R.B.R. BARRETO
When the world was just a great ocean, the Lord of all things raised great waves and then froze them, transforming them into an enormous mountain.
Kadir only regained consciousness almost halfway through the next day. Hamad and Randú did not stop trying to revive him, trying to make him swallow some food. He drank water in small sips and was patiently fed by Randú, who managed the feat by squeezing a slice of goat cheese into a piece of cloth taken from his own clothing. Hamad must have found it curious how the young man cared for his friend and insistently followed his every move.
The gypsy Aisha, with her sensitive aura, realized that she was the object of curiosity and attention and, therefore, protected herself even more, covering her face and avoiding meeting the Tuareg's gaze. Finally, around the first quarter of the afternoon, Kadir woke up. He blinked, looked around, still very dazed, and examined with astonishment the two figures that were leaning towards him. He was confused and his consciousness was still hovering in the plains of the other world. Finally he recognized Randú. He tried to get up, but he was still weak and short of breath. He coughed several times before he was able to speak, leaning on Randú's arm.
- "Randú, my friend. Where are we?"
- "In the same place, sir! We haven't moved from here. That brave warrior, Hamad, dug us out of the sands... you were very suffocated... we almost lost you."
Upon hearing the younger pilgrim pronounce his name, the Tuareg leaned even closer to the young sheik, uncovering his face and giving him a welcoming smile.
- Greetings, young prince, I hope you are well...
Kadir looked closely at the Tuareg's friendly face and, standing up a little, said:
- May Allah be praised! And may He bring you many blessings. I am very gratefull. You, Lord, saved us from a horrible death.
- Do not call me lord, little sheikh. Lords are the prophets and chiefs of tribes or nations. I am only a warrior. I am Hamad. - and he concluded his presentation with the traditional Arabic greeting!
Kadir wanted to return the gesture, but he could not stand up enough.
- I apologize for my condition. May Allah reward you every day.
Then, turning to Randú, he asked:
– Randu, what about the animals? And our belongings?
– The animals are all here. They are stronger than we imagined. The horses are at their limit. They need extra food and water. They are not like the camels. As for the belongings, I managed to dig up a lot of things. I don't know if I managed to rescue everything. However, your tent was blown away by the wind...
Kadir sighed and fell silent with a worried look.
– Listen, young sir! – Hamad replied – I just left a small caravan a few leagues from here. They were lost and I took them to a tribe to replenish their provisions, animals and contingent of men to accompany them in the great desert. You can follow them and reward them with some of the animals or goods. It is safer for you to travel accompanied... They are two foreigners who intend to reach Jerusalem. I can take you to there, because I am uncomfortable leaving them here like this way. They won't be there for long. Where are you heading, if I may ask?
Kadir remained silent for a moment, his gaze contemplative, was trying to find signs of his search on the desert horizon. Then, he spoke in a tone that was a little discouraged, but sober and cautious.
- In truth, I am going alone, brave Tuareg. I met the boy on the road, as lost as I am now. By one of those coincidences that only Allah, the Almighty, could explain, we folowed the same Master, Balam the dervish. But that is where our connection ends. I promised the young man that I would leave him safe somewhere, and so I think we should accept his generous offer. It could be that this is the same caravan he says got lost. Isn't that Randú?"
Randú had moved a little away from the two and hidden himself behind the horses, taking care to rid them of the excess sand that remained in their manes. When asked, he answered vaguely.
– I don't think so, sir. There were no foreigners in the group I was following.
Hamad once again turned his curious and intrigued gaze to the young man who continued to take care of the horses, as if he wanted to keep his distance, but he didn't say a word.
– In any case – continued Kadir – this trip to the camp is providential. I and animals can regain our stength. And perhaps I'll get provisions and, who knows, a new tent? After then I'll go on my way. If you, Hamad, would accept, you could guide me for a few stretches. I have money and some jewelry.
Hamad smiled broadly and replied:
– It's been several moons since I've returned to my own people. But I can't refuse help to a brother from the desert. Let's go to the camp, little Sheikh. Every hour we waste, they move further away from where we are. On the way, you tell me about your destination and I'll decide if your offer is worth a few more moons. There's an oasis to the northwest, two hours from here, where we can spend the night. Do you feel well enough to ride an animal yet?
It took them a little less than an hour to prepare for the departure. The most complicated part was getting Kadir onto the camel's back. It was still impossible for him to gallop on a horse. He was in pain and his shoulder was immobilized. Hamad managed to improvise a kind of stretcher to accommodate him using the bamboo left over from his tent. The journey would be long.
- You need to recover quickly if you really want to continue on your journey alone. What fate is it that has made you leave your people? I see that you are a man of faith, knowledge and possessions. Where are you going?
Kadir was now letting himself be rocked by the swaying of the camel and contemplating the sky that was beginning to darken. Upon hearing the Tuareg's comments, he gave a small smile, full of mystery:
- You, Hamad, great warrior and guardian of the desert, perhaps you can really help. Do you know where the mountain of Káf is?
Hamad looked at him in surprise:
- Ah!! The little sheikh is looking for Káf? Then, you are undoubtedly a disciple of old Balam – he said, almost smiling.
- Do you know Káf? – the young man insisted
- Hmm... I have heard many stories about the circular mountain, "Mother of all mountains" that marks the end of the world. Yes, I have heard, but I have never seen it with these eyes. And I have walked almost the entire desert... It is probably in some hidden place that only a few holy men know about.
Kadir thought that Hamad knew more than he was saying – after all, he was a guardian of the desert, heir to a long lineage – but he did not insist. He fell silent, feeling the wind on his face. Randú, who was following a little behind them and listening to the conversation, insisted:
– Why don't you tell us the stories you heard, Mr. Hamad? It would cheer up my friend who is tired... tell us what you know?
– Would you like to hear it too, my young friend? Did you also leave everything behind in search of the circular mountain?
– "In a way, yes," thought Randú but remained silent.
– Well, – continued the Tuareg – what I know about Káf has been written since Allah created the great feather and ordered "Write". When the world was just a great ocean, the Lord of all things raised great waves and then froze them, to transform them into an enormous mountain. The mountains surrounded the earth and took root, giving balance and support to the world. The great mountain Káf surrounded the earth, by order of Allah, giving it protection and marking all its boundaries. Without the circular mountain, the world would fall into the abyss.
- Is it written in the Book of Destiny since the creation of the Great Feather?" repeated Kadir in an inquiring tone. - I've never heard anything like that, neither my grandfather nor Balam said anything about it.
- Hmm, - continued Hamad. - I don't know. Maybe it's just one of the stories my people heard from the wandering poets. They say that ancient poets marked the path to Káf with their poems. You can find them in the memories of the tribes, engraved on stones and scattered around in the wind. It was a way of marking places and also misleading the curious, or the crazy ones without direction... Like you, my young!! - He said this, looking at Randú and letting out a loud laugh.
Kadir, however, paid no attention to the jokes nor did he hear the sound of laughter that filled the silence of the plain where they rode. Nothing could distract him from his thoughts.
- I am sure that Balam knows the way, - he muttered to himself, - but he will never reveal it.
- Balam is a dervish. A dancer of the desert. If there are those who know the way to the circular mountain, it is the holy dancers. Every year they meet in the desert for their strange rituals, songs and dances. They come from all corners of the world, but no one knows where they come from, where they are going or what paths they take. They say that they cut their way underground, through large tunnels.
Hearing this, Kadir began to laugh, only to be interrupted by the pain he still felt.
- What is it, young prince? - Hamad asked. - Don't you believe my stories?
- You reminded me of Balam!" – explained the young man, still laughing – he also told these things... I never knew if they were true or not, but they are good stories. They make time pass.
– Time in the desert is long, Lord. We need many stories, poems and songs to overcome it. – then, addressing the young Randú who was riding hidden among the camels, he asked:
– And you, Randú? Do you also doubt Balam's stories?
– No way – replied Randú – how to can doubt the stories of a holy man? He walks everywhere and knows the entire desert. What is above and below. I think the desert is a magical place, full of secrets.
Kadir was surprised to hear the last sentence. He tried to stand up to look at the boy, but he couldn't and he leaned back on the improvised stretcher with a grimace of pain. Upon noticing the movement, the Tuareg intervened:
– Don't try to move, Lord, you could aggravate any injury. Tell us what you want and we will try to help you.
– It's nothing. I was just curious about Randù's words. I've heard them before… I think it was from Balam himself or my grandfather Abdul. I'm not really sure. – He fell silent, thoughtful, and then asked again:
– So the wandering poets know the path to Káf? And do they leave clues wherever they go?
– They say so – Hamad confirmed – There is also a fantastic bird, the Simorgh, whose legend says that it guided King Tahmurath, third in the lineage of the Sulimans of ancient Persia, to the sacred mountains. This bird, according to the story, holds the secrets of all the languages of the world. It is so big and strong that it can carry a man on its back. When it flies, it leaves a trail of fire behind it. The sound of its song is unmistakable, capable of healing or killing. Only with the soul can we hear it.
– By Allah!! – exclaimed Kadir – and does this bird still fly around?
– I have no idea, sir – I have never seen it. But they say that it does roam the earth, choosing the souls to whom it can reveal its knowledge. It will only rest when "the hidden land", "Paradise" can once again be revealed to men.
Kadir was impressed by these stories. He remembered the impression he had seen of a bird cutting through the night sky above his head as soon as he left his tribe, and later, when a large shadow passed over him as the day wore on. He did not intend to share that experience with the tuareg or the gypsy Randú, but he knew that he was beginning a trail of increasingly curious mysteries linked by strange coincidences.
- There are many stories yet to be discovered. This one about the Simorgh bird is one of the most fantastic, - he said. - But if it takes me to the mountains of Káf, I really want to meet it…
As he spoke, his voice showed surrender to sleep and tiredness. Noticing his state, the Tuareg ended the conversation. He moved away from the young man and began to hum softly a desert melody that could well be a lullaby.
Aisha, for her part, felt relieved. She did not want to explain why she believed in the legends told by the sand people. She had been born among them and considered them part of her own history. She also felt drowsy listening to Hamad's song. A melody that also came to her from a forgotten past.
They arrived at the Oasis promised by Hamad when night was already approaching. It seemed like a true paradise, surrounded by dense vegetation and hidden among the rocky canyons. The tuareg led them with the ease of someone who knew the place like the back of his hand. Although the geography of the desert is changeable, there is a certain constancy in the Oases. Not only the vegetation but also the rocky structures are responsible for this relative permanence.
The Oasis in question could have sheltered a tribe in the past or even a city, but, due to constant disputes and foreign intervention, it ended up abandoned and the penetrating sands, brought by the furious Hamsin, buried the ruins and any and all signs of civilization. However, Hamad seemed to know the mysteries buried in the place, as he guided the small caravan along the trail with great precision.
– El Hamlu Lila! – he said – We arrived before the sun had completely set.
At the foot of a rock and in the middle of the dense vegetation, the tuareg crouched down and, using enormous force, moved a block of stone that was blocking the passage.
– This is a place of refuge for my people – Hamad explained, pointing to the narrow crater that opened into the ground – some dervishes and other holy men also take shelter here when they are on pilgrimage.
At first glance it looked like a pit leading to an endless void, but, looking carefully, you could see steps dug into the ground on a spiral-shaped slope.
Hamad went down first and lit a torch that was kept at the first bend of the stairs, attached to the stone wall next to a box of matches. As soon as he had illuminated the entrance, he returned to the surface with a smile on his face. While he tied the animals to the nearby trees, he explained to his companions that this secret place had been guarded by the Tuaregs of his tribe for many years. They always took refuge in those ruins, especially when the desert was raging. They knew the different entrances and always left torches soaked in oil and matches at each one. It was a commitment they kept to the letter to make it easier for their fellow travelers to enter the steep accesses to the ruins.
Spending the night in that place was a relief for everyone. Protected from the wind and warmed by the flame of the torches, they were able to rest and eat in safety. Hamad prepared a broth with the provisions that were left and offered it to his new companions.
Before taking his meal, Randú went to help Kadir, who was still very weak, to eat. He felt that the Tuareg's eyes were following him the whole time, making him restless. But he continued with his task and only left when the injured young man had taken a few sips and fell asleep. After also having his fill of food, he excused himself and, with the excuse of going to look at the animals, withdrew from Hamad's sight.
Behind the crevice that hid the pilgrims' shelter, there was a cave where he took the animals, placing them together with the rest of his luggage. A noise next to the cave made him venture even further into the center of the Oasis. He found a slight slope carved between some rocks, forming a trail. He followed it until he reached a slope from which a waterfall of reasonable volume gushed forth, forming a small, shallow, transparent lake, which allowed him to see the moon and stars reflected. Randú felt the drops of water hit his face. It was soft, cool, just what he needed to wash away the tiredness and the uncomfortable pains of that long journey.
With quick movements and a feeling of profound freedom, the boy took off his pilgrim's clothes and became Aisha again, the young and cheerful gypsy, carefree and happy with the small pleasures that nature offered. He entered the lake without much thought, bathing under the waterfall with his eyes closed and savoring the pleasure of that shower on his aching body. He stayed there for who knows how long, thanking all the gods for the generosity of the water that gushed from the center of the earth. He thought to himself that the next day, when his master was better, he would bring him there so that he too could feel that well-being and regain his strength. He also thought about the animals. What a pleasure it would be for them to drink and bathe in those cool waters. Only true desert wanderers know how to appreciate and bless when they find water after so many days. She missed her oils to apply to her hair. Then she remembered that she had cut it almost seven moons ago. What a thing, she had almost forgotten that she was there as a man, that she had taken herbs so that her period would not come and that she could not let any sign of who she really was escape.
A sound of footsteps made her stir under the water and open her eyes. Instinctively she hugged her breasts with her arms and tried to hide from the moonlight. But it was too late. The tuareg's black eyes were fixed on her image, measuring her silhouette and the details of her young, feminine body. Aisha managed to contain her scream and, reaching for her clothes, hurriedly covered herself.
- Sir, - she said, gathering courage, - how long have you been there?
- Long enough, girl, - he continued to look at her firmly and severely. After a few seconds he asked:
- Who are you really?
Without answering the question, the young woman felt herself overcome by chills, fever, nausea and several other symptoms arising from terror. What would become of her now that her secret was discovered? She was a fugitive and had stolen a horse. How could she escape the consequences of her actions? She felt like running, but where would she go?
Seeing her close to fainting, Hamad tried to be more gentle.
- Calm down, girl. Your secret is kept for now. Dry yourself, put on your clothes and calm down. Stop shaking, I won't hurt you. We'll talk later. – and he left.
As soon as he left, the girl sat down next to the water and cried all the tears she had. Even the ones that had been choked up during those long days in the desert. She was terrified, she had no idea what her master's reaction would be when he found out the truth. How would she explain that she was there for him, in search of a strange destiny that she couldn't say what it was? Suddenly that enchanting oasis had turned into a nightmare. Even the water that had brought her so much joy no longer seemed so blessed. She accused it of having taken away all her dreams, hopes and all the security she had built up until then, with so much effort. The way she was, it was impossible to become Randu again. The strong young man refused to take his place, leaving only a fragile litle woman, for whom the future suddenly disappeared. She wanted to know how to pray, she wanted to know her master's God better, but all she could do was repeat the phrases she had heard and that made no sense to her. Even so, she put her face to the ground and let her heart and pain tell all the gods what was in her soul.