Gold Dust

24

In the fertile southern pastures below Jebel Hasawna, the piebald recovered his vigor.

One low-lying valley in particular had received the rains of passing clouds at the end of last spring. None of the experienced herders had gone there, because the rains had arrived so late. After leaving Adrar for the northern desert, Ukhayyad had stumbled upon this valley. He had decided to stay put there. Leaving the camel in the green pasture he took refuge in a cave on the western slopes.

He decided to settle here, not only because the place was a reward from God, a green treasure hidden from other travelers and herdsmen, but also because he had discovered another treasure there as well — desert truffles. He had not eaten them since settling in the wretched oasis. Once a man has tried such truffles, he spends the rest of his life longing to taste them again.

In those hidden fields, the piebald recovered his muscle, fat, and gleaming coat — and Ukhayyad savored truffles for the first time since his long exile in the oases. The truffles were like a reward for all his patience and suffering.

But the real compensation was not to be found in the truffles, nor in the piebald’s regained health. The prize was in the pure presence of God that can be found only in the quiet emptiness of infinite wilderness. Only those who have been shackled by life in the oasis can know the meaning of serenity. Such serenity means nothing to those who have not experienced the fetters of family and shame, not to mention the worries of life and the machinations of men. By day, such men labor stubbornly. By night, they are insomniacs — and their chains become only tighter and more jagged. As soon as such a man breaks one knot, he discovers new fetters around his hands and feet, strangling him like serpents. They are like drowning men — however much they raise their heads and dream of rescue, strong currents tug them under. People say that in the vineyard spring there lives a demon who is skilled at this kind of sport. He does not try to drown his victims unless they come to swim alone. He never attacks those who come to swim in groups.

These are the traps of sedentary life in the oasis generally — for that demon did not just haunt the vineyard spring, but the entire oasis.

Here, on the other hand, demons die of thirst, leaving two expanses to reveal themselves — that of the open desert and that of the heart. Here, there was a stillness of the ears, and a stillness of the heart. There was God’s presence in the desert, and His presence inside a man’s chest. And while the waters of the vineyard spring may wash clean the body, only the desert can cleanse the soul. In the desert, the soul empties and clears and becomes free and brave in the process. And so it enables you to defy the endless open space, challenge the horizon, and explore the emptiness that leads beyond the horizon, beyond the desert void. It invites you to face the other world, the hereafter. It was here, only here, in the labyrinths of never-ending desert plains, that the extremes converge — open expanse, horizon, and desolation — to form a firmament that expands outward, toward eternity, toward the afterlife.

This celestial union weaves together the threads of God’s presence, and plants stillness and calm in the heart. He had heard Sheikh Musa repeat this mantra so often that Ukhayyad began to think it was a sura from the Qur’an — the Sura of Serenity. He had never known what it meant until now — after tasting life in the oases, after wrapping himself in devilish chains like everybody else does in the world. He had traded his freedom for a noose and a doll and an illusion, and told himself the same story as everybody else, “This is what we found our forefathers doing.” Now, he grasped the meaning of this mantra. When he heard it from Sheikh Musa and learned it by heart, he never realized that he would someday be traveling down the road it described: Abraham’s people stubbornly insisted on worshiping idols simply because they inherited the custom from father to son. Meanwhile, Ukhayyad had done the same: he married and begot a child and built a special place in his heart for shame — so as to confine himself with fetters stronger than any iron chain.

He forgot about the verse, the sura, the magic spell. He forgot about the words that opened up secrets — serenity, freedom, the presence of God. He had forgotten them simply because he had left the desert and placed his neck in the shackles of settled life in the oases. The inhabitants of the oases were nothing but slaves. No one but a slave would agree to live behind walls or under a mud roof. And Ukhayyad had been a unique kind of slave — a blind one. He had been unable to recognize that his own soul was being enslaved. He had not been slave to another man, but slave to a devil, which was surely worse. A man who is slave to other men arouses pity, but a slave to demons makes you cringe with disgust. The piebald had saved Ukhayyad from this repugnant form of slavery — he was a divine messenger. Were it not for the pure animal, he would have continued following in Satan’s tracks, and perished along with so many other lost souls. The piebald was his savior, the vessel that would deliver him to freedom. And here they were, racing like gazelles across God’s wide desert — that everlasting desert stretching from here to the hereafter.

Goodbye broken chains. Goodbye to the cage whose bars were stronger than those of the prisons the last Ottoman governor left behind when they evacuated the oasis.

The honor of breaking from that cage went to the piebald. And now God had rewarded the camel for his patience and led him to this treasure — to these hidden pastures. The pastures that the passing clouds had made so verdant. The green was heaven’s gift in the desert. Even the barren desert knew how to hide surprises to reward those who are patient. It had rewarded the Mahri with sweet grasses, and Ukhayyad with truffles.

If truffles were not precious treasure, then what was? A fruit that fell from heaven? It is nothingness that brings truffles forth in great abundance. The earth splits apart to let them come up. Their strong earthy scent wafts across the land. The winds scatter them and carry them back to earth. Then lightning mixes with thunder and suddenly the magical fruit is born again in the heart of the void. To enjoy truffles at the outset of summer — that was a mercy from heaven. This was paradise on earth.

But had paradise lasted even until the days of the ancients? And had God’s blessings survived even into the age of the Prophets?