by August Li
Janan knew he sounded insincere and maybe even bitter, but he didn’t expect the look of panic in Isra’s eyes, like Janan had caught him doing something atrocious. His lips parted, but instead of speaking, he went back to smoking, and long moments of silence passed before he tapped out the ashes.
“No man is perfect,” Isra finally said, standing. “Now come. We have several miles to go, and the day will be getting hot.” He didn’t look at Janan as he turned to make his way through the market.
As he followed, Janan wondered what kind of secret could cause a man who radiated such warmth to go cold in a few heartbeats. It made him a bit nervous, but he could hardly judge when for all he knew his hands were dirtier.
Chapter Five
AS THE men of the family sat on the floor around a low table in his cousins’ home, eating goat-meat kebabs, cucumber salad, fresh bread, and koshary made from rice, lentils, chickpeas, and spicy tomato sauce, Isra couldn’t miss the way Sayyid and cousin Asim, who’d grown rotund living the sedentary life of a broker, cast suspicious glances at Janan. Even Salih passed the meal in near silence, without his usual good humor and frequent teasing. When the men went outside so the women could eat and then clean up, conversation over pipes and cigarettes was stilted and awkward.
“I’m going to bed,” Asim announced.
Though it couldn’t be later than eight o’clock, no one said anything as he went inside the house and let the door slam behind him.
“He has the right idea,” Sayyid said. “I need to be up early to meet with a man who might be interested in some of the herd.”
Isra noted that neither of the cousins offered to let them sleep inside the house. Though he and Salih always refused, the cousins always offered.
The silence stretched, and just when Isra was about to question his brother, Salih said, “Isra, perhaps your new friend can do us the favor of checking on the animals?”
Isra stood. “I’ll check on them. Janan is from the city. He’s not experienced with goats and sheep.”
Salih surprised Isra by grabbing his sleeve. “I’m sure he can manage to make sure the gates are locked and there are no stray dogs lurking.”
Janan nodded eagerly. “Of course. I’d be happy to. I’ll make sure they have hay and water as well.”
“Thank you.” Isra patted Janan on the shoulder. After Janan left to attend to the animals, Isra turned to his brother. “Why is everyone acting so bizarre? Janan is a guest, and Sayyid and Asim were almost rude to him.”
“Well…. Come here.” Salih led Isra to the stand of trees where they slept. “How much do you really know about this man?”
“Janan? All I know is that he has nowhere to go and he needs help. Have I done something wrong by offering him charity?”
“Charity, no. But bringing him here was maybe a bit too much. There are women and children here, and the truth is, he could be a criminal. Stealing from our cousins might be the least of what he has planned.”
Isra couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “We do at least as much for any man we encounter in the desert, with no questions asked!”
“He isn’t one of us! We, the Bedouin, we have a code. We would not have to worry about a man, even a man from another tribe, stealing from us or worse. But how do we know this man shares our beliefs? Where did you say you found him again?”
For maybe the first time in his life, Isra was tempted to lie to his brother. But that was a line he never wanted to cross, the lies of omission about Flicker notwithstanding. “I found him in an old temple. He was sleeping there because he had nowhere else.”
“Why were you there?”
“I was looking around.” Isra prayed Salih wouldn’t keep probing, or he might have to bend the truth even further.
“My point is, you found him in a heathen temple in the city. And he claims not to remember anything. It’s suspicious. He could be on the run from the authorities, maybe even his own family. You don’t know.”
Salih’s concerns were valid, Isra had to admit. “But… I feel he’s a good man. I sense it, the way one can tell a docile camel from one that’s ready to attack. Janan needs help, and I want to help him. I will help him. As much as I can.”
Salih sighed. “Your heart’s in the right place, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re probably right about him. Living in the city has certainly dulled our cousins’ instincts, but this is their home, and… and they don’t want this man here. Asim’s wife is throwing a fit, saying Janan could be possessed by an evil spirit or a djinn, and she’s won both of Sayyid’s wives to her cause. Put some food and water into a bag, but you have to send him back to Qena.”
“I can find my own way there,” Janan said as he stepped around the side of the house. He came to stand a few feet from Isra, and he took Isra’s hand in his. “Thank you. You’ve done more for me than I expected. Most of all, it was nice to have a friend… even for a night.”
He turned to go, but Isra called out, “Wait. My cousins might insist you leave here, but you don’t need to go back to Qena.”
Janan faced Isra, shuffling his feet in the dust, still wearing the cheap rubber sandals Isra had insisted he accept. “Where will I go? I’m grateful for your concern, but where?”
Isra knew the next words he said could very well change his life, maybe irrevocably, but he didn’t hesitate. “Come with me into the desert. It’ll be a different life than you’re used to, but better than sleeping on the street and begging for scraps. I know how to live there, how to be more than happy. I’ll show you.” It sounded so permanent, so profound, that Isra hurried to add, “Not forever, of course. We don’t have to travel far from Qena, maybe a day or so to the north. We’ll come back when we can and try to find out about your identity, find your family.”
Janan took a few steps toward Isra. “How?”
Before he spoke, Isra tried to calm himself. He didn’t want to sound desperate, but he could not lose this man, not when they’d just found each other. For whatever reason, he’d been meant to find his way to Janan, and by something beyond Flicker’s intervention. “We’ll speak to people, go to the library, maybe even the police. Can it hurt to try?”
Janan came even closer, within a few inches of Isra. “Why?”
“Because we might find someone who knows you,” Isra said. “Maybe even someone who is worried about you. You could have a home to go to.”
“No, I mean why would you do this?”
Isra provided the only answer he could. “I want to.”
For a long time, minutes that felt like hours, they stood looking at each other. Finally Janan nodded. “I don’t know if I deserve what you’re offering, but I’m a selfish man. I like eating. I like a safe place to sleep, and I like— It’s nice to have someone to talk to. I’ll come with you to the desert. If we cannot find anyone who knows me, I can always come back here and live as I did before.”
Relief flooded Isra, but he managed to force a solemn expression. He didn’t want to scare Janan off now. The poor man would’ve likely declined if he had any other option, since Isra could be leading him into danger. They would be alone in the desert, no one for miles….
“You should leave tonight,” Salih said. “Your friend can take my camel. I’ll buy another when the livestock is sold. And I’ll meet up with you to give you your supplies and your share of the profit. Do you want anything special? A bag of oranges?”
Isra finally let himself smile, the tension of the past several weeks seeping away like spring rain soaking into the parched desert ground. He felt ready to erupt in flowers. “The oranges, and some mint leaves for tea. Tomatoes in a can and dried peppers.”
Salih pulled Isra into a hug and whispered into his ear: “Be careful. Keep alert.” Aloud he said, “Safe travels, my brother and my friend. I’ll find you in a week or so.”
“Let’s prepare the camels,” Isra said to Janan.
“How will he find you?” Janan asked. “In hundreds of miles of desert, without agreein
g on a time or place to meet?”
Isra could see Janan had a lot to learn about freedom and open space. “We’ll come across each other eventually. He knows the places I like most, and I know his favorite places. And if that fails, I’ll find where his family has taken the herds. No matter what Salih pretends, he doesn’t stay long away from his wives and little ones.”
“I’ll have to trust you on that,” Janan said with a chuckle.
Isra patted his elbow. To survive in the desert, they would have to trust each other in many ways. Isra hoped he could be worthy of Janan’s trust. He’d left out some big secrets about himself, things that might keep Janan miles away from him if they were revealed.
JANAN EYED the kneeling camel. He’d tried to mount it three times now, but each time he’d gotten close, the bad-tempered beast called Malika either spit or nipped at him.
“She knows you’re afraid, and she’s using it against you,” Isra said. “Approach with confidence. She needs to see you’re in charge.”
“Right.” Janan pushed his shoulders back, lifted his chin, and approached Malika. Just when he’d grabbed the wooden saddle and prepared to swing a leg over her back, she turned on him with sound between a howl and snort. Startled, he staggered back a few steps, tripped over a rock, and landed on his back. That’s when the camel spit, the hot, thick froth striking his left cheek. He wiped his face on his sleeve and stood. “You might have to go on without me.”
Isra grinned, but it was sympathetic. “One thing is clear. You weren’t a Bedouin before losing your memories.” He took hold of the camel’s fringed reins and held her head immobile. “Try again.”
Safe from Malika’s deadly aim, Janan managed to climb into the saddle and wriggle about until he was something like comfortable. He held on tight as Isra ordered the camel to stand, surprised at how far away the ground seemed. That conjured the image of looking out a small oval window at rivers and mountains thousands of feet below. Janan pushed the image away and asked, “What now?”
“Now? Sit there and don’t fall off.” With a smile, Isra tethered Malika to his own camel, Eada. With the ease of an old man sinking into his favorite chair, Isra mounted Eada and urged her forward. Neither camel seemed to mind the dozens of pounds of rice, flour, sugar, lentils, and coffee she carried, and they made good progress along the Wadi Qena toward a place called Araas, where Isra said they would be able to find all the water they could drink.
Surprisingly, Janan soon became accustomed to the camel’s gait and even found the rhythm soothing. A few hours after they left the outskirts of Qena, they seemed to enter another realm—one of lavender moonlight over gentle hillocks and stars so close and numerous it was like God had dropped all the world’s gems over them. Bringing Malika alongside Isra’s camel, Janan said, “Though I don’t remember, I’m sure I’ve never been out in the desert this way.” He looked around. “I feel like I can see forever.”
Isra looked over at him, his smile bright in the velvety darkness. “Yes, this is where a man belongs, if you ask me. Here with all of nature’s grandeur spread out around him, begging him to linger and explore, the way before him open in every direction. Even after a few hours in the city, I feel suffocated. I cannot imagine leaving the desert behind as my cousins have.”
“They imagine their lives are better, I suppose.”
“Perhaps.” Isra’s voice was low and melancholy. “More people desert the tribe every year. I try to understand the lure of possessions, television, food and water as close as the next room… but it’s alien to my mind. What do I need that Eada can’t carry?”
Janan nodded. “If I ever needed possessions, I became used to the absence of them. I know the value of a drink of water and a simple meal.”
“Was there nothing you missed… living as you did?”
“Companionship more than anything. Those who spoke to me at all did so out of pity, and with the fear I might be mad or possessed. It was easy to tell they’d be happier if I went away. At one time I must’ve had value, because I noticed when I didn’t. I noticed acutely how worthless I was to others… how eager they seemed to be away from me. The way they looked at me without seeing me.”
“I’ve often imagined how I might feel if my tribe turned me away,” Isra said. “Though I take to wandering alone quite a bit, I don’t like to think of having no family to return to.”
Janan found that a morbid line of thought for someone like Isra. “Why would you imagine that? Your family seems to regard you highly, and knowing you only a short time, I still cannot imagine what you could do to change that.”
Isra chuckled. “Just musing. The desert has a way of making you think, consider your place in the world. You’ll see. Haven’t you ever sat somewhere alone with a pipe and just let the wind push your thoughts where it would?”
“I don’t think I have… though, maybe. It sounds like something I would like to do if my days didn’t revolve around trying to find enough to eat and drink and a place to sleep where I wouldn’t be robbed.”
“Well, no need to worry about that now,” Isra said.
“We won’t become the victim of a raid?”
“Janan, you must’ve been educated from Western movies and city women gossiping before you lost your memories. It’s been generations since the Bedouin tribes raided travelers, or each other. There’s a certain code among the people of the desert. Even families that would consider mine an enemy would offer us water and a meal if we needed it. We would do the same for them. And as for anyone else, well, they won’t survive out here.”
“What about wild animals?”
“You really have seen too many movies,” Isra said with a grin. “There are jackals and Kaffir cats, but they’d much rather feast on an ibex than a man. They don’t like the smell of us.”
Janan looked around, listened. The desert was quiet but not quiet. If he paid attention, he could hear it breathing, the rhythm of the wind, the insects, and the night birds like a torpid heartbeat. Away from the cacophony of the city, it was easy to pick out the sound of reeds rustling or branches clicking together. Nothing competed with or overpowered anything else; they fit together, and even the long spells of silence seemed less the absence of something and more an addition to the subtle harmony.
It was peaceful, so peaceful Janan almost began to doze as he rocked on Malika’s back. Just when he thought he’d nod off and topple over, Isra stopped the camels and gave Malika the command to kneel so Janan could dismount. He looked around while Isra removed the camels’ saddles and turned them loose to graze nearby. With the moon down, it was hard to see much, but they seemed to be at the lee of a sharp stone that jutted overhead and offered protection from the wind. Around its base, acacia trees grew in a crescent, forming a private grotto beneath the cliff. Water burbled somewhere close by. But other than that, nothing but empty land stretched all around him. When Isra came to stand next to him, he felt like they were the only two men in the world.
He didn’t dislike the sensation, even trusted it.
“Come,” Isra said, grazing his fingers over the back of Janan’s arm. “We’ll get some rest. It’ll be dawn in a few hours, but one thing about living off the desert is we aren’t expected anywhere.”
Beyond the ring of trees was a flat, bare space the size of a small room. Isra went to the ring of stones at the center and coaxed a flame from some twigs he must’ve left the last time he’d camped here. When he had a cozy blaze going, Janan rubbed his hands over it, marveling at the way he felt cut off from the world in the intimate little space. Isra arranged his camel’s packs so he could lounge against them and face the fire, and Janan did the same, his shoulder pressed against the other man’s, with the rock behind them and the fire warming their toes. Isra took a patterned blanket from one of his saddlebags and handed it to Janan, who used it to cover himself. Isra did the same, and for a long time, they simply lay listening to the crackle of the flames and watching the patterns they scattered over the foliage forming
their outer wall.
“This is a good place to camp,” Isra said lazily. “There’s a spring not far from here that empties into a pool deep enough for us to bathe. With our supplies, we could stay here for weeks, though soon it’ll be cold enough that we’ll want a tent.” Then, as if he’d said something he shouldn’t and caught himself, Isra hurried to add, “But you won’t need to worry about that. I’m sure we’ll have found your people long before winter. We can go back into the city and start asking after them as soon as you want.” He yawned. “Maybe not tomorrow. But the next day.”
Eyes heavy, Janan nestled down into his surprisingly comfortable bed, safe in their snug little bubble. He was warm and happy and at peace. At least for now, he was in no hurry to abandon this place for a truth that might not lead anywhere pleasant. He knew he couldn’t hide from the world forever, but after looking over his shoulder for so long, he decided to let himself enjoy the security, the certainty of breakfast whenever they woke, and the company of a man whose compassion couldn’t be false. Janan reached over and rested his hand on Isra’s arm, where the thin cloth of his jubbah had bunched up to reveal warm skin dotted with a few soft black hairs. Isra draped his hand over Janan’s, and Janan decided to let himself enjoy that too.
The questions about why it stirred feelings in him could wait for the light of day, along with everything else.
After breakfast the next morning, Isra led Janan along the streambed until they reached a place where the water tumbled down in a little fall and filled an oval pool. Red rocks lined the edge, and green seemed to explode around the water, bushes and vines stretching to skim the surface. Isra unwrapped his shemagh and shook out the tight curls that hung to his shoulders. Janan felt a sudden sharp desire to tangle his fingers in that soft-looking hair, and he took a few steps back as Isra removed his sandals.