, disappointed that he would not be getting the coins after all.

  ‘Ummi, abbi,’ Jaffar suddenly screamed as he saw two figures dressed in black coming out of a hut. Even from that distance he could make out that one of them was a woman, since she was covered from head to toe. The other figure was that of a man whose head and face were clearly visible. However, due to the glare Jaffar could not make out whether it was his father. It was only when the two figures reached the inner wall that Jaffar saw that it was indeed his dear father. He suddenly felt hot and dizzy, and would have collapsed to the ground had Doran not grabbed him and held him up. The older guard stretched out his hand to Doran.

  ‘You can speak to them from here. They are not allowed beyond the inside wall,’ he said.

  Doran gave him the two coins and both he and Jaffar peered over the wooden gate.

  ‘Ummi, abbi’ Jaffar screamed again as he sobbed.

  He recognised both his mother and father as the inner wall was only fifteen yards from where they were standing. He could clearly see the tears running down his father’s face. Although his mother’s face was hidden under her niqab, he could see her shoulders moving up and down as she sobbed.

  ‘We are so happy and yet distraught to see you, son. We have been so worried about you, but now we know that you are safe with Doran. Your mother has not been well and I have been looking after her. We are well taken care of here and receive plenty of supplies each week. We lack for nothing except for your presence, Jaffar,’ Thawfik said in a defeated voice.

  He had to wait in order to regain his composure and held Feryal more tightly.

  ‘Doran my brother, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts for looking after our son. We cannot repay you and Eliana for all that you have done for us in this world, but God will give you much more in return,’ he said in between sobs.

  Feryal had not said a word. She was still sobbing, distraught at the sight of her son.

  ‘Abbi, ummi, I want to come and stay with you,’ cried Jaffar, finally finding the strength to speak.

  ‘Nooo,’ screamed Feryal as she flung her arms around Thawfik’s neck and clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably.

  There was silence as Jaffar tried to comprehend why his mother did not want him to stay.

  ‘Son, it is too distressing for us to see you here. It is so painful that we don’t want you to come and visit us again. Not ever again. We may not have the strength to refuse and might be tempted to let you stay here with us. But this place is not for you. Go and live your life. Make a success of your life. Your mother and I, we think of you every single minute of every day. Stand up so we can see you one last time,’ Thawfik said in a broken voice.

  Doran lifted Jaffar in his arms so that his parents could have a good view of him over the gate.

  ‘Go now, son. May God bless you,’ Thawfik said.

  Being a father too, Doran understood. Were he in Thawfik’s place he would have done the same. He knew that it was time to leave, however hard it would be for Jaffar.

  ‘Don’t worry, Thawfik and Feryal, I will care for him like my own son. I will come and visit you regularly to bring you news of him,’ Doran shouted over the gate.

  ‘Thank you my brother, but if we see Jaffar with you when you visit we will not come out. We love him too much, so much that we cannot trust ourselves,’ Thawfik replied.

  Crying and waving to his parents, Jaffar had to be dragged away by Doran. Every time he looked over his shoulder he could see both his mother and father clinging to each other and waving. Jaffar had to be helped to mount the crouched camel, so much was his grief. Doran joined him in the saddle and the camel got to its feet. When Jaffar looked beyond the gate, he saw for the last time his distraught mother slumped on his father’s arm and being carried away by Thawfik. As he sobbed and watched, the two lone figures disappeared inside their hut.

  ‘You heard them, son. Go and live your life. Make them proud by making a success of your life,’ Doran said to the distraught boy as he swung the head rope to turn their camel around.

  And that was what Jaffar did.

  Chapter 8

  Hayder had been watching the two sisters out of the corner of his eye. Amel was showing Nabila the baby clothes she had made. Suddenly Nabila snatched the tiny dress from her sister. She put her hand inside the dress, with her three fingers coming out of the neckline and her thumb and her little finger out of each sleeve. She wriggled her fingers to make the dress move like a puppet. Making cries like a baby, she moved her hand to Amel’s breast like a hungry baby who wanted feeding. Amel burst out laughing, her large tummy moving in concert with her giggles.

  ‘Stop it Nabila, you know very well I can’t laugh with my stomach being so huge. Please stop,’ Amel pleaded, with tears in her eyes.

  Hayder loved the way she threw her head back and how her throat moved whenever she laughed. Since Nabila had come to stay, Amel was always laughing. With her father, Nabila was the mature and serious young girl, but in the company of Amel she was always the baby sister and behaved as such. Hayder was grateful for her presence in the house. Since she did not know about the pending court case, she was all fun and brought a breath of fresh air to the household.

  ‘Amel seems to be coping well and has not once talked about the uncertain future. It is I who is struggling with the situation,’ Hayder thought.

  These days he rarely smiled and found it difficult to participate in the small talk and laughter of the two sisters. At night while Amel slept soundly, exhausted by her advanced pregnancy, Hayder would lie awake late into the early hours with thoughts racing through his mind, making him feel like he was going mad. And he always ended up imagining the worst possible scenarios. Sometimes a panic took hold of him and he felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, on the verge of falling off. In those moments he simply had to get up and go outside for a walk, doing so quietly so as not to wake up Amel. In the mornings, he would wake up feeling exhausted and morose. Now, watching Amel laughing, he realised that he had to do something.

  ‘I cannot simply just sit back and do nothing, waiting for events to unfold,’ he thought desperately.

  Yet he could not think of what to do. He was aware that Asif had tried to find the man who assaulted and raped Amel. His uncle had sent two workers to visit the watering holes and oases around the nearby towns. The two had gone
around enquiring if there had been anyone bragging about having sex with a woman at a well and offered a hefty reward for any information. For four weeks they had visited every single town in the area, but came back empty-handed, with no clues as to the whereabouts of the traveller. It seemed as though the man who assaulted Amel had kept quiet about it. Had they tracked him down, they would have taken him to face justice, at the same time saving Amel from the wrongful accusation.

  ‘What can I do?’ Hayder thought, ‘I am losing my mind just sitting around and waiting for the inevitable.’

  Hayder had been suffering from a terrible headache since he woke up that morning, after yet another restless night. He tapped his head repeatedly with his hand to ease the throbbing at the temple.

  ‘What is the matter, brother-in-law? Are you not feeling well?’ Nabila asked, noticing Hayder’s action.

  ‘I just have a headache,’ Hayder replied.

  As he uttered the words, an idea suddenly came to him. Closing his eyes he thought about it. He realised that it was a gamble although it would almost certainly upset the caliph. But he simply had to do something.

  ‘I am the wild one,’ he thought, thinking about his mother’s words as he tried to build up his courage, ‘I am not afraid to urinate on the world.’

  Chapter 9

  As he waited in the foyer while a servant went inside to announce him, Hayder’s heart was racing and he felt nervous for turning up uninvited. He knew that the caliph’s wife was a kind and gentle person and prayed that she would see him at such short notice.

  ‘Her Excellency has agreed to see you,’ the servant came back shortly with the good news.

  Hayder was relieved, but was unsure how to approach the subject; he did not even know whether the caliph’s wife was aware of Amel’s court case. While he waited, he tried to rehearse in his mind what to say when a voice interrupted his thoughts.

  ‘Salam Alaikum, have you brought another medication for my headache?’ Maymuna asked as she entered the room.

  As was customary she wore a niqab, with only her eyes visible through the slit.

  ‘Alaikum Salaam, Your Excellency. No, I apologise. I have not brought any medicine today. I have come to see you on a different matter,’ Hayder replied.

  ‘How is your wife?’ Maymuna inquired, ‘My cousin Sophiya told me of her misfortune.’

  Hayder was relieved that the caliph’s wife was already aware of Amel’s predicament. This would make it easier for him to ask for her favour.

  ‘She is doing well under the circumstances, Your Excellency. She is due to give birth in about two months’ time. We don’t know what God holds in reserve for us after the birth,’ Hayder said.

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ Maymuna asked.

  Hayder’s relief was complete. With Maymuna’s offer of help, he would not have to face the embarrassment of asking for her favour.

  ‘I would very much like to have an informal audience with the caliph. If I make a formal request to see him, he will be surrounded by his advisers. I prefer to speak to him privately,’ the young man ventured.

  There was silence as Maymuna thought about what Hayder had just asked.

  ‘My husband will come to visit me for lunch today. Why don’t you wait here? He will not refuse to have an informal meeting with you, if I ask him,’ she finally replied.

  ‘Shukran, Shukran, Your Excellency. I apologise for asking you this favour, but I didn’t know what else to do,’ Hayder said contritely.

  ‘Don’t worry, I understand. I will ask the servant to bring you some refreshments while you wait,’ Maymuna added as she turned and left the room.

  Ever since he had taken the decision to see the caliph, Hayder had rehearsed what to say. But no matter how he would phrase his words, he knew he was going to upset the caliph.

  ‘If Caliph Omar feels offended, he may accuse me of disrespect towards the highest authority or attempting to pervert the course of justice. He could even have me arrested,’ Hayder reflected grimly as he waited in the foyer.

  When he was preparing to leave Kuffrat for Qadday two days ago, Amel had asked him where he was going. Hayder had simply told her and Asif that he had to see one of his suppliers. Although Asif had looked at him with inquiring eyes, Hayder had not elaborated further.

  ‘I have already promised to meet with him and I will be back within a week,’ he had lied.

  Asif knew very well that it was not true, but did not probe. He knew his young partner would eventually tell him about his undertaking.

  ‘If I am thrown in jail, Asif and Amel will not know what has happened to me. I have not even told them I was going to Qadday,’ Hayder thought gloomily.

  But he knew that Caliph Omar was an upright man and prayed it would not come to that.

  With all these thoughts going through his mind, Hayder had not noticed that Caliph Omar had entered the room and was watching him. It was only when Omar cleared his throat to attract the young man’s attention that Hayder suddenly became aware of his presence. He jumped to his feet and bowed his head, his hand touching his heart, lips and forehead to show his respect.

  ‘Salam Alaikum, Your Excellency. I’m sorry, I was lost in my thoughts and didn’t see you come in,’ Hayder mumbled apologetically.

  ‘My wife has informed me that you wanted to see me regarding your wife. This is highly inappropriate,’ Omar said.

  As Hayder opened his mouth to apologise, the caliph raised his hand to stop him from speaking.

  ‘Don’t interrupt,’ he said curtly.

  ‘You have been very helpful to my wife, bringing her medicines from abroad and for that I am grateful. I am willing to listen to what you have to say, but I will not be making any comment. As soon as you have said what you have to say, please leave,’ Caliph Omar added forcefully.

  Hayder’s mind went blank, unable to remember his prepared speech. With the caliph facing him, he lost his nerve. Yet he knew this was his one chance to save the love of his life. He thought of Amel laughing that morning before he left.

  ‘You are the wild one,’ he told himself, ‘You have to do it no matter what may happen.’

  Hayder took a deep breath and looked at Caliph Omar.

  ‘Your Excellency, I am just a husband whose wife, whose soulmate has been wrongly accused of a crime she did not commit. What I have to say will offend you and your office. Out of respect, I have chosen not to speak to you publicly when the court reconvenes, or in your office in front of your advisers. That is why I have sought to speak to you in private.’

  Hayder paused to see if there was any reaction from the caliph, but Omar kept his face expressionless.

  ‘My wife is wrongly accused and if found guilty, she will face the death penalty. Not only will there be a miscarriage of justice, but our baby will be deprived of knowing its mother, just as I will be deprived of spending the rest of my life with my wife. And not only that, if found guilty her blood will taint our justice system and ultimately your office.’

  ‘Your Excellency, I implore you to look at the facts, which speak for themselves. My wife has not committed adultery and is actually the victim. If found guilty, our baby will become a victim too.’

  Hayder paused to see if Caliph Omar wanted any clarification which would give him the opportunity to elaborate further, but the caliph kept quiet.

  ‘My wife is innocent, yet every night the image of her being stoned to death haunts me. There is no worse death than stoning, for it is a slow and painful death. There is no place for such a barbaric, outdated practice in our tolerant culture,’ Hayder said with a broken voice.

  He stopped again and stood nervously waiting to see the reaction of the caliph to his criticism. True to his word, Omar did not utter a sound.

  ‘That’s all I had to say your Excellency. Thank you for seeing me,’ Hayder finally said, not knowing what else to add.

  He touched his heart, lips and forehead as he bowed his head respectfully. He then turned and left the
room.

  Chapter 10

  Commander-in-Chief Khalid and his officers stood in the shade of the open tent as they surveyed the expanse below. Everyone was tense and held their breath, overwhelmed by the sight below. From their vantage point atop a hill one hundred feet high in the centre of the battlefield, the officers watched the Byzantine army pouring into the plain of Yarmouk. Although they were fully aware of the enemy’s 70,000 fighters, the sight of the huge mass of bodies filling the field below sent shivers down their spines.

  ‘They look impressive with their colourful banners and their officers adorned in leather armour. In contrast our army looks ill-equipped, with only simple flags for signalling and communication,’ Khalid could not help thinking as he watched the deployment opposite his own frontline.

  The Byzantine heavy cavalry, the cataphract with both riders and steeds heavily armoured, were in sharp contrast to the plain Arabian horsemen who were only equipped only with eighteen-foot spears and swords. The cataphract temporarily filed right opposite Khalid’s frontline, to protect their incoming infantry soldiers as they filled the narrow plain.

  ‘Our own cavalry is lighter and faster and I have to find a way to use this to my advantage,’ the commander-in-chief thought pensively.

  Khalid had chosen the site carefully. In the middle of the plain, the elevated hill served as his headquarters and from where he had an aerial view of the battlefield. Through his telescope he could clearly see the rearguard of the enemy in the west and would be able to spot any manoeuvres well before they reached the frontline. Furthermore, behind the enemy lines was the deep Ruqqad ravine, which with only one bridge for passage would significantly hamper any prospect of retreat by the enemy. To his left in the south was the Yarmouk River, with its steep banks ranging from a hundred to over six hundred feet deep. To his right in the north, the Jabiya road from which the Byzantines were approaching provided the only open access to the plain. Behind him to the east were the Azra hills at the base of which the Arabian soldiers’ wives had set up camp. The frontline, less than seven miles wide from the Yarmouk riverbank to the Jabiya road, was narrow for a battle involving such large armies.