Beyond the Sand Dune_Novel of Peace

by Asen Djinah

  ‘Brothers, sisters, children, today is a great day,’ he began.

  He looked at the guard nearest to him and nodded. The guard looked puzzled at first and then realised that the grand vizier wanted him to repeat his words. He did so and waved at the next guard ahead to do the same.

  ‘We have won a major battle against our enemy and saved our motherland. Our soldiers fought hard for our freedom and many lost their lives in doing so.’

  Jaffar paused again to allow the guards to relay his message.

  ‘God is with us, since we are on the right path and by His Grace our small army has defeated an army twice as large.’

  The crowd gave a huge cheer at the official confirmation that the enemy was much larger in number that their own.

  ‘I know that you are here to see and hear from our great leader himself, our leader who with the help of God has masterminded this amazing victory.’

  ‘He will speak to you later, but first he has a very important meeting. We must not forget our brothers who gave their lives for us and Caliph Omar has certainly not forgotten them.’

  ‘Although our brothers are enjoying the rewards of martyrdom in Paradise, their wives and children are still here with us. The caliph’s priority is to look after their welfare. That is why he is so busy right now.’

  The crowd nodded gravely at the mention of the slain soldiers and were pleased that the caliph was treating the wellbeing of the widows and orphans as a matter of utmost priority. But they were still disappointed that he was not here to address them personally.

  ‘Do not be disappointed! The caliph himself will speak to you today after evening prayers, when he will personally lead the funeral prayers for our fallen brothers.’

  The crowd cheered at the news.

  ‘It is very hot. Go home now and come back in the evening to remember our fallen brothers and hear our great caliph.’

  The crowd applauded the grand vizier, who touched his heart, lips and forehead to salute them before going back inside the palace. With the promise to hear Caliph Omar later, the crowd began to disperse, for it indeed was very hot.

  Jaffar returned back to the Hall of Justice to find that Omar had already arrived. The caliph was going from one group to the next, acknowledging the congratulations whilst at the same time thanking them for their contributions towards the war chest. The atmosphere in the room was joyous as the men shared the various stories they had heard about the events of the battle.

  ‘We must not forget the contribution of the women. They were the ones who motivated our soldiers to fight,’ one of the men said.

  ‘Yes, I heard that they were even throwing stones at the men to force them back to the frontline,’ another added.

  ‘Not only that. They were actually fighting, standing side by side with the men against the enemy,’ a third person clarified.

  Others were talking about the sacrifice of Ikrimah and the four hundred warriors, and how they rushed whole-heartedly into the midst of the enemy. They marvelled at the tactics of Commander-in-Chief Khalid, who had made the right decisions at the right time.

  ‘Had the commander-in-chief made one wrong decision, the outcome would have been completely different,’ someone said.

  The wealthy visitors felt a sense of remorse at the thought of those who had lost their lives, saving the empire and with it their wealth. They knew that Caliph Omar would candidly use their guilt against them to extract the maximum money for the widows and orphans, but they were not in the least worried; they felt privileged to be in a position to help. Later, after he completed his rounds, talking to each one individually, the caliph would address the room on that issue.

  As he surveyed the crowd around him, Omar felt the familiar odd feeling creeping back into the pit of his stomach. He had been experiencing this ever since he agreed to publish the Prophet’s sayings.

  ‘I should be as happy and jubilant as everyone else,’ he thought, unable to shake off this feeling of foreboding hanging over his head.

  When he had first heard of the resounding victory and the complete annihilation of the enemy, he felt immense relief. The news of their unexpected victory had been exhilarating and a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It had been a stressful time for Omar ever since the day he had dispatched his men to engage the enemy. He had been unable to sleep, expecting the worst. He had even made arrangements for his family to flee south in the event their army was defeated.

  ‘I will stay behind to negotiate with the enemy, in order to limit the carnage,’ he had informed his close circle as he prepared for the worst scenario.

  Omar looked around and saw everyone talking and laughing loudly, enjoying their refreshments. Usually meetings with the caliph were a subdued affair, but it was understandable that everyone was overjoyed by the recent events. Omar himself felt like it was a new beginning.

  ‘The situation would have been very different had we lost,’ he thought.

  ‘How many of the people in the room would still be alive?’ he wondered as he looked around.

  He saw Jaffar across the room, talking to a group of men with old Kateb leaning on his arm. From the very beginning he had been aware how his two right-hand men had manipulated him into publishing the Prophet’s sayings. Yet looking at Jaffar standing humbly among the guests, he felt grateful. Following his advice, albeit reluctantly, the empire had been saved, avoiding much bloodshed and loss of lives.

  Caliph Omar should have been completely happy, knowing that he had saved hundreds of thousands of lives, yet he still could not shake off his uneasy feeling.

  ‘The Holy Prophet was known for his very profound foresight and he must have had his reasons to prevent anyone from keeping records of his sayings,’ he thought, feeling lonely in the crowded room.

  ‘Yet I have gone against his teaching. Only time will tell whether I was right or not,’ he thought with resignation.

  Omar sighed as he surveyed the room. Everyone was talking loudly and slapping each other on the back joyously. Jaffar caught the caliph’s eyes and signalled that it was time for his speech. Omar nodded back to acknowledge the request.

  ‘History will bear witness to this great victory. And history will also bear witness as to whether I made a grave mistake,’ he thought to himself as he made his way towards the podium.

  Chapter 14

  Amel was suddenly awakened from her nap by the noise coming from the courtyard. As she listened, she heard Asif and Hayder’s voices above the din as they shouted out orders to the cooks. The two business partners had bought large amounts of provisions and recruited helpers from the neighbourhood to cook pots of various dishes to take to the marketplace. Nabila was helping women recruits who were making fresh breads and baskets of saffron rice. Everyone had been up since early morning, making sure there was a constant flow of food to feed the thousands of visitors to Kuffrat. Other wealthy families were also doing the same.

  ‘I hope the noise doesn’t wake the baby up,’ Amel was concerned.

  As she looked down at her baby, the tiny girl smiled in her sleep as though she could sense her mother watching her.

  ‘Little Zeynab is playing with the angels like baby Nabila used to,’ Amel thought, the memory of her younger sister as a baby popping into her mind.

  It was Hayder who had first suggested that they named the baby Zeynab, after Amel’s late mother. And Amel had loved him even more for it. It had been two weeks since Zeynab was born and Amel still wouldn’t allow anyone to take the baby out of her sight. Despite being busy with the cooks, Hayder, Asif or Nabila would come in and check upon mother and baby every now and then.

  ‘I feel stuck in the house and would love to go out and help with the cooking,’ Amel told Nabila when she came in a few minutes later.

  ‘You are still not well and should remain in bed,’ Nabila replied.

  Immediately after little Zeynab was born, Amel had caught a fever and had been forced to rest. She was not allowed to do anything other
than feed and tend to the baby. But now that she was feeling better, she felt confined and cramped in her room. However she knew she could not bear to leave the baby alone with Nabila, or take her outside into the noisy and dusty environment of the courtyard.

  Looking down at the helpless bundle beside her, she could not believe how such a tiny baby could bring so much joy and happiness to the household.

  ‘She is already the centre of attention and everyone’s routine revolves around her,’ Amel babbled to her sister as she looked fondly at the tiny baby.

  Nabila would help to bathe her or change her diapers, playing the role of the aunt to perfection. Whenever little Zeynab cried, Hayder and Asif would rush in, each trying to outrun the other to pick up the baby. When she was sleeping, they would walk around the house on tiptoe and whisper whenever they spoke.

  ‘I am blessed to have such loving people around me,’ Amel thought, glad that little Zeynab would grow in such a happy environment, with people who adored her.

  There had been a time when the outcome of the court case hung like a dark cloud over her head. Although outwardly she had looked happy with Nabila making her laugh all the time, Amel had been constantly worried about what would happen to her unborn baby if she were found guilty. Not only was she haunted by nightmares of a horrible death by stoning, she was also concerned how her baby would fare in the world without help and guidance from her mother. But it all seemed to be in the distant past now. For the rest of her life, she would never forget the day when Imam Yasir came to visit them.

  It was the day after the terrible news of the Byzantine threat had been announced to the public. Everyone one had been terrified by the impending menace, for they had heard stories about the brutality and ruthlessness of the enemy. The sheer size of their army left the population with little hope and fearing for the future. The following morning, Asif and the others were sitting in the courtyard, drinking tea and making plans following the news of the Byzantines’ offensive. Everyone was convinced that the enemy would easily break the empire’s defences and massacre the population. They had heard about the reputation of the Byzantines who had no qualms about butchering entire male populations and taking women and children as slaves.

  ‘Binian lives in Djibouti across the Red Sea. I will ask him to shelter you in the event of an invasion. I am sure he will be happy to help out,’ Hayder told Amel and Nabila.

  ‘This will be our last resort.’ Asif answered.

  ‘The priority is to make significant contributions to the treasury, to help them acquire sufficient arms and recruit enough fighting men. We have to help in any way we can to defend our country.’

  While they were discussing and planning for the future, they heard knocking on the courtyard door. When Hayder went to answer, he was surprised to see Imam Yasir and a guard standing outside. The last time the two of them had met was four months ago, when Hayder went to the mosque to inquire about Amel’s whereabouts after her arrest.

  ‘Salam Alaikum, Hayder. May I come in?’ Imam Yasir asked.

  ‘Alaikum Salam, Imam Yasir. Please, do come in and join us for some tea,’ Hayder replied affably, although inwardly he was mystified by the visit.

  Amel and Nabila had quickly retired inside the house when they first heard the knocking, as they were not properly attired. The imam sat down and sipped his tea while Hayder asked the servant to take a cup to the guard. The topic of conversation was evidently about the imminent Byzantine attack, as the three men discussed the state of preparation of the army. After he had finished his tea, Imam Yasir was ready to state the purpose of his visit.

  ‘I have come to speak to your wife,’ he said, addressing Hayder, ‘Can you please call her?’

  Hayder was even more puzzled, but then realised that Imam Yasir was here in an official capacity.

  ‘It cannot possibly be about the court case,’ he thought as he went into the house to get Amel, ‘there are still two months before the baby is due.’

  When Amel finally appeared, wearing her niqab and walking heavily towards the group, Imam Yasir rose to his feet.

  ‘My daughter, I have some news for you. And instead of sending one of my officials, I decided to come in person,’ he said.

  Staring at the imam through the slit of her niqab, Amel’s heart started to pound. Hayder quickly moved to her side, sensing the nervousness of his wife.

  ‘Caliph Omar has ruled that your case be dismissed. Rather than wait for the birth of the baby and ask you to come to court, the caliph has said that you have been caused enough distress already. He wanted you to know immediately that there is no case for you to answer. You are free now.’

  Amel felt a sudden weakness in her legs and her head started spinning as the reality of the imam’s words sank in. She dropped to her knees, unable to support her body. Hayder immediately went down on his knees too, fearing his wife might faint and hurt the unborn baby. As he held her tightly, they both started to cry. Nabila did not understand what was going on and turned to Asif with a frown on her face. The old man was crying too.

  For the first time since that awful day four months ago, Amel and Hayder let themselves go and sobbed uncontrollably. It was tears of relief as well as tears of sheer joy.

  Epilogue - The Story of Karim

  Chapter 1

  For a brief instant, Karim Benkader was annoyed with himself. For the past week his cell phone had been shutting down without warning, only to be stuck in a rebooting loop. Each time he’d had to remove the battery and then connect the phone to the charger before switching it on. He had googled and found out that it was a known bug – something that happened when the battery of an LG G3 became faulty. He kicked himself for not replacing the battery before coming to Molenbeek. Now it was too late, for he didn’t dare leave the flat; he was under strict instructions not to show his face in the neighbourhood.

  ‘It can’t be helped now. It’ll have to wait,’ he resigned himself.

  It had been four days since Karim had first arrived in Molenbeek. Since then, he had been cooped up in the small flat with only the television and his mobile phone for company, but he was used to that. He didn’t mind waiting; he knew the call would only come once everything was in place. There was a time when he would have felt restless with the boredom and confinement of the first floor apartment. But the three years spent in prison had changed him completely. Now Karim felt that he had finally grown into a man and the teenager who got mixed up with drugs was long gone. Karim’s mind went to his first day in prison, when Sofiane had offered his protection.

  ‘I am so lucky to have met Sofiane and his group of followers,’ he thought.

  Since the day the police stopped him and found a large amount of crystal meth in his backpack, the young man had been terrified of the future.

  ‘If the court finds me guilty, I will go to prison,’ Karim had thought in despair.

  The state lawyer assigned to him did not mince his words either.

  ‘Even if you’re cleared of drug dealing, you should expect close to the maximum sentence for possession, due to the large quantity of drugs found on you,’ he’d said bluntly.

  Karim had been terrified. He’d heard stories of young men being raped and subjected to all sorts of depravity in prison. Being just nineteen years old at the time of his arrest, he knew he would most certainly be targeted by the many predators in jail.

  ‘What have I done? Why did I hang with the wrong kind of friends?’ he kept asking himself.

  His court case lasted only a couple of hours before the judge found him guilty of drug possession. When he confirmed that he would pronounce the maximum sentence, Karim’s world came crashing down.

  ‘You will serve the maximum sentence of five years, due to the large amount of drugs found in your possession. However, since you have no previous conviction, you will be eligible for parole after three years,’ the judge had said in his sentencing.

  As Karim was escorted out of the courtroom, he looked up at the gallery
and saw his mother and elder brother Kalil staring at him in disbelief. At that very instant, he wanted so much for Kalil to come and rescue him from this nightmare; the same Kalil he used to despise for being mama’s favourite. Just before he stepped out of the doorway, Karim cast a final glance towards his mother and saw the look of disappointment in her eyes. He didn’t say goodbye but looked away instead, feeling ashamed for the first time in his life.

  Karim had always been jealous of his brother, who worked from morning till evening as an Uber driver. He was always the one his mother would turn to as he was the breadwinner of the family, their father having passed away when the two boys were young. Whilst there was only praise for Kalil, his mother constantly reprimanded Karim for his many misdemeanours. The look of disappointment and sadness in her eyes made him suddenly realise the distress and worries he had caused his family over the past years.

  ‘Why didn’t I listen to them when they were telling me off?’ Karim asked himself, finally realising how selfish he had been as he left the courtroom.

  Head bent, he followed the guards to the holding cell where he would await his transfer to prison. Karim felt like he was in a nightmare and could not wait to wake up. Nothing could have prepared him for his first experience of confinement. Shackled at the ankles and handcuffed, he felt completely ashamed as he was led into a van with other prisoners. Each prisoner was locked in individual enclosures and throughout the whole journey Karim kept his eyes down, staring at the floor. He didn’t dare look at the other prisoners through the grille, fearing he would break down if he did. Although he felt like screaming, the young man tried desperately to keep his mind blank and his panic at bay.