The camel suddenly opened his mouth and bellowed, “Aw-a-a-a-a-a-a.”
The open desert quickly swallowed the pained cry and Ukhayyad stopped and fell on the sand.
It was now late afternoon.
He found himself in a fever, drenched in sweat and blood. He did not know when or how he had passed out. The pain of the gashes split his head. The time had come for the pains of the body to vanquish those of the heart. If only there was a way for the pains of the body to absorb these others — then no one would ever feel any pain. As soon as he came to and remembered what had happened, his headache dissolved — and with it, the sufferings of his body. Heartache had consumed all other pain.
Ukhayyad went and washed in the vineyard spring. He concealed his wounds beneath his veil and rested in the shady thicket of palms that surrounded the pool of water. He drank, and drenched his chest, clothes, and head with water. He eventually got up and headed for the oasis village.
He found the man he sought sitting in the circle of sheikhs. The cadi was taking refuge from the scorching afternoon sun behind the courtyard wall and was absorbed in fighting off flies with a palm frond swatter. Ukhayyad asked to speak to the man alone, and then demanded a writ of divorce. The cadi attempted to dissuade him, and tried to postpone drafting the document. The man said, “Though frowned upon, a divorce was permitted by God’s law. There is nothing easier.” It was better — though harder, he said — to restrain one’s impulses than regret one’s actions later. But, confronted with Ukhayyad’s determination, the cadi abandoned his sermon and resorted to a trick that he thought would delay the process and muddle Ukhayyad’s passion: he demanded that a witness be present. Ukhayyad went out and grabbed the first peasant he met in the square, dragging him back to the cadi. “When Satan sets his heart on something, he makes it happen,” the cadi sighed. “When he wants to push someone over a cliff, he removes all the obstacles that stand in his way. May God prevail!” He then gave the ill-omened document to Ukhayyad, who then folded it, pressed it into his pocket, and departed for Danbaba.
He met alone with Dudu and handed him the paper, the document of his surrender and deliverance. The writ was his emancipation from the noose, the doll, and the illusion — forever. Dudu was ecstatic. He ordered his servants to bring some tea and prepare them supper. “I knew you’d do it,” he exclaimed. “And it’s a good thing you did, too. You have broken your fetters and regained a true friend. I could see it in your eyes and his since the very first day. The truth was right there, hidden in your eyes.”
He smiled and went on, “Who would ever trade a giraffe like this piebald of yours for a woman, even if she were a goddess of beauty like Tanit? God forbid you ever did such a thing! But isn’t our entire fate inscribed on our foreheads for all to see?”
From an iron box he took out an old leather pouch engraved with magic amulets. He dipped a teacup into it twice. The gold dust flashed, blinding the eye.
The yellow rays of twilight were reflected in the yellow specks and, in seeming response, the gold appeared to radiate from within.
Dudu pushed the pouch toward Ukhayyad, saying, “Don’t think of this as a bribe. Think of it as protection from the evil of necessity until the famine has passed.”
Ukhayyad answered, “I don’t think I’ll need it. In our tribe, gold is said to bring bad luck.”
The man ignored the second half of what Ukhayyad had just said. Instead, he commented on the first part: “Not only do humans need gold, but jinn need it as well. It is the source of the struggles between humans and jinn, between humans and Satan, and also among humans. How could you not need it? Because of it, I was held prisoner and tortured by the blacks of Bambara. But also, without it, I could not have accomplished what I have.”
He waved the piece of paper in the air and smiled. Ukhayyad reminded him with naive determination, “But they say it is cursed and brings bad luck.”
“Those are myths spread by people incapable of attaining it. Gold is the goal of every person, from when they are born till the moment they die. It’s what everyone wants, everyone that is, except losers and Sufi dervishes. Losers and dervishes revile it and spread their nasty rumors about it for only one reason: they don’t know how to get it! Believe me!”
A flash sparkled in the man’s eye as he spoke.
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.