Gold Dust

19

Less than a month later, the piebald returned again and the same herder came looking for him.

The third time he came back, Ukhayyad asked the faqih to write an amulet that would protect the camel from harm. After hearing the man’s story, the faqih said, “This camel will not forget, and I do not know how to erase memories. You need someone else.”

The black slaves told him to go see one of the African magicians. But the soothsayer from Tiba, the one who had left shortly before the famine, had been the last witch in the oasis. And now that on account of the war the desert caravans had stopped moving, he had little hope in finding the sorcerers that used to accompany them.

He took two handfuls of barley while Ayur was not looking and decided to go himself to Danbaba. While they were alone on the road, Ukhayyad began to scold the animal: “Don’t you realize you’re wearing me out? Didn’t we agree that our separation would be just temporary? You have forgotten how to be patient — and you’ve made us the laughing stock of everybody.”

The animal’s eyes glistened with tears, but Ukhayyad showed no mercy: “You run after me like a puppy. That’s something that dogs do, not camels!”

Then, softening his tone: “The war will end soon and our life will return to how it was before. Nothing lasts forever, so be patient. Until you do, nothing will straighten out. That was the deal we made!”

He took out his surprise gift. He spread out the barley in front of the Mahri, but the animal turned away, grumbling and fixing his gaze on the horizon.

Ukhayyad knew that the animal did not like what he had said. The piebald began to chew without swallowing, churning up a shiny froth around his mouth. He drooled bits of froth on Ukhayyad’s face and limbs, and the young man realized that the camel was burning with anger. Whenever rage ate at him, he vomited up frothy mucus.

He fastened the cord around the camel’s forelegs. He forced each leg until it bent, and hobbled each with palm rope so the animal would not get away during the night and attack the other camel. This precaution was necessary since every time the piebald returned from exile, he had viciously pounced on the camel that had taken his place.

Ukhayyad left him there and returned to his gear. He lay down on his arm and tried, without success, to sleep. All through the night he listened to the piebald as he nervously chewed, chomping jerkily at nothing but air and spit. That night, when he discovered he was no longer able to stand their being apart, Ukhayyad decided to retrieve the camel, whatever the cost.

He thought it strange that he had not allowed himself to make this decision before now. But he finally realized, as he rested on the bed of the endless desert, that he would never forgive himself if he failed to retrieve the camel on this trip. The calamity that brought them together in the past had joined their lives in a bond that would last forever. Their bond would surely withstand the famine that today tried to break them apart.

While they were on that immortal journey — going from the tribe’s encampments to the fields of Maimoun, from the pastures to the well, and finally from the abyss back to the mouth of the well again — they had purchased life at severe cost. With pain equal to death, with death itself, they had bought their lives and were born anew. Today, how could he let family and famine betray this divine gift that had joined their fates? How had the woman so blinded him from seeing his foul deed for what it was? If not for her, he would not have forgotten to fulfill his pledge to Tanit. If not for her, the curse would not have fallen on him — the curse that blinded him from seeing what he was doing. If not for her, his son would never have come into this world to shackle his neck and hands and feet with chains stronger than iron. This son had not just shackled limbs, but had paralyzed his mind and cloaked his heart. Sons may be the security of fathers — but they are also their undoing.