Benyamin: Goat Days

The one creature that I wanted to see in the desert, but couldn’t, was the ostrich. The sight of it hiding its head in the sand still remains only a dream. Another creature I had heard about was the camel spider — that it gnaws away the belly of the camel running at twenty-five kilometres an hour by clinging to its side and that it was as big as an Arab dining plate and so on. When I actually saw it, I understood that whatever I had heard was an exaggeration. It was Ibrahim who pointed one out to me as we were striding through the desert. Since I had imagined them to be quite large, I wondered if the ones I saw were baby spiders. Ibrahim smiled. What I had heard were fictitious accounts about the poor thing. Everything else, other than that it spent its brave life in the harsh desert, was hyperbole.

The desert wonder I saw was the flying chameleon. While walking in the afternoon sun, a gold tint flashed across my sight and disappeared. The chameleons were like djinns or ghosts. They would vanish in the flash of a second. I wondered if it was an illusion created by my tired and heat-dried eyes. They would appear abruptly from the sand and gaze at us, their eyes flickering from left to right as though they were terrified. Sometimes we could see them flying to some distance. In fact, their zooming made it seem like someone was hurling stones from behind us. Many a time I looked back to see if it was so. Then, another flying figure would emerge from the folds of the sand, to leap and soar. I would have never imagined them to be chameleons.

Then, one day, when we climbed up a sand dune, there they were, playing a game of golden hues. They looked like finches prancing up and down some tree branch. About a hundred of them were frolicking in that sand lake. I wanted to catch one and find out if it had wings or if it flew using only its legs. But they flew and dived into the sand so quickly that, forget catching, I could barely see one closely. ‘These chameleons never drink water,’ Ibrahim Khadiri said. If you can live a whole life without drinking water, chameleons, oh golden chameleons who made this phase of my arduous journey so happy, please gift me a trace of that ability so that I can complete this journey.

Around noon the air became opaque with dust and we felt sleepy. We couldn’t see past ten feet. That made our walk even more difficult. It felt as though it was fire that lit up the day and not sunshine. As the heat increased, our bodies wilted. The exuberance that had pumped us up at the beginning of the day had slowly evaporated. But Ibrahim kept encouraging us. ‘Another mile, and we might reach the highway!’ After all it is only hope that makes a man go forward. We walked. But before our eyes it was only the desert that rolled out endlessly. Sand, sand and more sand.

The afternoon passed too and it was evening. We still didn’t find the only thing that we were looking for. The sun that crawled above us to the west deserted us in the wilderness and rode out alone into the horizon. After a day spent without a drop of water to moisten the tongue, the night approached. Gasping and exhausted, we sat on the sand. I broke down. The agony of not reaching anywhere even after a whole day of walking left me in tears. Hakeem joined me in my tears.

In the first days when I reached this country I had often longed to live in a beautiful desert, a desert where sand stretched out like sea. But when I finally came upon a beautiful desert it terrified me. We have heard many stories of those who had to cross the desert. We have read that they were thrilled by their adventures. But all of them were assisted in their voyage by strong camels. To help them, they had the Bedouins, who knew the desert like the lines on their palms. Their bags were filled with food and they had leather canteens full of water. Those who had tried to cross this desert on their own, without food and water, must have fainted in the sand and died, not living to tell their tales. Allah, are we to become like them? We didn’t come to the desert looking for fun. Nor out of curiosity. We came to live. To be alive. To meet once again the beautiful faces of those who love us. To wipe the tears they shed for us from their cheeks. We have reached this spot in our effort to do so. Allah, only you, only your strength, only your way, only your safety can protect us. Please Allah, don’t kill us by roasting us in this desert.

The next day Ibrahim Khadiri woke us up long before dawn, ‘Let’s walk before it gets hot.’

My swollen legs were heavy as an elephant’s as I got up. Ignoring the pain, we dragged our feet through the loose sand. After we walked a short distance, the sun appeared on the eastern arch. We knew that it would set the sand ablaze.

The sky seemed like an upturned grey-blue basket covering us from above. One side of it began at some corner of the desert. It gradually went up to reach its high point above my head and then slowly came down to its rim in another corner. We were like chickens trapped inside that basket. Somehow, we had to lift it and get outside. But to do that we had to at least reach its rim. A rim that, despite all the walking, we had so far failed to reach. A sense of endlessness engulfed us. Nothing registered in my view but the sheer blue of the sky and the blazing sun.

‘Don’t panic,’ Ibrahim consoled us. ‘The horizon is merely two and a half miles from us. And perhaps just beyond that is the path we are looking for. Don’t get dejected, walk with hope. Once we get tired, we will fall down under this sun for the rest of the day. So walk as well as you can, even if it is a struggle. We have to find a secure place as soon as possible.’

After walking for a while, we came across the signs of a river that had drained into the desert long ago. I was amazed. In that burning heat it was difficult to imagine that a river once ran through these sands. But its lines were still distinct. I visualized how men in the past stood on its shore and drowned while trying to cross it. At the same shore where they died swallowing water, I suffered as my parched throat cried for a drop of water. How far is that moment in the past from my situation? What might have happened in the interim? I imagined the river slowly drying up and the living beings in it gradually perishing. I could hear the trees and shrubs on its banks lament for water. Time, how strange is your face!

By then we had spent two nights and a day and a half without a drop of water on our tongues. We could barely keep our eyes open. We walked in a state of half sleep. When we crossed all boundaries of tolerance of our condition, Hakeem began to moan for water. The problem is we are used to excessive use of water. Man can easily survive without food or water for up to fourteen days. ‘Try to walk thinking about Allah,’ Ibrahim admonished him.

But Hakeem kept on asking for water. All along the way. After walking for some more time, he grabbed my hand. ‘No, ikka. I can’t. You carry on. Let me lie down here.’

I scolded him, ‘Hakeem, don’t give up. Don’t fall down. Walk.’ Then I chanted to him, ‘Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar.’ He repeated along with me, ‘Allahu Akbar.’ It was as if that chant and its resonance brought us a new strength. With that energy we walked for a while longer. Then slowly our walk began to lose its vigour and vitality. Our weary legs would not take us any further. We were so exhausted that numbness and pain overwhelmed us. The skin of our feet had become sore from the heat of the sand. Hakeem’s feet were already swollen. But drawing on his remaining strength he dragged his legs and tried to go on. Within the next few seconds, we realized to our horror that it was not possible any more.

Worn out, Hakeem fell to the ground. As if I had been waiting for him to fall, I also lay down near him. Ibrahim scolded us, ‘Get up. This rest will only make you tired. It will not refresh you. This sun will drain the last drop of water from your body. Don’t fry your body like this in the sand, just go on for a bit longer. The sand will get cool. The desert cools fast. Then you can rest. Haven’t we endured this long enough? Hold on for just a bit longer.’