Indira Jackson - Rayan - Son of the Desert

"And my name is Hatem – as explained I have been a merchant here for many years. My shop is just over there.“ He signed with his hand to one of the shops a few meters down the road. "From over there I could watch you with that … scum", he continued. "You should be glad that I had nothing to do and was sitting outside in front of my shop.“

And then he said: "By the way – who is it you would like to go after?“, and Carina replied without hesitation: "The Sheikh.“

If she had thought she would impress Hatem, she was completely mistaken. He laughed. And laughed. Droning like he had just heard the best joke in his life.

"You must be mad. Too much heat.“ He wiped away the tears that had started to stream down his face because of all the laughter and made the typical circling gesture with his right hand near his temple.

Carina was furious – what did this street merchant think about himself?! Miffed she turned around without a further word and marched briskly away.

Hatem stopped grinning and went after her. He took her wrist and made her stop. "Listen carefully! You have no idea what you are getting yourself into. They will cut your throat before you are near enough to even say what you want.“

"Really?“ hissed Carina. "And I thought this fabulous amulet works miracles? Why would they cut my throat then?“

Now Hatem stopped to think for a moment. "You are right about that of course. Okay. But what would you tell them? Do you really believe you would be welcomed to an audience by the Sheikh himself?“

"Yes! Because I only met him just yesterday. And you know what? I saved his life! You desert people do so much love the rule about a life debt. Well! That is my plan! Are you going to help me or not?”

Hatem was impressed. Of course he had heard the rumours about an attempted assassination on the Sheikh’s life. As she indeed had the necklace around her neck her story seemed to be true. Nonetheless he continued to think it through: "Anyway. What would you want there? What do you think the warriors should do with you? Take you with them? Where to? Zarifa? To the heart of the desert of Rub’al Khali? Surely NOT! Haven’t you ever heard that strangers are not allowed to access it?“

Carina had not yet thought it through that much. Therefore she said, impulsively: “No, not all the way to Zarifa, but at least part of the way. Until I have collected enough information for my book about him!“

Hatem made a disgusted sound: "Really? You are writing a book? – well, that is going to make the Sheikh really happy. For as far as I have heard he is a great fan of publicity.“ His voice was thick with mockery.

Carina had now had enough of this importunate stranger: “You know what? I do not need you at all. And I have not invited you to help me in the first place.“ She had already started to turn away, to get away from him, when suddenly a thought crossed her mind that she could use as a victory:

"You folk do believe in destiny, don’t you? Well I do too! Do you really think it was coincidence that it is me of all people, who travels from Munich to here to collect information about the Sheikh, to get to know him inside the plane? From Munich to here!? Coincidence? And on top of that I saved his life? If I am correctly informed he usually takes his private jet - but that had a technical defect!“

Within her mind she thanked the uncongenial lawyer who had revealed this detail to her. “All coincidence? If you believe that – fine. But I think it was the will of Allah!“

She knew she was coming across quite pathetically, but she saw immediately that she had struck gold. Nevertheless she continued: "Well, now I wish you a good life and a successful business for the future. Because I am busy trying to find a way to follow him.“ Hatem realised that she did indeed believe what she had just said and that he had no way of stopping her.

Suddenly Carina changed tactics: "Do you know the Sheikh personally?“ Hatem shook his head. He had always talked to his men, never to him personally. "I always negotiate with a man that is called Mazin. He is the contact person for the Sheikh here in Dubai. Why?“

"Wouldn’t you like to get to know him?“

Hatem caught himself with the thought that in his heart Carina’s whole adventure got to him. Yet what could he do anyway? If he did not want to barricade that crazy lady within some chamber, he had to support her in order to prevent her from getting in contact with the wrong people.

For some time he thought that the idea of disabling her had some appeal but he was afraid about what she would do afterwards. The police around here had no sense of humour in that kind of case, especially when it came to female tourists.

"Very well, listen. Tomorrow a caravan will take off. As your nice friend has explained to you a couple of minutes ago, indeed everyone - no matter if by horse or camel – has to pass by Wahi. I am going to check if I can arrange something for you. But I promise you nothing, alright?“

Thus the two made an appointment for the evening. Carina was supposed to come again to the shop shortly before dusk.

It was October 1989 when Rayan left the mountains around Zarifa.

As he knew the mountainside, as well as the surrounding parts of the desert, like the back of his hand, it had been no problem for him to stride straight through until the next oasis. There he joined a caravan to Rabea Akbar. The city lay in the south of Zarifa and it was still part of the desert of Rub’al Khali.

Originally it was just a big oasis, but like so many other settlements it had grown over time and had become a real city. The leader of the caravan, who had three sons of his own at home, had sympathy for him and luckily accepted him as a "hanta“. Hanta was the local name for men who had to take care for the camels. They were mostly young lads just like Rayan, who wanted to work for their passage, due to not being able to afford a camel of their own.

At Rabea Akbar he strolled around for a while to scout out the environment. He had never been there before. He had only left Zarifa two or three times before to accompany the men to the surrounding oases for trading.

"Your English is good, go to Rabea Akbar to the Americans“, his grandfather had advised him. Before he met Rayan’s grandmother he had himself worked as a hanta and as a guide in the American base there.

"With the Americans you will be safe. There no one will care where you come from; and your blue eyes are not going to be anything special either. However, just in case you should change your name. Why don’t you call yourself Yasin? – that was my father’s name, so the name of your great-grandfather.“

For the second time Rayan was lucky: just as he arrived into Rabea Akbar at the beginning of 1990 – in the January – the guide, who the military normally had under contract, fell ill. This was most likely because of some poor quality water. Thus, the American sergeant responsible for the desert explorations needed an urgent replacement and, fortunately, he did not ask too many questions. Contrary to the former guy the tall boy seemed to be able to understand them quite well, which made conversation so much easier.

And just like that Rayan, who now called himself Yasin, succeeded in securing himself a small place to sleep, right next to the barracks of the soldiers.

He had no problem adjusting himself, but there was one aspect that was hard for him in the beginning: he was born as Prince of the desert and was used to the fact that servants had to bow to him. Even though he had been away from home for quite a while now, he had never had to serve someone else before. Now it was his duty to bow low before his American masters. This action offended his pride, especially as some of the soldiers showed great arrogance towards the natives, which made his blood boil.