Tuareg

The door flew open and Sergeant Malik-el-Haideri jumped up from his bed and grabbed the pistol lying on the table, but stopped as soon as he made out the shape of Lieutenant Razman, silhouetted in the doorway against the violent light that came flooding in from outside.

Even though he was half naked, he still tried to maintain a military air by standing to attention and saluted as he clicked his heels together, which actually made him look quite ridiculous. But it was clear from the lieutenant’s grim expression that the business he had come about was no laughing matter. As soon as his eyes had got used to the darkness he went over to the windows, opened the shutters and pointing to the next hut with his whip, said:

‘Who are those people you have locked up in there, sergeant?’ he asked.

The sergeant felt himself break into a cold sweat that started to seep out of every pore, but still struggling to keep his composure he said:

‘The Targui’s family.’

‘How long have they been here for?’

‘One week.’

Razman turned to face him as if unable to believe what he was hearing and reiterated:

‘One week…?’ He was clearly horrified. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you kept women and children locked up in this heat, in this inferno, for one week without having informed your superiors of this fact?’

‘The radio was broken.’

‘Liar! I have just spoken to the operator, you gave an order of silence. That’s why it was impossible to communicate with you before I arrived here.’

He stopped suddenly as his gaze fell on the completely naked figure of Laila, who out of fright had scurried over to the furthest corner of the room, where she was curled up on top of a threadbare blanket. His eyes flicked alternately from the girl to Malik-el-Haideri and finally, as if he could hardly bear to hear the answer, he asked hoarsely: ‘Who is that?’

‘The Targui’s wife. But it’s not what you think…’ he said trying to absolve himself. ‘She did it of her own free will. She agreed!’ he repeated, extending his hands out in front of him, as if begging for mercy.

Lieutenant Razman went over to Laila, who tried to cover herself up with a corner of the blanket.

‘Is that true. That you agreed to this?’ he asked. ‘He didn’t force you?’ The girl looked at him fixedly and then turning round to face the sergeant said firmly:

‘He said if I didn’t agree he would give my children over to the soldiers.’

Lieutenant Razman nodded his head silently, then turning slowly round and pointing to the door, he shouted to Malik:

‘Get out.’

He tried to grab his clothes, but the lieutenant shook his head firmly:

‘No! You are not fit to wear that uniform again. Get out of here as you are!’

Sergeant Major Malik-el-Haideri went out, followed by the sergeant, but stopped in the doorway as there, watching them expectantly, were all the men from the outpost, accompanied now by Razman’s wife and the enormous Sergeant Ajamuk.

‘Over to the dunes!’

He obeyed, despite the fact that the sand was burning the soles of his feet and he walked on in silence, his head hung low, without looking at anyone, until he reached the start of the dunes.

As soon as he realised that he could not go any further and that he would never make it up the steep slope, he turned around and was not surprised to see the lieutenant taking his regulation revolver out of its holster.

One shot was all it took to blow his brains out.

Razman stood still for a moment pensively, contemplating the body and then he slowly put his weapon back, retraced his steps and stood in front of everyone present. Nobody moved a muscle.

He looked at each one of them, trying to read their thoughts and then finally took a deep breath, as if preparing to say something that he had been holding inside for too long and said:

‘You are the scum of the army. The kind of men I have always hated and soldiers I never would have chosen to be in command of: thieves, murderers, drug addicts and rapists and riffraff!’ He paused. ‘But in the end, you might be nothing more than victims, or a reflection of the country we have become under this government.’ He let them reflect a little on what he was trying to tell them and then, raising his voice, he continued: ‘But the time has come for things to change. President Abdul-el-Kebir has managed to cross the border to safety and made his first appeal to the people who want to see a return to democracy and freedom, to unite and fight.’ He paused again, this time more theatrically, aware that to rouse the men his speech needed to be dramatic. ‘I am going to join him!’ he finally said. ‘What I have witnessed here today has convinced me and I am ready to break with the past and start the fight all over again with the man in whom I really trust. And I’m going to give you a chance! Whoever wants to, can follow me across the border to join up with Abdul-el-Kebir.’

The men looked at each other in astonishment, unable to believe that their prayers had been answered and that they were being given the chance to escape from that inferno. They were being freed from Adoras and being given the option to flee the country. Moreover, it was the very officer in charge of keeping them imprisoned there, who was offering them this freedom on a plate.

Many men before them had tried to escape, but they had always been captured and shot, or imprisoned for the rest of their lives. But suddenly this young lieutenant in his wellpressed uniform, who had just arrived there with his attractive wife and a colossal, but good-natured sergeant, was trying to convince them to do something, that only yesterday, would have been considered the most heinous of all crimes. Now, if they chose to leave that hellhole they would suddenly, as if by some crazy twist of fate, be committing a heroic deed.

One of the men almost burst out laughing, while another jumped for joy. Then Razman, quite sure of what he was doing and of what that bunch of criminals would choose to do, asked those of them who wanted to join him to raise up their hands. A sea of hands bounced into the air in unison, as if they had been pulled up by some invisible, mechanical spring.

The lieutenant smiled and looked at his wife, who smiled back at him. Then he turned round to Ajamuk:

‘Get everything ready. We’ll be leaving in two hours.’ He pointed with his whip to the hut where Gazel Sayah’s family were, watching the events unfold through the latticed window. ‘They’re coming with us,’ he added. ‘We’ll take them across the border to safety.’