The bay mare stared around with wide, anxious eyes as the men released her and the other mares. When Jumanah took a step toward her, the newcomer flared her nostrils. Jumanah lowered her head and snaked it forward, flattening her ears. The new mare lowered her own head in submission, taking a step backward.
Then Ajouz came forward, prancing in a way I had never seen the old mare do before. Zahrat, Tawil, and I crowded along at her hip, heads up and eyes excited.
Meanwhile the humans were chasing the new lamb and goats off to join their own herds. Then they stood and watched us horses for a few minutes before heading for the tent.
“Will they be all right, Father?” Safiya asked with a yawn.
“Don’t worry, child. They’ll sort things out on their own.” Nasr patted her on the shoulder.
I hardly noticed when the humans disappeared into their tent. I was busy watching the new mare. She was submissive to the rest of the herd. She only wanted to fit in and had no wish to fight. For a while Zahrat and Gameela seemed interested in chasing the newcomer around just for fun, but wise old Ajouz soon put a stop to that.
By dawn, we were all dozing together near the water’s edge. The bay mare was already becoming friendly with Ibtisam, who chased off Zahrat and Gameela anytime they got too close.
Safiya emerged from the tent bright and early. She brought us all dates, making sure the newcomer got her share.
“Aren’t you pretty?” she crooned as she patted the bay mare. “Father says you are to be called Hasna. I think it suits you.”
I snorted, impatient for the girl’s attention. Frolicking closer, I kicked out at Hasna. She backed away at once, though I had to dodge an annoyed bite from Ibtisam. But Safiya chased off both mares with a wave of her hand.
“Good morning, Yatimah.” The girl greeted me with her usual pats and scratches. “I hope you’ll be nice to the new horse. It is an honor for Father to have taken such a fine animal, with Allah’s blessing.”
I didn’t know what she meant, or much care, either. All I wanted was her attention, which I enjoyed until Safiya’s mother called her off to help with the camels.
Later that day, the heat of the midday desert sun chased us into the shade as usual. At first Zahrat and Gameela seemed ready to keep Hasna away from the outcroppings. But Ibtisam squealed her protest, crowding them back so her new friend could creep into the shade.
Enough, you two, Ajouz scolded when she saw what was going on. Hasna is one of us now.
Jumanah agreed in her calm way. Yes. And she is not trying to take anyone’s place in the herd, so there’s no purpose in fighting.
That’s right, Hasna said in her submissive way. I do not wish to cause any trouble.
But I still don’t understand, I burst out. How did you come here?
Hasna looked at me. I lived in another herd until last night. A larger one—twice as many mares as here, plus some foals and two stallions. Then you arrived carrying your humans.… She bowed her head toward Zahrat, Gameela, and Ibtisam. They grabbed me and led me off with their ropes. I thought my friend Bayda was coming, too. But she pulled away when the dogs barked and ran back to camp.
Yes. Ibtisam shot a look in Zahrat’s direction. Someone nickered, which alerted the dogs at that camp, along with their humans.
I was frightened, Zahrat responded. It was dark, and I smelled the other horses, and I couldn’t resist calling to them.…
Never mind, Jumanah put in. Seeing that Tawil and I were still confused, she did her best to explain. Now and then the humans decide to ride fast across the desert and raid each other’s camps, taking as many animals as they can. I have been on many such raids myself.
As have I, Gameela said. And I was born with different humans, just like Hasna. Nasr raided my home camp when I was only a yearling.
Tawil looked more and more alarmed by the whole story. But why do they do it? he wondered. All this galloping across the desert sounds so tiring. Why don’t all the animals just stay where they are born?
As I have told you before, the ways of humans are a mystery, Jumanah told him. But as long as they take care of us, it is of no importance to us horses.
I looked out into the desert, feeling strangely excited by all this talk of raids. Was this what my mother had done? What would it be like to race swiftly and silently across the sand under cover of darkness, as she must have? To return with more horses and other animals for the camp? It was a strange idea, but a thrilling one.
Despite the heat of the sun, I couldn’t resist stepping out of the shade for a better look across the dunes. As I wandered around, my mind full of Hasna’s tale, I found myself near the tent. Nasr and his eldest son, Basim, were outside watching the goats drink from the spring.
“It is too bad that Allah frowned upon our raid this time,” Basim was saying. “I cannot recall the last time we returned with less. Only one lamb, a couple of goats, and the mare. And no camels at all, even though Dirar’s people have at least a dozen!”
“It was not Allah who doomed us last night.” Nasr’s voice was hard. “It was that nervous, skittish fool of a mare. Zahrat was nearly as noisy as a stallion when we approached the other camp!”
His son sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Perhaps we’ll have to put Jumanah back to work earlier than planned. The foals should be weaned soon in any case.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps this new bay mare will do.” Suddenly Nasr turned and saw me wandering nearby. He frowned, his eyes going dark. “If only we had not lost Sarab …”
I took a step toward him, ears pricked forward as I recognized my dam’s name. But Nasr turned away and strode off, his robes swishing around him.
A few days later, I awoke to find a new air of excitement about the camp. The humans were all up early and bustling around with raised voices and active eyes. The sheep were jittery and kept bumping into each other, causing more than one of them to be head-butted by an impatient goat. The dogs had caught the mood, too, and barked at the smallest things.
What is it? I asked, already feeling keyed up.
Tawil, as usual, was slow to awaken. Is something happening? he wondered lazily as he blinked and looked around. Was there another raid?
Jumanah didn’t respond for a moment. She was watching the humans carefully. Then she looked over at Ajouz. Is it what I think it is? she asked the older mare.
I believe so, Ajouz responded.
What? I danced in place, unable to fight the agitation I felt in the air. What is it? What’s happening?
Something new for you, little ones, Jumanah told Tawil and me. It is time for us to move on!
Moving On
At first I didn’t understand what Jumanah meant. Move on?
But Jumanah did her best to explain it, with help from Ajouz and the other mares. They told us that every so often, the humans would pack up everything they had and move to a different oasis with more greenery for the animals and fruit for the humans. Sometimes they would join other parts of their human tribe in the new place, and we animals would mingle together in larger herds until it was time to move on again. And so I began to understand that the time had come to leave the place where I was born.
I was just as surprised by this as I had been by Hasna’s arrival. There had been no reason to think that there were any other oases besides this one, or that we would ever have reason to leave here. But now that it was happening, I was eager to find out more. What would the new oasis be like? Would there be fresh grass for nibbling?
I am ready to leave right now! I told Tawil, frolicking around him in a circle.
He stood and watched me, his ears flopping lazily to either side. I hope it is not a long walk, he said. But more food would be nice, I suppose.
The humans rushed to pack up their encampment before the full heat of the sun arrived. They saddled all of the horses except Tawil and me, along with one of the camels. The remaining camels’ backs were loaded with the dismantled tent and the rest of the humans’ possessions.
It was all very exciting to me, as new experiences always were. I was near the middle of the caravan, trotting circles around Jumanah. It wasn’t until I saw the gray mare glance back at our oasis that I thought to do the same myself. It already looked strange and empty without the big black tent and the circle of camels lounging beneath the nodding palms. It was odd to think of leaving it, but exciting to wonder what lay ahead.
Soon the oasis was out of sight behind us. Being out in the open, empty desert was new and exhilarating. I couldn’t help kicking up my heels now and then from the sheer thrill of it all.
Settle down, little one, Jumanah told me after a while. You don’t want to wear yourself out.
I’m not tired, I retorted. Come on, Tawil—let’s race to the front of the line!
We took off bucking and playing, dashing past Nasr, who was riding Zahrat at the head of the line. He yelled at us, but we hardly noticed. This was an exciting new adventure, and we could hardly contain ourselves!
The caravan trudged on through the desert, the rest of the animals pacing themselves by the camels’ measured gait. All I could see in every direction was sand rolling off toward the horizon in softly undulating dunes. The sun climbed higher in the clear pale sky, beating down upon us, with neither trees to shade us nor cool springwater to refresh us.
Once our early burst of energy passed, Tawil and I slowed to a walk. He plodded along on one side of Jumanah and I on the other, my dragging feet kicking up little puffs of sand with each step.
When will we reach the new oasis? Tawil complained. I am thirsty!
And I am hungry, I added.
Be patient, little ones, Jumanah told us. We shall arrive when we arrive. Until then, we walk on as long as the humans tell us to do so.
I noted that her neck and flanks were slick with sweat. The sheep and goats dragged along with lowered heads, the humans looked weary, and even the dogs’ tails drooped lower than they had at the beginning of the journey. Only the camels seemed untroubled by the harsh environment and the long walk. They ambled along with their strange, shuffling gait, their fringed eyes always on the horizon.
After a while, we stopped. I looked around hopefully, but there was no water in sight, nor any trees or other signs of an oasis.
“I think I will walk for a bit,” said Safiya’s aunt, who had been riding Jumanah. “This mare is thin from nursing two foals; I’m sure she could use a rest.”
“Indeed.” Nasr glanced toward Tawil and me with a slight frown. “We shall all walk.” Everyone except the small children on the camel dismounted. Then we continued on our way, with most of the humans walking along beside the animals.
I wish we would reach the new oasis soon, Tawil grumbled to me after another hour.
Yes, I agreed.
But Jumanah didn’t join in our complaints, and neither did the other horses. Even the silly sheep seemed content to toil along willingly, stride after stride. And of course the camels never wavered.
If they could do it, I knew that I could as well. I lifted my feet a little higher, step-step-step-step, each hoof picking itself up as another touched down, walking with long strides to match those of the adult horses. Before long I settled into a rhythm, and my muscles began to hum with the exercise. I was still tired, but being tired no longer felt like a bad thing. In fact, it was satisfying to look ahead and see all that sand, the desert just waiting for me to stride along and conquer it with my steady gait.…
For once my mind wasn’t racing faster than I could follow. All my focus was on putting one foot in front of the other, of completing this journey no matter how long and tiring it might turn out to be. Even the heat ceased to be a nuisance; the sweat coating my body felt good.
We finally stopped when the sun was almost touching the western horizon. There was still no sign of an oasis. But the humans had packed dates for us to eat and camel’s milk for us to drink. Tawil and I were able to slake our thirst with some of Jumanah’s milk as well, though she was producing less with each passing day. I was still hungry and thirsty when I finished. But there was nothing to be done about that, as Jumanah was quick to tell me when I complained.
A moment later, Safiya found me. “Don’t worry, Yatimah. The next oasis is my favorite of all. When we arrive there, we’ll all have plenty to eat and drink, and we’ll be reunited with our cousins, and there will be much celebrating,” she whispered. Then she opened her tightly clenched hand, revealing a few dates. “Here—I saved these from my lunch. They’re for you.”
I eagerly gobbled down the extra dates and snuffled at the girl’s hands and face, hoping for more. She giggled and gave me a hug. Then her father called to her, and she had to hurry away to help the other humans.
Soon the camels and the adult horses were hobbled, and the dogs had gathered the sheep and goats into a tight herd near the humans’ campfire. I collapsed wearily onto the warm sand near the rest of the herd. It had been a long, exhausting day, and I was asleep almost instantly.
I was startled awake sometime after dark by the sudden, urgent barking of the dogs. By the time I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding with fear, the men were shouting. Zahrat let out a whinny of terror. There was a thunder of hooves and the cry of unfamiliar human voices.
For a second, I had no idea what was happening. I could only stand there stock-still, every muscle in my body quivering. In the darkness, I saw the other horses rushing around in a panic despite their hobbles.
Then Nasr’s voice rang out, harsh with anger. “To arms!” he shouted. “We are being raided!”
Memories and Changes
I spun around, whinnying anxiously for Jumanah and the rest of the herd. There was a flash of silvery mane, and I saw a moon-gray mare I didn’t recognize. A human clung to her back; as I watched, he leaned over and grabbed a lamb off the ground. For a moment, he stared directly at me, his face calculating. But then he turned away and let out a shout.
“Away!” he cried out. “They’re awake!”
The silvery mare whirled and raced off as swiftly as the desert wind itself, the lamb bleating piteously from her back. I blinked into the darkness, able to spy only vague shapes disappearing into the night.
That was when Jumanah found me. Are you all right, little one? she wanted to know as she nosed me from head to toe.
What has happened? I asked her, my heart still beating fast from the commotion.
It was a raid, she told me. Just as our humans raided another camp to bring us Hasna, so have these other humans raided us in turn. They probably saw that we were travelers and not ready to defend ourselves.
I soon discovered that she was right. The raiders had spotted us from a distance as we’d passed through their territory earlier that day. They had come to us under the cover of darkness and escaped with one of our camels, half a dozen sheep … and Tawil.
When I noticed that the colt was among the animals taken, I refused to accept it at first. I raced around the temporary camp, calling for him while searching among the goats and beneath the camels for his familiar chestnut form. But he was nowhere to be found, and soon I realized there was no point in such efforts. His absence saddened me, though most of the humans seemed far more upset about the loss of the camel.
“At least they didn’t get any of the mares,” one man said. “Allah be praised it was only the colt who was taken.”
“Yes,” Basim responded. “Poor Jumanah will be better off for having one fewer mouth to feed.”
“Indeed.” Nasr turned to stare at me thoughtfully by the light of the fire. “I suppose it’s a blessing that it was the colt and no
t the filly.”
Drawn by his gaze, I walked toward him and nosed at his robes. He dropped one hand briefly onto my withers before abruptly turning and hurrying away.
Two days later, we finally reached the new oasis. It was even larger and more pleasant than the one we’d left, with a waterfall tumbling down a rocky cliff and plenty of grass coating the banks of the large spring. Other humans were already there, and they let out cries of joy when they spotted us approaching. These were Nasr’s cousins, who had gone their own way during the driest months. They hurried to help our humans set up their tent, while all the animals got acquainted with the other group’s herds and then chose their favorite spots to eat and rest.
We horses found ourselves in the company of Cousin Rami’s horses, which numbered four mares, along with a yearling filly and an adult stallion known as Majeeb. These horses recognized all except Hasna and me from the last time the families had camped together, so it didn’t take long until we were all one large, happy herd. Once a month or two had passed, it was as if we’d never lived anywhere else.
The grazing helped me grow taller and stronger. My foal fuzz was gone by now, replaced by a sleek coat of glossy black. Eventually Jumanah began turning away when I tried to nurse, and after a while, I didn’t even miss her milk. The fresh grass and the cool springwater were all I needed, though Safiya often brought me dates and other little treats.
Sometimes Safiya would clench both fists and hold them out to me, wanting me to guess which one held my treat. It was easy for me to locate the date or other morsel by smell, though it seemed to delight the girl no end when I would nose at the correct hand. Sometimes, too, she would want me to perform some little task or movement before I got my treat. Once I picked up the foot she grasped, or bowed my head, or allowed her to drape a cloth on my back, she would feed me the treat and then scratch and praise me with great enthusiasm. Her happy words at these times were of nearly the same value to me as the food itself, for I enjoyed pleasing her.
Yatimah Page 3