Bahaa Taher - Sunset Oasis

I put the letter back in its envelope and placed it in front of me on the desk, laughing again.

What had happened to me? Why didn't I feel the slightest anger? Why didn't I feel anything at all? Did I deserve this punishment? Perhaps!

I heard horses approaching at a gallop and entering the courtyard of the station, followed, faster than I expected, by a knocking on the door. Wasfi came in.

He waved Ibraheem away as he entered, and closed the door. He hadn't changed his uniform and for the first time I saw him in front of me in a tarboosh topped with dust and clothes smudged with sand. He saluted, his face pale, and accompanied the salute with an anxious question: 'Was there anything, Your Excellency…'

Before he could continue, I held out my hand to him with the opened envelope, saying, 'This letter is for you, Captain. I opened it because it was with the official correspondence from the ministry, but you can regard it as unread. Dismiss.'

He stood there hesitating, turning the envelope over in his hands, but I repeated, in a tone that brooked no refusal, 'Dismiss!'

Only a few minutes had passed after he had left when there was an urgent knocking on the door. I gave permission to enter and Corporal Salmawi rushed in, his face like thunder.

'I wish to make a complaint, Your Excellency!' he said in that same tremulous voice that seemed always to be on the verge of tears.

'Calm down, Corporal. Who do you want to make a complaint against?'

'Captain Wasfi. He ran into me at the bottom of the stairs as he was coming down from Your Excellency and he slapped me in the face for no reason.'

'On the contrary,' I said to myself, 'there was a reason, Salmawi. He had to slap someone!'

I answered him, however, by asking, 'Had you committed any offence, Corporal? Had you done anything to make the captain angry?'

Trying to control his anger, he said, 'Not at all. He saw me at the foot of the stairs and he slapped me in front of the troops. Then he left without a word. He slapped me in front of the troops, Your Excellency.' Then Salmawi raised his bowed head and said, 'I want my rights, Your Excellency. We are Bedouin and do not accept humiliation. He would pay dearly if I sought satisfaction with my own hand.'

'Don't say that again, Corporal. Don't say it in my presence or behind my back. You have made your complaint and I will investigate it. If you are in the right, you will be given satisfaction.'

I didn't, however, see Captain Wasfi during the day. He sent a soldier to inform me that he felt tired and to ask permission to stay in his room, a request to which I immediately agreed. At least, he will relieve me on this one day, when I'm destroyed with fatigue, of having to listen to the racket of the training, his shouted commands, the yells of the soldiers as they run and jump.

I left the office and took Sergeant Ibraheem with me. His eyes were full of curiosity about what had gone on in the closed office with Wasfi and Salmawi, but I didn't give him an opportunity to ask. I said, 'We have work before us, Sergeant Ibraheem.'

I called the sergeant in charge of the stores and the three of us went to the stores and together checked the arms and ammunition that the ministry had sent us. Then the storekeeper signed the receipts and I took them and returned to my office, where I finished replying to the letters from the ministry. I could have put that job off until later but I needed to keep myself busy with something. I needed not to think.

As I left the office in the afternoon, Sergeant Ibraheem told me he felt tired and asked permission to take the rest of the day off. I examined his face and he did indeed look exhausted, but I asked him jokingly whether he was jealous of Captain Wasfi.

Disgustedly, he said, 'God forbid!'

'Naturally you can take as much time off as you like. Anyway, I'm not coming back later.'

He came closer and told me in a low voice that he had a request.

I looked at him enquiringly and he bowed his head and said in his whispering voice, 'I want you to swear to me, Your Excellency, that, if my time comes while I'm here, you'll have me buried in my village. Don't leave me among strangers in the sand.'

My heart shrank as I contemplated the wrinkled face but I tried to go on in the same tone as though he had said nothing. 'Life is in God's hands, my dear chap. You asked me the same thing after you broke your leg and look at you, strong as a horse. You, more than anyone else, are likely to bury us all and walk in our funeral processions.'

'God forbid, Excellency!' he said, interrupting me with a wan smile.

I followed him with my eyes as he limped slowly away, muttering, 'I would never forgive myself!'

I left the office and downstairs was surprised to find that Captain Wasfi had changed his uniform and tarboosh and was standing, elegant and erect, yelling to the soldiers in his commanding voice to dress their line and salute. I returned the salute from a distance and left without a word. I decided to postpone my investigation of him until the following day.

On the way home, I found the weather warm, in contrast to the morning.

There were just light transparent clouds, and the late afternoon sun was warm and calm and tempted one to relax under its rays. When I opened the door, though, I found the two of them sitting at the table. Catherine had spread out on it her many papers, which look like charts.

'Are we having pharaohs for lunch today?' I said in surprise.

Excitedly Catherine exclaimed, 'We'll delay lunch a little, with your permission. You're early, but I'm glad you're here. I want your opinion. I was just about to read what I've found to Fiona.'

Fiona turned to me and said, with her smile that spreads a little light over her wan face, 'Isn't it wonderful? At last Catherine has found what she's been looking for.'

She gave her staccato cough, her hand over her mouth. Then she continued, 'I think… I think that the historians… the… the… the historians will be interested in this.'

I transferred my gaze to Catherine and asked her in bewilderment, 'What historians? What will they be interested in?'

'The sign, the evidence. I told you last night but you weren't paying attention.'

I remained silent, looking at her enquiringly. She continued, 'You remember the day we went together to the temple of Umm Ebeida?'

'How could I ever forget it?'

With the same excitement she went on, 'The evidence was there, Mahmoud, but I didn't give it any thought. I copied it down myself but I didn't pay attention. I thought it must be just a supplication to the god Amun. Stupidly, I was concentrating on writings in Greek script, but he wasn't a god to the Greeks alone. He was the son of Amun-Ra, the god of the universe and the god of the sun, and the Egyptians worshipped him as such. Some of the columns were illegible, so I went back to the temple again to look at them carefully, and-'

Almost shouting, I interrupted her. 'Please, Catherine. What are you talking about? I don't understand a thing.'

Now it was her turn to shout.'How can you not understand? Haven't I told you before that I'm looking for evidence of Alexander's tomb in Siwa?'

'Never! You're looking for evidence of Alexander's tomb here? In the desert, and at the wretched temple of Umm Ebeida? If I'd heard that from you before I would have said you were mad.'

With a triumphant smile she said, 'Naturally! And not just you! Many others too would have said I was mad. But listen, if you please… Listen before you pronounce.' She started reading, stressing particular phrases, and looking from me to Fiona, as though to say, 'Do you see?' I focused my gaze on Fiona, whose face has become almost yellow of late, but I forced myself to listen to Catherine, who read as though reciting scripture and looked at us between every sentence and the next to make sure that we were following and understanding.