Beyond the Sand Dune_Novel of Peace

by Asen Djinah

  Omar considered it not a bad idea after all, since the physical activity might induce a growth spurt in the small boy.

  ‘All right, I will arrange for a coach to give both you and Aydin sword-fighting lessons. But it must not interfere with your normal lessons and would have to be in the afternoon. As for riding lessons, you will have to wait until you are a little older. As you know, Aydin is an accomplished rider and next year I will ask him to give you lessons,’ he told his son.

  Rayhan had not expected his father to give in so easily. He was thrilled that he will be having the sword-fighting lessons with Aydin as the two brothers got on very well with each other. He didn’t mind waiting for the horse riding.

  ‘Abbi had given Aydin his own horse and once I learn how to ride next year, I will get my own one too,’ he thought, thrilled at the idea.

  Rayhan threw himself in his father’s arm with excitement.

  ‘Thank you, Abbi,’ he said as he snuggled in his arms.

  ‘Now go in the next room and play with your marbles while your sister talks to your father,’ Sophiya ordered.

  Fariya waited for her mother to join them and once they were all seated, she gave her father her widest smile.

  ‘Abbi, the madrasahs at primary level are for both boys and girls,’ she started.

  She stopped abruptly when she saw the puzzled look on his father’s face.

  ‘Is that what you wanted to talk about? Not about your marriage?’ Omar blurted out.

  Fariya looked at Sophiya and both mother and daughter burst out laughing.

  ‘Why would I talk about marriage? You have a one-track mind, abbi,’ she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

  Omar was disappointed with Fariya but even more so with Sophiya. Not only should his wife have supported him by not laughing but it seemed as though she had been colluding with Fariya. He cast a disapproving look in the direction of his wife who stared straight back at him with a furtive smile on her face.

  ‘The madrasahs at secondary level are single sex and are for boys only. The same situation prevails in the few madrasahs at tertiary level. If a girl wants to study at secondary level and beyond, she would have to hire a tutor and only well-to-do families can afford to do so and even then, only if their parents approve. Abbi, I am one of the lucky few to have supportive parents for allowing me to continue with my studies,’ Fariya explained.

  ‘I would like girls from all backgrounds including the very poor to have the opportunity to study. I want you to open the first secondary level madrasah for girls here in Qadday,’ she continued.

  Omar had always believed that studies should be accessible to everyone, boys and girls, rich or poor. This issue had been on his mind for some time already and he was determined to do something about it. But with the Byzantine threat on the horizon, he had been forced to push it further back. To hear his daughter coming to the same conclusion all on her own made him feel proud, but it did not show on his face... he was still annoyed with both mother and daughter.

  ‘I explained earlier to your mother that the state treasury is quite depleted at the moment and we have some urgent priorities. It is something that we can look into in the future, I promise,’ Omar replied.

  ‘Abbi, I feel very strongly about this. One madrasah will not cost too much to run. I will be in charge of the administration and will also be one of the tutors. I don’t need a salary. We only need a few tutors and a building to get started. In fact, ummi and I have already discussed the possibility that you might not be able to afford the expenses. Ummi has agreed to fund it out of her own means,’ she elaborated.

  Omar was lost for words and held up his hand to stop his daughter. He could not believe what he was hearing. He looked at Sophiya. How could she betray him like this and conspire with Fariya without discussing the matter with him first? She knew very well that the priority was to get Fariya settled.

  ‘Ummi, come on tell abbi about our plan. Ummi’s house lies empty since we have moved here to the palace. We can use it for the madrasah and ummi will pay the salary of the tutors. Please, say yes abbi,’ Fariya pleaded, seeing the disapproval in her father’s eyes.

  The look of hurt on Omar’s face deepened as he stared at his wife. Sophiya and Fariya saw his disappointment and both burst out laughing once again.

  ‘Abbi, I forgot to tell you. Ummi had one condition: she will do all this only if I agree to get married!’ the cheeky daughter added with a grin.

  It didn’t register at first, but then slowly the look of disappointment on Omar’s face morphed into joy as the reality of what his daughter had just said sank in. Now he understood why mother and daughter had been laughing right from the start.

  ‘Why didn’t you start with that, you naughty girl? Putting me through all these emotions,’ Omar said as the three of them embraced each other.

  ‘Abbi, I do have one condition of my own. You must find a husband that will support me in this endeavour.’

  ‘He has to be young and of course educated,’ Fariya elaborated.

  ‘And rich as I plan to start a second madrasah once the first one is established,’ she then added.

  ‘That is a lot of conditions,’ said Omar as they all burst out laughing.

  Hearing the laughter, little Rayhan rushed back into the room.

  ‘What is happening? Were you talking about me?’ he asked.

  And they all burst out laughing once again.

  Omar felt better when he left, his worries temporarily forgotten for the time being. With a smile on his face, he returned to his personal quarters for a nap before the races later that afternoon.

  Chapter 8

  Camel racing was very popular among the masses and the races were mostly impromptu and informal. Often two individuals would be arguing over who had the fastest camel, when they would spontaneously decide to race them to find out once for all. A day and time would be picked and the distance agreed by the two individuals. News of the race would spread like wildfire and on the day, hundreds of people would turn up to watch. Among them would be other owners who would bring their own camels to participate. No one could refuse them entry to the race as it was a matter of honour – otherwise they could end up bragging that the refusal was due to their camel being the fastest.

  What was originally a race planned between two camels, frequently ended with up to twenty participants. It usually took place just outside the town and as always, young boys were chosen to ride the camels due to their light weight. Nomads also often raced their camels against each other whenever the tribes met in the desert and at festival times they would bring their champions to town. There was no entry fee or prize money, the owners being motivated only by the prestige of winning. Songs about undefeated champions were sung for years, long after their demise. Anecdotes and poems about such and such camel were told around campfires. It was every poor man’s dream to raise a champion and get their name into the local folklore.

  Horse racing on the other hand, was organised by the privileged class since the Arabian purebreds were expensive to buy and maintain. Omar’s late father was passionate about horses and had stables built next to the family home. Omar and his younger brother Numan had both inherited the same passion. Although Omar was now living at the palace, twice a week he would go to the stables to see the horses. He and Numan often spent hours discussing the diet and the individual training programme of each horse. One of their assets was a retired white stallion named Alfahil who in his time had won every race in his category. The life of the stallion had never been exciting; ever since he was a young colt not only was he held in isolation from the mares but also from the other males, with whom he would invariably pick a fight. When he became too old to race, his pedigree meant that other owners were willing to pay an exorbitant stud fee to have their mares mounted by Alfahil. Even then, Numan and Omar would thoroughly check the pedigree of the mare on offer before agreeing to the deal. The stud fees alone brought in a substantial amount that helped towards the c
ost of running the stables.

  The network of rich owners across the nearby towns took turns to organise a racing day, consisting of three races – and were free to set the category and distance for each race. Such races took place weekly over the four cooler months of the year and even then, always in late afternoon to protect the horses from the midday heat. Although an entry fee was set and used as prize money, the horse owners were far more interested in the prestige of winning than the money. The competition between owners was so intense that they often sent spies to rival stables to gather information about the horses, their diet and their training programme. Omar and Numan had taken great care in vetting the stablehands they employed, paying each a handsome salary. During the racing season, these grooms would sleep in the box with their horse and the stables were patrolled day and night. Every season, the sixteen owners took turn to organise a racing day each in their hometown. This week, it was Omar’s and Numan’s turn and they had been preparing for this particular one for a very long time. Never in the history of the races had any stable won more than one race at the same meeting.

  ‘We will attempt to make history by being the first stable to win two races,’ Omar had said to Numan when he had first laid out the plan to his brother.

  Four years ago, the two brothers had bought a little-known mare named Quzah – Rainbow – on the quiet, without the other owners knowing. The mare had a chestnut coat, with her mane and tail of the same tone. An upright shoulder and a long back kept her centre of mass more forward when running, producing a quicker stride rate. Quzah was an amazing sprinter, having won her first two races with ease before both her front legs were broken in a fall. She had never been able to race again, but because of her pedigree and speed she had been kept as a breeding mare. For a long time, Numan had been trying to persuade the owner, unknown to the local network, to sell him the mare. But without much success.

  ‘I will personally go and see the owner,’ Omar had finally said, ‘I am sure he will not refuse his caliph, especially after I offer him a price twice the value of Quzah.’

  After much coaxing, the large sum offered finally convinced the owner to part with the purebred. Quzah was a perfect mating partner for Alfahil, who was also a powerful sprinter in his day. When the stallion was led to the mare for the first time, Quzah urinated and lifted her tail to reveal her vulva. Alfahil responded by approaching with a high head, nickered, nipped and nudged the nervous mare. As a final check, the stallion went behind the mare and sniffed her urine to determine her readiness. Satisfied with his finding, Alfahil mounted Quzah under the watchful eyes of both Omar and Numan.

  ‘Quick, pull them apart,’ Numan shouted as soon as the stallion had completed his task.

  Two stablehands rushed in to separate the two horses to ensure they would not accidentally get hurt. Both the stallion and the mare were worth a lot of money.

  After eleven months of care and attention, Quzah gave birth to a filly which had a light chestnut colour like her dam, but with paler mane and tail. She had a triangular white marking on her face, thin at the forehead and widening further down at the nostrils. Very early on, the filly showed her qualities and speed, running alongside her dam. And Omar became hopeful that she would live up to their plan and expectation.

  ‘We should name her Saika – Lighting,’ Numan suggested after watching her in the paddocks.

  ‘It’s a very appropriate name, especially if she takes after her dam and sire,’ Omar readily agreed.

  When Saika was a year old and weaned from her dam, the two brothers handed her into the care of Bilal, their chief and most trusted trainer. He was to take the filly away to his little-known village where she would follow a strict diet and training regime set by her owners. Saika was accompanied by a black racing partner and Omar made sure that it was a dark horse that she would train with. For nearly two years, Bilal had been sending reports of the filly’s progress. Using a sand glass clock, Bilal had found that Saika could run a longer distance than most sprinters by the time the sand had ran out.

  ‘She is indeed one of the fastest horses l have ever trained,’ Bilal reported back to Numan.

  In mock training races, Bilal would give Saika’s black racing partner a head start. Then, as the two horses approached the finishing line, Bilal would use his whip to urge Saika to sprint and overtake the black horse. Soon the filly became conditioned to the whip signal and the belief that she could overtake the black runner every single time.

  Numan had visited the village a number of times to see Saika’s progress for himself, while Omar had been left frustrated, unable to travel discreetly to see the filly due to his position as caliph. Three weeks before the race, Bilal had arrived back in Qadday under the cover of darkness with the filly and Omar finally saw the horse for the first time since she’d been sent away.

  ‘She is beautifully built for speed, not too big and has the same upright shoulder and elongated back as Quzah,’ Omar remarked to Numan.

  Her mane and tail had turned so pale that they almost look white from a distance in sharp contrast to her light chestnut colour. With her light mane falling as a fringe over her forehead, Saika looked mischievous whenever she rolled her eyes.

  No one had heard of Saika yet and Omar was hoping that she would become a sensation overnight.

  Chapter 9

  When Omar went to find Aydin after his nap, he found his son pacing up and down.

  ‘Abbi, why did you take so long? I have been waiting for ages. I can’t wait to see Saika winning her first race,’ the usually calm boy reproached his father.

  ‘Let us hope that you are right about Saika, son. I too pray that she wins,’ Omar replied as he patted Aydin on the arm.

  Father and son proceeded with the entourage of guards to the race venue at the north of town where they would meet the other horse owners, as well as Numan. It was Numan who had made all the preparations for the race. Accommodations were arranged for the wealthy owners a week beforehand. Separate temporary stables, each with three stalls, had been built as each stable could only enter one horse per race. The horse owners had arrived a few days earlier in the middle of the night, as there was much secrecy as to which horses they would enter in the races. They also brought their own food for the horses and their own guards to patrol and keep watch. For the actual racing day, a huge tent had been erected for guests to relax and refresh themselves in between races. Numan had prearranged lavish food and beverages for the reception scheduled at the end of the day. In front of the tent, a podium had been built facing the race track, which had been roped off. A team of helpers had gone over every inch of the sandy ground to remove any stones. Opposite the podium and the track, an area for the general public had been cordoned off and next to it temporary food stalls had been built. Vendors would have to pay a fee to hire a stall on the day. It had been an enormous undertaking to arrange.

  ‘To be honest Aydin, I feel guilty to have left the entire organisation on your uncle’s shoulders,’ Omar confided to his son.

  For over a week the excitement of the racing day had been building up in Qadday and a large number of people from neighbouring towns and villages had arrived, along with bedouins from the desert. The wealthy had taken accommodation at the many guesthouses, whilst the nomads and poorer people had set up tents on the outskirts of the town. Business was booming as most visitors combined business with pleasure during their visit. Gambling was prohibited and religious guards had already begun patrolling the town to arrest anyone involved. Since women were generally not interested in horse racing, Numan had not set up a separate tent for them. But Omar’s wife Alima loved the thrill of horse racing and often accompanied her husband to the stables to watch the horses being trained. Omar had taught her how to ride and often in the evenings they would saddle up their horses and head into the desert.

  ‘I want to come with you to the races and watch Saika’s debut,’ Alima had pleaded with Omar a week before the races.

  ‘Unfortunate
ly there will be no separate tent for ladies,’ her husband had patiently explained to her.

  ‘I can watch from the public area,’ his impetuous wife had insisted.

  ‘As the caliph’s wife, you know very well you cannot be among the crowd,’ Omar had replied, exasperated by her insistence.

  Despite her repeated pleas Omar had categorically refused, which prompted Alima to throw one of her tantrums. The last time Omar had seen her was two days ago and she was still sulking. He was hoping that when he would see her tonight she would have calmed down.

  Two years ago, Omar and Numan had recruited a scholar specialised in the science of food to look into the horses’ diet.

  ‘We want you to advise us what to feed a horse before a race,’ Numan had instructed him.

  Traditionally, on the actual day of a race, horses were given practically nothing to eat or drink so that they would not carry an extra bulk bouncing in its stomach when at full speed.

  ‘It cannot be right to starve a horse before a race,’ Omar had stated to the scholar.

  Omar had always believed that such a regime was not appropriate for a good performance on the day. He himself always felt light-headed whenever he skipped breakfast and found it hard to concentrate. He believed that a horse needed to be fed on the day of the race and wanted to know what the best diet was.

  The science scholar had initially travelled to nearby countries, reviewing various equine diets. When he returned, he also conducted simple experiments, burning the same amount of different foods to find out which one contained more energy. After much consideration, he proposed a new approach.