R.B.R. BARRETO
They also knew the language of the sands and the meaning of the voices that the winds bring from the lands distant.
Although he had the strength of a Jhin, Hamad was just a man of the desert, a brave Tuareg, a guardian's sands that roamed from the great Sahara to the vast emptiness of the Rub' al Khali, which separates Happy Arabia from the Middle East
It was said that he was strong and intense like the wind that blew from the North. His bearing was reminiscent of young camels, which braved the desert with their heads held high and their steps elegant. He knew the entire extent of those lands and, as guardian and "son of the wind", his life was to safeguard the traditions of the nomadic tribes, linked by a silent pact of survival, especially in times when the still strong presence of Ottoman allowed them to enjoy the freedom to come and go. Tribes that took refuge in the heart of the sands, in regions that no other people would dare to penetrate. Even the great nations of the West, eager to dominate the souls of the people who inhabited these large expanses of land, were unable to keep their armies alive in these great incursions. Only experienced desert men, with their brave and wandering souls, would know how to recognize the stars at night and the direction of the wind during the day.
The Tuareg, "sons of the wind", men without gods and guided by their own spirits, had a free soul and was solidarity with the needs of their people. They generally roamed alone or in small groups and were not afraid of the hidden mysteries of the desert, not even the Jhins who raised enormous sandstorms and threw entire caravans into endless abysses. They knew the entire unstable geography of the area, with its caves, passages, trails, tunnels, ruins, canyons and hidden oases. They also knew the language of the sands and the meaning of the voices that the winds bring from distant lands - News from beyond the horizon.
Hamad it was one of those brave and unpretentious warriors who knew the mysteries, the legends and respected the forces that make the desert fearful and deadly. There would be nothing under the sun in those corners that he didn't know how to find. His wandering destiny sometimes led him to spend months, even years, without returning to his group. But, even from a distance, he always protected them, diverting dangers and sending more hostile caravans and groups away. Always a guardian, he rode on the four winds, anticipating traps, erasing traces, confusing intruders. He knew how to recognize a malicious intruder by looking into their eyes, just as he recognized purity and good intentions in some souls. This gift had trained him since he was very young. In recent times he had encountered many foreigners exploring the desert. In many he had noticed the desire for power and ambition. To explore the land, find black gold, dominate and enslave peoples and cultures. The desert has always been a source of strange riches that even the wisest of wanderers still did not know how to evaluate.
A little less than three days ago, Hamad had just led a Caravan that led a group of Westerners that found aimlessly at the end of the Rub al Khali. Among other objectives, they wanted to reach Petra and Jerusalem. They were on a kind of geographic mission. They left the Sudan region for Ethiopia, crossed the Red Sea, reached the territory of Yemen and intended to continue through the Saudi Arabian desert to the Holy Land. They organized resources, hired guides, porters, animals, food and water that they believed were sufficient. However, they did not count on the extreme hardship of the empty quadrant into which they inadvertently found themselves. When Hamad found them, they were at the end of the Rub– al– Khali, on a route contrary to what they had thought. They had lost half the cargo along with men and animals. In the tribe where Hamad found them, they had been received with all the generosity and hospitality typical of the desert Arabs. After resting and regaining their strength, they revealed their intention to follow the destiny they had proposed. Hamad, who also intended to return to his tribe, accepted the mission of guiding them to a safe route from which they could reach their destination.
It was upon returning from this mission that Hamad found Kadir and his companion Randú almost swallowed by the sandstorm. Initially he thought it was remnants of the caravan that had been left behind. But, from the few sentences uttered by the young and frightened Randú, he realized that it wasn't. The desert placed a new story in their hands. Unlike anything he had ever encountered.
– What's your name again, boy? – Hamad asked the young man who never took his eyes off his traveling companion, still unconscious a few hours after the rescue. He seemed very distressed and agitated although he remained silent the entire time. Only answered the Tuareg's question, in a low voice, after a few seconds.
– My name is Randú, sir!
– Randú?? Randú?? – the Tuareg repeated that name with a tone of deep surprise. He looked at the young man with curiosity and furrowed eyebrows. Since he found them he hadn't paid any attention to him. The other, the young prince, had inspired care and Hamad had to pass a lot of time helping him and cleaning his ears, eyes, mouth and nose, which were full of sand. He did several procedures to revive him and bring him back to life and only stopped when his vital signs normalized and a series of coughs suggested that his airways were not obstructed. The young pilgrim had helped him with this task silently. Including taking care of the animals and organizing the objects he managed to find in the sand. He then retired to his friend's side in a posture that demonstrated his intention to remain watching over him throughout the night.
Hamad was now looking at him with great curiosity. So much so that it made him feel uncomfortable and want to disappear even more between the long folds of his clothes.
The Tuareg stood up, threw away the cigarette he had been smoking and approached the young man.
– Randú!!? – He repeated – very strange that you have that name. It is not a common name.
As he spoke he tried to meet the other's eyes that remained hidden, sunk in the shadows. Realizing the inconvenience he was causing, Hamad reduced his insistence. He moved away a little, covered the sand with a goatskin cloak and lay down on his back on it. Placing his hands folded under his head to serve as a pillow and his eyes turned to the sky, he tried to maintain a friendly conversation.
– So... Randú... Where were you and your Lord heading?
Little Aisha struggled to remain calm and continue the role she had forced upon herself – to exist and survive in a man's skin. But, in this new existence she was no one's slave. Randú was free. A wanderer, disciple of Balam. So she turned her face to the Tuareg with a certain haughtiness and replied:
– He is not my Lord. We met two ago moons.
– Isn't that your Lord? – repeated the Tuareg with an incredulous and ironic tone – You met two days ago and you, young Randú, almost gave your life for him?
– He saved my life too, Sir... – he argued – besides, we are brothers, disciples of the same master.
– Your story is very curious. You and he met in the desert and follow the same master. Who is the master of whom you speak?
Aisha was in doubt for a moment. Should she reveal her relationship with Balam or not? The relationship was true, but only on Kadir's part. How long could she sustain this lie? On the other hand, if she didn't speak it would increase the Tuareg warrior's distrust. These were famous for discovering secrets. The young woman felt that she had aroused some distrust, but she couldn't ruin everything. A woman alone in the desert could not expect protection from either Jhins or men.
– Balam! – She exclaimed in a loud voice, almost as if she were asking for help – Master Balam...
– Balam? – repeated the Tuareg, letting out a loud laugh – Balam, the madman of the desert?? Look, this old man really looks like a whirlwind. He is everywhere at once. How did you find him? How did you and he become his disciples?
The gypsy woman cast an irritated look at the Tuareg from between the folds of the your clothes. Hamad was amused when he noticed the angry spark that came out of the black eyes of the young man in front of him. He decided to leave him alone and get some rest.
– Okay, boy, rest. When your friend gets better, we'll talk.
He walked away and went to sit on a small rise ahead. As he rolled a cigarette he began to hum a song in his deep voice. The verses were simple and evoked distant memories. While she fell asleep a little, Aisha, in Randú's shoes, let herself be rocked by the song. The disguised gypsy felt like crying. That song brought back memories that came from she didn't know where. She recognized the song and recognized the verses and felt a strange longing. For the first time in her life she felt nostalgic for a time when Kadir was not yet present.