Mahmoud Dowlatabadi - Missing Soluch

Mergan followed behind to keep an eye on Hajer, who was grasping onto the back of the saddle with her hands, while her legs were tightly locked around the body of the animal. It was novel for a daughter of Zaminej village to ride a donkey this awkwardly. But this was due to the fact that even when Soluch had a donkey, the boys never gave Hajer a chance to ride on it.

As they passed the entrance to the narrow alley where Ali Genav’s house was located, Mergan involuntarily glanced over at the door to the house. The house’s entry was half-open, and his wife Raghiyeh was suspended in the doorway like an old tattered shirt, looking at them with her dead eyes. It was a look that shot like electricity through the very marrow of her bones. Mergan stole a look at her, and then hid behind the donkey as they walked on. She heard the crisp snap of the closing door, as if the woman had slipped to the ground sitting against the door as it closed.

Ali Genav was impatient. He thrust a hand into his pocket and brought out a handful of dried berries and walnuts and poured them into the loose edge of Hajer’s shirt. Then he tossed a few nuts into his own mouth and tugged on the donkey’s bridle.

Abbas was standing by the drain of the bathhouse and was tightening the band holding up his leggings. The Sardar was standing beside the drain a little farther down and was continuing to berate Abbas.

“A gambler’s not worth a black coin! I know people who have bet their own herd of camels while gambling!”

Abbas finished tightening his waistband, and then slid his knife into it.

“Well, they had a whole herd to gamble, Sardar. But me, what do I have to lose?”

“You? What about the pants you’re wearing? I’ve seen a gambler ante up his own ass in a game. So how much did you lose last night?”

Ali Genav was all too pleased to happen across his cousin, just to show off a little. He tugged at the donkey’s tether and approached the Sardar.

“Good morning, cousin!”

The Sardar looked over Ali Genav, his donkey, and the mother and daughter with him.

“Good. Well, well, so you’re heading out to town right now?”

“Need anything from there?”

“No, thanks. May you be blessed, and good luck.”

“Goodbye.”

Ali Genav continued on by Abbas and his cousin. Mergan stayed hidden behind her daughter, while Hajer shut her eyes as they went. But what for? Abbas didn’t even look over at them!

The four of them continued on, and Abbas and the Sardar set out. The Sardar picked up where he’d left off before.

“Eh? Well you didn’t say how much you’d lost!”

Abbas didn’t reply.

“So how much did you win, then?”

Again, Abbas didn’t reply.

“You think I don’t know what’s going on round here? Ha! Fine, I’ll stop asking you. But be careful and keep an eye on the dark male camel. He has a bit of a spring fever. That’s something to watch out for, I’ll tell you!”

The black camel he was speaking of was standing stiffly apart from the other camels that had gathered in the wide yard and under the curving vestibule leading to the gate. He was scratching his neck against the sharp edge of the wall, his lips were covered in frothy spittle, and there was a wild look in his eyes.

The Sardar drove the camels toward the vestibule and gate by waving the edge of his cloak, which he wore both in winter and summer. Abbas stood by the gate and waved the camels on with his walking stick. The Sardar followed the camels out of the vestibule and stood beside Abbas. Beneath his breath, he measured up the camels happily.

“Go on. Go, and may you be blessed!”

Abbas began to follow the camels.

“I won’t offer you any more than that, Abbas!”

“No worries, Sardar!”

Abbas said this and was lost from view in the bend of the alley.

The path was crowded. The young men who were leaving the village were sitting beside their trunks and sacks and were looking at the road ahead. They were still surrounded by their mothers and sisters, but no one was crying. Instead, the air was filled with a mix of excitement and anxiety, and both anticipation and hesitation flickered on their faces. What predominated, however, was the joking common to Zaminej’s youth. They were invariably laughing, shouting, and swearing at each other. They had special jokes they played on each other in just these sorts of gatherings. Some of them would bear the brunt of the jokes and would become upset, but their anger would quickly be subsumed in the waves of laughter sounding from those gathered around them.

Ali Genav began to lead his donkey down to the path. But soon, he was trapped in the crowd. And so it was impossible to shake off Hajj Salem and his son demanding wedding sweets from him. But Ali Genav refused to even put his hand in his pocket to placate them. So the youths found a new pretext for their high spirits. They goaded Moslem to collect his share of sweets from Ali Genav. Moslem became more and more riled up as a result. Morad had also joined in the game. But Abrau was standing to one side, where he was focused on listening and watching the road.

Ali Genav finally put a hand into his pocket and freed himself of his obligation. He tugged on the bridle of the donkey, exiting the crowd with the blessings and prayers of Hajj Salem. Now it was the turn of the young travelers to follow tradition and to give something to Hajj Salem and his son before setting off. Hajj Salem stood in the midst of the youth and began reciting a prayer for them. The travelers all became silent.

The Salar’s donkeys entered the crowd and mixed with the youth, while Abbas stood to one side. Morad approached him, and they said goodbye with an embrace. One or two of the others also came over to say goodbye. Hajj Salem was praying out loud, intoning a prayer for travelers. The mothers and sisters stood beside their sons or brothers and fought back their tears. Moslem approached Morad, who took off his hat so as to take up a collection of small change for Hajj Salem.

“Just give something, guys! Give a coin or two so we can get rid of him!”

Just then, Ghodrat arrived. The group was complete — twenty-one people. Morad started in on Ghodrat. “Do you think this is a trip to your auntie’s house? The sun’s been up forever! And you want to find work in a strange land with useless shoes like those?”

Ghodrat carried a bag over one shoulder and his father was following him, wiping his runny nose every so often.

“It’s coming. It’s coming!”

Abrau suddenly shouted and threw himself into the path.

“What’s coming?”

“The tractor!”

First, a cloud of dust was visible in the distance. Then something came into view. Then that sound, a sound entrancing to everyone. But the group was about to leave. They were all holding their sacks and satchels on their backs, and the mothers had just finished embracing their sons, the daughters standing to one side with their lips trembling.

Abrau had his hat in his hand and waved to the tractor’s driver from a distance. The tractor approached with an increasing roar. The camels started to buck with fear. Abbas raised his walking stick over his head and swearing in a continuous stream at the tractor and its driver as he tried to gather the scattering camels.

The tractor stopped beside the crowd, bringing with it a cloud of dust from along its way. As soon as those gathered extricated themselves from the dust, the young men began walking away in a line along the side of the tractor. The women gathered at a point on the path to watch their loved ones leaving. Some of the young men could be seen to be looking over their shoulders as they went, glancing back at their mothers and sisters. But as they grew distant, their eyes met less and less. The men kept walking, and the women stayed in place.