VINTAGE INTERNATIONAL

Vintage Books • A Division of Random House,Inc. • New York

J\bde:lrabman t\unif
Translatedfrom the Arabic by Peter Theroux
 •
T

FIRST VINTAGE INTERNATIONAL EDITION, JULY 1989

Translation Copyright© 1987 by Cape Cod Scriveners Company

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright

Conventions. P ublished in the United States by Random House, Inc.,
New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of
Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published in Arabic by The Arab
Institute for Research and P ublishing, Beirut, Lebanon, in 1984. This
translation originally published, in hardcover, by Random House,
Inc., New York, in 1987.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Muruf, 'Abd al-Rabman.

[Mudun al-milh. English]

Cities of salt: a novel/ Abdelrahman Munif; translated from the
Arabic by Peter Theroux.-1st Vintage International cd.
p. cm.

Translation of: Cities of salt.

ISBN 0-394-75526-X: $12.95

I. Theroux, Peter. II. Title.

PJ7850.U514M84131989 88-27032

892'.736-dc19 CIP

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
 To Ali Munif 0 0 0

who departed too soon

 TRANSLATOR'S ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am deeply indebted to two people for their help: to

my brother Paul for his invaluable support and encour­
agement, and to Nayef Al-Rodhan, M . D . , whose pa­
tient advice regarding Arabian dialects was crucial to the
accuracy of this translation. Heartfelt thanks.
P.C.T.
 1

(I) AD! AL-U YOUN: AN OUTPOURING OF GREEN

amid the harsh, obdurate desert, as if it had
burst from within the earth or fallen from
the sky. It was nothing like its surroundings, or rather had no
connection with them, dazzling you with curiosity and wonder:
how had water and greenery burst out in a place like this?
But the wonder vanished gradually, giving way to a mysterious
respect and contemplation. It was one of those rare cases of nature
expressing its genius and willfulness, in defiance of any expla­
nation.
Wadi al-Uyoun was an ordinary place to its inhabitants, and
excited no strong emotions, for they were used to seeing the
palm trees filling the wadi and the gushing brooks surging forth
in the winter and early spring, and felt protected by some blessed
power that made their lives easy. When caravans came, envel-
c e s 0 J s a

oped in clouds of dust and weakened by hunger and thirst, yet

redoubling their efforts, in the last stage of the journey, to reach
Wadi al-Uyoun as quickly as possible, they were overtaken by
an almost frivolous enthusiasm. They controlled their exuber­
ance and headed straight for the water, feeling sure that He who
had created the world and humankind had created, at the same
time, Wadi al-Uyoun in this very spot as a salvation from death
in the treacherous, accursed desert. When the caravan lingered,
unloaded its cargoes and watered its men and beasts, a kind of
narcotic restfulness set in, a powerful contentment induced by
the climate or the sweet water, or perhaps by a sense of danger
passed. This affected not only men but camels, who were dis­
tinctly less willing to bear their heavy packs and resume the
journey afterward.
For caravans, Wadi al-Uyoun was a phenomenon, something
of a miracle, unbelievable to those who saw it for the first time
and unforgettable forever after. The wadi's name was repeated
at all stages of a journey, in setting out and returning: "How
much longer to Wadi al-Uyoun?" "If we make it to Wadi al­
Uyoun, we'll rest up for a few days before going on, " and
"Where are you, Wadi al-Uyoun, earthly paradise?"
This urgency in invoking the wadi's name was genuine, for
in addition to it being a salvation for caravans and travelers, its
peculiar location enabled the caravan traders to learn a great deal:
when other caravans had passed through and where they were
headed, what they were carrying and in what quantities, what
prices were and who was selling, and other information. Thus
the men of a caravan would decide whether to sell here or else­
where, to speed up the journey or slow the pace for a few days,
and what to take on in the way of men and supplies.
Left to himself to talk about Wadi al-Uyoun, Miteb al-Hathal
would go on in a way no one could believe, for he could not
confine himself to the good air and the sweetness of the water
 .. 3

available every day of the year, or to the magnificent nights; he

would tell stories which in some cases dated back to the days of
Noah, or so said the old men. There was a special relationship,
a rare passion between Miteb al-Hathal and Wadi al-Uyoun.
Those who had lived there in both periods-the one when Wadi
ai-Uyoun was as Miteb knew it, and the following period­
would speak about it differently. They would say that this wadi,
with its palm trees and plentiful water, which soothed and sup­
plied travelers on their way to better places, was indispensable;
without it there would have been no life or movement, no road;
no tribes would have come; there would never have been Miteb
ai-Hathal and his tribe, the Atoum.
The wadi stretched for about three miles or perhaps a little
more. This broad expanse tapered until it became at the end a
narrow ribbon with a few scattered palms, which survived on
what water there was, and what was left behind by the few men
and animals that strayed there. The end of the wadi was no­
ticeably scragglier, and anyone who stood by the last tree could
tell that the salty, sandy earth began there. This particular patch
of land linked the wadi and the desert, for it rose bit by bit until
it became one with the desert. When the wind blew, sand drifted
on this land since the fine-branched tamarisk, wormwood and
lotus trees, thickly planted at the end of the wadi, prevented the
sand from mounting, preserving the blackness and solidity of
the soil and keeping the encroaching sands at a distance.
Hills surrounded the glen, shifting sand hills, but the direction
of the winds and the nature of the soil made them immovable,
presiding over the wide stretches of surrounding territory. These
made good landmarks and had names: Zahra rose from the cast,
Watfah and Umm al-Athal on the northern side. The hills bor­
dering the wadi on the west and south meant little to travelers
or even to the wadi but were named anyway since names were
so important in the desert. They were named not through desire
c e s 0 J s a

or caprice but by nature itself, which had determined the im­

portance, features and location of each hill.
People who traveled and were familiar with the area knew
that the sea was not far from Wadi al-Uyoun-perhaps seven
or eight days away-but the caravan road passed nowhere near
it, following, as it did, the trail of freshwater wells and oases.
As to the desert, on the other side, no one could guess where it
ended. It might have ended far away or not so far after all, but
everyone regarded this as an unknowable secret.
Omens of a good year to come always appeared first in Wadi
al-Uyoun, for in addition to the abundant water that filled the
three reservoirs and encircling streams the good years brought
the waters which flowed down to where water was never ex­
pected to reach. In these years vegetables were planted and green
plants appeared with the early rains, making the people of Wadi
al-Uyoun behave in a way that astonished travelers used to pass­
ing through dozens of similar places. The people would overdo
their insistence that all travelers stay there longer, take little for
what they gave out and dream up occasions to postpone the
traveling plans of their visitors. Their generosity would reach
the point of extravagance, leading some travelers to consider
them silly and rash people who never thought about tomorrow
or remembered the hard times they had known in years past.
But during the years of drought-which is what most years
were-the people of Wadi al-Uyoun behaved differently, were
sadder and more introverted, leaving the travelers to act as they
pleased, without interfering. If they were offered goods in ex­
change for dates, water or any services rendered they accepted
them thankfully, and if they asked anything from a caravan it
was only to seek places for new passengers who had prepared
and waited a long time to travel. After they had all left, the wadi
felt relief and hope, for it was rid of burdens and yet could look
forward to the good thin gs to come from the day they returned,
 .. 5

for all travelers came back sooner or later. Between the relief
and the hope, with the steady supply of water and caravans,
Wadi al-Uyoun continued to be strong, never fearing or wa­
vering, for it always found a way to confront and overcome its
misfortunes.
Wadi al-Uyoun's people, like its waters, flooded out in times
of overabundance: emigration had been a necessity for a long
time. One day they would feel that there were too many of them
for the wadi to support, and the young men able to travel would
get ready to head out to new places to live and work. This
impulse seemed strange and mysterious, for it was . not always
related to the rains or the seasons as was the case elsewhere. For
regardless of a given year's rainfall, in spite of the grazing lands
that surrounded the wadi, in spite of record floods, a crazed
notion grew up slowly and secretly in men's hearts. This notion,
which grown men felt but repressed and rejected, slept and started
in the hearts of women and youths, but the desire to discover
the world, the dream of wealth, the nameless longing nagged
young men to the point where they lost patience with their elders'
advice and made these hard decisions by themselves.
There was not a single man in the wadi who had not at some
time been seduced by the urge to travel, and it was a rare old
man who had not traveled to some distant place or other. To
be sure, their dreams and journeys had widely different time
spans and outcomes, since some trips lasted for years or a lifetime
and others for just a few months, after which they would return
triumphant or disappointed but in either case full of nostalgia,
encumbered by ideas, memories and the dream of another jour­
ney. The experiences of Wadi al-Uyoun's travelers could not be
summed up in a few words, for every traveler had expectations
and fancies different from everyone else's. Everyone had his own
idea of success and failure, of rich and poor. Often the travelers
who returned with innumerable new ideas and tales, and long
c e s 0 f s a

nights of dreams remained poor, but they could not desist from
telling dozens of stories about their adventures, the money they
had come into and how they had spent it, and how short life
was.
The repetition of these and other stories in Wadi al-Uyoun
aroused irresistible dreams in young men who swore that they
would not travel for long, that they would be back come spring
or fall. They knew that their elders did not believe them, but
that despair and resignation would force them to go along. If
death were mentioned and a mother's tear fell, or a father said
anything, the sons felt the haunting nearness of departure to­
gether with a diabolical urge to be cruel and scornful, but at the
last minute they relaxed and changed their minds.
Wadi al-Uyoun's talk of travel was a beginning for any person,
but it had no end. Young and old alike knew it; they were so
used to it that leaving no longer created insupportable sorrow.
Even the mothers who wanted their children to stay in the wadi,
to live and die there, out of their fear of other places and con­
viction that no place better existed, had to give in sooner or
later, but theirs was an impotent and despairing resignation, and
it always mingled with the hope that the children would come
back, having had their fill of travel.

The wadi's people were known for their strange mixture of

gentleness and obsession. Peaceable and happy, they were always
quick to help out and expected little in return, but they were at
times prone to laziness and daydreaming. Even bedouin who
stayed in Wadi al-Uyoun only for short periods knew them to
be this way and so tolerated behavior that they would never
have accepted elsewhere. "The people here are just big children, "
they would say. "A single word overjoys or kills them. You
 .. 7

have to know just how to speak to them and how to deal with
them. " They did need special treatment even beyond how you
spoke to them, for they watched strangers' gestures and man­
nerisms closely, and once they formed an opinion or conviction
they stuck by it, never changing their minds. If they differed
among themselves about any person or thing, one would say,
"Don't be too quick-we've seen thousands of people come
through here and life has taught us much. Just wait. " Such a
statement would end many a discussion, for after the implied
challenge only time would show who was right and who was
wrong.
Travelers often reminded each other that the people of the
wadi had to be dealt with carefully, for even a simple mistake
would stigmatize the whole caravan and sour relations for a long
time. Traders who were careful to sleep beside their goods and
merchandise, never leaving them for a moment or trusting any­
one else to guard them, felt a unique confidence when they
arrived in the wadi, for they valued the people's trustworthiness.
People of the wadi preferred quick buying and selling free of
haggling and coercion, practices they regarded as suspicious and
unfriendly, especially when two caravans met and tough, long­
winded bargaining ensued, marked by pretensions of unwill­
ingness to buy and the buyers' professed disgust at the goods
they were offered. Even when the bargaining suddenly ended,
with the prices and conditions set out by the buyers and endorsed
by the sellers, there were shows of surprise and sometimes shouts
of anger and denunciation. The eventual laughter of both sides,
indicating satisfaction, moved the wadi's men to observe, "These
traders are devils in men's clothing-they haven't the slightest
idea of right and wrong. "
If it were pointed out to them that commerce depended on
haggling and bargaining and satisfaction in the end, and that
c e s 0 f s a

there was nothing sinful in making money, they would respond

with a mixture of pity and mockery, saying either aloud or to
themselves, "How can you compare someone who works all
year for his wage with another who makes more profit in a
single moment?"
The people of Wadi al-Uyoun were thus distinct from the
Atoum, who lived in their chosen habitat on Mount Zahra and
had close ties with their great tribe in all regions of the desert.
The Atoum had a special view of life-they were not obliged
to welcome caravans the second they arrived, for they presided
at the highest reaches of Zahra, looking down on the caravans
hurrying toward the water and the nearby caravansary, and they
would descend with some deliberation long after the caravan's
arrival. Being part of a great tribal confederation gave them self­
confidence, so they viewed money and possessions with haugh­
tiness and sometimes outright scorn; no matter how life dealt
with them it could never crush them, and these feelings some­
times made them rough and boorish. Nonetheless if they trusted
or loved anyone they would give him all they had, expecting
nothing in return and with no bitterness.
The Atoum were the poorest people in Wadi al-Uyoun, and
the proudest. Perhaps it was the very poverty that gave rise to
the arrogance, because any one of the Atoum, who could never
become rich even if he wanted to, could suddenly squander
everything he possessed without any trace of sorrow or regret
and begin saving anew, wearily and patiently. As soon as he had
anything extra the game began again.
In the wadi itself, people were poor, but they were happy
with the life they lived and praised it extravagantly. At times
they would complain about the constant diet of dry dates, milk
and stale bread and the intestinal pains they got, the dryness of
their faces and limbs and weakness that affected some men so
 0 0 9

badly that they'd stand up only to get dizzy and fall down again.
So many children were skinny and sallow, and were afflicted
with vomiting and diarrhea in the summer. The persistence of
the symptoms frightened them and made them think that they
needed more meat to strengthen their bodies; they would anx­
iously await the next caravan, whose arrival would change the
atmosphere; and perhaps the travelers would slaughter a few
head of sheep in return for what they got from the wadi. If no
caravan carne, some excuse would have to be found for slaugh­
tering a camel so that everyone might eat.
When things got better, the people acted differently, talking
more and spending long nights socializing. On summer nights
it was not enough to sit around the coffeepots telling stories;
they wanted to sing and sometimes dance, to unleash endless
ideas, sorrows and memories. Some men would be overcome
by sleep and others by an urge to fight, all for unknown reasons
or even no reason at all. If their guts were still tormented by
hunger and the vessels of sour milk were no longer making the
rounds, someone would shout to the rest, "Grilled meat! Yes,
that's just what we're going to cat tonight!"
And in fact some nights they would decide to slaughter a camel
at dawn. Skill, dexterity and boundless cooperation came into
play as one group gathered firewood, another prepared the pots
or made new bread and volunteers carried out the actual killing
and butchery work. Before long the whole wadi was a hive of
a special kind of activity, showing the will to stay and fight and
creating the will to resist poverty and hardship.
This kind of life endowed the people of the wadi with dis­
tinctive physical features: good height, strong backs, symmet­
rical frames and straight, slender limbs, hips and shoulders. To
see them you might think of them as horses run and trained to
the point of overleanncss, but still strong, sturdy and beautiful.
c e s 0 f s a

Their faces were longish and symmetrical, with thin lips and
smooth cheeks set high but not prominent. They were not nearly
as prone to facial or bodily defects as people in other areas.
Because everyone in Wadi al-Uyoun was so similar, in both
physical appearance and general attitudes, it was possible to dis­
tinguish one from the other only by age or personality, or by
the exact kinship to the ancestor al-Aoun, who was considered
the wadi's chief in spite of the fact that he had died long years
ago. Stories of his courage and generosity were still told, and
the selflessness that marked all his deeds revered, so that he was
still seen as their genius and guardian.
If Ibrahim al-Aoun and his tribe, the Atoum, had come in
from the far-off desert to settle in Wadi al-Uyoun, then nature
and places also had their unknowable laws.
The al-Aoun clan, to whichJazi al-Hathal and his father Miteb
before him had belonged, had been sown in this place like the
palm trees. They were torn between a longing to go back whence
they had come and a longing to move on to new places, but
they were held in place by some mysterious force. People still
remembered Jazi al-Hathal and what he had done to the Turks
forty or fifty years before, making their occupation of Wadi al­
Uyoun an unbearable hell. He would lie low for so long that he
was thought to have died or been killed, and was almost for­
gotten by everyone, including the Turks themselves. Then he'd
burst onto the scene, killing, burning and destroying, only to
escape back into the desert with what he had seized, staying there
long enough to be forgotten again; then he'd be back, making
the wadi a veritable hell.
Jazi did that many times, even before the people had begun
to think of the Turks as enemies, and he kept it up until the
forces withdrew. The Turkish command's attempts to pursue
and arrest him ended in the deaths of the leaders of the two
campaigns against him and the defection of soldiers who joined
 0 0
11

Jazi's raids and helped to cut roads. It was said that they stayed
with him until the end.
This cause, which took over and obsessed the al-Hathal clan,
manifested itself to them in many forms; perhaps it was the
reason they chose this central place, a way station for travelers,
so that they too could be witnesses to an era of life and history
that would come once and never recur, so that they could tell
others of the wonders and prodigies they had seen.
 0
N THAT DAY SO LONG AGO, LIKE SO MANY THOU­
sands before it, the last of Miteb al-Hathal's
sons was born. It was in late spring, in the
afternoon. The heat had been merciless for days, with the fruit
of the date palms budding and plumping out. Miteb was just
unyoking Umm Khashab from the plow and tying her up firmly
so he could go to his house on Zahra and check on his wife and
11repare the coffee early when he saw his son Fawaz racing toward
him, his face radiating joy. Then he knew that his wife had given
birth, that a new son had come. He stayed leaning against the
palm trunk, waiting for Fawaz to arrive with the good news,
and as he waited he looked around several times. At that moment
the wadi seemed to him greener than ever. "We got good rains
this year, " he s aid to himself.
 .. 13

"Father-father! Good news! " cried Fawaz while he was still

far off.
"If it's come, it's come, " said Miteb to himself.
Just as in the past, he did not hesitate in giving the boy a name,
as if he had been ready for a long time. Scarcely had the lad's
feet touched the ground, his face covered with dust, sweat and
joy, when Miteb looked him in the eye and calmly asked, "Tell
me, boy, has Mugbel come?"
The lad looked at his father in confusion, thinking his father
did not understand what he had told him. After catching his
breath he said, "We have a new brother. "
"You say Mug bel has come, hah ? " asked Miteb, putting his
large hand on the small boy's head. He laughed loudly. "God
bless you, boy. "
He took off his belt and loosened his robe, and after he dusted
off his hands, the two walked quietly back to the house on Zahra.
They walked in silence, but an inner glow more like a tumult
filled Miteb al-Hathal. Zahra seemed unbearably far, and he
thought of speeding up or runnin � , but changed his mind, saying
to himself, "If the boy were my first, or I not so old!" He looked
at Fawaz several times and then said laughingly, "We'll marry
him off to little Shaqra Mubarak! "
Miteb gave a huge banquet that evening, killing a sheep and
inviting everyone. Late that night, after the men had all left, he
sat alone in the moonlight. His whole life passed in front of his
eyes like a long ribbon. He saw his days and nights. He remem­
bered his boyhood and his first journeys. He smiled when he
remembered Wadha and the first son she gave him. She had been
afraid, and late at night she'd wept and looked at him. Tonight
when he looked at her she was tired and neither laughed nor
wept. Miteb al-Hathal did not understand why he wanted to
claw the hard earth under the carpet with his fingernails, as
c e s 0 f s a

if putting a mark on it, wanting to leave some indelible trace.

He went into the house late that night to get out his old rifle
and shoot off a few rounds. The idea came to him suddenly,
like a flash of lightning. He did it every time a boy was born;
the first time had been with Thweiny, his first son, who had
died long ago. That night he had taken out the rifle before all
the men and shot off a whole clip, and all his friends who had
pistols had joined in. He remembered that Ibn Mubarak al­
Huweizi and Fahd had shot off bullets unceasingly, and that
al-Huweizi had used up all the bullets he had the day Shaalan
was born, and that al-Qahtani had tried too but his pistol had
failed after firing the first bullet. The men were happy and ex­
cited; they feasted, laughed and fired their rifles for hours. This
time was not like it was before. That time the joy had been
overpowering·, though Thweiny had died young. Tonight they
ate, drank and were merry; al-Qahtani said that Mugbel was
a sign of good times ahead, but they did not get out their
guns. Miteb did not even think of it, and now he told himself
somewhat sadly, "The old days were good-better than these
days. "
He wanted to make some noise, in order not to create any
fear or surprise, as he was fetching the rifle. He stood by Wadha's
bed as his sister Sarah sat rocking the baby. It seemed she had
just finished feeding him some honey.
The two women looked at him. Wadha was exhausted, half
asleep, and when she saw the gun she jumped slightly as if
suddenly penetrated by fear or joy. She watched Miteb closely
and rose up on her elbow a little. Feeling proud, he struck the
rifle butt on the ground as if giving an order of some kind. Sarah
was speaking to the crying child: "You'll grow big, little boy,
you'll grow strong, and tomorrow you'll be a man. Men have
to be men. " When she heard the thump of the rifle on the ground
 .. 15

she turned and looked a t Miteb questioningly, then glanced at

Wadha.
"Listen, " said Miteb. He spoke slowly as if beginning a long
speech. When he saw the two women looking at him, looking
curiously at the gun, he went on exultingly. "He was telling the
truth, whoever said, 'Whoever has children never dies. ' "
He paused a moment, smiled and nodded his head, and went
on sadly. "God rest our parents and their parents. "
Very calmly, he took up the rifle, shot the bolt and put a shell
in the magazine, then turned and went out.
There was silence, and a moon. Miteb al-Hathal was in the
great desert alone. He contemplated the sky and stars and breathed
deeply. He felt like doing something extraordinary.
"Midnight! Take this! "
He raised the rifle t o the sky, t o the moon, and fired. The
shot ripped the night and echoed, and its fragrance filled his
lungs. He drew the bolt and dropped the empty shell, and
the smell of the gunpowder filled his nostrils. He remembered
past days and told himself, "God, give us good days. Make us
stronger and more patient!" When he inserted the second shell
into the magazine he heard movement inside the house, and
guessed that it was not the sound of Wadha or Sarah; one of
the children had been woken by the sound of the gunshot. He
turned slightly and saw no one at first, fell to the carpet, and
after a moment Shaalan came out looking curious and a little
afraid.
"Hah, my boy, were you frightened?" asked Mitch, laying
the rifle on the ground.
Shaalan smiled and looked at his father questioningly, and
seeing him calm shook his head no.
"When you came into the world we lit it up with gunpowder
until morning , " said Miteb, his face joyful in the moonlight.
c e s 0 J s a

The boy nodded, filled with pride.

"Today, my boy, you have a brother. "
Shaalan laughed in acknowledgment and agreement, and Miteb
added, "Your brother has to smell gunpowder, so it won't scare
him when he's bigger. "
"Make more coffee, Abu Thweiny, " called Sarah from inside
the house, where she had been listening to Miteb. "You'll have
another batch of men coming from Wadi al-Uyoun."
"The coffee's all ready, Sarah. They are most welcome. "
"If they come you'll be shooting until morning!"
"Daddy, give me the gun , " said Shaalan excitedly.
Miteb al-Hathal proudly handed his son the rifle. He wanted
someone to share this mysterious, invigorating game with him.
He was flooded with strong, fleeting feelings, with a lightness
more like exultation. Shaalan raised the rifle and fired, and the
whole wadi resounded with the shot. To Miteb the shot sounded
louder and more resonant than the first, and the scent of gun­
powder filled the air with an eerie sweetness. When silence re­
turned, he heard Sarah's voice again. "The best is yet to come,
and we'll have more than odors, Abu Thweiny! "
"Trust i n God, Sarah. Time i s long!"
When the third shot rang out, Miteb told his son, "That's
enough, my boy. " He paused a moment and then laughed, add­
ing in a loud voice, "We know our own people. Day or night,
one more shot and they'll all be here in Zahra!"
He laughed again. Miteb was talking to himself, talking to
the others; he felt that everything around him was moving forc­
ibly. Even the moon and stars seemed to him different than in
the many days past. He felt that the icy cold gripping the air at
that moment infused him with strength and confidence; he wanted
his body to swell out to hold the erupting joy that filled his soul,
to say something that would not only stick in the memory but
reside in the heart. He gazed at the moon and Shaalan's face, at
 .. 17

the open door where Sarah stood, and said: "If your boy grows
up, give him a brother. "
"With luck, Abu Thweiny, a hen can lay eggs on a tent peg ! "
said Sarah, won over b y the air ofj o y and excitement.
Miteb guffawed and replied, "If I manage it, Sarah, donkeys
can piss on lions! "
"Trust i n God!" shouted Wadha from inside the house.
 _3

t\ UGBEL BIN M ITEB AL-H ATHAL WAS BORN IN

Wadi al-Uyoun, that much was for sure; what
was not for sure was the year of his birth.
What caused the dispute was confusion over similar events.
His aunt Wasma said he was born the year of the locusts. That
was a bad, black year, yet when he was born Miteb al-Hathal
had said, "The bad days are over; the good times are coming. "
It was to emphasize that conviction that he had named him
Mugbel. Wasma added that her brother Saad had come that year
after a long absence; all the sugar, flour and cloth he'd brought
with him had made the family decide to stay in Wadi al-Uyoun
instead of leaving the way so many others had done. She was
sure because she had been wearing a new dress Saad had brought
her when she put Mugbel on her shoulder and he pissed on it.
 .. 19

Even then she was happy and said that their hard times would
soon be over.
Sarah-Umm Thunayan-said Mugbel was born the year the
brooks flooded; the year of the locusts Wasma was talking about
had been three years before that. The bedouin had come to Wadi
al-Uyoun later than usual that year, she said, because it had been
a good year in the desert and the wells had been full of water.
She was positive, because the truffles and mallow and other herbs
were everywhere; she had never seen anything like it. As to
Mugbel's name, that had been her idea; she had suggested the
name and insisted on it, "because Miteb wanted to name him
Thweiny or Ziyab, Thweiny for the baby that passed away and
Ziyab after that sheep incident in the wadi. "
Sarah and Wasma's dispute over the year of Mugbel's birth
was never settled, because neither would give in and the wit­
nesses each woman cited refused to change their stories no matter
how much the other pressed them to; they could not betray their
memories that much.
If births in Wadi al-Uyoun did not stand out or cause argu­
ments, what really did complicate things that season was the
government's three-man commission sent to record the names
of all the males and new births. The commission had passed
through many different parts of the desert, carrying their papers
and heavy ledgers, but no one knew why they had come or the
real reasons behind the census. This fear led the people of Wadi
al-Uyoun to ·deal warily with the commission: they concealed
much information, said nothing about traveling family members,
and did not so much as mention their daughters. Some of the males
were registered and some not, and as an added precaution all
boys from eight to fourteen years old were told to go away and
play in the gardens all day long. Fathers pretended to remember
only the vaguest details about the years their sons were born.
c e 5 0 f s a

That was what almost everyone in Wadi al-Uyoun did, be­

cause weeks before the arrival of the commission there was a
rumor that the military was going to take the young men. It did
not, however, keep three or four families in Wadi al-Uyoun
from doing just the opposite, registering all their sons and trav­
eling relatives and even some of the recently deceased. They did
that because one of the men on the commission told them in the
strictest confidence, on condition they tell no one else, that quan­
tities of sugar, flour and cloth would be distributed in the wadi
and elsewhere according to the number of family members. Most
people scoffed at that story, saying it was just a trap, because
the government had never done that before, even in years when
people were dying of thirst.
Later, when Suleiman al-Hadib was told the year of Mugbel's
birth, he hesitated before agreeing or disagreeing, and when he
was told that government records didn't lie, he smiled scornfully,
and said, shaking his head, "If they go by their book, then they
arc wrong most of the time. "
He remembered how the townsfolk of al-Hadra had dealt with
the commission that year.
Aunt Wadia, the wadi's matriarch, had a completely different
theory regarding the year of Mugbel's birth. She said he was
eight or nine years older than Anoud. She remembered that
because Mugbel was the same age as Halima, who had died at
one year old, and she had had two children between Halima and
Anoud, meaning that Mugbel would have been born the year
of the world war, because her husband Hazaa' had been im­
prisoned in Egypt during the war for refusing to sell his sheep.
He had smuggled them, or tried to smuggle them, but he'd been
arrested and thrown in prison. Hazaa' said, and Aunt Wadia
agreed, that the world war between the Germans, the Italians,
the English, the Indians and the Senegalese would have driven
him to Tripoli in Libya had it not been for God's grace. They
 .. 21

said that the war had lasted for years and years, and that Halima
had been born five months after her father left.
Aunt Wadia would often strenuously defend her version of
events, because Mugbel was one of the strongest contenders for
Anoud's hand. After a long wait, however, with Mugbel still
hesitant and unable to give his final word, one of Hazaa's clan
came along, got Anoud's father's permission to marry her and
did so. Then Aunt Wadia stood by her story less vehemently,
saying she did not exactly remember. But she went along with
her sister Wasma, saying that Sarah's information was all wrong,
nothing but fabrications to help one ofher relatives make a match
with Mugbel.
So there was really no need for anyone to plumb his memory
trying to remember Mugbel's birth year; it was such a compli­
cated question, with nothing to gain from settling it. He might
have been born in the year of the locusts or the year of the floods,
or before or after, but he was certainly born before that frightful
year of the storm, because then the wadi, the caravan road and
the people had all been reduced to a state of utter poverty and
devastation. Echoes of the outside world reached the wadi in­
termittently by way of caravans or relatives absent for long years,
some of them forced to return out of fear of being drawn into
the war; and because they had lost their livelihoods.
News of the world reached them garbled and confused. Fawaz
was then a boy nearing young manhood, for he had begun to
sit in the men's encampment, Sarah recalled, and one night, as
the men told stories and recited odes, and the wolves howled
afar off, she first heard that Fawaz wanted to travel.
If the arrival of a cara van meant much to both old and young,
sending them all scurrying off in some direction, it did not
interrupt the peace and equilibrium of the men, who took their
time getting to the brook and the caravansary. They knew a lot
about the caravan even before it got there, thanks to the children
c e s 0 f s a

who ran around like cats bearing the news of how many men
and camels were in the caravan, what it carried, where it came
from and where it was going. The children's immoderate cu­
riosity made them want to know everything and confirm it
themselves, and they would instantly tell the adults what they
had seen. It happened with every caravan. The adults listened
with an attentiveness they did not show, for they had already
heard something from other caravans, from a passing messenger
a few days before, or from counting the time between journeys
and places. When the adults finally went to the brook or the
caravansary, they took notice of everything, even the beasts'
droppings, and drew their own conclusions.
About this time Fawaz stopped racing along with the other
children. He joined the men of the Atoum in delaying their
arrival at the brook, but he was annoyed by his father's still later
arrival. When the caravans began to prepare for resuming their
journey after a break of two or three days, he would be there
to assist the travelers, at the same time trying to convince his
father to let him go. With every bundle handed up and tied to
a camel, with every rope wound around to secure the luggage
he showed skill and strength, and he never stopped trying to
persuade his father.
When the hour of departure finally came, with the sweaty
brown hands offered in firm but gentle farewell, Fawaz would
be filled with vexation and bitterness at not being included in
the caravan. Soon he would join another caravan, he told himself.
"In two or three years, when you're bigger, you can travel,
my boy, " Miteb al-Hathal would say when a new caravan had
left.
When Fawaz pestered him and took a stubborn stand, trying
to act like a grown man when a caravan took its leave, Miteb
al-Hathal would say, "My boy, this place is better than others . "
 .. 23

After a thoughtful silence h e would add, " What has travel to

offer besides weariness?"
Sometimes Fawaz would tell his father that he had seen two
boys of his own age or even younger in the caravan that had
left that day, or in the one that had passed through two weeks
before.
"Wadha , " Miteb would say to his wife, "Shaalan still hasn't
come back from his travels and Fawaz wants to set off. Get his
things ready to go, and trust in God. "
At this point Miteb would step aside to let his wife play her
part, for if he were ready to discuss the matter and give in, at
least outwardly, to please his son, Wadha's refusal to consider
the idea brooked no argument: her nature, and what she pos­
sessed of hidden strength and sometimes a sad or dejected look
usually defeated Fawaz and made him put the idea aside for a
while. She would assure him that in a few years' time he would
be stronger and better capable of handling the trials of a journey
that might last ten years; in the meantime (for he had not even
begun to grow a beard yet) the thought of travel would have to
remain a hope. She talked about his father and his relatives who
had traveled, how long they were absent and how much trouble
and pain they endured, and she kept at him until he was con­
vinced or pretended to be convinced.
"If you're a big strong man now, then go and water the
animals and come back safely, " Miteb would tell him when
watering time came.
He meant that a boy of Fawaz's age could herd some of the
animals by himself, if he were strong and knew what he was
doing, for sundown in the wadi, when the animals went to drink,
was one of the hardest and most dangerous times. In addition
to making it to the brook at the right time, controlling the beasts,
not mixing them up and all that was entailed in the way of
c e s 0 f s a

discussions and sometimes arguments could only be handled by

men or the strongest youths. It often took two men to water
the animals quickly and without incident.
So when Miteb al-Hathal asked his son to go on his own,
Fawaz felt pride and daring; when his mother motioned to his
younger brother Ibrahim to accompany him, Fawaz refused firmly
and told her somewhat challengingly, "By myself! I don't want
anyone and I 'll be the first one back. "
Fawaz went off by himself but did not make it back early as
he had promised. He returned very late indeed!
When he reminisced later about the first day he went to water
the animals by himself and returned so late, he recalled that his
delay was due not to any difficulty in getting the job done, but
to another, more important reason, the same reason that would
subsequently prevent him from traveling.
After the sun sank from sight and the light shadow covered
everything, when the camels and sheep stirred and bleated in the
compass of the dappled, fast-retreating light, the air was filled
with the beasts' heavy movements and friction and their scattered
lowing. Fawaz felt alarmed and confident at the same time, and
confined as well, and in spite of the blind sounds he drove before
him, as he urged the cattle to move faster their pace remained
plodding and even slow. He realized too late that he had suc­
cumbed to this hidden inducement and stayed an hour or more
roaming between the animals and the small circle of men near
Ibn Rashed's encampment. When he got back to Zahra he found
the old lady sitting in the foremost place, as if by sitting there,
close to the earth, she was trying to penetrate the shadow and
the distance as men did in daytime when they stood erect or sat
on a hill with hands over their eyes so as better to scrutinize the
distance and detect shadows and movements. Thus the old lady
sat in the near-darkness, overtaken by unease and fear. Ibrahim
was pacing around mockingly, not saying a word, trying to
 . . 25

show how serious and useful he could have been had he gone
along with Fawaz.
Fawaz went on his way without stopping to explain his late­
ness, but some nervous instinct took over his movements and
made him shout at the sheep to hurry into the corral, and at the
camels to kneel so he could hobble them. He shouted at Ibrahim,
who was still wandering around, to finish the rest of the chores.
He could not make excuses just then; he wanted to tell his
father about what he had seen and heard. No sooner had he
looked at his father's face, however, in the faint light of the last
snapping embers, than Miteb's eyes had shone with a sarcastic
but somewhat pitying smile, as if he wanted to say once again,
"That's enough stubbornness-you're still too young to travel.
You have to wait!" He lowered his eyes and continued to stoke
the small fire, and Fawaz felt that his father wanted no expla­
nation or excuse for his tardiness. He placidly kept stirring up
the live coals with light expert movements preparatory to mak­
ing coffee.
Fawaz felt frustrated and threw himself down to lie propped
on his elbow. His mother's squatting away from the house,
Ibrahim's flippant provocation, his father's quick glance, heavy
with rebuke and disappointment, and their complete silence, all
of it filled him with frustration and a sense of grave injustice.
He imagined that the hour he had spent moving between Ibn
Rashed's encampment, the animals and the faces of those mys­
terious foreign guests, and his sprint back to see that the camels
and sheep were unharmed and had drunk, had made him wonder
if he should return quickly or stay behind to look at what he
was seeing for the first time.
"Ibn Rashed has foreign guests, " he told his father, who was
still busy with the fire.
His voice fell among the coals and the clinking coffeepots as
his father kept at his task, as if he had not heard or did not want
c e s 0 f s a

to hear excuses for the delay. Fawaz spoke again, more loudly
and with something of a challenge in his voice. "They're Franks,
and they speak Arabic. "
His father raised questioning eyes at these words and waited
to hear more. They sat across from each other with the fire and
coffeepots between them.
"Three foreigners with two marsh Arabs, and they speak Ar­
abic. " He raised his voice for effect. "They speak differently than
we do-it's comical. But you can understand what they say. "
He saw a sudden change in his father, whose concentration
now gleamed in his eyes as he looked at Fawaz sternly, as if he
wanted to read in his face and eyes what he had seen and what
impressions had been left, in order to know what kind of men
these had been. Miteb spoke slowly. "Did you find out where
they came from and what they want?"
"The people at the encampment said they were Christians. "
"What do they want?"
"I heard Ibn Rashed tell one of them, 'Say "There is no god
but God and Muhammad is His prophet" ' and the man said
after him, 'There is no god but God and Muhammad is His
prophet. ' "
"What are they after?"
"People say they came to look for water. "
"You-what did you hear them say?"
"There were too many people around them-I only heard a
word here and there. "
With the same vigor that had shown in his eyes when Fawaz
said they were foreigners, that had drawn him out of his original
disappointment and censure, Miteb pulled himself together and
got up.
"I have to see for myself, " he said.
He and Fawaz quickly saddled the two horses. Mugbel tried
 0 0 27

to cling to him to go along, but Miteb snapped at his wife: "Take

the child-get him away from us. "
"God knows how late we'll be. We might sleep at Ibn Rashed's, "
Miteb called when he had mounted his horse and they were
ready to gallop off.
They were off, both silent. There was no sound but hoofbeats.
When they reached Ibn Rashed's, Miteb al-Hathal sat near the
guests and Fawaz sat with boys his own age near the entrance
to the encampment.
 t\ ITEB AL-HATHAL QUICKLY AGREED TO SPEND
the night at Ibn Rashed's and stayed there
until sundown the next day, always watch-
ing the three foreigners closely, speaking to them, asking himself
and others what had brought these men here. This and the slow,
sad ride home, with its stops and discussions, the way his son
talked and acted-all this made Fawaz al-Hathal a man before
his time and left an indelible memory in his heart.
Miteb chose a long road for the ride back to Zahra, one he
almost never used, and when he got back he was a changed man
to all those who saw him and knew him. He was confused and
depressed. He spoke in a way he never had before; his tone of
voice, the kind of things he said and the many questions he asked
his son-which in fact he was really asking himself and others-
 .. 29

were all different. To Fawaz, who was careful t o remain silent

during the whole trip back, his father's words were strange in
an unforgettable way.
"They certainly didn't come for water-they want something
else. But what could they possibly want? What is there in this
dry desert besides dust, sand and starvation? They say they'll be
here a long time? How will they live? They look like chickens
when they eat. And the questions they asked were damned crafty.
Saying they weren't like the ones who came before. 'Have any
foreigners besides us come?' 'Have you heard about any for­
eigners, English or French coming here?' 'Did they stay long?
Did they do anything?' They're afraid-they've done something.
You know very well that whoever does anything wicked is afraid
of others. If they were honest people who came to look for
water, why everybody knows where the water is. They don't
want to stay here-they want to travel around, to go and then
come back, and others will come after them. That's what they
said. They said, 'Wait, j ust be patient, and all of you will be
rich!' But what do they want from us, and what does it concern
them if we get rich or stay just as we are? Watch their eyes,
watch what they do and say. They're devils, no one can trust
them. They're more accursed than the Jews. And the bastards
memorized the Koran. Strange. "
When he paused and asked his son for his opinion, Fawaz did
not say a word, for he did not understand what was happening.
True, he had heard the young men say bad things about the
strangers, and point at them and laugh. He had seen them eat
and talk, but he did not know what was happening around him;
even when they got back to Zahra and Miteb told the other men
some of what he had seen and heard, his father had looked at
him, wanting him to corroborate in some way what he was
saying. All his life his father had taught him to be silent when
c e s 0 f s a

adults were talking and remain standing when they had guests,
to move and act politely. This time Miteb al-Hathal acted dif­
ferently.
"My friends, you wouldn't believe it. One of them, God
knows, their sheikh, knows Arabic, but he doesn't want to speak
it. I am positive. I noticed him. He was like a hawk, watching
everything and trying to hear. I asked him if he spoke Arabic
or not and he said, 'A little, a little. ' The son of a bitch knows
it better than all of them, but he's crafty. When he wants some­
thing he talks in his own language and has the others ask. Water?
Wadi al-Uyoun has water enough-we don't want any more
than that. If they want water, if they want people to help them,
let them go somewhere else. "
In the days that followed, Miteb al-Hathal took care to water
all the animals by himself, and to test his suspicions he had all
the men go and see the foreigners for themselves. He had Fawaz
take the animals so that he could go to Ibn Rashed's. Each time
Miteb returned with new ideas, which all confirmed his first
suspicions and convinced him more firmly that "those devils are
incapable of any good. "
They were busy all day long. They went places no one dreamed
of going. They collected unthinkable things. They had a piece
of iron-no one knew what it was or what they did with it­
and when they returned in the evening they brought with them
bags of sand and pieces of rock. Once they brought tamarisk
and wormwood branches, and bunches of clover. They broke
the branches in a strange way and attached pieces of paper on
which they had written obscure things. That was not all: they
placed wooden markers and iron poles everywhere they went,
and wrote on them, and wrote things no one understood on the
sheets of paper they carried with them everywhere. The markers
were hidden or moved around whenever they went away-the
boys of the wadi moved and gathered up some of the markers,
 .. 31

and the grown-ups did nothing to stop them. When Fawaz showed
up with some of t he iron poles after he had been tending the
sheep, his father scrutinized them carefully and a little fearfully.
He knocked them on a rock, knocked them one against the other
and listened to them for a long time, then he said that they must
not be brought near the fire.
And the water. Where was the water and how could they find
it? Did the government know where they were and what they
were doing? When Miteb al-Hathal asked him, Ibn Rashed said
that they had a certificate from the emir and had been his guests
for a week. When Miteb asked the two guides, they said that
the emir had sent them and that was why they had come.
Miteb al-Hathal grew more pessimistic with every passing
day; his fears mounted and his curses were more frequent. He
came to talk about nothing else. If all the men joined him in
discussing the problem, not all of them agreed with him, but
because of his age and social standing they let him think and
swear as he pleased.
He sensed that something terrible was about to happen. He
did not know what it was or when it would happen, and he
took no comfort in the explanations offered him from all sides.
The very sight of the foreigners and their constant activity all
day, the instruments they carried around, the bags of sand and
stones they had amassed after writing in their notebooks and
drawing symbols on them, the discussions that lasted from sun­
down until after supper and the writing that followed, the damned
questions they asked about dialects, about tribes and their dis­
putes, about religion and sects, about the routes, the winds and
the rainy seasons-all these caused Miteb's fear to grow day by
day that they meant harm to the wadi and the people. The wadi's
inhabitants, who at first viewed the three foreigners with scorn
and laughed when they saw them carrying bags of sand and
rock, grew more surprised when they discovered that the three
c e s 0 1 s a

knew a lot about religion, the desert, the bedouin's life and the
tribes. The profession of faith they repeated whenever asked,
and their scriptural citations, moved many people of the wadi
to wonder among themselves if these were jinn, because people
like them who knew all those things and spoke Arabic yet never
prayed were not Muslims and could not be normal humans.
Ibn Rashed, who had seemed a different person since the ar­
rival of the foreigners, showing them lavish attention and hos­
pitality in the most demonstrative way, as if he had been expecting
them, or perhaps had prior orders from the emir given by their
guides-Ibn Rashed inwardly believed that there was great gain
to be had from these men. As a consequence, he overdid every­
thing, his speech and his actions, which was more than the wadi
could bear and more than the people could stand. If at first people
tended to feel arrogant, as if they enjoyed ease and prosperity
in the wadi and knew how to honor their guests, soon they were
overtaken by doubt as to whether they could keep it up: the
foreigners had been there quite a while and showed no signs of
moving on.
Miteb al-Hathal was embarrassed and infuriated by Ibn Rashed's
behavior. Although Miteb respected hospitality and was a gen­
erous man himself, giving his guests the best of whatever he
had even if his family went hungry, he could not understand
why Ibn Rashed seemed so fearful and servile before these men.
"Listen, Ibn Rashed, " he told him a few days after the Amer­
icans had arrived. "We can eat dirt and offer our very children
to our guests, but we cannot nod our heads like slaves at every
word they say. "
When Ibn Rashed smiled, in an attempt to soothe Miteb's
anger, Miteb told him, "Even the way you smile and look at
them is despised by the people of the wadi. They're only men
like us, and if the emir hadn't sent them we'd send them right
 0 0 33

back where they came from. We have all the water w e need in
Wadi al-Uyoun and we don't need help from anyone. "
Miteb paused a few moments, his face showing strain. He
shook his head several times. "Talk to them like a man. Treat
them like men, Ibn Rashed. "
"God bless you, Abu Thweiny-why so harsh?"
"By God, from the first day they came you've been doing
nothing but laughing like a hyena. "
"Abu Thweiny, they're not like us. We have to treat them
kindly so that they'll say we're Arabs, " said Ibn Rashed slyly.
"We are Arabs, Ibn Rashed-we don't need a certificate from
anyone, " replied Miteb impatiently. Then in a milder tone he
added, "So kill sheep for them, laugh, talk with them-but like
a man. "
Caravans still passed regularly through Wadi al-Uyoun, and
Miteb al-Hathal loved to talk exclusively-after asking the trav­
elers all the necessary and customary questions-about those
dangerous, sneaky foreigners who had come, no one knew for
what reasons, or what they wanted to do, or what would happen
in the end. Not only that, he would insist that all the men of
the caravan go to see the Americans and agree to help him find
out the secrets behind their coming. The travelers who heard
Miteb's story acted in a way that confirmed all his suspicions:
"We saw some of them on the way to Wadi al-Uyoun. They
looked like slaughtered sheep from the heat of the sun! When
we stopped to rest and saw the emir five days ago he told us,
'Whoever causes them any trouble will be punished. They're
brothers and have come to help us out. ' " When Miteb asked
what kind of help they could offer, and said that things were
fine and their help was not needed, the men exchanged glances
and said nothing.
Whenever the men of the caravans saw the three foreigners
c e s 0 f s a

and spoke to them, their fears and doubts increased. The for­
eigners spoke and inquired about places no one knew of or ever
went to, so it was clear that they were not looking for water.
This is what happened at that time. As to why Miteb al-Hathal
behaved as he did, why he viewed the foreigners with such anger
and fear, a state of inspiration more like prophecy had filled his
heart and life in recent years!
 5

T
'
0 EVERYONE s SURPRISE, HADIB AND SHAALAN
arrived with one of the caravans after a three­
year absence from the wadi. That day was
long remembered because the news of their arrival, brought by
the boys who first saw the caravan on the East Khabra road,
was all confused: some of the boys said that Khosh had come.
The youngsters had got the wrong name and wrong person, but
no sooner had the news reached the wadi than Umm Khosh
began to dance, laugh, cry and trill shrilly all at once. She did
not know whether to go and meet the caravan or to ready the
house for his reception. She raced in all directions and back again
like a madwoman. When the caravan finally arrived and it be­
came clear that it was Hadib and Shaalan who had come, every­
thing changed: silence, then a feeling of depression, and then
real sorrow prevailed as Umm Khosh's screams and sobs filled
c e s 0 f s a

the wadi. She had never been more miserable. Miteb al-Hathal
tried to comfort her but failed; he too was overcome by grief
and wished in his heart that the two travelers had never come.
That night Miteb told the men that he had not been expecting
the travelers' return so soon; there were times when he thought
they would never make it at all. Now that they were here he
recalled how he and Hadib had struggled to save enough to buy
three laden camels from a man in Wadi al-Uyoun who had left
his caravan.
"Shaalan was just wandering around. He didn't see or hear
anything, but when he saw his mother's brother getting ready
to set out, he j ust went crazy and had to go with him. " Miteb
told the story looking at Shaalan, who listened quietly, as if the
story had nothing to do with him. Miteb laughed loudly, re­
membering how he had not been able to dissuade Shaalan, and
repeated the old story. "I told his mother, Umm Thweiny, that's
your son and that's your brother. They have our money and
other people's money as a trust, and if we end up starving or
cursing this day, don't blame us-blame them!"
He motioned to Hadib and Shaalan and went on harshly. "I
told her, if they're going to be like the people ofWadi al-Uyoun,
planting a tree wherever they go and waiting for its fruit, then
forget it. But if they're easy on us and come back after a year
or two, then splendid-we won't worry about what people say. "
He laughed happily, confidently, and told how after that Wadha
took charge of everything, how she did all the packing for Hadib
and Shaalan, and how with every step and movement she made
she implored her son to come back, to come back quickly. Shaa­
lan promised his mother he would, wanting his father to hear,
as he busied himself preparing all the travel necessities according
to what he imagined and what he had seen other travelers car­
rying. The last hours before his departure were filled with a
 0 0 37

crushing sadness. Words seemed fruitless and died away before

they were heard, so Miteb decided to leave Zahra to go down
to the wadi. He took care to go down early.
"The land needs its people, " he told his wife before leaving
Zahra. "Hadib and Shaalan are like Khosh-it might be years
before they come back. "
When she told him that her brother had promised to return
quickly, that he would only be gone a short time, depending on
how the journey went, he answered her sarcastically. "If you
ever see Shaalan's children, Wadha, then praise the Lord. "
Wadha cried silently. In her heart she conceded that her hus­
band was right; perhaps she was even more anxious than he.
Now Hadib and Shaalan were back suddenly, bringing as
much rejoicing as surprise. Wadha's smiles were mingled with
tears as she went out to greet her son and brother, but she did
not even know whether she was laughing or crying or dreaming.
Miteb was speaking with deliberation, looking at his son Fawaz
as he spoke, as if he wanted him to learn a lesson, or at least to
grasp what the lesson was about.
He skillfully steered the conversation toward his topic, as if
driven by a hidden force, wanting as quickly as possible to ask
the travelers about the devils which had recently come. He wanted
to know anything they could tell him, and what people were
saying about them elsewhere.
The relationship between Miteb and his brother-in-law Hadib
al-Hamad was special, in the depth of its affection and its large
degree of petulance and competition. Miteb believed that life
alone educated a man; he viewed younger men with distrust and
skepticism, and made no secret of this. Hadib al-Hamad saw
travel, the change of locality and acquaintance with other peo­
ples, as the thing that taught a man and developed his mind.
That night the conversation was once again about travel and
c e 5 0 f s a

how it alone was the great teacher. Miteb did not comment but
only laughed scornfully, because he remembered what Hadib
had said.
"Life is the only thing that teaches whoever wants to learn,
cousin. "
After the laughter died down, he asked, "What do you think
about al-Dreibi?"
"Al-Dreibi?"
"Yes, al-Dreibi, the one who says he's visited the four corners
of the earth, and who speaks Egyptian like he was born in Egypt.
You know him. "
When Hadib nodded to show that he knew him, Miteb went
on. "A few days ago he went to East Khabra with his friends
and when they looked around they couldn't find him. Al-Dreibi
was gone like salt in water. If it hadn't been for God's grace and
the cleverness of one of the wadi's donkeys, he would have stayed
lost and died. "
Hadib smiled and shrugged.
"Do you know who got him back to Wadi al-Uyoun?" Miteb
asked.
Hadib did not reply, and Miteb laughed.
"Ibn Madawwar's donkey-he's the one that led him and
brought him back here! " He added in a different tone, "A boul­
der, cousin, doesn't teach or learn. It's people who teach and
learn. The prophet Adam learned everything and got to the heart
of a new thing every day. "
Miteb al-Hathal was waiting for the opportunity to ask ques­
tions and find out how travel had changed the men who had
just returned. Every little while he would steal a glance at his
son Shaalan to read the effects of the long journey in his face
and eyes. The two then began to talk about different places and
people, about the misery and difficulties, the weather and the
cold nights, about the caravans that got lost and were never
 .. 39

heard from again. They told o f the disease that affiicted Egypt
and how they were held with hundreds of others in special areas
bounded by wire fences; armed soldiers forbade them to go in
or out until a certain period of time had passed. They had been
perfectly healthy prior to this, but they'd left the quarantine
weakened by discomfort, illness and hunger. Then they told
about food and fruit, and about the cold water that gushed through
the streets of Damascus at all times. Miteb al-Hathal listened
attentively, often showing amazement and demanding further
details; he repeated some of the facts and names and appeared
shocked at the loss of so-and-so's caravan and deeply touched
by the death of some other whom he knew and had traveled
with years before. But he wanted to change the subject to the
one that now occupied him the most. He wanted to know why
the foreigners had come and what they were doing.
"Bad news, Abu Thweiny, " said Hadib, who seemed to know
more about it than Shaalan. " We met them everywhere. People
say they'll dig into the earth and turn it all inside out. No one
knows-" He paused a little to shake his head sadly. "A few
days ago we saw ten or more of them on our way. They were
in four tents and had some of our folk with them. When we
asked if we could come in and rest with them, they told us,
'Drink and then go rest somewhere else. ' So we drank and left,
and when we visited the emir he told us, 'We know all about
this-it's none of your affair. ' "
"By God, they'll turn the whole wadi upside down on our
heads if we let them, " said Miteb angrily. Hadib's words had
amazed and infuriated him. "Infidels! They have no mercy. "
"It's the government's doing, Father, " Shaalan said, looking
at his father reprovingly. "As long as the government knows
and the emir says it's none of your affair, it's useless to oppose it. "
Miteb al-Hathal looked at his son as if surprised at his presence,
as if he could not at first believe his ears. But when the words
c e s 0 f s a

sank in he said mockingly : "My boy, your uncle says travel

teaches, but I see you haven't learned anything!"
These words struck Shaalan like stones. Although he had long
been used to talking to others cruelly or flippantly and even
contemptuously, before his father he always felt terribly weak.
At that moment he was utterly unable to respond or to endure
his father's mockery, and as the silence grew heavier he felt as
if he were suffocating and went out.
Miteb was so angry that he might have done something fool­
ish-Hadib, who sensed this more than anyone else, spoke up
in an effort to change the atmosphere. "Abu Thweiny, the devils
will get here whether we want them or not. There's nothing
you can do about it. "
"The devils are already here, Hadib, " replied Mite b. "They
have arrived. They are here. "
"So what do you propose, Abu Thweiny?"
"I say we see the emir, we talk about it there. As for the rest,
God is great. "
" I don't think there's much use in that, Abu Thweiny. "
"So what will do any good?"
"The only good is in what God wills. " Hadib stretched out
and went on softly. "Abu Thweiny, cousin, people are not like
you and me. The people are with the emir and Ibn Rashed­
they are afraid and ambitious. You know better than I do: Ninety
needles don't make one awl. Miteb, the government is ruthless. "
"What have we to do with all this trouble? What have we to
do with the government?"
"The government does not care, cousin, " replied Hadib sadly.
"Listen, Hadib. The government doesn't belong to Ibn Rashed
and his kind of people. The government knows better than any­
one that Wadi al-Uyoun belongs to its people, and what kind
ofheadaches have come out of this water nonsense. If that prob-
 .. 41

lem is settled and people go on as normal, Ibn Rashed will

simmer down . "
" Ibn Rashed i s nothing, cousin. H e just says what h e hears. "
"But these days he and the emir are like one man, and you
know that when the shepherds become friends, the sheep are
lost. "
"Abu Thweiny, Ibn Rashed is nothing. That bunch over at
the emir's are the root of the problem. "
"It's all Ibn Rashed's fault. Every day or every other day he's
at the emir's: 'Wadi al-Uyoun needs water; the bedouin used up
all the water; Wadi al-Uyoun is dying of thirst, so you have to
dig us new wells; no one passes through Wadi al-Uyoun any
more; Wadi al-Uyoun, Wadi al-Uyoun. ' If Ibn Rashed just picked
up and left Wadi al-Uyoun we'd be a lot better off. "
"Cousin, the emir has nothing to do with it and Ibn Rashed
is just full of talk. The problem is bigger than the two of them. "
"What do you say we send them a messenger?"
"Providers are always prey, Abu Thweiny. Over there they
think they own Wadi al-Uyoun, and a thousand and one mes­
sengers wouldn't do any good. They'll have their way. "
They talked of other things. All the men had their say, and
Shaalan, who had quietly crept back looking wounded and
ashamed, tried several times to clarify what he had said earlier.
He did not address his father directly, but his tone and the things
he said, his movements and the careful looks he aimed at him
were intended to make the older man listen and understand.
Meanwhile Miteb cursed vigorously and lost no chance to tell
everyone exactly what kind of evil was in store for the wadi.
He felt miserably sad and wished that Shaalan had never come,
or ever said what he had said.
"Be patient, my friends, " said one old man in an effort to
soothe Miteb al-Hathal. When everyone looked at him he added,
c e s 0 J s a

"It's our village and we know it. We can deal with any devil. "
The old man laughed hoarsely. "Shame on you for fighting
and arguing before the devils even get here. If you fight among
yourselves, the devils will destroy you and you'll be pretty un­
comfortable then. "
"We have to find a way to keep them from coming, " said
Miteb al-Hathal almost to himself. "If they come, we'll bury
them-we'll burn them and curse their grandparents! "
 5 EVENTEEN DAYS LATER THE A MERICANS LEfT AND
took their two guides with them, but this time
they headed deeper into the interior rather than
going back where they had come from. Miteb al-Hathal, who
was not convinced by this departure, regarding it instead as an
even greater cause for alarm, said in Ibn Rashed's encampment
one night, before many of the men of Wadi al-Uyoun, "They're
after something. The water is just an excuse. " He laughed mock­
ingly and added, "They're looking for jinn, or devils-who
knows? But be assured of this, people of the wadi-if they find
what they're after, none of us will be left alive. "
This speech, so strange and angry, came as no surprise to the
men, for the surprises of the first few days had been replaced
by uneasy questions. Conversations between any two of the
wadi's inhabitants, at any place or time, were bound to revolve
c e s 0 f s a

around the Americans. No excuse or introduction of any sort

was needed to start discussing them. The subject so dominated
the wadi that one could begin discussing the Americans with
one group of people and continue the same conversation with
another group; every new detail known spread that quickly.
The Americans' behavior created endless suspicions. The coins
ofEnglish and Arab gold they so liberally handed out, the inflated
prices paid for the bags and wooden boxes they used to store
sand and rocks, above all the sum they gave Ibn Rashed for two
camels-these and other things utterly bewildered the people of
Wadi al-Uyoun. Even those who had said, "Let's wait and see
before we judge" no longer believed that the Americans had
come for water.
For Wadi al-Uyoun, so accustomed to caravan traffic and the
endless different sorts of people, the Americans were something
completely new and strange-in their actions, their manners and
the kind of questions they asked, not to mention their generosity,
which surpassed that of all previous visitors.
At first Ibn Rashed had defended them, insisting that the emir
had sent them and that they were friends who had come to help,
but he no longer did so with any enthusiasm. More than that,
he told anyone who asked about the foreigners' habits, how they
slept and how they behaved among themselves, that they had
some terribly odd habits and smelled peculiar.
Neither profuse use of perfumes nor incense burning could
zet rid of their smell. Ibn Rashed also said that they never went
to bed at night without doing some writing-they might have
been practicing witchcraft. Often they would stop writing, talk
to each other and then go back to writing. The one who spoke
no Arabic was the busiest one, always taking charge of the sand
they had brought in. He wrote on the boxes and drew a variety
of strange symbols on them. But nothing was stranger than their
 . . 45

morning prayers: they began by kicking their legs and raising

their arms in the air, moving their bodies to the left and right,
and then touching their toes until they were panting and drenched
with sweat.
"Look under their beds, under the sand, Abu Muhammad , "
one man counseled Ibn Rashed. "They may have left some of
their sorcery things behind. "
"Ibn Rashed should move his whole encampment, " snapped
Miteb al-Hathal, who had been listening and shaking his head.
"The jinn took possession of the whole place from the day the
infidels came-it's haunted. " When he saw that his comment
was heard with interest and approval, he added in a different
tone, "Jinn or no jinn, their smell could kill birds! "
"Listen, all o f you, " said another man, hoisting himself up.
"The open desert under the sky is better than this place. "
Ibn Rashed seemed embarrassed, unable to defend the strangers
as he once had just as he could not deny the hospitality he had
shown them. To end the discussion he said, "Just as you say,
the desert's better. God damn them and the hour of their coming.
Thank God we're rid of them. "
"The next time you turn around, Ibn Rashed, you might see
them coming back, " said Miteb al-Hathal, who had moved to
Ibn Rashed's side.
"Talk to me of the devil, but not of them, " replied Ibn Rashed
testily.
Not ten days later the American who spoke no Arabic came
back, with most of the cargo of rocks and sand they had seen
before. He spent one night in Wadi al-Uyoun with his guide
and moved on at dawn the following day. No one knew what
had become of the other two.
Day by day, Wadi al-Uyoun returned to normal. The images
of the Americans faded and were forgotten by everyone except
c e 5 0 f s a

Miteb al-Hathal, who remained observant. If before it had been

his habit not to ask too many questions, now he showed a new
alertness, meeting every caravan from every direction. Vaguely
he asked caravans coming from the direction of Syria and the
sea if they had seen anything or anyone unusual. If they came
from the interior he asked about two men possessed by jinn who
had gone into the desert and lost contact with the world. He
dearly wished to be told that they had died of thirst or been
eaten by wolves. He craved any news of the two ghouls, and
he was never satisfied with vague or confused details. Instead of
asking just one person he would ask everyone, inquiring at the
same time about a multitude of other subjects, and after hearing
all there was to hear he would sink deep into contemplation.
Wadha had other things to worry about besides the hell Miteb
was pursuing; tired of his questions and fed up with his neurotic
behavior, she pleaded with him despairingly. "Leave it alone,
man. The government knows better than all of us. "
"Oh yes , " began Miteb sarcastically, "the government knows
better than-" He did not finish his sentence. Perhaps the gov­
ernment did not know, after all, what the devils were doing.

The summer passed, then the fall. The foreigners who had come
through Wadi al-Uyoun long months before were forgotten; no
one asked about them or remembered them. Miteb al-Hathal,
still anxious and expectant, found that any mention of them
redoubled his anxieties, especially since his friends had begun to
show impatience at his notions and questions. They considered
it bad luck even to mention the Americans, so Miteb kept the
subject to himself. But nothing could save him from the dreams
and fears that stalked him at night. Nighttime became a torment
to him, and to avoid it he began napping for a few hours during
 .. 47

daylight, though the broken sleep did him little good. Wadha
and the others took notice and feared that his health would fail.
They spoke to him gently to help him forget, treating him with
tenderness and sympathy, but instead of soothing his fears this
only made him more irascible.
When news of Miteb's painful condition reached Ibn Rashed,
he observed sadly to the two or three men around him, "The
Atoum have always been like that. If they do manage to reach
old age they either go senile or go out and kill someone. " He
added, almost in a whisper, "He should be roaming about with
the sheep or playing with children. "
Most of the wadi took pity on Miteb and watched his actions
closely; Hadib was uneasiest of all. He worried that unless Miteb
found something to occupy himself with, Ibn Rashed's words
would prove prophetic.
One fall evening, when gentle sundown breezes blew after a
scorching day, Hadib told him, "It will be a good year, Abu
Thweiny. "
He turned to Miteb, who was gulping down the cool air. He
turned away again and added, "If we get good rains, everything
will change-the wadi will be a different place!"
"May God hear you, cousin. "
"I've noticed that your house isn't in good repair, Abu Thwciny.
I'm afraid the winds and rain will just carry it away!"
And so they repaired Miteb's house on Zahra, Hadib and the
young men they recruited from among Shaalan's friends and
relatives. The work was done with much joking and horseplay,
and even Miteb himself joined in and worked tirelessly. They
rebuilt the mud walls, reinforced the roof, walls and wooden
columns, cleaned the gutters and sank new posts in the corral
fence. In his enthusiasm Miteb decided to add a new room, since
Wadha had hinted the night before that the time had come to
c e s 0 J s a

think of arranging a marriage for Shaalan. The work was ac­

companied by many hints that a new and important change
would soon be made in Miteb al-Hathal's household. It didn't
take much intuition to guess what it would be, and the young
men kneading the mud and carrying the stone blocks smiled and
carried on in a way that showed they knew everything. Miteb
took all this in with happiness and pride.
His decline reversed itself. He ate with renewed appetite and
slept long and soundly. His strength and confidence returned.
If his dreams did not cease entirely, at least in his absorption in
a new activity he forgot everything.
Three or four days before the construction was finished, Wadha
carried over her usual pitcher of tea "so the poor tired fellows
could drink, " and as Hadib busied himself with the pitcher and
cups he told her, " Miteb is younger than he ever was . "
"Those sons o f bitches who came through just worried him to
death-otherwise he'd be in better shape than any young fellow."
"I hope we've seen the last of them . "
"Never again! "
O n the last day, Miteb al-Hathal killed a sheep o n the threshold
of the new room and all the workers cheered and clapped, look­
ing at Shaalan and his father and exchanging glances among
themselves. One said, "The trough is ready-now for the horse!"
"Trust in God. " Miteb laughed. " Not until the wedding. "
"Shaalan's o r his father's?" asked Hadib slyly.
"Shaalan and his father both, cousin!" answered Miteb. A
wave ofjoy and festivity had come over everyone, and this feast
was one of Wadi al-Uyoun's great nights.
The house was now capable of withstanding any rains, and
Miteb lost no time in preparing his garden for planting. He threw
himself into the work: hoed the earth twice, rooted out the weeds
and thorns, mixed manure with the soil, opened up seed holes
 . . 49

and cleared the northern irrigation ditch of dirt and sand for the
heavy rains he predicted. As he dug he told himself, "This land
is a treasure, but you never know what it contains until it rains.
Heavy rains that come early bring wonders. " He remembered
the good years and smiled, lifting his head to breathe the sweet
air deeply.
This season Miteb felt stronger than ever and chided himself
for getting upset over the sons ofbitches who had come through
the wadi months before. "They came and went, " he told himself.
"The wadi has seen and heard more people come through than
there are grains of sand here, and none of them ever left a trace.
There's no trace or memory of them left. " He felt more fervently
than he ever had the ties that bound him to the earth, the date
palms and fig trees, and to the people of the wadi as well. He
spoke to his young son, who played around him and watched
him. "That tree, the fourth on the left, is just your age, boy.
You grow every day, and it grows with you. Tomorrow you'll
plant a tree for your son, and he'll plant a tree for his son, and
Wadi al-Uyoun will get greener every day. People will keep
coming to drink the water and hope never to die, and when they
sit in the shade of the tree they'll say, 'May God show mercy
to whoever planted the trees and the green plants. ' "
Mugbel kept running around his father like a small dog and
jumping on his back whenever he leaned over. When the day
ended in the enveloping twilight, Mugbel grasped his father's
clothes so as not to lose him and they walked to the brook. The
younger men had finished their watering chores and headed back
to Zahra. Mitch rested and washed his face and hands in the
brook, chanting and making happy and thankful sounds; then
he continued up the hill, all the while talking to his son. He
knew that the small boy didn't understand much of what he
said, but he kept it up anyway.
c e 5 0 J s a

"Praise the Lord-here he comes, " Wadha told Hadib as they

watched Miteb's shadow approach.
"Work does wonders, Umm Thweiny, " replied Hadib qui­
etly, almost inaudibly.
It seemed that everything in the wadi had returned to normal,
but Miteb al-Hathal's fears and dreams continued.
 7

I
T WAS A COMMON THING, WHENEVER A CARAVAN CAME
through or letters from travelers arrived, for every­
one to ask the same questions: Was there news of
Khosh? What had become of him?
These questions, so often asked of so many, were entirely
different from the dozens of similar questions put to travelers,
for Khosh was well known even to people who had never met
him. While descriptions of his traits varied from one person to
another, and his name left widely different impressions among
different people, no one lived in Wadi al-Uyoun or traveled
through it who didn't have some kind of connection with this
man.
Why? Was he a real man of flesh and blood or a creature of
fancy? If he were a real man, then why this aura of mystery and
flood of questions? Because he was away traveling? Because he
c e s 0 f s a

had not returned, and contact with him was lost? There were
more travelers from Wadi al-Uyoun than there were actual res­
idents, and no household in the wadi, Zahra or the surrounding
area was without at least one family member on the road. Many
stayed away long years and were completely out of touch for
extended periods, but they always came back in the end. At the
very least there would be news of them or letters, and the bolts
of colored cloth that no traveler ever forgot to send.
So there was something that made Khosh different from the
rest. Every person in Wadi al-Uyoun might have his say, and
each might say something different, but all of it was true. Some
said that Khosh was courageous-that his valor was proverbial­
and they were right. Some said that he was fierce in battle, that
he could stay on a wild camel even for a half-day's ride, that he
had been seen hanging from a camel's tail as if he were a mere
bit of cloth, or even altogether weightless, and they were right
too. Whenever they talked about men's endurance, particularly
of hunger and thirst, and told tales of tough men, most of the
stories were about Khosh. Such oft-repeated and extravagant
tales were an ordinary feature of life and had lost their magic
and luster, except at emotional times or in front of strangers.
But the tale of how Khosh disappeared never lost its fascination.
After he joined al-Salemi's caravan and traveled with it as far
as al-Jouf, he was never seen again. He disappeared without
warning and for no apparent reason. The travelers in the caravan
swore that he went with them as far as al-Jouf, a seven days'
journey from Wadi al-Uyoun, parting from them there. Had it
not been for these firm testimonies, the people of the wadi would
have said that the earth had swallowed him up or a wild animal
eaten him. Naturally no one accepted the fact of his disappear­
ance, even though the men who brought this news were known
to be trustworthy and their account was repeated by many oth­
ers. Some caravans from al-Jouf brought conflicting stories,
 .. 53

deepening and multiplying the people's doubts, and travelers

who were importuned to inquire about him and who promised
to investigate never came up with a final answer or even any
reassuring response.
The disappearance of Khosh and loss of contact with him
would not have excited such a degree of concern and pity had
it not been for his mother. He was her only son, and since his
father's death long years ago Umm Khosh had taken on a great
many masculine qualities and aspects of appearance. In addition
to caring for some of the date palms, for this was all she possessed
after her husband's death, she raised three or four goats and some
chickens. She sold milk and eggs to travelers and did small j obs
like rope weaving and mending of torn clothes, and what scraps
the travelers left behind she would work with patiently and
perseveringly to make something useful. In this diffic ult but
obstinate way she raised Khosh, who at first because of his youth
did not miss having a father; he had no sense of loss because
many of his playmates had no fathers either-some were away
traveling and some had died.
Life went on as usual in spite of the hardships, and Khosh
grew to manhood. The mother who had been so patient and
borne so much found consolation in this strong, courageous new
man whom the whole wadi admired. Many of them, including
Miteb al-Hathal, said that after Khosh grew up his mother seemed
younger and happier, but when Umm Khosh heard this kind of
talk, which meant nothing to her, she began to keep her distance;
people were used to her and loved her, and the beautiful qualities
she had attained through age and experience made her loved
more than before, an object of respect and great affection.
All this, however, was a nearly forgotten episode in the wadi's
history, because what followed was what left a deep impression
in the people's hearts and minds, much as rushing water does
in hillsides. With Khosh's mysterious disappearance, Umm
c e s 0 f s a

Khosh's happiness ended and was replaced by profound sorrow.

The woman who at first would question all travelers and get no
reply took to waiting at the entrance to the wadi all day long
for a caravan that would bring news of Khosh. If she got used
to showing determination and sternness when she asked, as if
her question were about some very minor or routine matter, she
became a new woman with every passing day: she asked more
belligerently and was sure to ask every single member of the
caravan. To those who did not know Khosh and had never heard
his name she would tell stories about him; she delighted in talking
about him for hours.
Those people of the wadi who knew Khosh and his mother
were brokenhearted over the lack of any news. In the beginning
they were as persistent as his mother in asking for him all over,
and they persuaded travelers in their turn to make inquiries about
him. They wrote letters to friends and relatives to glean the
slightest news of him. But the days passed and there was no
news of him-none. The people had nearly forgotten Khosh in
the daily flood of adversity and hardship they endured, but with
the old woman's face staring at them every day they were never
allowed to forget. Khosh's presence was more felt than that of
many of the wadi's actual living inhabitants, and it grew ever
more palpable as the old woman wasted away with sorrow at
first, then turned into a creature that no man knew how to talk
to or handle. Her never-ending talk about Khosh, with its ac­
companying smiles and questions, evoked sadness because it was
never long before she broke into sobs, speaking excitedly, quot­
ing poetry and singing.
She did all this without the slightest fear or embarrassment,
with the greatest enthusiasm and always in a loud voice, as if
addressing a large number of people. Sometimes she would orate
to the goats and chickens for hours at a time, as if telling a story
that had no end.
 .. 55

Whoever heard Umm Khosh talk for the first time considered
her a woman of unquestionable sanity; when she told the story
of her son's journey it was as if she were talking of some other
woman's problem. Even when she recounted the small details,
deep in the shadows of the distant, forgotten wadi, which would
suddenly emerge, it was as if she was speaking of something
that had happened only the night before. But presently her voice
would change, she would look about in terror, grasp the ground
as if she were afraid it would open up and scream. "Listen,
everyone in the wadi! Sleep does not lie. Three angels came to
me-they were wearing white robes. And they told me, 'Khosh
will be here on Thursday. ' The big angel looked exactly like
Khosh and laughed like him too. The small one was strong like
Khosh, but I couldn't sec the third one because he had his back
to me. "
When they asked her to be patient and wait, she answered
derisively. "You people of Wadi al-Uyoun are unfair and cruel.
You just leave your children the same way you leave animals.
When the animal's time has come you take it and slaughter it,
and the one that's no good for slaughtering you throw out in
the stony desert to die. I don't want to get like any of you!"
She would keep repeating and singing, "Thursday, Thursday,
this Thursday. " People looked at each other and then at her,
their kindly smiles mixed with curiosity. "Life has been hard on
the old woman, " they said to themselves, "and the worst of it
is waiting for someone who will never come. " No one could
say such a thing to Umm Khosh herselfbecause the words would
kill her, so everyone let her go on waiting, and they waited
themselves to see if anything would happen.
The letters, coins and colored cloth sent by travelers were like
invisible ropes binding the wadi residents to their absent loved
ones, rendering the travelers present with their voices and fea­
tures, making life bearable for those who never grew tired of
c e s 0 1 s a

waiting in Wadi al-Uy oun. Umm Khosh wanted to be one of

them. What she wanted was a letter or a bolt of colored cloth,
and then Khosh could go and do whatever he liked. But to stay
like this, knowing nothing and having no one tell her anything,
this was harder than death. Nonetheless she was positive that
he would come back, so she would show every extravagant
kindness to new caravans and hover over the new arrivals from
the moment they got there until the moment they left, hoping
to hear that Khosh was still alive, that he was doing business
somewhere, buying and selling, and had amassed uncounted
camels and sheep.
Umm Khosh acted this way every time a caravan came. When
they had left, she would wander around the wadi from dawn
until sundown and sometimes later, in an endless patrol, speech­
ifying to young and old alike, talking to the trees and animals.
She asked anyone who came near her if they had seen or heard
anything from Khosh. In some places people might have made
fun of her, and boys might have ridiculed or even attacked her,
but not in Wadi al-Uyoun. No one said anything bad about her,
and she was the object of everyone's care and sympathy. She
could walk into any house or tent in the wadi or on Mount Zahra
as if it were her own and be treated as an honored guest. Men
and women alike would listen to her and talk to her rationally
and respectfully.
Such behavior was not the result of any prior agreement or
contrivance-it was the way of life in the wadi, whose people
were like one family. True, family relationships did link many
people here, but even stronger relationships were born when
husbands and brothers went away and their friends obligingly
tended the date palms and planted seed. This is what happened
with Umm Khosh's small walled garden. When she became
obsessed with her son she was no longer able to look after the
trees or plant the vegetables, so some men took charge of it for
 .. 57

her. They did this without being told and without saying a word,
as if doing it for themselves. When they gave Umm Khosh
money from the sale to travelers of some of her produce, she
looked happily at the coins they placed in her hand and asked
with a child's sigh, "Did Khosh send this money?"
When they said nothing, from fear that a denial would wound
her or make her cry, she became absolutely silent and pensive,
then shouted, "With what I've aleady got, this money is enough
for Khosh to get married! "
For a while she toyed with this thought, laughing and trilling,
walking in circles and dreaming; then she burst into tears. At
first she cried silently, trying to stifle her sobs, then her weeping
began to sound more like a cry for help. The men could not
bear to hear it and left, and the women and children looked at
her in surprise and then in sorrow; some women even joined
her in stifled lamentation. When she stopped, there was a heavy,
aching silence. The bedouin, and those of Wadi al-Uyoun in
particular, were not used to crying, did not like it and did not
know how or why people cried; but when they saw this, they
were perplexed and embarrassed and engrossed in their pessi­
mism.
A mysterious connection, which no one could explain, formed
between this state of affairs and the wadi's subsequent misfor­
tunes. Miteb al-Hathal had arranged the meeting between U mm
Khosh and the men who planted the garden and tended the palm
trees, and amid the joy, laughter and tears that followed, more
than one person heard him muttering to himself: "0 Lord, Cre­
ator of the blue sky, You are almighty and know what is in the
hearts of men. Protect the wadi and preserve it from calamity. "
He and others remembered the previous time when the cross­
eyed, gap-toothed bedouin came from the interior, from a far­
off place. That bedouin brought Umm Khosh a sum of money,
but though she asked for Khosh and showed radiant joy at this
c e s 0 f s a

new event, he refused to say anything until more people were

present. When a group collected, including Miteb al-Hathal, the
bedouin said that he was Abdallah al-Maktoum. He said he had
stabbed Khosh's father one day twenty years or more ago and
had now come to pay off the blood money in cash; all present
were witnesses.
This incident, and the joy and weeping that followed, was
only a few weeks old when the wadi was struck by a strange
plague that affected men and animals, and some say the trees as
well.
Miteb al-Hathal was reminded of this incident and what fol­
lowed when the three foreigners arrived; he said something ter­
rible would happen. He was not sure of his ideas and notions,
but a strong premonition filled him and took him over, and for
a certain period he went around repeating, "If a cross-eyed, gap­
toothed bedouin could bring all this trouble, then surely those
blue-eyed, gap-toothed foreigners could cause Wadi al-Uyoun
and its people to be annihilated. "
At first most people did not agree with Miteb's premonition
and his notions did not fill their heads, but no one could convince
him that he was wrong. If he were unable to prove or explain
his convictions, he was also unable to agree tet-any others. The
people of the wadi had received the foreigners rather warily but
still expectantly, since their curiosity was greater than their sus­
picion, but Miteb was different from all of them, and that ex­
plained his strong emotions in this particular period.
No sooner had Miteb taken his stand, which so many found
odd, than whispers began to make the rounds: "The man did
not look like that. " "Those devils who came will surely leave
tomorrow or the day after, but no one knows when Miteb's
melancholy will leave him. " The people would be quiet for a
while and then say, "He's got just like Umm Khosh-you can't
reason with him. "
 .. 59

Umm Khosh, more grief stricken than ever, wandered through

the wadi from end to end with her hair disheveled, repeating
words that made sense to no one: "Before the dawn of the year
the upheaval will arise up and the wadi will burn. "
The men were reminded of this incident when the three for­
eigners arrived, because Umm Khosh took up a position by Ibn
Rashed's encampment and did not leave it for a moment the
whole first day. She wanted to ask the foreigners about Khosh,
if they had seen him or heard anything about him, but they paid
her no attention. They asked about the rainy season and the hot
season, about where water might be found, how the sands moved
and in which direction, about the caravans, how often they came
and how long they stayed, and other matters that concerned
them. She meanwhile stared at them, following their every
movement, and screamed out from time to time: " You men!
Which of you can tell me how Khosh is?"
The men of the wadi had heard this question thousands of
times and had no answer to give, had no idea what to say to
Umm Khosh or how to handle her. The foreigners to whom
the question was put every now and then ignored it since they
did not kn�w what the old woman was saying. They were not
sure whether the question was being posed to them or to some­
one else, particularly since one look at the woman's face revealed
such great fear.
"You crazy old hag, that's enough! " Ibn Rashed shouted in
her face. "These men have never heard ofKhosh and don't know
where he is!"
Umm Khosh got up and started toward Ibn Rashed, looking
at him contemptuously. She looked at the three guests, who
instinctively began to back up, out of fear or perhaps a sense of
self-defense. Her long stare at them was searching and accusa­
tory, and a heavy silence had fallen over ev eryone. Ibn Rashed
was afraid she would start trouble.
c e s 0 f s a

"Get this crazy woman out of our sight! " he shouted to one
of his men.
Umm Khosh nervously swung one arm behind her, as if trying
to slip free from the arm she imagined might encircle her, then
looked to the right and the left. She took a few small steps
backward, her eyes still fixed hatefully on Ibn Rashed. Before
going much farther she spit on the ground and spoke. "This
wadi will burn. Because of you. "
"Take this woman away. Take her, " said Ibn Rashed, laugh­
ing nervously in an attempt to maintain his self-control and
suppress his agitation.
That is what happened, according to the men in the encamp­
ment. They remembered that Umm Khosh then began to plod
through the wadi raging in a loud voice, and when she got tired
of that she selected a spot near Ibn Rashed's encampment-not
close enough to it to expose her to insults or the danger ofbeing
chased away-and sat there, planning to ask the foreigners if
they had seen Khosh or heard any news of him. But Ibn Rashed,
worried that she might cause his guests some annoyance and
knowing that the foreigners themselves were now wary of her,
having placed themselves as far away as possible from the "mad­
woman, " forbade her to ask any questions.
For as long as the foreigners stayed the whole wadi was preoc­
cupied with them, in a whirl of questions and theories like a
desert sandstorm. Then shortly after they left life began to return
to normal, and the townspeople looked in all directions for car­
avans, rain and travelers, but the accursed misgiving buried in
the hearts of many at the foreigners' departure raised its head to
harass two individuals: Umm Khosh and Miteb al-Hathal.
After the foreigners left, Umm Khosh insisted that they had
come to inform the wadi of some important news relating to
Khosh; that was why they had kept her far away, giving her no
chance to ask them and find out; otherwise why did they show
 0 0
61

such fear when she got near them a t Ibn Rashed's encampment,
and why did they stay silent when she asked them? Had they
killed him and come here to reach a settlement over his blood?
There was no one to settle with after Abdallah al-Maktoum left
except herself, but no one had even approached her or spoken
to her. Even if they were not the killers, they at least knew a
great deal about him. Also, wasn't it likely that Khosh had grown
rich and had sent these men to inform the wadi of his circum­
stances and whereabouts? Didn't she have a right to hear what­
ever they had to say about his wealth? Wasn't she his mother,
who had suckled him with her own breasts? Who knew and
loved him as she did? Why were they dividing his goods while
he was alive and she did not even know?
She was certain that some harm had come to Khosh. Ibn
Rashed, al-Soheimi and Abdallah al-Mayouf had been making
fun of her. They had told her, "Be patient. Patience is the key
to victory. Tomorrow Khosh will come and marry, and you'll
rejoice, and all Wadi al-Uyoun with you. Just trust in God! "
They said that and more. A t other times they joked and asked
her if she planned to marry after Khosh returned, and when she
curled her lip scornfully they assured her, "You'll put henna on
your hands and feet and dance seven days and nights. If Khosh
comes back married you'll make him get married again!" When
she heard these words dreams and fantasies swirled in her head;
she smiled and gazed far of( Then suddenly the rapture fell away
and she trembled, looking at the faces that spoke to her; she
looked at them yearningly, wanting to discover what was behind
the words she heard, but the faces turned away, afraid to meet
her eyes.
In Ibn Rashed's encampment now, al-Soheimi, al-Mayouf and
the others, none of them budged when she tried to question the
three foreigners. They let Ibn Rashed drive her out like a dog.
They forgot the things they had told her. They had forgotten
c e s 0 f s a

the days when Abdallah al-Maktoum was alive, and they had
forgotten Khosh completely. No . . . they had forgotten noth­
ing; the three devils had come to tell them that Khosh was dead,
or that he did not want to come back. If they had said anything
else they would have told her. Perhaps he had decided to stay
where he was and get married there. If he were still poor, his
father had been poor before him and there was no disgrace in
poverty. She had borne much but was still strong and could bear
yet more. If he had died, who had buried him? Why didn't she
know? Was it that these devils had killed him or knew who had
killed him? They had paid out English and Rashadi coins for
bits of cloth and boxes made from palm leaves. Were they mad­
men to pay all that money if they had not killed him?
"The old lady is gone, " the people of the wadi said. "Once
she had hope, but now . . . "

One man put his hand to his mouth when he heard this and
flicked his thumb on his front teeth, meaning that there was no
hope left.
Many people now avoided Umm Khosh, turned their faces
away when she passed and kept silent when she sat nearby. Some
did not hesitate to ask the boys secretly to "spirit her away"!
Boys who had held back from mocking her in the past out of
fear of their elders' rebuke or punishment now eagerly did what
was asked of them. They became expert at making up dozens
of stories and pretexts for coaxing her away from the men, using
every means to excite her: "Khosh has come back! We saw him
at the brook. " "A caravan has come and the men are asking for
Umm Khosh. "
What happened provoked irrepressible laughter and endless
sorrows, for the old lady who raced off like a bitch dog at the
slightest word of Khosh believed everything she was told. In
her smiles and footraces she seemed like a little girl until she was
struck by the truth and the sight of the empty places. On seeing
 . . 63

nothing, she fell to the ground and began to cry. Her sobs were
enough to break hearts or even crush them, and even the children
who were the cause of it all, who egged her on and ran at her
side whooping with laughter, even some of them were affected
and felt guilty when they saw her collapse in a heap of sobs.
The only one, or one of the few, who kept his old feelings
toward Umm Khosh or even grew more sympathetic to her was
Miteb al-Hathal. He made sure to be near her most of the time
to protect her from harm, to keep the children away and to save
her from the collapse that overtook her when she fell down in
a spasm of crying and lamentation.
He told her comforting things to restore her composure and
sometimes patted her on the back and told her to try to stop this
unseemly weeping. He said that Khosh himself would be angry
if he saw her in this state. Slowly she calmed down, and having
regained her lucidity she would start to talk like any reasonable
person and listen to what she was told. Other thoughts and
feelings came to her, and she did not hesitate to talk about them.
 8

li ADIB ' S PREDICTIONS PROVED CORRECT AND M I­

teb's hopes were fulfilled when heavy rains fell
early on Wadi al-Uyoun and the surrounding
area. People felt encouraged and expected that this would be one
of the good years, and their optimism grew when the caravans
arriving in the last days of autumn and thereafter reported that
rain had fallen steadily for days, filling the wadis and brooks.
Another source of joy was the fact that the goods the caravans
carried had not become more expensive, as they usually did at
this time every year. The air was cool and refreshing and full of
moisture, and the light winds that blew from the west and north
some nights were laden with a fertile smell, infusing the body
and soul with vigor. The happiness showed everywhere, in men
and animals and even in harsh, unmoving nature. Wadha re­
membered that Shaalan told her for the first time that he wanted
 .. 65

to marry, but he did not insist or nag, and although she did not
give him a clear answer, she laughed with joy and said that as
soon as she was through with Hadib, who was giving her trouble
and had not made up his mind yet, she would choose him the
most beautiful girl in Wadi al-Uyoun; if he didn't like any of
them she would go to Ujra and enlist the aid of her relations
there.
Miteb al-Hathal was a changed man. Since the heavy rains
had come he spent the whole day in his small garden. He had
nothing to do there and his presence or absence made no dif­
ference, but it gave him pleasure to watch the water drip into
the earth to remain there. Then the earth began to do incredible,
unfathomable things. A few days after the rains began-as Mitcb
himself said-there was a prolonged tremor within the earth,
like a convulsion, and the insides of the earth began to spill out,
he told Hadib excitedly. He had seen seedlings planted only a
few weeks before pushing up forcibly through the soil, their
small tips aloft, getting bigger by the moment. In an attempt to
convince Hadib, and to convey what he had felt when the earth
trembled, Mitcb told him that it was like the moment of man
and woman's mating-like a moment of rapture.
In spite of the fact that Miteb was telling the truth about what
he felt, he was also using the incident and his descriptions in a
sly attempt to warm Hadib to the idea of marriage, as he and
Wadha had agreed should be done. When Wadha whispered in
his car that Shaalan wanted to marry as well and had told her
as much, Miteb laughed loudly and said that building the new
room was a good omen and had shown foresight.
An air of contentment now pervaded Wadi al-Uyoun; even
Umm Khosh was more tranquil. The caravan traders were the
first to notice it, before the townsfolk themselves. Ibn Rashed,
who spared no one his criticisms or sharp tongue, and who often
said that Miteb al-Hathal was finished and should go graze with
c e s 0 f s a

the sheep, went to visit Miteb first in the garden and then on
Mount Zahra. He seemed very cordial and did not utter a word
that could be interpreted as anything but friendly; in fact most
people said that the two men were on better terms than they
had ever been-better than anyone could have imagined. When
the subject of the Americans came up, Ibn Rashed seemed ex­
asperated. "They are long gone, Abu Thweiny, and will never
return. "
Subsequently he hinted in several ways that Wadi al-Uyoun
could live in peace and tranquillity if only left to itself to prosper
as one of the caravans' most valued way stations.
It was at about this time that Hadib agreed to marry. He let
this be known indirectly, telling Miteb and Wadha that he was
not opposed to the idea of marriage and would marry tomorrow
or the next day if he found a nice girl that suited him.
"Leave the nice girl to me, " said Wadha, who considered his
implied consent sufficient and wanted to finalize the matter.
The three of them laughed, and she began to review the likely
candidates in her mind one by one. By nightfall she was still
disqualifying some and hesitating over others, so she decided to
leave it until the next day.
Even Miteb al-Hathal, who spent long afternoons gazing at
the trees and fields, no longer tending to the caravans or going
to Ibn Rashed's encampment, felt that he did not need news­
if the latest news took a day or two longer to get to him, it did
not make any difference. When Ibn Rashed scolded him and
reminded him that he had visited Miteb twice, and that his
absence from the encampment could not be explained or under­
stood by anyone as friendly, Miteb and Shaalan replied that they
were busy with planting and would visit when it was completed.
So it was from early autumn until mid-winter. It was clearer
than ever that water would remain plentiful and fill the entire
wadi. The northern canal was brimming with rainwater, and
 .. 67

the desert was covered with growth. The animals grew fat, and
many predicted that lambs would be bo rn two by two. The dogs
provided entertainment for young and old alike as they fought,
wrangled, mated and then fought again! Fawaz reminded his
father of his promise to allow him to travel soon.
"Wait until your brother gets married, " Miteb told him one
night, placidly roasting the coffee beans as the rain hammered
down outside. "After we harvest the barley we'll see. God is
good. "
When Fawaz began to complain, or was about to, his father
laughed and said, "The caravansary is full to the rafters and the
travelers are sleeping on top of each other. They won't go now
for fear of being carried off by floods, and you want to travel! "
In a hidden and wordless but eloquent signal to Fawaz, Hadib
winked, a plea to stop nagging, to put off the discussion for
now, to explain that he would arrange everything himself. The
conversation took a new turn while the discussion of this and
many other matters was postponed.

In the last days of that bitter winter, without warning, the Amer­
ican who had left them long months before returned with four
others and some of the emir's men. Mitch had nicknamed him
Nahs (Disaster) while others called him Ghorab (The Crow),
but this time he had a new name: Abdallah. No one knew who
had given him that name or why. It was what the emir's men
called him, and when he spoke to anyone or asked them questions
he pounded his chest once or twice and said, "Abdallah . . .
Abdallah!"
Within days everything in the wadi changed-men, animals
and nature-for no sooner had the American, his friends and
their companions been settled in than a large number of other
people arrived. No one had ever dreamed such people existed:
c e s 0 J s a

one was short and obese with red hair and another was tall
enough to pick dates from the trees . Yet another was as black
as night, and there were more-blond and redheaded. They had
blue eyes and bodies fat as slaughtered sheep, and their faces
inspired curiosity and fear. They came on camelback and horse­
back, dragging behind them numberless crates, bundles and tents,
and before long they had unloaded the crates and bundles and
pitched the tents a short distance from the brook. It happened
as quickly as in a dream. Miteb al-Hathal did not immediately
comprehend what had happened because he had been in the
garden, but he paled and trembled when he heard what the others
had to tell him, and quick as a flash he hurried over to Ibn
Rashed's encampment to find out what had happened in Wadi
al-Uyoun.
People long remembered the moment he arrived, shaking like
a leaf and glancing about him like a wolf. When he caught sight
of the newly built camp, he could not stop cursing. He wanted
to destroy it utterly, but the people prevented him. Later on
many of them would say, "Miteb al-Hathal was right . . . yes,
he was right!"

As soon as the camp was erected, the men paced off the area,
put up wire fencing and short white pickets, scattered some
strange substance around the tents and sprayed the earth with
water that had a penetrating smell. Then they opened up their
crates and unloaded large pieces of black iron, and before long
a sound like rolling thunder surged out of this machine, fright­
ening men, animals and birds. After several minutes of the rum­
bling, one of the Americans raised his hand and signaled to
another, who extinguished the sound, but it was a long time
before it stopped ringing in the ears.
When that was over, as fast as a magic trick, the people still
 .. 69

watched everything that went on in silence and fear. When the

sun began to sink in the west, it seemed that Wadi al-Uyoun
was about to experience a night such as it had never known
before. As soon as the animals began to bark and bray at sunset,
the machine started to roar again, frightening everyone, only
this time the sound was accompanied by a blinding light. Within
moments scores of small but brilliant suns began to blaze, filling
the whole area with a light that no one could believe or stand.
The men and boys retreated and looked at the lights again to
make sure they still saw them, and they looked at each other in
terror. The animals who drew near retreated in fright; the camels
fled, and the sheep stirred uneasily. Miteb stood not far from
the place and spoke loudly enough to command attention over
the fear and the machine's noise. "Go back, people of Wadi al­
Uyoun! If you don't go back you'll get burned and there'll be
nothing left of you. "
This marvelous incident, so crystal clear and yet impossible
to believe at first, became with time a routine affair, for the men
who for a certain period kept silent and watched everything in
fear mixed with anticipation were soon used to it. Ibn Rashed
went forward and asked Ghorab to explain how the lights and
sound were produced, but in spite of a long and detailed expla­
nation no one understood anything.
The people expected strange occurrences that first night, as
one expects thunder to follow lightning, but nothing happened.
That night and others passed, but their hearts were full of fear.
The mysterious activity that went on everywhere left no chance
to ask a real question, because every movement was followed
by something else. These foreigners who strode around and
shouted, raising their arms and behaving with unheard-of pe­
culiarity, took no notice of the people around them or their
astonishment. They were completely self-absorbed. During the
few moments when they did bump into the wadi's men and
c e s 0 f s a

children, while moving their equipment from one place to an­

other, they reached out to pat their shoulders or smack their
cheeks, as if playing with animals or unknown creatures.
Everyone who saw Miteb al-Hathal that first night remarked
on his insistence that everybody keep far away from the camp
and stay alert all night. Something was bound to happen before
the next day dawned. He was particularly insistent that the women
and children stay away and sent them to Zahra. He himself
expected the place to explode at any moment: to see the for­
eigners streaming out, cutting off all escape routes, unsheathing
their weapons to slaughter the townspeople.
Miteb saw strange doings inside the fences with his own eyes,
and he called the men's attention to them. He stayed intensely
watchful and cautious, because he saw a tall black man waiting
for the right moment to attack, murder and annihilate. Miteb's
sleepless eyes did not close for a moment, but they passed over
the man to look at something else, and in the twilight before
dawn he perceived that the man no longer stood there. Standing
in his place, or just by it, was a pillar!
How did the men of Wadi al-Uyoun take this news? What
fears and misgivings gripped them? Were the people of Mount
Zahra more fortunate than those of the wadi?
These and dozens of other matters could not be recounted in
words, because words would diminish or alter them. Fear grew
by the moment; apprehension took over and paralyzed the peo­
ple. Nothing but constant surprises could be taken for granted.
After a watchful vigil lasting three days and nights, with little
real sleep and even less food and water, Miteb al-Hathal went
back to Zahra a different man. He was utterly changed: after
dismounting from his horse, haggard and wild eyed, extremely
feeble or ill, he staggered to his house and fell in front of the
door. Nothing his wife could do roused him, so she brought
out a mattress and pillows for him to sleep where he lay. She
 .. 71

could not convince him to wash his face o r to take a cup o r two
of tea, for he was as spiritless and weak as he was insistent. He
seemed to be in a state of crushing depression and frailty, as if
the end of the world had come, but he was completely conscious,
if despairing, when he finally spoke: "They talk about the res­
urrection day? Today is resurrection day. They say, when iron
moves on iron? Today I saw iron move on iron! " He paused to
think and went on in a more anguished tone: "We should have
done something a longI
time ago, when they first came. I knew
they would return. I knew they would do things men and jinn
never dreamed of. They came. I saw them myself. In the wink
of an eye they unleashed hundreds of demons and devils. These
devils catch fire and roar night and day like a flour mill that
turns and turns without tiring out and without anyone turning
it. What will happen in this world? How can we kill them before
they kill us?"
He seemed obstinate and imbecilic. He had forgotten his age
and dignity. If it were a matter of strength, the people of Wadi
al-Uyoun and Zahra were so renowned for their numbers and
ferocity that no one thought of attacking or raiding them. If it
were a question of intelligence and fair-mindedness, the en­
campments of the Atoum, the Soheimi, the Marzouq and the
Rodhan were never empty of litigants who had come great dis­
tances, happily and voluntarily, to seek an arbitrator in Wadi al­
Uyoun. If it were a question of those foreigners who had come
to the wadi to pitch their tents and settle down, then some way
would have to be found to get rid of them or to reach a com­
promise over the water, especially since they had some of the
emir's men with them this time; it was not like the first time
they had come.
In the last part of the night a nightmare woke Miteb and he
started, terrified. Without speaking to anyone he picked up his
rifle, mounted his horse quietly and rode down to the wadi.
 9

N
0 MURDER WAS COMMITTED THAT NIGHT OR THE
next few nights; everything was deferred by
the initial state of bewilderment and the sub-
sequent state of expectation. Miteb al-Hathal, who was accus­
tomed to bearing arms only on rare occasions, when preparing
for travel, upon hearing the baying of a wolf near the sheep or
in his rare angry moments, frightened Wadha badly when he
took his gun and went out, not because guns scared her as they
did many women, who prized safety over anything to be gained
by fighting, but because Miteb's condition worried her.
"Follow him, " she ordered Fawaz, who had wakened at his
father's noise. "Don't leave him, and don't let him see you or
even sense that you are there. He might need you, " she added
in a different tone.
Wadha was capable of making hard decisions at the right time.
 . . 73

She seemed a submissive woman, and some people who saw

her thought her weak, but her brief but firm words in the last
dark of night infused Fawaz with strength and a little nervous­
ness, and without a moment's hesitation he followed his father.
Contrary to his usual habit, Miteb rode down to the wadi by
the longest and most difficult paths, as if by taking that route
he wanted to see the whole scene. After viewing the camp from
the Zahra side, he examined the wadi and the surrounding hills
and wanted to see it from the opposite side, or perhaps he feared
something or sensed trouble. Fawaz said to himself, "If he opens
fire he'll set the whole wadi ablaze; we won't be alone. The
people of the wadi wouldn't let a man fight by himself; they'd
ftght with him to the end. After the battle they'd ask why he
was fighting. " Fawaz had heard of such things many times. Old
and young men talked about them. Young men, who had never
seen a war or experienced the turmoils that old men talked about,
would be delighted to see a battle. When the boys and young
men talked eagerly about these infidels and the need to kill them,
the older men looked at them with surprise and disapproval and
said that they were not afraid, but that they could not take up
arms against friends, and as long as the emir had sent the for­
eigners they were friends. True, no one felt comfortable with
their presence, and everyone had his doubts, but still no one had
thought of taking up arms. Now that Miteb rode through the
darkness with his rifle on his shoulder, something was bound
to happen.
Miteb was not sure of anything; he felt trapped and hesitant
and incredulous, for the first lesson a man learned in the desert
was not to threaten with firearms or play with them, not because
he was afraid of guns but because he loved them so much that
he did not allow them to be used as a means of threat or horse­
play. But Miteb had forgotten this lesson as if he never knew
it. Like any man in the wadi, Miteb al-Hathal scolded his children
c e s 0 f s a

when he saw them carrying guns or pointing them in all direc­

tions as a joke. One time he told Shaalan, "Never play with
guns, because if you play with them once you play with them
all the time. People who value guns, and men who kill, don't
value or respect the man who plays with guns . " Another time
he told him, "If you pick up a gun, shoot . . . or don't pick it
up at all . "
In the shadows of dawn h e moved forward with his gun, and
after a long wait at the end of the wadi he lay in one place, his
horse beside him, as his son lay in another not a hundred yards
away. He raised the rifle every so often and aimed it at the camp,
then lowered it. Lowering it, he seemed defeated and docile, and
even after raising it again, perhaps with greater determination,
he lowered it despondently. He kept raising and lowering his
rifle, sitting then getting up, reaiming it . . . He did nothing,
even when the sun rose to fill the air with light. Fawaz had
stopped expecting his father to do anything. He was no longer
able to stay hidden, and no sooner had he crept from his hiding
place to shout for his father, then caught sight of him, than he
jumped with fright and confusion. At that moment he wanted
the earth to suck him in or swallow him; to die, to shoot himself
or his horse or fire at the camp. He neared his father and saw
his sallow face, wild eyes and his violently trembling lower lip.
Miteb ran his hand rapidly, convulsively up and down the rifle
barrel. He could not speak, even when Fawaz asked him if he
had seen a wolf or an enemy. He wordlessly shook his head no,
but his eyes conveyed more than censure or reproof. His eyes
said, "The depths of the earth are better than its face. I don't
want you to see my weakness . . . to see me like this. "
After a long silence which hung heavy between the two, bro­
ken only by Miteb's nervous and despairing hand moving along
the rifle barrel, a weary voice croaked: "Did you water the an-
 .. 75

imals?" He did not look up as he spoke or as he listened to his

son's reply.
"Today it's Shaalan's and Ibrahim's turn . "
For the first time Miteb raised his sad eyes filled with mute
questions: How long have you been watching me? Who asked
you to come? Why at this hour?
He withdrew his gaze and lowered his head. He was tired and
dazed; he longed to say so much, he longed to be quiet.
When a man feels as if he is naked, or as if he is committing
a crime, and wants no one to see his nakedness or the criminal
act, he can be irrational and cruel to himself and others.
"Take the rifle and go back to Zahra , " Miteb ordered Fawaz
harshly, even belligerently. He gruffly drew the bullet and clip,
then threw him the rifle. It landed between his feet, and Fawaz
left it there a moment before picking it up.
"Get going. Get out of my sight, " said Miteb as he turned.
Fawaz felt that it was all over with his father, that he had
fallen into a bottomless well, that he no longer wanted to see
any person or hear any voice. Even his horse standing at his side
in the shadows, who seemed beautiful and tame, as if she never
wanted to leave him, appeared to annoy him. He no longer
wanted her near him. No sooner had Fawaz picked up the rifle
than his father told him irascibly, "Tie the horse under that tree. "
He pointed to a distant date palm and turned on his side as if
entering the kingdom of sleep or death or a trance.

Miteb al-Hathal did not return to Zahra that day or the next,
and his absence caused Fawaz's feelings of error and injury to
mount. Had Fawaz not seen him thus, weak and despairing,
things would have turned out differently. Had he done what he
had in mind, he might have set the whole w adi ablaze and things
c e s 0 f s a

would have been very different, but now that he was gone, where
or for how long no one knew, this was a wound in Miteb's
spirit that would never heal.
Some said they had seen him twice, lurking near the camp.
He had been extremely angry and bitter; he stood and shouted
curses at the Americans to provoke them, but whoever heard
him raised their heads for a moment, glanced at him fleetingly
and went back to work. In the evening, in Ibn Rashed's en­
campment, he used every curse he knew. He said that the fire
had started in Wadi al-Uyoun when the accursed Nahs first
arrived. Something should have been done then, before the in­
nocent got hung with the guilty. If they kept quiet and did
nothing but sit and wait, all would be lost. He also told the men
that if they did nothing he would act on his own. When one of
the old men proposed that a delegation be sent to discuss the
matter with the emir, Miteb shook his head sarcastically. " 'Pur­
sue the scoundrel to the door of his house. ' The emir is our kin
but he's useless. "
They had this exchange over and over, and most of the time
nothing came of it. The activity in and around Wadi al-Uyoun
never slowed or stopped. Ibn Rashed would stay in Wadi al­
Uyoun for a few days and then mysteriously drop out of sight
for long periods of time. If Miteb al-Hathal continued to curse,
challenge and defame Ibn Rashed, he still feared Ibn Rashed's
absences more than his presence and the old man's attempts to
·onvince the people of the wadi to move. Miteb had no idea
what Ibn Rashed was up to on these travels or what tragedies
might befall the wadi as a result of his visits to the emir or others.
Feelings alternated between hope and despair, fear and opti­
mism; when a messenger came from one direction, Miteb man­
aged to speak to him alone to ask him what he had seen and
heard, and, somewhat encouraged, he conveyed the news to the
 . . 77

wadi himself in his own way. When a messenger came from the
other direction bringing news of another kind, Miteb tried to
find some hope in it. For days at a time he did not know what
to do with himself or how to express his feelings to others. If
Ibn Rashed returned thereafter, wanting to give the townspeople
news of the devils who would begin working within a few days
or weeks, Miteb al-Hathal would stand against him, not leaving
Ibn Rashed alone until he had used up every curse and threat he
could think of. Ibn Rashed always met Miteb with an air of
jocularity and pleasantry, but it was not long before he was
giving the people of the wadi his own thoughts and suggestions,
hinting to them that they were wise and reasonable people who
knew enough not to harm themselves. Surely they had listened
enough to this senile old man. When Miteb was told what Ibn
Rashed had said, he attacked him night and day, scorning all the
flattery the wadi had been used to for long years. In this coarse
and antagonistic way the duel between the two men began, with
the people of the wadi following it closely.
Ibn Rashed maintained his silence, putting in only a word here
and there to respond to what Miteb al-Hathal said. If Miteb
passed certain boundaries, Ibn Rashed would get bolder, but in
a mocking way, using implied threats. " Never fear, Ibn Hathal, "
he would tell him. "Trust in God and you'll get your rights.
You know that what generous people give is never lost. "
If Miteb refused to listen, or made fun of him, Ibn Rashed
would change his tone. "Ibn Hathal, you are the sheikh of this
wadi. You are its most intelligent man, so you must know that
the government deals justly with people-but it knows how to
use force as well. "
"Are you threatening me, Ibn Rashed?"
"We have told you, Ibn Hathal: they make the decisions. We
are obedient slaves. You are a troublemaker-! tell you we have
c e 5 0 J s a

no choice but to kneel and obey. We scarcely finish with one

discu ssion, one problem, and you've found another one. Cousin,
leave off the problems and let the government do its job. "
"And if I don't, Ibn Rashed?"
"You'll cause anger, but then the regret will be your own,
Ibn Hathal. "
"This is our village, Ibn Rashed. W e know it, we know its
men and its heart and everything about it, and you know it
better than anyone else. They had better learn . . . over there. "
"Ibn Hathal, cousin, if you want to part ways, then just keep
asking the impossible. "
"By God, Ibn Rashed, every man has a hole in his ass. You
know Ibn Hathal. "
"A messenger only brings news-he deserves no blame, " said
Ibn Rashed, who wanted to put an end to the fruitless discussion
with subtle mockery. "You know, Abu Thweiny, that you have
to be patient, and we have to keep our promise. "
Things were undecided and uneasy for several weeks after the
camp had been built. The Americans had begun to spend the
noon hours of each day in the sun, stretched out on their faces,
with nothing covering their bodies but short trousers. They did
this unmindful of the boys and men around them, as if they
were in tents.
At first this daily occurrence was greeted with surprise, then
anger and resentment. Even Ibn Rashed, who always defended
Abdallah, tried to explain to him that the people would not accept
the idea of having to look at men lying around like this. But he
got nowhere. The men still passed by the camp, and the boys
as well, but the women, whose habit was to pass it on their way
to bring water from the brook, stopped completely, in real shock.
Miteb al-Hathal was regarded as wiser and more knowledgeable
than they had given him credit for being.
First there were whispers, then complaints, then serious thought
 0 0 79

of sending a delegation to tell the emir: "Your Excellency, we

have no objection to their taking water from the brook, but we'll
die before we let them take it over. Our womenfolk, Your
Excellency, our honor, Your Excellency . . . If you want to
solve the problem, solve it. And if you don't want to solve it,
we will ourselves. "
This was the kind of talk making the rounds in the encamp­
ments and social councils. Some men who felt deeply insulted
and even afraid, and had premonitions of evil, forbade their
women to go to the brook at all. They had the children bring
the water, telling them not to stop and not to look in the direction
of the camp.
Miteb al-Hathal was in Zahra, far from the brook, but even
had he lived near it he would not have changed his mind or
taken back the things he said. The other men, who lived near
the brook, in the heart of the wadi and amid the gardens, felt
that the question was far more serious than they had at first
imagined, and that there could be no delay or hesitation. The
emir's men with the foreigners were unable to do anything; all
they could do was tell the translator what the people were saying,
and the translator was tougher and more arrogant than the Amer­
icans themselves.
Fear gripped the wadi. The men grew more rash and nervous,
and Miteb was considered indispensable-if he absented himself
from the wadi a single day to sleep in Zahra the people missed
him acutely; only he was capable of saying everything, of ex­
pressing their innermost thoughts.
Confusion reigned in an atmosphere of ambiguity and dis­
ruption. Despite their bold words and challenges each night,
their agreements and pledges, the day brought new fears; with
each dawn came a tacit agreement among the men to postpone
the visit to the emir one more day; perhaps something would
happen that day to relieve the anxiety that enshrouded the wadi.
c e s 0 f s a

A caravan carne, bringing other news and subjects of concern,

and they were absorbed in buying, selling and bartering, but
when evening carne with its social councils to discuss the news
and latest events, talk of the foreigners pushed aside all other
subjects, inspiring interest, fear and unease. Although the trav­
elers usually did most of the talking, for it was they who had
been places and seen things to tell others of, the men of Wadi
al-Uyoun had a very great deal to say about these devils who
had suddenly come to stay, no one knew why or for how long!
The travelers paid close attention, for they would pass on every­
thing they were told to people in other places who had not yet
heard of the devils.
The discussion of the band of devils, at first very general and
neutral, soon grew harsh and vehement, with most of the men
joining in. Most of the foreigners, based on their physical qual­
ities, were assigned nicknames. It was the custom in Wadi al­
Uyoun to give everyone a nickname after long acquaintance,
often unintentionally or without realizing it, but the giving of
nicknames was now an essential part of confronting the new
situation and distinguishing between these creatures who had
appeared so similar in the early days that one could not be told
from the other. Constant surveillance and untiring scrutiny made
the name giving extremely easy. Ghorab (Crow) or Ibn al­
Mal'ouna (Whoreson) was the name assigned to the first for­
eigner to arrive. Others became al-Ak'hal (Blackie), Bateen (Fatso),
Jarbou' (Kangaroo Rat), Moghzel (Spindle), Dajaja (Hen), Aboul
Hseyin (Pony) and al-Afsah. All the people of the wadi took
part in choosing the names; even the names which did not exactly
fit soon became highly appropriate, so that there was no need
to know the devils' real names!
Thus the group that had come was discussed and stories told
about it, although most of its members, after resting for a time,
spent most of their days in strange projects too far off for the
 .. 81

men's surveillance. I n the tents they were engrossed i n drawing

and writing, every so often carrying large sheets of paper from
one tent to another, sometimes placing them on the ground to
examine them for hours and measuring them with a small stick.
They did all these things completely oblivious to the people
watching their every movement from behind the fence. Most of
their audience were children and young men; with every move­
ment the watchers shouted and gesticulated, expecting some­
thing to happen.
Tales of what went on traveled quickly from house to house
and from tent to tent. The travelers and caravans listened care­
fully and were consumed by eagerness to see what all the wadi
was talking about. When night closed in and the next day had
come, the travelers approached the foreign camp and started their
vigil. If they did not recall the stories they had been told the
previous night, they grew impatient to know which one was al­
Afsah and which one Jarbou' and were overjoyed when one of
the men pointed out in confident but awestruck tones, "That
one's Bateen" or "This is al-Afsah-cut off my hand if it isn't!"
Whenever he had located the right foreigner, the man looked at
the others with a pride that had reached the limits of childish
satisfaction and stood up or shouted. If their voices were loud
or a wager had been made on knowing which name to give to
a particular foreigner and he looked up curiously, then the joy
reached unimaginable heights and the shouts reached new levels
accompanied by the arm waving of old and young, giving of
congratulations, and other unlikely behavior.
This is some of what the people did to try to allay their fears
and apprehensions and to forget the anxiety that grew each day.
When the caravan had gone and the people of Wadi al-Uyoun
went back to confronting the cruel reality, so full of fear and
worry, they began to look for some means of averting the ca­
tastrophe that had encircled them and was closing in.
 10

T
HE DAYS PASSED SLOWLY. As THE HEAT GREW
more oppressive, new numbers of the bed­
ouin who had left the wadi in early winter to
seek grazing land were forced back to the water, for the desert
became a less endurable hell with each passing day of early spring.
It was their habit to follow the clouds and stop wherever they
found water to keep the animals alive; they knew where to go
at all times of the year, when to leave these places and where to
head next. The people of Wadi al-Uyoun knew all of the routes
and the seasons, and knew that the end of the spring, the sum­
mer, and part of the fall were the times when people crowded
into the wadi. Even the caravan travelers whom urgency or
homesickness forced to resume their journey after one or two
days' rest in Wadi al-Uyoun during winter or spring, stayed
 .. 83

longer than at other times and waited for the moon t o grow
full, thus making it possible to travel at night rather than during
the fiery day. Prolonged stays in Wadi al-Uyoun at this time of
year meant double the number of animals drinking at the brook
and the wells, severe overcrowding at the water holes all day
and all kinds of ensuing arguments and difficulties. Despite the
townsfolk's natural good nature, this season made them notice­
ably more peevish, and they did not hide their annoyance at
certain things. The smiles vanished from their faces, and they
lost the desire to socialize for long or even at all.
So these were days of waiting for the summer to assail them
with its burning heat and torment, and the waiting was harder
than at any time in the past because of the devils who had come
and set up camp near the brook. No one knew what the for­
eigners had in mind to do, or what the state of the water supply
would be if they continued fetching large quantities of water
dozens of times a day and using it wastefully as if it were some
plentiful commodity of little importance.
After a few days the first of those who had moved into the
desert arrived. The time for the emir's traditional visit came and
went without any news of his intended arrival, causing great
unease among the wadi's elders. Miteb al-Hathal's mania reap­
peared, and when he began to appeal daily for a delegation to
go to the emir there was little resistance; then he won general
acceptance of the idea. In Ibn Rashed's encampment the men
agreed to dispatch some of their number to go see the emir and
tell him everything.
The area where the emir resided was three days' journey from
Wadi al-Uyoun. Since it was the emir's custom to go hunting
at this time of year, passing through the wadi on his way out
and on the return trip, some of the elders thought of waiting
until this opportunity presented itself; if they went to him, the
c e s 0 f s a

emir would not have the chance to see for himself the things
that worried and frightened them. The camp was in plain view,
and the bare-bodied foreigners came and went shamelessly at all
hours. He could see the godless machines that roared ceaselessly
and often stirred up and scattered the camels, causing their own­
ers the tremendous inconvenience of rounding them up again.
These were things that could not be expressed in words or imag­
ined by anyone who had not seen them. The emir had to see it
all for himself to appreciate their hardship and anxiety. Even so,
they decided to send a delegation.
The men emphasized to each other that the presentation to
the emir should be calm and reasonable, and that Ibn Rashed
should do most of the talking, since he was an elder and the best
speaker. Besides, he was on excellent personal terms with the
emir and knew the most about the Americans. They hoped that
this strategy would serve to restrict Miteb al-Hathal's chances
to make himself heard. His excitability, the curses he heaped on
the Americans day and night and his constant provocation of
the wadi's people to do something about them-including bear­
ing arms or going to the capital to meet the sultan-made the
men think twice about even allowing him to go along. They
thought of asking him to stay behind until the emir came, al­
though the elders hesitated to say so, but they all felt that Miteb
would not be able to keep a cool head. He might cause trouble
or provoke the Americans or even insult them if he stayed be­
hind. Then again, what if he went and reasoned with the emir?
In spite of his other qualities, he did possess great composure
and good manners. He knew majlises, and what could be said
and what could not be said; and so despite the men's over­
whelming doubt and strong reservations, they decided to include
him in the delegation. It was a thousand times better for him to
be part of it than not, and for him to speak to the emir rather
than be compelled not t o say anything. As to their last recom-
 0 0 85

mendations, before they reached the emir's residence, perhaps

they would prove useful or perhaps not.

The emir began talking before Ibn Rashed spoke, as if he knew

why they had come and what it was they wanted. After general
remarks about hunting, the weather and Wadi al-Uyoun, he
came to the point: "People ofWadi al-Uyoun, you will be among
the richest and happiest of all mankind, as if God saw none but
you . "
He went o n i n a different tone. "You have been patient and
endured much. God is your witness, but you will be living as
if in a dream. You will talk about times past as if they belonged
to some old legend. "
He resumed his original tone. "And once blessings come, my
friends-they have come. "
Ibn Rashed had been preparing the words he planned to speak,
how he would begin and lead the discussion to the sensitive
points. If he could not convince the emir, he at least wanted to
create doubts in his mind. He wanted to persuade him to visit
them-soon-to see for himself and verify everything they were
telling him now. But when the emir began speaking, giving the
conversation this direction, Ibn Rashed was disconcerted and did
not know how to begin.
"As you know, Your Excellency, " he ventured desperately,
"money is not everything in this world. More important are
honor, ethics and our traditions. "
He wanted to continue in this vein, but the emir's ringing
laugh changed the atmosphere once again and utterly confused
the men. Ibn Rashed spoke in embarrassment. "Whatever we
say, Your Excellency, the ear is not the eye. Hearing a tale is
not the same as seeing and believing. "
The emir shifted in his seat, decisively harsh lines drawn on
c e s
0 f s a

his face. "If, Ibn Rashed, you speak of ethics, then know we are
the most covetous of ethics, and if you want religion, religion
is ours and no one else's. "
"But you should come and see everything for yourself. "
"Don't be afraid. We want you to help them in every possible
way. They have come from the ends of earth to help us. "
"God damn them, " said Miteb al-Hathal angrily. "We don't
want them and we don't want their help. "
"But we do want their help, " said the emir mockingly, look­
ing at Miteb. "And if you don't-then know that the earth is
wide. "
"Yes, by God . . . the earth is wide. "
"But Your Excellency, what do they want?" asked Ibn Rashed
hastily, to calm the situation.
"They don't want anything, " said the emir with the same
sarcasm. "We invited them, and they have come to help us. "
"What kind of help, Your Excellency?" Ibn Rashed asked
innocently.
"Under our feet, Ibn Rashed, there are oceans of oil, oceans
of gold, " replied the emir. " Our friends have come to extract
the oil and the gold. "
Ibn Rashed looked at the emir and nodded in surprise and
trust, then looked at the men to see the effect of the emir's words
on them. He addressed the emir with the same innocence: "How
did you know, Your Excellency?"
"How would we ever have known without their help?" replied
the emir testily and self-confidently. "They told us, 'There are
oceans of blessings under this soil , ' and because they love bless­
ings, because they are our friends, they agreed to come here and
help us out. "
"Is the gold in Wadi al-Uyoun, Your Excellency?"
"In Wadi al-Uyoun, and here, and in every part of this blessed
land. When His Majesty liberated this land with the edge of his
 0 0 87

sword, fighting enemies and infidels, he knew what h e was

fighting for. "
Miteb al-Hathal spoke coldly and firmly. " We're the ones who
fought. With our own swords we took this land, inch by inch . "
The emir appeared deeply angry a t being challenged i n that
tone, but he ignored Miteb. "Since God bestowed grace upon
us we must thank him, not create problems. "
He changed his tone and went on. "You are the oldest and
wisest ofWadi al-Uyoun's people, and your job is to make things
easy for our friends and serve them in every way possible. By
the end of the new year, God willing, you'll have money up to
your ears.
"By God, Your Excellency, we were as happy as we could
be before those devils came along, " said Mite b. "But from the
first day they came to our village life has been camel piss. Every
day it gets worse. "
The emir answered him sharply. "Listen, Ibn Hathal, I am
speaking to you and to all others, and let him who is present
convey it to him who is absent. We have only one medicine for
troublemakers: that. "
He pointed to the sword hanging against the wall and shook
his finger in warning. "What do you say, Ibn Hathal?"
Miteb al-Hathal laughed briefly as if wanting to show that he
was not finished yet. A heavy silence echoed through the room.
"Hah . . . so what do you say, Ibn Hathal?"
"You are the government, you have the soldiers and the guns,
and you'll get what you want, maybe even tomorrow. After the
Christians fetch the gold for you from under the ground you'll
be even stronger. But know, Your Excellency, that the Amer­
icans aren't doing it for God. "
He wanted to continue but the emir interrupted him angrily.
"Leave that talk aside and answer my question. Did you un­
derstand what I told you, or not?"
c e s 0 J s a

Miteb replied sharply. "Listen, Abu Radwan, I'm as old as

your father. Don't raise your voice, I can hear you fine. If you
want to redden your eye, remember that not everyone is afraid
of a red eye. We have come to tell you what our own eyes have
seen . "
These words had a powerful effect not only o n the emir and
his men but on Ibn Hathal himself, who felt so strong that he
feared nothing and no one. He was repared to say what he
wanted, at whatever cost. This kind of talk found its target
quickly and never erred. He went on. "Our village is small, Abu
Radwan, and we know each other. We are generous to whoever
treats us generously and have nothing to offer the wicked but a
beating. These infidels have come to our village and before them
there were three others who came in the winter. Since then we
have had nothing but trouble.
"Now it is late spring, " he said more softly. "The bedouin
have left the desert and are starting to arrive in Wadi al-Uyoun,
and the wells won't provide enough water for all. How do you
expect us to let the infidels take a hundred and one buckets of
water from the wells every day and throw it on the ground, and
not say a word about it?"
The emir laughed in an attempt to reassert his control over
the situation, and rubbed his nose. "Listen, Ibn Hathal. If it's
water that's bothering you, don't worry. We'll dig you one
hundred wells to take the place of those three, if not there then
somewhere else, just as you like. That's a minor matter. Don't
worry-after today no one will be thirsty. We don't want Wadi
al-Uyoun to remain a stable for camels and livestock forever.
The friends want to dig in Wadi al-Uyoun, and you'll all
benefit. "
Ibn Rashed spoke. "By God, Your Excellency, it was the
water that was worrying us. "
 .. 89

Miteb spoke quickly t o cut off this drift toward capitulation.

"Listen, Ibn Rashed, it's the water and other things, and you
know it. I live on Zahra and my women can't go down to fetch
water, and all I have is one small garden-1 could leave it and
walk away. But the people in the wadi are worried about the
water and other things as well-they're thinking of honor and
morals. We don't want anyone telling us what to do. We don't
want those infidels, those pigs. We don't know what to expect
from one day to the next. "
Perceiving Miteb's strong and weak points, the emir spoke.
"My friends, the government knows better than you and is
stronger. As I told you, as to morals and faith, we're the ones
who safeguard morals and faith for you. And don't worry about
the water. "
Miteb al-Hathal spoke slowly. "The problem, Your Excel­
lency, the whole problem is that we cannot live with them. If
it were a question of a day or two it wouldn't matter, but to
live all together-no, we can't. Until now we have never carried
arms against one another, but no one knows what tomorrow
will bring. "
The emir spoke with new hostility. "We have allowed you
to say everything you wanted, Ibn Hathal-now let us hear what
the others have to say. "
Ibn Rashed spoke up, as if reciting a lesson he had memorized.
"We are with the government, Your Excellency. Whatever the
government chooses to do has God's blessing and we accept it.
If you. can guarantee our water supply, dig wells and see that
there is enough for the bedouin, the caravans and the gardens,
then we can close our eyes to the Christians and have nothing
to do with them. "
"It's a simple matter, Your Excellency, " said Salem al-Mak­
toum. "When we saw that you delayed in coming and didn't
c e s 0 f s a

want to go hunting, we decided to go to the emir to see about

it and reassure ourselves, and, Your Excellency, you have said
enough and more. "
Obaid al-Suweylemi said, "If the gold is under Wadi al-Uyoun
then the depths of the earth are better than its face. We must ask
God to bless His Maj esty with long life. "
"Yes, by God, the depths of the earth are better than its face, "
said Miteb mockingly. "So w e i n the wadi must choose between
water and gold . "
He was silent a moment, then said, "And i t seems the people
of Wadi al-Uyoun have chosen the gold. "
Suweylemi's and Ibn Hathal's words, and this curious equiv­
ocation, seemed to indicate that a tacit agreement had been reached.
The men had told the emir what they had come to say, but
Miteb al-Hathal felt a profound bitterness: he would long re­
member this day and deride the men and the emir for agreeing
to what he heartily opposed.
"Tonight you shall all dine with us, " said the emir, taking
advantage of the friendly atmosphere created by the last words.
This announcement ended the meeting, and the invitation to
dinner was intended to communicate the emir's happiness with
its results. In order to soothe any bitterness Miteb al-Hathal still
harbored, the emir told him laughingly: "If you have anything
more to say about the friends, Ibn Hathal, please postpone it
until dinner. "
"What I have to say would not please you, Your Excellency, "
said Miteb sarcastically. "But what you and they have is enough
for you and more, so forget it. "
"More of this, Ibn Hathal?"
"You're the one who brought it up, and if you don't want to
discuss it I'll leave. Then we'll both be happy. "
"I am happy-I just want you to be happy. "
"We have forgotten what happiness is, Your Excellency. We
 .. 91

only want to be left in peace and safety. I think we lost our peace
the day your friends came, and only our safety is left. You know
that a man never knows when he'll die or what land he'll die
in. "
"Trust in God, man. "
"In Him I trust and to Him I pray. "
This conversation might have gone on and developed had the
emir not pronounced the polite formulas, usually repeated un­
necessarily and meaninglessly, to signal that it was ended. He
then dismissed the men, who went out.
Feelings of shame, surprise, joy and apprehension over­
whelmed all of the men but not Miteb al-Hathal, who saw the
world darken and close in on him; in spite of the clamor of voices
around him, he was filled with silence and felt surrounded by it
on every side. For the first time in his life he felt alone, like a
meaningless grain of sand no one cared about. His comments
had angered the others, particularly the emir, and even Miteb
himself, who felt paltry and useless. He wanted to speak as he
usually did, to shout at them, to say everything he had on his
mind. He had been struck by fear and then dumbness. He had
said nothing important-only made blind sounds. Otherwise
why had Maktoum and Suweylemi spoken to the emir that way?
Why had he come with them? What did he have in common
with them now? The gold? He did not want an atom of it. Was
it possible that the infidels would give over the gold for free? If
they demanded compensation, what would it be?
These and other questions, thoughts and sensations passed
through Miteb al-Hathal's mind. Some of the men with him
maintained a shamed silence and others preferred to discuss triv­
ial subjects, but he did not see them or hear a word they were
saying. He was distant and preoccupied, tired and lost, and when
Ibn Rashed suggested they go to the market and visit some
friends, Miteb replied angrily, as if still making his speech: " I
c e 5
0 f s a

don't want you and I won't go with you. I'm getting on my

camel and riding back to Wadi al-Uyoun. "
He paid no attention to the men's stares and their pleas for
him to stay, since his sudden departure and rejection of the dinner
invitation would insult and anger the emir. Things had gone
peacefully until now, and the meeting had ended with everyone
happy or at least trying to look happy, but Miteb's leaving in
this manner, with no apology or explanation, would complicate
things all over again. Miteb, however, did not want to discuss
it. He climbed onto his white Omani she-camel and galloped
off without looking back, without hearing the men's cries.
 11

UJ HAT SORROWS POSSESSED MITEB AL-HATHAL

in the accursed desert during the two days
and nights of his ride back to Wadi al-
Uyoun? What grief-stricken impulses made him sing or weep? No
one knew; Miteb al-Hathal took his secrets with him and de­
parted. He spoke about the trip with no one and told no one
his thoughts, even after arriving back in Wadi al-Uyoun. He
was possessed by a silence more like a stupor. He showed an
even greater capacity for silence than he had ever shown for
speech. He was surrounded by talking, questioning men but was
totally oblivious to their voices and gestures; he neither heard
nor responded. Even the expressions that can be read in men's
faces no matter how they try to hide them, or pretend they do
not understand, were absent from Miteb's face. He was a stone,
or like a stone: stiff, haggard and expressionless. Had it not been
c e 5
0 f s a

for the occasional glimmer in his eyes, they would have thought
they were looking at the face of a dead man. No one, not even
Wadha, could induce him to speak. He quietly withdrew and
behaved as if none of them existed. He slept or passed the time
away by himself.
Wadi al-Uyoun awaited the return of the men to find out what
had happened. After Miteb al-Hathal had come back alone,
wrapped in unbroken silence, everyone in the wadi was affected
by feelings of bitterness and fear. If they faced their expected
troubles by looking for any glimmer of hope however frail or
false since they could not avert these troubles, the sight of Ibn
Hathal's face crushed this hope and extinguished every glimmer.
No sooner had the idea of waiting for the other men to return­
an idea that obsessed many-disappeared than a state of depres­
sion more like despair took its place: "What could Ibn Hathal's
words add, even if he did speak? His face and eyes are more
eloquent than words, and crueler. " "When he speaks, his words
will be deadly; he has seen much in this life, but this malady
will kill him. " "If the other men tell a story different from the
one in Ibn Hathal's eyes, they will be lying. Miteb does not lie
because he does not know what fear is . . . but they do. "
After Miteb al-Hathal returned, after his dreadful immersion
in silence, everyone in the wadi was convinced that an accursed,
catastrophic end awaited them all and could come at any mo­
ment. They could only wait helplessly before such a fate; at
times they felt incapable even of the sorrow which often had
seemed so copious and effusive, and which they actually desired;
for a terrible, tenacious despair had settled over their senses and
paralyzed them, making action impossible and the passage of
time sheer torture.
Wadha threw a thick blanket over Miteb, in spite of the heat
that filled the air.
 .. 95

"If this fever doesn't kill him, he'll live to be a hundred, " she
said, but shook her head in doubt and fear.
When Hadib and her children asked her what had happened,
she shook her head to say she did not know a thing and did not
care, but after a moment of silence she murmured as if talking
to herself: "A devil entered him the first day the three bastards
came. Instead of getting rid of the devil he nursed it the way a
hen nurses her eggs, and now the fever's killing him. It's the
devils' fever. "
No one clearly understood what Wadha meant, and no one
asked her any more questions. She was nervous and jumpy,
rushing from one place to another, the mark of fear visible in
all her actions. People began to be intimidated by the vehemence
with which she repeated her reply to anyone who asked about
Abu Thweiny: "It's all over with him. He's finished, unless
Almighty God wants to make a new Job of him . "
When the men returned five days later, clamor filled the wadi
and the fever began to kill Miteb. None of the townsfolk who
crowded into Ibn Rashed's encampment could believe a single
word of the many long stories they heard. The words rich and
gold hung in the air like smoke, and like a black banner the big
question arose: Had they come to stay? Ibn Maktoum's, Su­
weylemi's and Ibn Rashed's words and actions had turned blind
and false: "Gold? How on earth could we find gold unless we
toiled to find it and ran all over the place? Oil? The naphtha we
find is enough to light these lamps of ours that choke you with
fumes before they shed light. "
 1Z

T
HE DETAILS WILTED, SHRANK AND WERE FOR­
gotten, down to the very last one prompted
in the memory by an act of will or a persistent
ghost. Any attempt to recall the image of things and places that
had been encountered an oblivion that spread like warm air and
made them all dreamlike.
It was a special kind of tragedy, like amnesia followed by
long-belated remembrance in which the chaotic confusion and
curse of things were made apparent. Even if Mitch al-Hathal's
life mattered, even if Wadi al-Uyoun had once existed and then
vanished under the soil of another time, only the final moments
survived, and perhaps only they had truly occurred after all.
Very late one night, in the late summer or early fall, a mad
roaring suddenly filled the wadi. It was like distant thunder or
 .. 97

the sound ofhuge numbers of filled waterskins falling on swamp­

land; it shook the air and pained the ears so much that it was
hard to tell where it was coming from. Miteb al-Hathal had
decided to stay up in Zahra until the late summer, categorically
refusing all attempts to induce him down to the wadi, but after
his refusal and isolation, and as a result of the illness that did
not leave him for a single day, a sort of tacit agreement took
effect: he would be forgotten, considered dead or absent, and
life in the wadi would go on as before. True, there were some
difficulties that summer, but they were dealt with; now, how­
ever, it seemed that the group of men in search of oil, after
completing the requirements of their first phase, had decided to
begin.
It was not important how they began, because the thunder
that filled the wadi that late summer night was the best-remem­
bered beginning; it alone moved Mitch al-Hathal to end his
isolation and go down to the wadi.
There may have been some other kinds of details that preceded
that beginning, important in their own way, but they had not
seemed so to Mitch al-Hathal. The many attempts, in which
friends and relatives had played a part, to sell the small garden
he owned in Wadi al-Uyoun at a price that seemed high for those
times had failed.
All Mitch did was shake his head in refusal, and when his
relatives resorted to pressuring him, he only laughed mockingly
and walked away. As to what the emir was supposed to have
said, that Ibn Hathal would sell like it or not, it was heard with
head shaking, as if to say let's wait and see. So the thunder that
Miteb heard that night excited him very much; he must have
thought or hoped that an explosion in the camp had destroyed
everything. He may have imagined that something momentous
had just happened and that he had to see it for himself; or perhaps
c e s 0 f s a

other thoughts occurred to him. How else could one explain the
enthusiasm that made him forget his isolation and rush to the
wadi?
With the first light of dawn, huge iron machines began to
move. Their deafening noise filled the whole wadi. So gigantic
and strange were these iron machines that no one had ever imag­
ined such things even existed; the lights that shone from them
were like shooting stars. They moved on the same open track
the caravans used, and within a short time the noise grew louder,
and the machines arrived in the wadi.
No one could describe the moment in which the machines
moved into the wadi or know the feelings that gripped the people
as they watched the huge yellow hulks move along and roar,
then stop at the border of the camp. No one could describe or
imagine it. Miteb al-Hathal, who had reached the wadi with the
stealth of a cat, watched everything carefully, keeping far away
from the strange creatures with whose evil he could not contend,
not approaching for fear they would do something he could not
stop. Deep inside him he knew, when the thunder stopped, that
the world had ended.
When the machines stopped, small windows and doors opened
up in them and dusty men came out and looked around them.
A bewildered silence reigned: Where had these men been? How
had they entered and come out of these machines? Were they
men or devils? Why were they there, and what would they do?
These yellow iron hulks-could a man approach them without
injury? What were they for and how did they behave-did they
eat like animals, or not?
The boys were the first to run over to the machines and did
not hesitate to touch them. At first they stretched out wary
fingers in order to touch, and upon feeling the hardness of the
iron, they put their palms against it and struck it lightly as if
gently knocking on a door that must open. Slightly reassured,
 . . 99

they circled the machines, probing in various places with hands

or small sticks, and one boy dared to throw a stone at one of
them. The men of the wadi, who had been watching the boys
with annoyance, fearing that some harm would come to them
from this game, soon decided to do what the boys were doing,
because that way they might learn what the machines were for
and what they might do.
These were moments of serious scrutiny, of fear and surprise.
When some of the workers came out of the camp with those
who had been in the machines to have a look, the men and boys
of Wadi al-Uyoun retreated a few steps and stood waiting and
fearful. Filled with pride and confidence, the new men walked
around the machines, opening the doors and lifting the covers,
while the others watched raptly. Suddenly one man jumped up
and disappeared inside a machine, and instantly it roared and
then moved. The machine began to run in diabolical circles, up
and down, roaring and whirring. The people ofWadi al-Uyoun,
who had retreated far off, looked on with fearful eyes in utter
silence, not knowing when the gates of Hell would open up and
swallow everything.
For the first time in long months, the people ofWadi al-Uyoun
heard the voice of Miteb al-Hathal. "The devils are here and we
must fight them. If we do nothing, they'll eat us up and we'll
leave no trace behind!"
He may have wanted to say more, but the silence that fell after
the machines stopped and the questioning and fearful gazes ap­
pealing to him from those around him made him feel useless.
No one understood him or stood by him, and nothing he could
say would do any good. Nervously, shaking his head in pain
and despair, he turned back as if in regret, for his words had
slipped out in spite of himself. When some of the men held him
back and asked him to explain the nature of the strange creatures
and what they would do, he pushed their hands away roughly
c e s
0 f s a

as if he could not bear to be touched or to hear another word.

Men who were used to Miteb al-Hathal were not surprised by
this kind of behavior and did not expect him to talk to them,
so they went away. Miteb set out for a nearby hill and sat there.
In a tense squat, nearby and yet distant, he monitored everything
from his post and meditated, as if witnessing the end of an age.
It was the end of the world, or perhaps the end of one of the
long ages in the life of this distant, forgotten desert. Only Miteb
al-Hathal said so out loud; the others in and around Wadi al­
Uyoun sensed it but did not articulate the feeling in thoughts or
words. They were possessed by rancor and recklessness and fear
and looked around questioningly but could not clearly imagine
or guess what might happen next. Or perhaps they were hoping
that something would happen at the last minute to reverse all
that had been planned and devised, so that everything would go
back to normal in the wadi, ending this long bad dream.
Although long hours had passed and the people waited, the
Americans remained squatting silently inside the camp. During
this time a group of men came out of the other tent, shouting
and singing, but not for long. Once more the camp fell silent.
People sat clustered in small groups outside the camp, in the
shade of the palm and fig trees, as if watching something. Each
one of them felt certain that something was about to happen.
Some sent their children to bring food and others made coffee
in the open air, far from their homes and camps; the desire not
to miss a single thing was overwhelming, and they knew the
chance might never repeat itself.
Sitting atop the high hill, Miteb took everything in and med­
itated quietly. He ignored the cries calling him to come down
and eat, to share the morning coffee and then noon coffee. He
was still silent and preoccupied; his senses were aroused and
expectant, more so than any of theirs. When they sent him up
some figs, dates and bread, he put them aside as if he were not
 .. 101

hungry or did not want to eat, though something did not allow
him to refuse the food, for the vigil was a long one and he had
no intention of leaving.
This was one of the rare times in which all of the townsfolk
were like this. From the time the devils first came a few months
before, they had grown ever more mysterious and their inten­
tions harder to divine. They spent the whole day in tents, es­
pecially the big tent in the middle, or in the wooden cabins they
had skillfully built, writing and drawing with the same air of
secrecy that enshrouded all the other aspects of their life. The
people of the wadi had long used their knowledge and intuition
to figure people out; this scrutiny played a major part in the
many wagers they made among themselves over what travelers
might be bringing or what caravans might be carrying, but these
travelers stumped them. The people were afraid to make bets;
all they knew was that the Americans would extract gold and
oil from the earth, though they could not even guess how that
could be done. Sometimes Ibn Rashed used his friendship with
Ghorab and the translator to try to find out more. But he got
only general answers, and when he tried to clarify matters with
his own information, he could only invent words that added
more mystery to the one that already bafficd them.
Now that the hellish yellow machines had come on the scene,
they all assumed that an ending of some sort was at hand, and
everyone wanted to sec the ending for himself, to find out all
the details, even the smallest and most obscure.
The hours passed slowly. The afternoon hours that day were
the longest the wadi had ever known. Even the chores the men
were used to doing, like tying up the camels and making coffee
by themselves so as to achieve just the right taste, even these
were postponed or performed laggingly. The young men were
assigned chores they had never done before and did them en­
thusiastically.
c e s 0 f s a

The men waited for something to happen, but everything was

as normal in the daylight hours, and it seemed as though the
day would pass, like all others, without surprises. As the sun
sank, the animals came and filled the wadi with their din, and
the shepherds and the bedouin came to the water, making their
own noise, shouting and gesticulating; then the Americans came,
adding to the rest of the clamor with the machines they had
brought earlier, which emitted light and noise and frightened
the others. As a result, the wadi rang as if with the howling of
lost wolves and the screams of hungry j ackals seeking prey or
companionship.
Dusk fell. Most men were dazed with boredom and depres­
sion, reckoning that another weary night would pass as they had
for three months or more, when suddenly a procession of all
the men from the camp moved out. Ghorab led the way, and it
seemed that they had had a long talk prior to this, for as soon
as they exited through the camp gate Ghorab made hand signals
to the left and then to the right, talking all the while and looking
first in this direction and then in that. When the Americans began
to march, the whole wadi was struck with fear, and there was
a loud racket as the children and young men who were watching
while they watered the animals and helped with the irrigation
began to shout and run chaotically. The older men acted more
calmly; after watching, they moved back a little out of the Amer­
icans' path, and when the foreigners had passed, first stopping
at the brook and the wells, then continuing on to the wadi, the
men followed them with their eyes and then got up and moved
slowly after them. Miteb al-Hathal had leaped up at the very
moment the Americans left the camp. He stood on the hill like
a wolf ready to spring, moving only when the Americans moved,
keeping the same distance and pace, but his eyes observed every
movement and his ears took in every sound and he looked as if
he did not want to miss a thing. He noticed and interpreted every
 .. 103

motion, and when Ghorab spoke, pointing a t the sand dunes,

the brook and the trees, Ibn Hathal's hatred rose so much that
he began to shake and the color drained from his face. The boys
were able to make out a few of the words he kept repeating and
later said they'd heard him say, "You sons of whores, you horned
stones, I'll get my revenge before the great Avenger judges you. "
They also said that he cursed the government, the sultan, the
emir and everyone who had helped the infidels.
Miteb missed nothing. He moved and stopped and cursed and
gazed at everything as though he would never see the place again,
and although none of the Americans looked at him he flinched
every time they pointed back in his direction, thinking at first
that they were pointing at him. Then he realized that they were
pointing instead to the land he was walking on; that he was no
more than a landmark to them. Had it not been for Ghorab's
movement in his direction, though without looking at him or
noticing his presence, leaving a footprint on the soil, then mea­
suring the distance halfway through the wadi, had it not been
for that movement Miteb would. have thought that they were
motioning to him. He almost did something stupid. What could
they want from him as long as he followed only ten feet or a
little more from them? Couldn't he go to his own garden on the
other side of the wadi if he wanted to, to sing, think or curse
as he pleased? Couldn't he do what he liked as long as he harmed
no one, just as in the past?
These were Miteb's thoughts as he watched Ghorab hurry
along, pointing and raising his voice. He was genuinely fright­
ened by the others, who asked questions and made several com­
ments, and he felt sure that this evening would end badly. He
did not know why he decided to return to the water before the
Americans. He hurried to the brook, rolled up his sleeves, scooped
up the water and splashed it on his face, snuffing it in and letting
it drip through his beard; then he scooped up more water and
c e s
0 f s a

drank. He took off his cloak and dunked his head, shaking it,
with his eyes open. He felt coolness and pleasure and fear and
stayed that way for a moment, then pulled out his head when
he felt his breath bursting in his chest. Water streamed down
copiously and then ran out; once again he breathed deeply and
drank from his hands, and tranquilly, as if he were alone in the
world, he headed back to his hill and sat in a spot directly over­
looking the water. Perhaps he guessed that the wadi would be
nothing if the water stopped; perhaps he guessed that his garden
and the land before and beyond it, to the end of the wadi, would
be nothing if the Americans wanted to stop the water; but he
also knew that the lands in the wadi were all so alike that his
own was hardly any different or more valuable than any other.
lfhe thought differently he would have stayed in the garden and
slept under one of the palm trees. If he wanted to defend only
his own garden and trees he would not have chosen this open
spot where he could be seen by all. Something made him choose
this place, and when the Americans came back, when their faces
and shadows appeared in the strong light, he lay flat against the
hill and decided to stay watchful, to wait for the long overdue
miracle.
 1 _3

S
HORTLY AFTER DAWN, WHEN THE FIRST LIGHT OF
day appeared distinct from the shadows and
shone gently above, the wadi was still wrapped
in the light mist left by the night, the moisture wrung from the
air, trees and brook water, and from the breath of people then
quietly waking up to begin another day. Miteb al-Hathal 's wide,
sorrowful eyes, which had not closed for a moment, watched
and listened and thought and followed the movements of life in
its new phase that long-ago autumn day. People and places and
life had, until that moment, existed uneasily in sad, serene si­
lence, as if nothing would ever change, but a loud shout rang
out in the camp, and with this sudden shout, which alerted Miteb
al-Hathal, life began to change. It was only a few moments before
the Americans got moving and came out.
They poured out like a band of devils. In a flash they headed
c e s 0 J s a

for the machines with a speed and excitement that finally signaled
that the end had come. No one told Miteb al-Hathal, but he was
overcome by a strong premonition; although he did not know
what was going to happen, that measured, solemn instinct told
him. He got up slowly, inhaling the wadi's air into his lungs
and whole body. He looked all around him as if in farewell. A
flock of sand grouse glided by. He looked at the men in the
camp, filled with a strong sense of finality, and when the mad
machines went into action he screamed in a harsh but pained
voice: "I'm sorry, Wadi al-Uyoun . . . I'm sorry!"
This was the final, insane, accursed proclamation that every­
thing had come to an end. For anyone who remembers those
long-ago days, when a place called Wadi al-Uyoun used to exist,
and a man named Miteb al-Hathal, and a brook, and trees, and
a community of people used to exist, the three things that still
break his heart in recalling those days are the tractors which
attacked the orchards like ravenous wolves, tearing up the trees
and throwing them to the earth one after another, and leveled
all the orchards between the brook and the fields. After destroy­
ing the first grove of trees, the tractors turned to the next with
the same bestial voracity and uprooted them. The trees shook
violently and groaned before falling, cried for help, wailed, pan­
icked, called out in helpless pain and then fell entreatingly to the
ground, as if trying to snuggle into the earth to grow and spring
forth alive again.
The butchery of Wadi al-Uyoun had begun, and it continued
until everything was gone. Miteb al-Hathal witnessed the be­
ginning of the butchery but not the end, for the men who came
when they heard the sounds of the maddened machines and stood
watching what was taking place before them, after they re­
covered from the daze that possessed them, looked around and
saw Ibn Hathal and made many sad comments. They said it was
the first time in their lives they had ever seen a man like Miteb
 .. 107

al-Hathal cry. H e could not stop crying, but h e did s o silently.

He was perfectly silent. He did not say one word. He did not
curse. Not a single sound or word escaped his lips; he shed his
tears, unashamed and unafraid, but not proud either. He looked
quietly through his tears at the whole wadi and shook his head.
At some point, no one knows exactly when, as the men ran
out and got to work, as fathers called their sons to help them
gather the pieces of wood, Mitch al-Hathal withdrew quietly
and left the hill, heading in the direction of Mount Zahra. Within
a short time, although Wadha pleaded and fell to the ground to
kiss his feet, and despite his cousins' arguments, he made his
decision. He worked calmly, readying everything he needed,
without looking at anyone, without hearing a single word they
said. He still had tearstains on his face but he did not cry, and
when he had finished preparing everything he gathered up his
rifle and watcrskin and mounted his Omani camel. He looked
at them all, at each of their faces in turn as if memorizing them,
and when he had scrutinized them all he kicked the camel's sides,
and she trembled as she reared up and stood. Miteb al-Hathal
rose on her back like a huge tent, and then he looked like a cloud,
and when he sped off he looked like a white bird. He faded from
sight and grew smaller, dwindled and then disappeared.
 14

0 NL Y A FEW PEOPLE SAW HIM LEAVE. T HEY WERE

busy and afraid, watching the maddened ma­
chines uproot the trees and level the earth and
topple everything on it, and when they grew weary of watching,
having seen everything demolished and finished, they looked at
each other in shock. When they asked about Mitch al-Hathal,
someone said he had gone. This seemed strange and unnatural
�nd even eerie. "Mitch al-Hathal? How could he go and leave
the wadi . . . Where could he possibly go?"
Nothing seemed real anymore.
"Miteb would never leave the wadi, " one man said. "He
would die first. "
"He le ft a long time back, when they cut the first tree. "
"Mitch would never leave. 1 '11 make a bet. "
 .. 109

"Zahra is right there, and you can see what's happened t o the
wadi. Nothing's left!"
"My camel against your camel. "
"But he left three days ago. Shaalan said he had left. I saw
him on his camel with my own eyes-heading east. "
"I prefer to lose my head and my camel. Miteb would not
go. "
"Trust in God, m y friend, keep your camel, leave your head
where it is, and listen to me! Miteb is gone! "
Miteb had gone off the way he often did, many people said;
he was feeling melancholy, so he would be away for a day or
two and then come back; no matter how far he wandered he
would surely return.
The townsfolk were all absolutely positive that Miteb would
never leave the wadi, that unlike so many others he could never
just pack his bags and disappear. If he had headed into the desert
angry and hunted like his father and grandfather before him, he
would do as they had done. They had been the wadi's fiercest
warriors against the Turks; they had never slept in the same place
twice and had turned the entire Sultan's Road into a Hell on
earth. The Turks had offered a reward of one hundred pieces of
silver to anyone who could kill Jazi al-Hathal or bring him in
alive. Before Jazi was his father, Miteb, whom the Turks had
once arrested. But before morning he had escaped. Some said
that he had put some sort of drug in the guards' coffee, and
others said that he had bribed them to let him escape. All the
men at the garrison in Wadi al-Uyoun were punished because
they had been unable to hold Miteb al-Hathal and send him to
the garrison at Kerak.
The people recalled these stories and expected that Miteb al­
Hathal would come back again. Some were afraid and said that
these times were different from those of the Turks-Miteb would
c e 5 0
J s a

not be able to carry a rifle or kill anyone. The more courageous

and optimistic among them agreed that Miteb would come back
but said that if he did so he would set the world on fire-he
would kill and destroy and maybe even burn everything down.
It was unthinkable that Miteb would leave the Americans alone
after what they had done to Wadi al-Uyoun.
"The Atoum are like winter snakes , " said Nizar al-Ma'aani
as he looked off into the distance. "They hide and sleep, but
when they surface . . . God help us. "
Muhammad al-Medawwar shook his head and smiled. "What
will happen to you-where will you go, Ibn Rashed?"
"By God, people of Wadi al-Uyoun, all you do is talk. " Ab­
dallah al-Masoud, who had been listening but did not want to
join in the discussion, laughed. "The man picked up and left the
wadi to get something out of his system; that's all there is to it.
And you go on about him like you had nothing to talk about
but Ibn Hathal. "
The men looked at each other's faces and shook their heads
sadly.
It seemed to everyone that Ibn Hathal's journey, no matter
how long it lasted, would have to end; he would have to come
back.
They all looked at the strange scene before them as if it were
a dream or a hallucination, but the line of neatly parked tractors,
and the deadly silence that reigned over the new land-for the
wadi now looked like part of the desert beyond, except for the
hills and the heaps of ruined trees-convinced them that it was
real: a cruel, wicked sight that resembled death.
Beside the ruins on the broad plain they sat, determined to
stay and wait. They moved slowly and mournfully, like wind­
blown scarecrows made of rags and palm branches, moving and
then settling down gradually to become part of the boundless,
dusty, motionless expanse, now rising again and now rep osing.
 .. 111

Ibn Rashed had done all he could, in the last days, to cooperate
with the Desert Forces' efforts to relocate the people of Wadi
al-Uyoun. He had selected twenty men to work in the camp,
but he was deeply troubled and afraid that some would prove
stubborn and refuse to move. On the afternoon of the third day,
after the razing of the last trees, he stood stern faced and decisive
and shouted at the clustered people: "My friends! Leave of your
free will like the ones who went before you. It's better than
being driven out. Every one of you will get his rightful com­
pensation. The emir has said good riddance to anyone who wants
their desert and tribe, but for those who want a place to live,
the government is arranging everything. "
After that no one saw Ibn Rashed, and he never came back.
He moved into the American camp and was replaced by some
men of the bedouin police.
The bedouin police informed those remaining in Wadi al­
Uyoun that they would have to leave. There was to be no dis­
cussion. They summoned them and grouped them near the camp,
and one of the soldiers looked at the ground and spoke: "You
can have tonight, but by sundown tomorrow you have to be
out of here. We will see to that. "
Despite the rage, sorrow, humiliation and scores of other emo­
tions that filled the people of the wadi, Umm Khosh was the
only person who refused to follow the orders and ignored the
entire proceedings. After they had gathered her belongings in a
small pile and put it with their own things, some of them donated
a few items and then tied up the bundle. Its meagerness and
incongruity inspired laughter and pity at the same time: old
clothes, mismatched tin pots and plates, pieces of wood, some
ropes and a curved-headed bamboo cane. While this was going
on Umm Khosh sat near Mount Zahra, as was her habit every
day, waiting for a new caravan to bring news. When she came
and saw her bundle and was told that she had to leave with
c e s
0 f s a

everyone else, she gave them a silly look, smiling more than
usual, calmly fished her bundle out of the huge heaps ofbaggage
piled in a circle and untied it. She carried it off a good distance
from the travelers and their things. She undid the belt carefully
and took out some of Khosh's clothes, shook them in the air
and smelled them, held them out as if admiring their beauty,
then drew them near her face to examine them carefully for the
soundness of the cloth and quality of the needlework. She smelled
them again, deeply this time, and refolded them one on top of
the other. She caressed them and talked to them, saying things
that made her sad and cheered her up, made her laugh and then
cry. She did all these things as if she were alone in the desert,
and the men and women who watched her as if seeing her for
the first time saw their faces in her face and felt that their lives
were hopelessly tragic and fragmented. They watched her in
silence, and many did not even notice the tears that streamed
from their eyes; they tasted the bitter salinity and looked at the
ground, not one daring to look in the face of another. When
.
they went to sleep that night, which they did early, like cats on
winter nights, on top of their bags and bundles, sinking into
torpor and then slumber, they heard the voice of Umm Khosh.
Some who were still awake or were awakened by the sound
thought it had come from a dream or another world, for it was
tremulous, high pitched and anguished. "My dear friends. Peo­
ple of the wadi-1 forgot to ask you about Miteb, Abu Thweiny.
Where is Miteb?"
No one dared to reply. The silence grew heavier and more
oppressive, and she asked again. "My friends-let whoever knows
about Abu Thweiny tell me what happened to him. "
Silence, with the tension that borders on fear because the next
moment could bring an outburst. A rough voice, whether a
man's or an old woman's no one could tell, spoke up. "Get some
sleep, girl-everything will be fine in the morning. "
 .. 113

There was a dry, strangled laugh and then Umm Khosh's

voice: "Don't worry, my friends-let whoever knows about
Abu Thweiny tell me what has happened to him. "
When the oppressive silence reigned again, more sadly than
before, the voice rang out mockingly: "Everything will be fine
in the morning? You'll tell me about Abu Thweiny tomorrow?"
The monotonous, fear-laden silence reasserted itself She spoke
again in the same mocking tone. "My friends! Yesterday . . . no,
two or three days ago . . . I saw him. We had a talk and he told
me, 'Don't worry, Khosh is coming back . ' You all know. For
years I've been pleading for Khosh to come back, and now I'm
begging you for news of Abu Thweiny and nobody's answering
me, and nobody's listening!"
She waited a few moments and went on bitterly. "God help
you all!"
Then she was silent.
Some of the wakeful ones heard her talking to herself They
couldn't understand a word. She no longer asked questions or
waited for answers. Those who had entered the kingdom of
sleep or approached it heard a continual droning, which some­
times grew slightly louder and other times waned but did not
stop; it was like the whisper of a stiff breeze or a faraway cry
for help, and when it began to sound incoherent and wavering,
almost dying out, only to rise again sounding tormented, those
who had woken up or never been asleep felt in the voice a drawn­
out cry from the heart like a prick behind the eye. They closed
their eyes for the long sleepy journey with sad memories, as if
the pained monotony of the voice gave things the strange fra­
grance and burning taste of an open wound.
Some time in the night, as the light and darkness wrestled,
the old woman's voice died away, though not all at once; it
diminished gradually, becoming a s ound like slowly dripping
fat, and when it died out completel y, the nonsleepers looking
c e 5 0 J s a

at the stars said, "There's nothing like sleep. The old woman is
asleep. "

When the morning star faded the piles of people began to stir.
At first hesitant and indolent, with the spreading of the sky and
the appearance of the line between earth and endless space, the
bodies moved more clearly and with more strength. They got
up with the first rays of sunlight as if a hidden hand had shaken
and woken them, and opened their eyes. Fear and disbelief fol­
lowed immediately, as if sleep had robbed them and made them
forget where they were and why, but the first moments helped
them to grasp what had happened. They shook their heads re­
peatedly to dismiss the sleep and looked again to make sure, and
when it came back to them they reclosed their eyes in an attempt
to forget, but it was impossible. It was too late.
They were all up before the sun rose, all except Umm Khosh.
She was asleep with her head against the pile of clothes, almost
in a praying position, half kneeling, in a semicircle. No one
wanted to wake her, since she had missed so much sleep the
night before. They walked carefully and spoke softly so as not
to disturb her. She stayed asleep or continued her prayer even
when the dogs barked at two of the soldiers heading back to the
camp, and when the boys began playing and one of them ran
near Umm Khosh, Abdallah al-Masoud threw a pebble at them
and pointed angrily at Umm Khosh and told them to play farther
away. Some people nearby heard him say in a low voice, "The
old woman didn't sleep until dawn. " He added, shaking his head
sadly, "God help her, and help us. "
By the time the sun had risen a forearm's length everything
was bustling. The baggage was roped up again, a fire was kin­
dled, and the men strode about supervisi ng, but unlike on pre­
vious days, the women moved slowly, as if they did not know
 .. 1 15

what to do or how. The boys played more roughly and shouted

louder than before, running wherever they pleased. Even Ab­
dallah al-Masoud, who had not taken his eyes from Umm Khosh,
guessed that enough time had gone by since throwing the pebble
at the boys, and he no longer scolded them or bothered to speak
softly himself.
Umm Khosh lay as she was, unmindful of all that was hap­
pening around her, and did not hear or stir. She was serene and
quite still in her slumber, even when two of the desert police
came over from the American camp and stood near her. One of
them spoke in a very friendly tone. "My friends, you'd better
set off early, otherwise the sun is going to massacre you. "
"Don't worry, we're going, we're going, " Abdallah al-Ma­
soud answered him sarcastically. "Trust in God, my good man. "
"If you had left at dawn you'd be in East Khabra or even
farther than that by now. "
The two men walked away. The boys looked at their fathers
to see if it was time to go yet. Muhammad al-Medawwar spoke
loudly to no one in particular. "If we get going now we can rest
in Khabra, and continue on in the afternoon. "
Abdallah al-Masoud pointed at Umm Khosh. "What about
the old woman?" he asked.
"She's coming with us. "
Several people repeated these words approvingly.
"And if she doesn't want to come?''
"Whether she wants to or not, " said Muhammad al-Med­
awwar. "We'll take her with us and go. "
"Fine. See for yourself. Ask her. "
Muhammad al-Medawwar strode over and put his hand gently
on her shoulder. "Umm Khosh . . . Umm Khosh . "
She did not reply o r move.
"It's nearly noon . . . Umm Khosh. "
She did not reply.
c e s 0 f s a

Muhammad al-Medawwar shook her by the shoulder. "Umm

Khosh. "
She moved slightly but made no answer. He shook her a little
harder. She leaned to the left but otherwise stayed stubborn and
sleepy, or perhaps she was not finished praying. He raised her
shoulder a little, with difficulty, and her face rose an inch as her
body changed position. When he let go she fell back as she was:
reclining on the pile of clothes as if kissing them or pausing to
sort them out.
"Hurry up!" said a man standing far off.
Abdallah al-Masoud moved closer and knelt by Umm Khosh.
He put his hand on her shoulder and looked at Muhammad al­
Medawwar and then at the people standing around, and whis­
pered kindly, "Umm Khosh . . . Umm Khosh. "
She did not reply or change her position.
"We'll carry her along, " said Muhammad al-Medawwar, his
patience exhausted. "Whether she agrees, or doesn't agree­
there it is. "
"Fear God, my friend, what do you mean, carry her?" said
Abdallah al-Masoud. "Like a sheep? She is not a sheep!"
"Hurry up! " said a man standing far off, perhaps the same
man who had shouted out before.
Muhammad al-Medawwar moved closer than before, directly
over Umm Khosh; he cradled and lifted her up like a pile of
clothes. In his arms she seemed to be a big child. He shook her
vigorously to wake her from her deep sleep. The boys gawked
at them curiously and shouted with laughter, and the men and
women smiled. Still kneeling, Abdallah al-Masoud looked up
to see the game Umm Khosh was playing in the last moments
of their departure. When he saw her face, he jumped up like a
man springing out of a nightmare and felt his heart nearly burst
from his chest. He screamed in pain. "Shame on you all!"
He took Umm Khosh and laid her down gently. She rolled
 .. 117

on her face as she had been before, and he trembled fearfully as

he knelt. He held her face and looked at it carefully, then turned
to the others who drew near. Her face was dry, yellow and cold.
There was no life. When he was sure of that he replaced her on
the pile of clothes.
He got up slowly in resignation and took a few small weary
steps to the last group of men.
"God, Almighty God, may He be praised, has given her rest.
She is dead. "
No one believed it, but when Wadha came near and touched
her, she pulled back in terror and screamed like an angry child.
"Where are you, Abu Thweiny-where are your eyes to see
this?"
In less than an hour a grave was dug and Umm Khosh was
buried. No one wanted to touch her belongings, so the wind
scattered them and the sand buried all that she had left behind.
It had been decided that the caravan would leave before noon,
but the death of Umm Khosh was reason enough to delay it for
one more day. Everyone hoped that in the space of the day
something would happen to change that decision and make it
possible to reconsider the whole move. The soldiers of the bed­
ouin police stayed far off and refused to get into a discussion
with them or to answer any of their questions. The police pre­
tended to have seen nothing but resolved that there would be
no staying behind after that day.
 15

I
N THE FADING BLUE SHADOW, AMID LIGHT, REFRESH­
ing gusts of wind, the townsfolk silently completed
the preparations for their departure. When they left
Wadi al-Uyoun, or more precisely when they were forced to
leave it, shortly after the sun rose, the family of Miteb al-Hathal
was among them. Fawaz, the eldest, was with his brothers. Only
Shaalan stayed in the wadi, to see about obtaining the compen­
sation due his family: the price of the small garden that had been
theirs and the land where their house had been.
Hadib had gone before them to Ujra, the main way station
on the Sultan's Road, leaving to Fawaz the responsibilities of the
journey and many other matters, for ever since Miteb al-Hathal
had left Wadi al-Uyoun so mysteriously, leaving much dust and
even more speculation behind him, the emir's men had begun
to regard Miteb's family with special spite and suspicion. There
 .. 119

were rumors that the family would receive no compensation of

any kind, that they would be driven out by force if they did not
choose to leave and that once they reached Ujra they would have
to fend for themselves. These and other matters obliged Hadib
to forgo the compensation collected by so many others who
waited in Wadi al-Uyoun, leaving Shaalan to pursue it. He hur­
ried to Ujra to await the family and to prepare for a journey
inland to relatives on both his mother's and his father's sides
who might be able to protect them or offer some stability in
their lives until Mitch al-Hathal came back.
Fawaz was the "biggest" of the brothers, and this description
caused a great deal of laughter at his expense, for he was barely
fourteen years old. He was as slender as a bamboo stalk but as
strong as a whip, or at least so he appeared and so he wished to
be. He used to creep up on their camel like an insect to mount
her and hang on to her tail when she galloped to prove to every­
one that he had attained manhood. These images seemed so
distant to them now, so blurred, that the people were not e� en
sure they were real, for everything after Wadi al-Uyoun seemed
so confused. The wadi itself was, however, still fresh and intact
in their memories, with its features and smells-even the whis­
pered conversations and the uneasy questions of those preparing
to leave, about ropes and water and flour, still rang loudly in
the ears of those who stayed and those who left.
"I was afraid you had run into trouble, or given up on the
way, " said Hadib when the caravan arrived in Ujra. He said this
with an admiration he could not hide and addressed his sister as
Fawaz began to unload the luggage from the camels.
"I had thought more than once of going back to Wadi al­
Uyoun, or going out to meet you on the road . "
"We saw plenty o f wolves, " said Radiya.
"Wolves are nothing to fear, " Hadib replied. He paused and
then added, "If you have men with you. "
c e 5
0 f s a

Was Fawaz as brave as his uncle imagined and as his sister

assumed? Had he been frightened or shown fear at any point
during the three-day journey? He had been extremely cautious,
since they had been left in a caravan of only five households after
many travelers had stopped in Khabra or traveled by other routes,
but Wadha al-Hamad was so strong that she had inspired most
of the courage and common sense he had shown. Her eyes had
shone with sublime sorrow since Mitch's disappearance. She
could think of no rational motive for his agitation and misery
or for his departure. She pressed her lips firmly together and
refused to offer any explanation for what he had done. Deep
inside she realized that some dark resolve had possessed his heart
and mind and compelled him to make the decision. She was
familiar with the fits of nerves that drove him to isolation, sudden
departures and long absences, but this time she was not con­
vinced that he would come back as he had before. She had been
positive that something would happen at the last moment that
would change everything, for Miteb would not change his mind
ofhis own accord, especially now that Wadi al-Uyoun was gone
forever. He would not leave without doing something-killing,
burning or destroying. When she perceived his firm surprise
decision, followed by his departure, she waited hour after hour
for him to reappear, to circle the wadi once or twice until he
grew tired, then return full of spent anger and regret. But when
the days passed and he neither returned nor sent word, and they
were all forced to leave, she felt depressed to the point of utter
despair. Was it possible for them to depart and leave everything
behind? Could they survive the move to another place after
losing their homes, land and livelihoods . . . having already lost
the dearest thing in their lives, Miteb al-Hathal?
No one dared ask these questions, but the unflinching strength
of Wadha's will, her silence through most of the journey and
 .. 121

the depthless sorrow in her eyes which touched all the others,
made matters final and inevitable.
In spite of all this, it was this magnificent woman, Wadha al­
Hamad, who led the caravan, who helped to rope the packs on
the animals and to unload them. Fawaz was filled with caution
all during the journey and expected trouble at every moment,
and this feeling made him nervous; he slept little and ate like a
frightened bird, but he did not want Wadha to notice. She tried
to influence and inspire him through her silence and strength
until they reached Ujra. When they met up with Hadib, he
wanted to soothe their trouble and create a pleasant atmosphere,
but he ran up against Wadha's silence, along with her sorrow,
which he soon shared.
They would never forget the four days they spent with rel­
atives in Ujra. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, and there
was no news from or about Miteb al-Hathal despite the proces­
sion of hajj caravans that never let up for a single day.
For those four days all of the refugees felt the departure from
Wadi al-Uyoun like a hard, unexpected punch. From the first
night in Ujra they had an overpowering feeling that they were
totally alone and that they would not be able to face the new
life. In the dead silence that enveloped them after going to bed,
broken only by the barking of dogs and disjointed shouts far
away, Fawaz heard for the first time in many long years the
sound of his mother, Wadha al-Hamad, crying. It was stifled
and intermittent crying, which she did not want anyone to no­
tice. She cried like a small girl hiding from the others. She bit
the blanket and buried her face in the pillow, and cried.
Fawaz knew, that night, that what had happened was not just
the loss of a place called Wadi al-Uyoun, nor any loss that a
man could describe or grow accustomed to. He realized that it
was a breaking off, like death, that nothing and no one could
c e s 0 f s a

ever heal. Despite the anger they felt toward their father, who
had left them to deal with the tragedy alone, Miteb's angry words
mingled with Wadha's weeping that night, and he seemed easier
to understand and perhaps less cruel.
After that night and for a long time to come, Fawaz, who had
left boyhood to become a man before his time, could not sleep.
He was haunted by the spirits that filled that night, and many
after it, with a painful expectancy.
 16

I
N UJRA, WHICH HAD BEEN A CARAVAN STOP FOR
thousands of years, linking the Sultan's Road with
many other routes, they met up with other cara-
vans, and during the four days they spent there they bought
supplies to last them through the first phase of living in their
new homes in al-Hadra. In the process they spent all the money
they had. For the first time they discovered that other people
and other places were very different from Wadi al-Uyoun. The
merchants' words were rapid, short and sharp. Their glances
were full of suspicion. Hadib's attempts to get lower prices for
flour and sugar, and his visits to several different merchants to
check on the prices and to haggle, ended in despairing resig­
nation.
"If it were any other time of year we would have got more
c e s
0 f s a

flour and at better prices, " he told Wadha. The bags of flour
were stacked in the shade of the wall.
Wadha nodded in agreement and said bitterly, "They say that
'religion is conduct, ' but merchants are only interested in money­
that's their only religion. "
Silent and disappointed, they roped up the luggage again at
dawn on the fifth day and left.
The caravan grew smaller when they left the Sultan's Road
and headed north. They had prepared themselves for a long
journey and were determined to reach Rawdhat al-Mashti quickly
in order to catch up with a caravan said to have arrived there a
few days earlier. It was said that this caravan would wait awhile
for two or three caravans more before pushing on to al-Hadra
and beyond.
For the first time in their lives, places seemed hostile; they
were so awfully cruel. The family felt a surge of confidence in
Ujra when they met their uncle, who took all their problems,
including leading the caravan, upon himself. But people's faces
seemed unfeeling to them wherever they passed through, and
the water they drank tasted brackish and almost bitter. The places
they stopped seemed unnatural, and they could not understand
how anyone could get used to living in them. Wadha, who had
been strong and composed all the way from Wadi al-Uyoun to
Ujra, now seemed like an old camel. She gazed at everything
slowly but not contemplatively. She never spoke; even when
her brother asked her questions about the journey, she contented
herself with nodding to agree or to indicate that she did not
know. When they sat down to eat she moved her hand, lean
from the trip, fro m her mouth to the platter of food and chewed
each morsel as if she wanted it to last or did not want to swallow
it, or as if she were not capable of swallowing. The rest of them
usually finished eating first and left her what remained. They
avoided looking at her or asking her to eat more, because the
 .. 125

one time Radiya, visibly upset, did ask her to eat to regain her
strength, she saw her mother slip into that state of silent grief
and gloomy illness. The look she gave her chilled Radiya com­
pletely and inhibited any of the others from trying to nag her
agam.
The journey was full of quiet sorrow. The camels plodded on
monotonously, and shortly after dawn the sun became an un­
bearable torture. Attempts to converse or joke when they stopped
to gather kindling for cooking fires were a clumsy substitute for
the kind of talk they were used to. Each of them in his own way
tried to respect their mother's silence or to share in her suffo­
cating sorrow. The few times they tried to talk, to say some­
thing, their words were brief and obscure and at other times
completely meaningless, but they were always faint, almost in­
audible, and they trailed off, leaving each speaker with a strong
sense of having committed a misdeed. Even though their uncle
had been addicted to joking, singing and exaggerated joy and
anger for as long as they had known him now he was an entirely
different man. Ibrahim tried to get him to sing or chant, and to
tell stories of his travels, but he had no success, even though
Wadha was usually not listening or not even present.
They arrived in Rawdhat al-Mashti, but the caravan they had
wanted to join had already left, so they would have to wait
several days, which stretched into weeks. The route that led
inland was traveled by caravans only infrequently, and almost
never in summertime.
It would be impossible to describe that journey or those days
in all their details, for silent Wadha al-Hamad, filled with a rare
kind of pride, seemed, especially in Rawdhat al-Mashti, even
crazier and more fanatic than Miteb al-Hathal.
Was this the same kind offever that had saved Miteb al-Hathal,
that had changed his children's perception of him and embodied
in him an absolute innocence? Was it the fever that spoke, that
c e s 0 J s a

chattered endlessly? At least some ofher words were still strong,

stronger than any others, for when Wadha al-Hamad fell prey
to the illness and that dreadful fever that made her rave one
evening, she said many things, the clearest of which was: "Abu
Thweiny, you are the best and most constant of men in the
world. You are the best man, the ornament of Wadi al-Uyoun.
You spoke the truth but they didn't believe you. Wadi al-Uyoun
is gone, Abu Thweiny. After you went nothing was left but
dates and stories. Don't come back until the children grow up.
When you come back you'll all be successful and they'll be all
broken and consumed with regret. Your children, they're the
ones we can count on, Abu Thweiny, and may you know it
well!"
 17

]\ FTER TWO WEEKS OF TORMENT, WAITING AND

illness they prepared to depart again, this time
from Rawdhat al-Mashti to al-Hadra. It was
a hard journey, and a silent one.
They were at the end of the caravan; this was Wadha's wish.
She did not utter a word from the time the fever left her until
they arrived in al-Hadra, but her every look and movement was
full of curt orders only too clear to all of them. Her brother,
like a big child, ran in all directions to do what he thought might
be his sister's bidding, or perhaps he was only happy.
After her several days of acute illness in Rawdhat al-Mashti
they had all reckoned that this was the end, for their mother
would neither cat nor drink and took refuge from the world in
her delirium. Hadib's anxious looks and utter confusion gave
him away; he almost gave up the idea of continuing the journey,
c e s 0 J s a

especially since there was no news of caravans. Once again he

proposed going back to Ujra; there, he could think and make
the appropriate decisions. Wadha's sudden awakening, however,
and her gradual return to lucidity, followed by the arrival of a
small caravan bound for al-Hadra, changed everything and helped
Wadha overcome her illness; after all, she did not want to die
in this place. Without much being said, without discussion of
any kind, she nodded in approval when Hadib proposed to her
that they continue the journey; she made her preparations to be
part of the shabby caravan, and they left.
It was a small caravan, made up of three herds of camels with
their own camel, the family of Sulayim al-Hazaa' and that of
Miteb al-Hathal. They expected to make it from Rawdhat al­
Mashti to al-Hadra in five days.
When they were nearing the outskirts of al-Hadra, Fawaz and
one of the shepherds were sent ahead to announce their arrival
to the townspeople. Three of the Atoum, relatives of Miteb al­
Hathal, were sent out to meet the caravan and help them along;
two of them knew Miteb's family personally, having visited
Wadi al-Uyoun and stayed for a while a year or two before. No
sooner had they reached the caravan and greeted the travelers
than they showed their surprise that Miteb al-Hathal was not
there. They asked about him, when he would join them and
where they had left him, and when these questions were put to
the family as they all rested at al-Hadra's east well, the family
discovered that Wadha had gone into a new phase, for the silence
that had begun in Wadi al-Uyoun as a result of her sorrow and
perhaps because of her own wish had now given way to some­
thing else entirely, something greater than sorrow and more
powerful than wish or will.
When Suleiman al-Hadib, one of Mitch's maternal uncles,
moved his eyes about the small, mournful caravan and asked
 .. 129

about their journey, when they had left Wadi al-Uyoun and
where they had left Miteb, Wadha burst into tears. The question
itself did not call for crying, especially from a woman ofWadha's
strength and power. At first shocked and a little frightened,
Suleiman al-Hadib looked at their faces in alarm, finally settling
on Hadib, whom he wished to speak, but Hadib's embarrassed
look and confused words only complicated things.
"My friends! " shouted Sulciman sternly. "We know that the
world is life and death. If Miteb is alive, say so, and if he is
dead, then say so!"
"Trust in God, man, " said Hadib. "Mitcb is alive and there
is nothing to worry about. "
"What do you say, Umm Thwciny?" Suleiman asked harshly,
looking at Wadha.
Wadha nodded in agreement, confirming what her brother
had said, but Sulciman al-Hadib was not convinced, guessing
that there was more to the affair than he was presently capable
of grasping, so he shouted: "If the man is alive, there is no need
to cry ! "
Again U m m Thwciny nodded i n agreement and Sulciman al­
Hadib spoke lightly. "And you, Umm Thweiny, are this man's
sister. "
Again she nodded, and worn out by her inscrutability he said
impatiently, "God rest your parents. "
Once more, tears rolled down her checks.
That morning in late spring or early summer at the Masbala
well, a short distance from al-Hadra, that long-ago day unlike
any other since, when the men rode out happily from al-Hadra
to greet the family of Miteb al-Hathal, they looked in the faces
of this tribe that had suddenly come from so far away. It was
not known whether Miteb al-Hathal himself, the head of the
family, was alive or dead; the response to any question about
c e s
0 f s a

him was these indistinct words and tears. What sorrow was bred
in their hearts? What confusion was this? Why this bleak and
complicated spectacle?
This is what each man asked himself. Despite her black sor­
row, Wadha al-Hamad tried once more to speak, to explain, to
say something, but the sounds that came from her mouth were
more like animal sounds or the groans of mourning, exactly like
the clash of branches or the echo in a narrow valley.
Like a strangled cat, she tried to talk. Like a small child, she
tried to talk. Then she was silent for quite a while. She gathered
all her strength, gathered in her throat all the words she wanted
to say. Several times she shifted in her seat. Suleiman al-Hadib
gazed curiously but welcomingly at the members of this lost
tribe and smiled faintly upon detecting some sort of resemblance
between the tribe and Miteb al-Hathal and Wadha al-Hamad,
that ancient blood kinship that represented some extension of
this tribe that spread out in all directions, lost in all places. He
felt the comforting feeling that blood could never change and
that for those who drank from Wadi al-Uyoun and from the
waters of al-Hadra and from other brooks no matter where,
there were hidden waters. The waters of the Atoum supplied all
the other brooks with this extraordinary power to rush away
and be lost and then come back; life in this desert, however it
changed and varied, had, like death, to end somewhere, but to
some purpose.
In this atmosphere, redolent of sorrow and heat and expec­
tation of the next moment, after the sudden flood of tears, Radiya
and Da'ija moved closer to their mother to find out why she
was crying. But Wadha's features tightened sternly, almost an­
grily. When she made one more attempt to whisper, to say
something, it suddenly seemed to her and to everyone else that
she was unable to speak a single word, that the soun ds she had
learned more than fifty years ago had left her forever . She had
 .. 131

lost the power of speech, the sounds and words that the others
knew, and sank into silence.

In the first days, the old women of al-Hadra who hovered around
Wadha said that the fever had tied her tongue, but that it was a
temporary condition that could end at any time. Months later
they said that a black devil had entered her body between her
stomach and the upper chest through the water of Rawdhat al­
Mashti. By winter he would certainly leave her, because he
would have to return to his post by the wells of Rawdhat al­
Mashti to lie in wait for future caravans. When winter and the
year ended and spring came with Wadha's condition unchanged,
Suleiman al-Hadib's wife said that Wadha's depression had mixed
with fear; she could not get well until Miteb came back or until
the occurrence of some catastrophe greater than his absence, but
she said no more than that.
Everyone around Wadha heard some of what was said, but
she heard everything. They were filled with fear and uncertainty,
but she grew more bitter and more mocking at the same time.
She looked at the women's faces and heard them talk, followed
everything that went on, and when the old women suggested
some sort of remedy she shook her head in refusal. Sometimes
she simply got up angrily to go walk in the desert, leaving the
women who had come to help her.
Najma al-Mithqal, al-Hadra's fortune-teller, said when asked
about Miteb al-Hathal that he would certainly come back. She
said that he was wandering in the desert, moving from one place
to another, and that he slept far away in a place near the sea. He
would be there for years but would eventually come back, and
his return would be sweeping and violent like the simoom, the
hot sandstorm: no one would be able to stand against it.
That is what Najma al-Mithqal said. Everyone had despaired
c e s 0 f s a

of Miteb al-Hathal's returning, for there had been no news of

him at all, and no one in al-Hadra asked about him anymore,
so what was this family waiting for, and what would they do
next? Hadib had lingered for a while and then gone traveling in
midsummer, even though everyone except Wadha had appealed
to him to stay-she had nodded vigorously when he'd asked
her if he might travel. Would he come back soon, or stay away
like Miteb, for years, as the people of this region were used to
doing? Was Shaalan still in Wadi al-Uyoun, or had he gone off
to look for his father? And Ibn Rashed-was he still content, as
before, with mockery, or had he found an opportunity to re­
venge himself on Miteb al-Hathal and all his family?
It was up to Fawaz, as the eldest of Miteb al-Hathal's sons,
to listen and think and finally to run the family. He translated
his mother's looks and gestures and felt the torment that flooded
from those eyes, and did not know what to do.
The relatives who had welcomed Miteb al-Hathal's family and
showed profound solicitude after learning what had happened
in Wadi al-Uyoun regarded the family with sympathy and an
uncertain sorrow. They thought that Miteb's children were still
very young and should only eat, drink and wait to see what
might happen next. They did not accept Wadha's sorrow or fully
approve of her silence. They did not understand the wariness
that possessed her children, especially Fawaz; they regarded it
with perplexity and wonder.
 18

5 HAALAN STAYED IN W ADI AL-UYOUN. No ONE

really knew whether he stayed there for the
compensation or to work in the company, as
Ibn Rashed had promised in an attempt to appease Miteb al­
Hathal's family and win them over. The two matters were in­
termingled to the point where Shaalan, when asked about it years
later, could not remember which had come first: the collection
of the compensation or his job in the company. Because he stayed
in Wadi al-Uyoun, a wadi that bore no resemblance to the one
that had been there before, except in name, he was compelled,
in the absence of his father, to establish a new tribe to replace
the old one. And because each of the two worked in his own
way, the new tribe Shaalan founded, which flourished and of
which traces still remain today, also began in Wadi al-Uyoun
but spread far afield and worked somewhat differently. It kept
c e s 0 f s a

going around in the orbit that made everything, however far

from its center, part of it ruled by the same unbending
laws . . . This new tribe was a doomed extension of Miteb al­
Hathal, of the Atoum and of the life that had been.
Shaalan planted himself in Wadi al-Uyoun not like the palm
trees that had filled the wadi in times gone by but like one of
the iron columns that now stood everywhere, and within a short
time he changed very much indeed. Even his name changed in
this new era: he was "Company Shaalan" or "American Shaalan"
instead of Shaalan bin Miteb al-Hathal, to distinguish him from
Shaalan Abu Tabikh who was contracted to supply food to Wadi
al-Uyoun and Shaalan al-' Aouer who guarded the rear gate of
the camp. Shaalan bin Miteb learned English better and much
more quickly than the others. For a long time they laughed at
his new names, considering them a sort ofjoke that would end
just as it had begun, but as the days passed and Shaalan stayed
with the company, moving from one place to another, from one
department to another, the name Miteb al-Hathal virtually dis­
appeared except in official records, and the new name took its
place. The new name surprised people who heard it for the first
time, and sometimes it even bothered Shaalan himself and Miteb
al-Hathal's other children and relatives, but he soon got used to
it and so did the others, except when it was used to provoke or
make fun of him.
How is it possible for people and places to change so entirely
that they lose any connection with what they used to be? Can
a man adapt to new things and new places without losing a part
of himself?
Shaalan sent a message by word of mouth to al-Hadra in which
he asked Fawaz, along with any other relatives, to come to Wadi
al-Uyoun, "because you are assured to find work in the com­
pany. " This message caused a storm to break out in the heads
 .. 1 35

o f two o f the Atoum and filled them with a n urge they could
not control or resist.
Fawaz, who had spent a year and a few months in al-Hadra,
had no sooner received Shaalan's message than his head began
to spin with the old magic: travel. When he thought of Wadi
al-Uyoun he could not bear to wait. He made his decision quickly:
to travel with the first available caravan. Suweyleh, the middle
son of Suleiman al-Hadib, did not take long in deciding to ac­
company him. Wadha accepted the idea more quickly than most
people expected her to, but she made Suleiman al-Hadib take
pity on this youngster who "might be lost like his father"; he
tried to persuade Fawaz to postpone his journey so that Suweyleh
might go before him and send for him if there was work to be
had. But in the face of Fawaz's insistence-he had never been
more stubborn-and in a murky attempt to set an example to
this family that had begun to disintegrate, he gave in . . . and
thus the two young men prepared for a journey from which
they would return "as soon as possible" and in which they would
go "no farther than Wadi al-Uyoun, " as Suleiman al-Hadib made
them promise several times.
When they reached Wadi al-Uyoun, it seemed to Fawaz a place
he had never seen before. There was no trace of the wadi he had
left behind; none of the old things remained. Even the fresh
breezes that used to blow at this time of year had become hot
and searing in daytime, and a bitter cold penetrated his bones
late at night. The men who had gathered there, he did not know
from where, in their tents and wooden houses, were a bizarre
mixture of humanity; they bore no resemblance to anything a
man would recognize. Even the caravans Fawaz had encountered
in Ujra on his first and second journeys, whose looks were so
odd, now seemed to him kindred creatures in their features and
smells. Now in Wadi al-Uyoun he saw strange and disgusting
c e s 0 f s a

creatures filled with silence and sorrow. One of the workers

seemed to resemble a bird who had strayed from the flock and
lost his way, unable to stay where he was and powerless to
resume the journey.
Fawaz almost turned back in the few hours after he arrived.
He had been sitting like a dog by the barbed wire, waiting for
Shaalan to return, he did not know from where, and he and the
others who had come with and after him had been asked to keep
away from the gate to the camp, without any explanation or
look of understanding or sympathy. They were pushed away
several times when they came near. Sand blew on them where
they sat, and they were covered with dust whenever the huge,
maddened machines rolled in or out of the camp.
These hours of torment and suffering were worse than the
hardships of the whole trip, which had been different from the
first one; even the water in Rawdhat al-Mashti had tasted better
this time and the people had been readier to talk with them. But
here, in the hours between noon and sundown, they felt that
the Wadi al-Uyoun that had been, that had existed for long years
and given shelter to caravans and men and birds, was no longer.
Shaalan, who had arrived at sundown, looked as strange as his
clothes: the black line like light down on his upper lip was now
nearly a full-grown mustache; he had a beard composed of ir­
regularly scattered but strong stubble; and his face, comically
smeared with oil and dust, looked out from the shade of the
white tin drinking bowl he had put on his head.
After they embraced, talked and fell silent before the gate of
the camp, Shaalan was able with difficulty to get the two into
the tent he lived in. He used his friendship with the guard at the
gate, resorting to jokes and cajoling and other diabolical tricks.
He put the drinking bowl on Suweyleh's head, over his ghotra,
and in an air of laughter and hilarity ushered them into the big
tent.
 .. 137

There were several men in the tent, some o f them sleeping,

some eating and others playing cards and shouting. Fawaz looked
at them in utter amazement; the tent was huger than any tent
he had ever seen, bigger than Ibn Rashed's or Ibn Hadib's; even
so, it seemed too small to contain new guests. None of the men
moved when the newcomers entered; they only glanced up briefly
and vacantly even though Shaalan in his noisy entrance had tried
to create a lighter atmosphere. No one moved even when Shaalan
whispered in Fawaz's ear that one of the three men playing cards
was a relative of theirs.
At no place and at no time in his life had Fawaz ever been
gripped by fear as he was now, in this place. How did these
men sleep, and where? How did they eat? Why were they so
different from the sort of people who used to live in Wadi al­
Uyoun, who lived in Ujra and al-Mashti and al-Hadra? It seemed
to him that each of these men lived by himself, without any
connection to the others around him.
Fawaz wanted to discuss everything with Shaalan, but the
words he had been preparing for the whole of the journey, which
included the details of all their experiences since leaving Wadi
al-Uyoun, vanished from his memory. He was not able or eager
to talk. He smiled whenever his eyes met Shaalan's, and when
Shaalan asked about their mother and brothers and al-Hadra,
and if it were anything like Wadi al-Uyoun, Fawaz mumbled
his answers. But when he thought of Miteb al-Hathal he said
that they had heard nothing of him since leaving the wadi. He
wanted to ask Shaalan about it but only when they were alone
or in some other place.
"Come on-let's wash our hands and get our supper ready, "
said Shaalan to change their mood.
They left quietly and headed for the water drums. The ground
around the drums was slippery with stagnant water and mud,
and the place smelled disgusting. When the water touched their
c e s 0 f s a

faces they sensed its unpalatable taste, perhaps because of the

rust or some foreign substance added to it. Suweyleh asked
whether this was drinking water. When Shaalan nodded yes, he
looked at Fawaz.
"The water in Wadi al-Uyoun was better, " he said sadly.
"If our father were here now, he would not drink this water, "
said Fawaz, as if he wanted to say something brilliant or start
trouble.
Shaalan looked at him with uncertain bitterness; perhaps he
was stifling his reaction. After a few moments of sad silence he
spoke, as if talking to himself. "Thank God that at least we have
water. "
"What news of our father, Shaalan?"
Skillfully, spontaneously, Shaalan shouted to one of the men
passing by the water barrels on his way to the tent far away,
and when the man turned around he asked about things Su­
weyleh and Fawaz did not understand in the least. When he was
done, Shaalan said enthusiastically, " We'll finish talking about
that later, but now we have to prepare our supper. "
So they hurried off to prepare their meal.
 19

T
HE THREE SAT FAR FROM THE TENT, IN AN OPEN
space in the middle of the desert. The moon
was small and had appeared early that eve-
ning, without anyone noticing. They were like frightened chil­
dren or conspirators, looking around them when they heard any
sound or saw a shadow. They did not raise their heads or feel
the coolness that began to fill the night air, for they were pos­
sessed by a strange conversation about Wadi al-Uyoun, how it
had been and what it was now. The diabolical Americans, who
had come looking for water, why did they continually dig into
the earth, never stopping but never taking anything out? The
water from the wadi, from Sabha and from the many wells they
dug was pumped back into a hole in the ground-why wasn't
it given to people? Did the ground hold su ch ghastly hordes of
thirsty jinn, whose screams day and night could be heard only
c e s 0 J s a

by the foreigners, who had come to quench their thirst? Were

the jinn burning in the depths of the earth, and were the Amer­
icans pumping the water down to extinguish the flames? Was
there another world underground, with gardens, trees and men,
all clamoring for water?
This was how the three young men reasoned, and they asked
each other questions they knew none of them could answer; the
questions multiplied quickly and with them the three men's fears
and anxieties. Shaalan considered himself the most knowing and
most experienced of them all, but he was also the most afraid.
His fear had emerged suddenly a few weeks back when his father
began to appear to him. He had appeared suddenly at the fringes
of the camp one night. No one told Shaalan that; he saw it
himself. He could not divulge this secret to anyone, so he had
kept it to himself and stayed waiting and watchful from that
night until now.
He saw his father the first time near the camp gate, but when
he ran toward him to make sure, Miteb mounted his camel and
galloped off. He shouted, but Miteb hurried away and disap­
peared. He saw him several times after that but was never able
to overtake him; Miteb would gallop away and disappear, and
this made Shaalan more afraid than ever; he could no longer
conceal or tolerate this fear. He was positive that this was his
father who went riding around the camp, sometimes entering
it. He never doubted it. The man was Miteb al-Hathal's height
.md moved as Miteb did. The camel was the same white Omani
mare his father rode; Shaalan could never be wrong about that.
After seeing him near the gate the first time, Shaalan decided
to go to the same place at the same time, but Miteb did not
come. A few days later Shaalan saw him near the water drums,
very late at nigh t; he was directly under the light; his face was
illuminated and he seemed animated; he was making happy sounds
like the whinnying of a horse, but when Shaalan took a few
 0 0 141

steps in his direction-for he was still far from the drums­

Miteb turned slightly, then leaped up and vanished completely.
Subsequently Shaalan saw him in different places: once near the
rear guard post, in the shadow of the big tent, and he was sure
of it when he found the camel's hoofprints.
From the first sighting, Shaalan became almost ill. He was
besieged by his fear and imagination, for he knew his father was
there; he had seen him. True, he had not been able to speak with
him, to stop him or question him, perhaps because his father
was still angry at him, but even so he harbored no doubt; he
knew he was not imagining it. If his father was still roaming the
area around Wadi al-Uyoun , refusing to return or talk to anyone,
,
Fawaz would be able somehow, at some point, to convince him
to come back.
Now that Shaalan had chosen this place, with two ofhis close
relations, he would be able to express what was tormenting him,
what was on his mind; he could ask them, without fear, if what
he had seen was Mitch al-Hathal himself, his own father, or
someone else; if it was a vision or a real thing. When he sent for
his brother Fawaz he wanted Mitch to reappear, right there in
Wadi ai-Uyoun. He was burning to confirm what he had seen,
for some close relatives to join him, to find out whether his
father had come back, if there was any news of him or if anyone
had seen him.
Darkness spread and thickened until it was like a dark wall.
The voices of workers laughing in the tent floated to the three
youths, distant and intermittent. The flashlight that the guard
used now and then cast a long pallid beam that passed quickly
over the sands near the barbed-wire fence, illuminating nothing.
The guard swung the light every so often more to relieve his
boredom and solitude than to help him sec anything.
In choosing this particular spot and beginning to talk about
Wadi al-Uyoun and the jinn, Shaalan was preparing the two
c e s 0 f s a

others for the right moment. His father might show up; they
might see his father, no matter how far off or fleetingly . . . even
if it was a phantom, they would not let him get away; they must
cry out or chase him, to tell him that Fawaz was there too. At
any rate, something would happen that would convince Shaalan
and perhaps the others as well.
Shaalan's gaze moved around in a broad arc. Suweyleh thought
this strange, and turned to Shaalan.
"Are you waiting for someone?" he asked.
Shaalan shook his head in such a way that they did not know
whether to take it as a yes or a no and made a frightened move­
ment. After a long silence he spoke in an almost raving tone of
voice. "God damn the times we live in. God only knows what
is happening in Wadi al-Uyoun. "
"Wadi al-Uyoun used to be a thousand times better, " said
Fawaz firmly.
"If people had only listened to the old man, Wadi al-Uyoun
would still be as it was, but I don't know what's come over
people, " said Shaalan, still looking around.
The moon had begun to set. The three had much to say, but
Shaalan's fear had infected the other two. In this place, inside
the barbed wire, they felt so foreign that they could not imagine
that it had once been their home, or indeed that they had had a
home anywhere. Endless fears and desires and thoughts filled
their minds.
"God curse Satan, who divides people, " said Shaalan despair­
ingly. He was silent for a moment and then sighed, "Haven't
you heard news of our father, Fawaz?"
Fawaz looked at him sadly and curiously. He had told Shaalan
urgently, a few moments after they'd arrived, that there had
been no news of his father since before they had left Wadi al­
Uyoun.
"Where could he have gone?" asked Shaalan almost angrily.
 .. 143

"He may b e gone for a year, o r two years, but h e has t o come
back. "
"Trust in God , " said Suweyleh, who felt the depression that
possessed the others. "He knows his own news, and he has to
come back. "
"I saw my father the day before yesterday! " said Shaalan sud­
denly.
The two looked at him in joy and amazement. Fawaz was
astonished and wanted him to say more, but Shaalan turned his
head away as if he did not want them to look at him. When
silence fell again, without Shaalan explaining what he had said
or adding a single word, Fawaz spoke. His words were rapid
but shaky. "When did he come back? Where is he?"
"At just this hour, " said Shaalan, turning back to look directly
into Fawaz's eyes. "And be sure of it, be sure of this-you will
see him!"
They looked all around them to see him coming but saw
nothing.
"Where is he?" sighed Fawaz. "When did you leave him?"
Shaalan began to tell them how he had seen Miteb and where,
how when he tried to speak with him, Miteb had disappeared
instantly, like lightning that flashed and vanished; he had not
wanted anyone to approach or bother him. He had circled the
camp all night, once on camelback and once on foot; he had
drunk and washed his hands in a barrel of water.
Shaalan told the tale excitedly but fearfully, turning between
words as if he saw Miteb al-Hathal coming, and when he had
finished he told them expectantly: "Listen, my friends, if he
comes tonight we will not leave him even if the sky falls on the
earth!"
 zo

ONG DAYS Of HARD, U NEASY WAITING. THE THREE

hardly slept except as wolves do: they knew
no �omfort and could not rest at night or dur­
ing the day. They waited beside the water barrels, by the camp
gate, by the barbed wire, by the rear guard station. They waited
in the late hours of dusk, and in the dead of night. They waited
as the moon grew, when it was full, as it rose ever later and
then ceased appearing altogether . . . but Miteb ai-Hathal did
not come!
Even during the daylight hours, when Shaalan went to work,
where and to do what they did not know, Fawaz, Suweyleh and
some of the night shift workers waited. Fawaz would go out
and have a long, unhurried look through the whole camp. He
would scrutinize the faces and look searchingly into the shadowy
 .. 145

corners near the tent and the wooden cabins t o find him, but he
did not appear.
Once, when they had stopped speculating to have some supper
and were reclining on the sand, Shaalan let out a shriek. "That's
him, that's him-look closely!"
They looked at where he was pointing, held their breath and
could not utter a sound from fear. They looked carefully in all
directions. The light shadows of twilight had fallen; visibility
was poor but still sufficient to make out the contours. They
strained to see. They looked in the direction of Shaalan's out­
stretched hand, and when they looked at him his face was marked
by shock and fear. He shook his head two or three times as if
to shake a veil from his eyes. He grabbed Fawaz's upper arm
tightly and spoke through his teeth. "He went by that way­
he was on his camel and was moving fast as a bird. "
Shaalan exhaled angrily until he was nearly purple and looked
at the other two in pain and exasperation. He wanted them to
be quicker, to pay closer attention.
When they looked over once again to where Shaalan had in­
dicated, they saw two men moving far away. They had just
come out of the tent in front of them. These two were perfectly
visible as they walked out, and now they were headed for the
camp gate. Had Shaalan seen a specter or only imagined some­
thing? Could a man move so quickly and secretly that no one
could see him?
They did not speak for a long time, and the silence reigned
heavy. It was like an iron tent over their heads. The soft breezes
that blew were scented with humidity and perhaps rain.
"That is the farthest away and the fastest he's ever been, "
explained Shaalan.
"M aybe you saw someone else, cousin, " said Suweyleh un­
certain ly.
c e s 0 f s a

Shaalan shot him a wounded look. In his eyes was an urgency

more like entreaty; he wanted to agree, to believe Suweyleh. He
moved closer to Fawaz, at whom he gazed with a sad intensity.
His look asked, "You . . . did you see him as I did?" Fawaz said
nothing; he was subdued by fear. Shaalan got up despairingly
and headed toward the tent.
Fawaz and Suweyleh did not move for a long time. They
were silent as stones, as devoid of will as water running down
a hill. They did not know what to do and had no desire to
talk or move. Fawaz may have been convinced that Shaalan
had seen something, a specter or a ghost, or perhaps even their
father, but Suweyleh had his doubts and they showed on his
face.
"I don't know what's wrong with Shaalan, " said Suweyleh
almost to himself. He paused and then asked, "Might he be ill?"
"Nothing is wrong with him, " replied Fawaz firmly. He added
somewhat resignedly as he got up, "We have to see him. "
For more than two weeks and several days-that is, that night
and many before and after it-they neither slept nor rested. Even
though Suweyleh never left them during these nights, they, the
two sons of Miteb al-Hathal, were in a different situation and
were enduring a different experience.
Did Suweyleh tell anyone anything? Did he ever discuss the
matter in any form?
Something like that must have happened, for within two days
Ibn Rashed showed up. When he saw the two brothers in the
corner of the tent at sundown, he registered surprise that drew
the attention of everyone present.
"Hah!" he said sarcastically. "So it looks like we're still not
done with Miteb al-Hathal and his calamities?"
When Shaalan showed his surprise and gave him a hostile look,
Ibn Rashed pointed at Fawaz and spoke again. "You . . . whose
son arc you?"
 .. 1 47

Shaalan replied with a firm, brief answer. "I see you've for­
gotten the people, Abu Muhammad. "
Again Ibn Rashed directed his intense stare at Fawaz and shook
his head.
"The sons ofMiteb al-Hathal, Abu Muhammad, have nothing
to do with calamities. "
Ibn Rashed laughed to hide his vexation, feeling that there
was no need for the attack upon him. Shaalan continued. "The
esteemed Miteb al-Hathal has an echo . "
Ibn Rashed looked the other way and addressed a man who
was listening carefully to the conversation. " 'If you want your
friend to work, pay him his reckoning every day . ' "
"If there is any reckoning between us, Abu Muhammad, we're
more than ready to settle it-you're a hundred times welcome,
we're ready!" said Shaalan hotly.
Ibn Rashed laughed loudly and came nearer Shaalan. When
he had stopped laughing he spoke in a friendlier tone. "Nephew,
you Atoum have some qualities you will never give us a rest
from!" He said this glancing from one to the other. Silence had
fallen since no one knew what to say.
"What quality are you referring to, Abu Muhammad?" asked
Shaalan angrily.
"Wrath!" Ibn Rashed guffawed. "You all get so furious over
a single word ! "
Ibn Rashed sat near them o n the ground and began to talk to
them in a fatherly tone. "God bless your father, Shaalan. We
told him, be patient. He said no. We said, at least keep an open
mind, he said no. We told him, today the world is as you see
it, but tomorrow it will be different. He said no. And he left. "
He paused. He was not making his point. "The Atoum only
know one way of doing things. They make no distinction be­
tween what harms them and what can benefit them. They make
no distinction between friends and enemies. "
c e s 0 f s a

"If there is anything between you and him, you should discuss
it with him when he comes back, " said Shaalan impatiently.
"My boy, there is nothing amiss between us, and if he comes
back we will talk, never fear. "
They waited several more long, difficult days. They waited
for Miteb al-Hathal and for work. Miteb al-Hathal did not appear
again. Shaalan did not see him after that night. He seemed silent
and almost ill the next day and for the following few days, but
he seemed to improve gradually after that. His gloom departed
and he began to sleep deeply and normally. Fawaz was still
frightened and attentive to every small movement, every sound,
and was unable to sleep for very long. Shaalan had become used
to going out into the desert some nights, perhaps to wait for his
father or to look for him. Fawaz would toss and turn on his bed
and feel for his brother, still floating between sleep and con­
sciousness but ready to go out with him for the mysterious vigil,
and yet hesitating to tell him, not ready to bring up the subject
directly, perhaps avoiding it out of fear of being misunderstood.
Twenty days later Ibn Rashed arrived and had a short tour of
the camp. Before leaving he told Fawaz and Suweyleh that the
company had not agreed to hire them; they would have to leave.
He was in a hurry, as if he had many things awaiting him. He
said that Fawaz was still young and would have to wait a year
or two before applying for work again, and that Suweyleh was
practically blind and would not do for work in the company.
He said all this quickly, then turned his back and walked away.
When Shaalan came home from work and they told him what
Ibn Rashed had said, he shook his head and spoke very slowly.
"I knew it. " He spat on the ground. "God's grace, not Ibn
Rashed's . "
He looked a t them sadly , a s i f i n apology. He shook his head
several times and then said to himself, "When I told him, he
said, 'Priority goes to the people of Wadi al-Uyoun. ' "
 .. 1 49

He looked in the other direction and said bitterly, "A few

days ago one of his bunch told me, 'Ibn Rashed says, "One of
the Atoum has already darkened our door, that pestiferous Shaa­
lan bin Miteb, and that's quite enough! " ' "
Silence fell.
That same night, with secret but resigned urgency, Fawaz and
Suweyleh left Wadi al-Uyoun for Ujra once again, on their way
to al-Hadra.
 41

ti
AD THE WATER OF R AWDHAT AL-M ASHTI PUT ITS
curse on one more of the Hathal clan, or was
there some mysterious hidden force, cruel and
intense in its ferocity, that would stalk them one after another
until it destroyed them all, sparing nothing and no one?
On the way to al-Hadra from Wadi al-Uyoun after the few
weeks with Shaalan, they spent ten days in Rawdhat al-Mashti.
The weather went mad their third day in Rawdhat: within a few
hours there was not a drop of water in the sky or anyplace else,
from Wadi al-Jenah to al-Dalle', that did not fall on Rawdhat
al-Mashti. The wadis filled up with torrents of rainwater. Raw­
dhat al-Mashti had been ambushed; it was soaked, and full of
fear and joy at the same time. Its astonished people looked at
the sky, at the maddened rains that pounded down, as if this
had never happened before, but they quickly focused on the
 .. 151

wadi, which was filling with water every moment. The children
clung to the old men, and the women stayed close at hand. They
were all dumbfounded. The old men were the happiest. Their
faces, tormented by the long years, filled with creases and mem­
ories, were seeing something they had not seen before. They
raised their voices as they moved their hands and limbs, as if
each drop of rain and every new rivulet than ran into the wadi
gave them new life.
Could they ever forget those sparkling, festive hours? Could
those sudden, strange, supplicating voices, like hymns rising in
a roar from the wadi's mouth, from the mouths of the waterskins
that opened from the sky, ever be effaced? The voices they heard,
especially the voices of the old men and children, this melody
like the sound of the wind, were they human voices or heavenly
ones emanating from the sky or from within the depths of the
water? The cries of "There is no god but God, there is no god
but God, there is no god but God" erupting in every direction
evoked awe and caused fear and trembling. The children were
excited, full of awe and desire. Their wonderment was reflected
quickly and clearly in the men's actions and prayers. Even the
women who were far off at first came closer and closer and
crowded in among the men to have a better look at the rushing
water in the wadi. They grew happier and almost rapturous,
singing and praying without the least fear or hesitation.
This memory might have faded and grown dim had Miteb
ai-Hathal not appeared.
Rain filled the earth and sky. The narrow wadi at the end of
Rawdhat ai-Mashti gushed crazily with water, and the people
stood and watched in bewilderment.
When the great moment came and the men stood by in fear
as the violent waves rose, they backed up a few steps and asked
everyone to move back, out of instinctive caution. Men and
women, young and old, repeated with one voice, perhaps with-
c e s 0 f s a

out even realizing it, "There is no god but God . . . there is no

god but God, " and at that very moment, as a brilliant flash of
lightning rent the sky, creating fear upon fear, Miteb al-Hathal
appeared. He seemed enormously tall and rather white skinned.
He had his staff in his right hand and pointed it at them from
the other side of the wadi. His physical form was so clearly
discernible and so extremely powerful that he appeared to be
closer than the opposite bank-as if he were directly over the
water. His voice was clearer and stronger than the thunder, the
rushing water and the screams of the women and children.
"Don't be afraid, " he told all those who had gathered in Raw­
dhat al-Mashti. "Don't be afraid of what you see. "
When silence fell, and the people were filled with fear and
anticipation, he spoke again. "This is the last of your happiness. "
He moved back and seemed to stand squarely on the opposite
bank of the wadi. He struck the earth with his staff, looked at
them all sternly and shook his head three times. Before he turned
away his voice rumbled again. "Fear is from things to come. "
Once again the people shrank back from the dark torrent, and
when a huge wave rumbled through the wadi with the strength
of an enraged camel, Fawaz sprang forward like an arrow or a
bullet to reach his father.
As he addressed the people and moved back, and as he struck
the earth with his staff, Miteb looked at Fawaz. As he looked
he did not smile once; he seemed almost angry, and Fawaz was
afr;�id of his anger. At that moment he wanted to please him,
to be wrapped in his cloak. He wanted to grasp the staff and
shake it and tell him, "After you left, Father, we left Wadi al­
Uyoun-they made us leave. Only Shaalan stayed. We went to
al-Hadra, Father. You know al-Hadra and the people there. My
mother no longer speaks. She has not spoken since we left, and
we, all of us, are ill. We are waiting for you to come back; every
day we say it will be today. We haven't slept one night the way
 .. 153

people in other places sleep. Why don't you come back, Father,
why don't you visit us? Don't you love us, Father? Don't you
want to see us? Who has made you so angry, Father? The older
ones may have sinned, but we arc young and have not sinned.
I have grown up, Father, now I'm bigger than you knew me. I
visited Shaalan, Father. We waited for you in Wadi al-Uyoun.
We waited by the barrels and by the fence. "
He wanted to say a great many other things as well, but Miteb
al-Hathal's powerful words, his stern face and the fear of the
retreating people, and the voice that roared when darkness fell
over everything frightened and inhibited Fawaz. When Miteb
al-Hathal turned away from the opposite bank of the wadi, when
he moved farther away, Fawaz felt a force pushing him forward,
and had it not been for Suweyleh and three men standing by
him he would have leaped across the wadi and reached his father.
But as soon as he felt impelled forward shouting, "Father, father, "
Suwcyleh grabbed him and restrained him as a camel is restrained
and checked him as a horse is checked. He tried to break loose;
he shouted at the top of his lungs, he kicked and cursed and tried
to break loose again from their tight grip, but he suddenly found
himself on the ground with Suweyleh standing over his chest.
Miteb al-Hathal was there. First he was upon the water, above
the wadi, and after calling out with a voice more powerful than
a muezzin's, he moved back a few steps, but his features were
still strong and visible, and his eyes looked around at every face.
He had struck his staff three times on the hard earth, and Fawaz
heard the loud rapping and felt the staff piercing his side. When
Suweyleh grabbed him the way a lamb is grabbed, and jerked
his head the way a lamb's head is jerked back before the slaughter,
his eyes met his father's. He was sure of that. Mitch's eyes were
more kindly this time, and he even smiled. When Fawaz tried
to get up and lunge forward again to follow him, Suwcyleh
grabbed his feet and held him down and pressed his face to the
c e s 0 f s a

ground, and when he fell he could no longer hear the voices or

see anything but the muddy, bitter ground. When he got up
again he saw all the people ofRawdhat al-Mashti looking at him.
They were all above or beside him like a surrounding wall of
flames and appeared to be terrified. Even when they cleared a
broad path they still surrounded him, and he looked across at
the far bank of the wadi before looking at them. The bank was
empty; his father had gone away. He looked up and down the
wadi but could not see him. He looked at the faces around him;
perhaps they had come to help him, to save him, to push away
the others who wanted to prevent him from getting to his father.
He gazed carefully into their faces, at every face, but he did not
see him.
He looked at Suweyleh, who looked at him, upset and afraid.
He hated these looks. He felt alone, utterly alone. He kneeled
on the ground and looked at Suweyleh sadly.
"Didn't you see him? Where is he? He was there . . . he was
there. "
Suweyleh looked at him, and Fawaz looked at the men, women
and children. When he saw them all looking at him he got up
quickly and ran away.
While Fawaz was far off with Suweyleh running after him,
an angry flash of lightning lit the whole sky and drowned the
people's voices with its rolling thunder. Fawaz looked at the sky,
his tears rolling down as the rain fell steadily, and a deep voice
reached him: "There is no god but God . . . there is no god but
God. "
The rain fell more heavily than ever.
 zz

(I) HEN THE DELUGE CEASED AND THE SUN ROSE,

the desert looked like a sand grouse: gleam­
ing, fresh and wet, as if it had not swallowed
all that rain with such insatiable gluttony. The brilliant happiness
that shone in the people's faces affected even the animals, ex­
pressing the new energy they felt inside. Very different from
this joy was the depression mixed with fear that spread through
the bodies of the two young men of the small caravan which
was bound through the desert from Rawdhat al-Mashti to al­
Hadra. Shepherds and other travelers rushed out chaotically but
nimbly to look for early green plants after the heavy rains of the
preceding days, but the two young men were deep in mournful
contemplation. While it was true that common concerns united
them, each had his private concerns as well. Fawaz was the son
of Miteb al-Hathal and had to pay a certain price for that, because
c e s 0 f s a

Ibn Rashed would not forget. Young or not, revenge was re­
venge. He may have been young when he applied for work, but
when the time came for revenge he would be old enough to be
killed, to pay the price. Ibn Rashed did as he liked; he was the
master now and gave orders, and no one could force him to do
anything. Miteb al-Hathal had told Ibn Rashed and the others
what they needed to hear; he was strong as a horse, he was not
hesitant or afraid. Miteb was now in the shadows, appearing
and disappearing, but without anyone taking notice, as if he
were no longer there at all, or no longer alive. In a word, he no
longer feared anyone.
Suweyleh al-Hadib's sorrow was an entirely different matter;
even his silence was different. When he had left al-Hadra he had
been confident of finding work, as Shaalan had assured him in
his brief verbal message. Suweyleh had told his father, Najma
al-Mithqal and others who had been present that he would be
in Wadi al-Uyoun for a year or two. He would then return home
and marry at once. If he went wandering, as so many from al­
Hadra and al-Dalle' did, years might pass before he came back.
He could not stand to do that for years, or to wait, because in
that time Watfa might marry someone else. Besides, Wadi al­
Uyoun was nearby-a stone's throw, as they said. He would
return quickly, as soon as he had a large sum of money. Many
of his friends and relatives had done the same, and everyone
talked of doing it. He was like them but stronger than they; even
the eyes that Ibn Rashed had called blind saw more than most,
saw everything; Najma al-Mithqal had said of the white spot
in the iris that it was "an envy spot that will disappear with
time. " So what difference did the point make to Ibn Rashed
or anyone else? He worked with his hands and his whole body,
not with his eyes. Some of the boys in al-Hadra had gone to
the mosque and spent years learning the Koran with Abdulaziz
 .. 157

al-Hawqalli, but he had not done so; since his boyhood he

had refused to learn and his father had not pressed him, and
so he did not think, as others did, of bothering himself with
reading letters from travelers or writing to the people of
al-Hadra!
Ibn Rashed had told him that there was no work for him in
the company because he had poor eyes; he had slain him by
saying so; anything else he could have said would have been
easier to understand and accept. He should have answered him
back and discussed it, but the surprise of the announcement, and
Ibn Rashed's hasty departure from the tent, did not give him
the chance to utter a single word. He told himself sadly: "Shaalan
did not miss a chance to tell Ibn Rashed exactly what he thought
of him, and had I done the same he would not have dared to
say what he said. "
In the splendid winter weather, as the caravan made good time
one day and slower progress the next, the two young men were
full of dejected thoughts and feelings. In spite of their restless­
ness, determination and desire to talk, some other force pushed
them back. They felt weighted down with sins they could not
bear, as if this experience had proved them unworthy of the
confidence others had placed in them. Here they were returning
to al-Hadra, not as they had left it but abject and disappointed.
What would people ask them? How would they meet their eyes?
Some things could be told and understood, but other things
could not be told, even if the others knew of or guessed at them.
What would Fawaz say when questioned? Wasn't he the man of
the family, after Shaalan, since Miteb al-Hathal had left? Didn't
the others see him that way? Could he say that he had been
rejected because he was too young? Some of the people knew
Ibn Rashed and would understand, but some others would not
understand why he had been rejected.
c e s 0 J s a

And Suweyleh, the strongest of all the youths of al-Hadra,

who shouted the loudest on holidays and moon nights, the most
daring of them all, could anyone believe he could be rejected,
especially for that reason? What would Watfa say? In other places
didn't they make a distinction between envy and a blank eye?
Was it possible to deny a man work for such a stupid reason as
that?
They said little to each other for five days, and their words
were not clear but more like the sound of the wind or the rush
of the water. Fawaz worried that the water ofRawdhat al-Mashti
had cursed him with a muteness like his mother's. He wondered
if a demon had lodged in his body and deprived him of the
power of speech. In an attempt to combat that fear he moved
his tongue and talked to himself and sometimes shouted at his
camel for no reason. He did that several times, and each time
Suweyleh looked at him curiously. His voice seemed strange to
him, as if it were coming from someone else, and so he sank
back into his silence.
Even the empty desert, which had been full of Suweyleh's
singing and shouting on their way to Wadi al-Uyoun, was sunk
in a leaden silence. At night the sky seemed far distant and the
stars lusterless. Suweyleh, who had been full of life and energy
on the way to Wadi al-Uyoun, had become another person on
the return journey. He spent most of his time at the rear of the
caravan, far off and alone, and seemed emaciated to the point
of illness. On the last day in Rawdhat al-Mashti, he almost turned
back to Ujra to wander, but he changed his mind at the last
moment.
One day before the journey ended, before they reached al­
Hadra, they exchanged a certain look: it seemed that they had
agreed to conspire.
"Listen, Fawaz, " said Suweyleh in total despair, "if we get to
al-Hadra we'll tell our families that we're going back to Wadi
 .. 159

al-Uyoun in one month, that Ibn Rashed told us to wait another

month and then come back again. "
Fawaz remembered that a sudden, powerful sound like a flash
of lightning and a thunderclap filled the desert when al-Hadra
came into view. When Suweyleh began to sing, everyone in the
caravan was surprised, and they looked curiously at the two
young men of the Atoum.
 T
HEIR ARRIVAL IN AL-H ADRA WAS JUST LIKE THE
arrival of a caravan in Wadi al-Uyoun: every­
one, especially the men and children, even the
ones who lived far away, gathered around in the village square,
near the wells, and the arriving travelers and the residents alike
shouted in excitement. Everyone asked the travelers the same
questions, about the rain, vegetation, the brooks and caravans,
to make perfectly sure of everything time and again. They asked
about the prices of flour, sugar and cloth in Rawdhat al-Mashti
and Ujra, and whether the people there expected the prices to
stay the same or go up. Once they found out all they needed to
know, the questioning took a different turn: about relatives and
friends and others who lived in far-off places like Wadi al-Uyoun
and beyond.
That night, in Ibn Hadib's encampment, Suweyleh told his
 .. 161

father and everyone, decisively, that he and Fawaz would go

back to Wadi al-Uyoun before long, to do the same kind of
work that Shaalan was doing, and when they asked him about
Shaalan's work he could not say anything very clear; he said that
he dug holes in the ground, nothing else but that! He did not
want to tell them that the devils were draining the waters of
Wadi al-Uyoun, of Sabha and other wadis through iron sheaths
and pumping the waters into holes they had dug in the ground,
why and for how long it was impossible to tell. That whirlpool
of jinn and the depths of the earth began to whirl in his head.
Suweyleh wanted to tell about everything he had seen and
heard, but he was still pained by hearing Ibn Rashed say what
he had said, and he had returned thus defeated and disappointed
only to discover that Najma al-Mithqal had become troubled by
hallucinations and that his mother and sister and some of his
other female relatives were looking after her. Consequently Watfa
was now in a situation which made him unable to think of or
pursue the dream that had pushed him from one place to another.
He appeared deeply pessimistic and unwilling to say anything;
he limited himself to short, obscure replies and sought refuge in
silence.
The people of this immense, harsh desert were born, lived
and died in a grim natural cycle, like the alternation of day and
night or the succession of seasons, but the deaths of some people,
especially those who held off death for others and those who
revealed the secrets of the future, had an unnatural impact upon
the memory, since they seemed to challenge the cycle and yet
confirm it. When a death involved a wasting disease, a splendidly
lucid mind and supernatural prophecies, people tended to re­
member it for a long time or perhaps never to forget it at all,
passing it on to coming generations.
Had they left Wadha al-Hamad alone to do as she liked, Najma
al-Mithqal would have lived on for years and years. Had they
c e s 0 f s a

left Naj ma alone with no one to disturb her she would not have
died so quickly. If they had kept Sabiha-Umm Homeidi, the
wife of Abdulaziz al-Hawqalli-from going near her, Najma
would have continued creeping on the ground smacking the
chickens and dogs with her cane and then turning to wave the
cane threateningly in the faces of the young men to warn them
of the days to come! But the strong, overbearing Umm Homeidi
allowed no one but herself to approach Najma. She decided to
keep Naj ma al-Mithqal's treatment in her own hands, and she
refused all offers of assistance.
The cure had two phases. In the first, Umm Homeidi gave
the sick woman bitter herbs she said she had prepared herself.
She did not say which herbs they were, but assured her that they
were time tested and fast acting. Tormented by the pains that
tore at her insides, Naj ma agreed to take next the medicinal
powders that U mm Homeidi prepared and to drink the bitter
fluids forced upon her; she would have done anything to get rid
of the pains. The second phase of treatment, which began two
days after her last consciousness, took her over completely.
Wadha al-Hamad wandered through Shatiui al-Azem's house
looking for some of the herbs she had hidden and could not find,
mumbling vaguely and perhaps cursing; she too refused any
offers of assistance and seemed upset and almost angry. When
she saw Fawaz, instead of looking happy her face and eyes knit­
ted up questioningly as if to ask rebukingly, "Why did you come
back!" When he told her that Ibn Rashed had asked him to go
back to begin work in a month or two, she shook her head
somewhat bitterly, perhaps recalling what Ibn Rashed was like.
She remembered bygone days in Wadi al-Uyoun, especially the
final days. When Fawaz finished explaining she nodded her ap­
proval and motioned Radiya to go with her to do something for
Najma al-Mithqal.
When Wadha al-Hamad arrived, Umm Homeidi had just fin-
 .. 163

ished massaging Naj ma's stomach and back with warm oil, and
both women were dripping with sweat and very tired. Naj ma
seemed fairly comfortable or perhaps she was slightly drugged,
for her eyes were half closed. She might have dropped off to
sleep had she not jumped like a cat when anything frightened
her or a pain tore her insides.
Radiya said that in recent days Najma had been saying things
no human had ever said, not only about past events but many
things about the days to come. She asked some of the women
to come near her, laughed in their faces, then sang and wept but
suddenly burst out laughing, like a small girl at first, as if some­
one was tickling her, then she cackled and no one could make
her stop. She cackled for a long time, and the women around
her were dumbfounded, but they soon joined her in smiling and
laughing, without even realizing it. At first they looked at her
lamentingly, but when she began to laugh they laughed too.
Wadha al-Hamad, who looked on in surprise that reached the
very limits of disapproval, could not put a stop to it. She was
decidedly stern, turned her head away at first, then looked at
Najma so unfeelingly she seemed angry. She shook some of the
women and shouted at them but then found herself smiling and
joined in the fits of tears and laughter. Her tears were quicker
than her voice and stronger, and she went out into the garden,
and when the voices pursued her she walked out into the desert
followed by Radiya. She was laughing and sobbing at the same
time, and she smeared handfuls of sand on her head.
No one in al-Hadra or its environs could ever forget this, for
many women insisted that what had killed Najma al-Mithqal
was not Umm Homeidi's liquid and powder medicaments, as
Watfa strongly tried to affir m. Nor had she died from the warm
oil Umm Homeidi had rubbed into her stomach and back,
kneading more vigorously than any baker or wool dyer; what
killed her was the fits of cackling, because each one of the women
c e 5 0 J s a

who had been laughing with her that day later complained of
an illness that not only afflicted the palate and neck with severe
pain but spread to the shoulders and internal organs. These pains
were surely lethal for an ailing woman of Najma al-Mithqal's
advanced years.
Najma died after Suweyleh and Fawaz arrived back in al­
Hadra. Her hope in this period was always followed by despair,
and she was always sarcastic when lucid. The day she died began
with hysterical laughter followed by her last hot tears, and then
death came.
A pall of mourning and pessimism descended over everyone,
made darker by the things Najma al-Mithqal had said only days
before she died, before the severest pains which had moved
Umm Homeidi to try the last remedy.
Many people remembered everything Najma had said and
passed it on to others, and although some distortions came into
it, most remembered her as saying: "From Wadi al-Jenah to al­
Dalle' and from al-Sariha to al-Mataleq, fire will consume fire
and the young will die before the old. Count the beginning and
prolong the end. The child will not know his father and brother
will not know brother.
"From Wadi al-Jenah to al-Dalle' and from al-Sariha to al­
Mataleq, every day a year from now. First all the land will be
blessed, and then worshipers followed by locusts. First rains and
floods and then an ignorant ruler. First wheat and silk brocade
and then weeds and swirling dust. People will go and multiply,
led by gold and silver, and some will find repose and others sin.
The rich will consume the poor and the great will oppress the
small, and all this will come to pass, 0 my soul!
"From Wadi al-Jenah to al-Dalle' and from al-Sariha to al­
Mataleq, the world will not be the world. In the desert people
will look for the stars but the stars will not rise. They will look
for a caravan but the caravan will not come back. They will cry
 .. 165

out but no one will answer them o r hear them. That is how you
will know the hour, and the hour is not distant. The appearance
will crumble into the depths, and the base will rule over the
noble. Roads will be as hard as hearts, feeling and knowing
nothing.
"From Wadi al-Jcnah to al-Dallc' and from al-Sariha to al­
Mataleq, and beyond and beyond, people's faces will be per­
plexed, not knowing whether they are asleep or awake. First
sultans as numerous as the sand, but in the end they will be
destroyed. First the lash and then Sodom. First the chosen prophet
and then the blind deceiver and people with drums and horns
and swords and banners, but you don't know where they are
going or whence they come. Aliens will rule trueborn sons and
an outsider will rule the tribesmen.
"From Wadi al-Jcnah to al-Dallc' and from al-Sariha to al­
Mataleq and far beyond, the honorable man will be weak and
lose his rights and the bastard will cat his portion and those of
others but not out of hunger. The fool will speak the truth, and
there will be many depraved, and the liar's voice will fill the
roads and travel from town to town and say: My time has come.
Antar bin Shaddad will wander with the sheep and remorse will
consume his fingers, because he said I know the sword's blow
and my heart knows no fear.
"At the end of that time the people will arise, and oppression
will not last, and there will be tales and tales that people will tell
their children's children. "
 I
N AL-H ADRA, SO REMOTE THAT IT SEEMED THE VERY
end of the earth, people did not wait for rain because
they did not want to see their hopes dashed; they
were resigned. When rain did come every year or two, it did
not last long or make much of a difference. It ran into Wadi al­
Basheq from the desert, but the rain, or the smell of rain, changed
their lives and behavior.
That is how it was in the first days after their return to al­
Hadra, after their unsuccessful journey, for the townsfolk never
stopped talking about the rain or the deluge in Rawdhat al­
Mashti, the grazing land two days from al-Hadra, and the brim­
ming ponds, but all this was not enough, for a sudden depression
attacked them like an enemy after all they had said. They stopped
talking, full of expectation, as if a catastrophe were about to
strike al-Hadra at any moment.
 .. 167

Winters had been different i n Wadi al-Uyoun, where the wait

for rain brought a unique happiness. Even when the rainfall was
late, no one gave up waiting for a single day. They consulted
the caravans and the shepherds and looked at the sky, filling
their lungs with the rain-scented air, and when the rain came
their faces and eyes shone and they looked at each other in the
knowledge that the promise had been fulfilled. Huge tracts of
desert around Wadi al-Uyoun turned green, the nearby ponds
filled up, and the brooks flo oded, spilling water over large dis­
tances. The rain changed not only the pace of life but the people
themselves.
Nights-especially winter nights-in Wadi al-Uyoun were
very different from those in al-Hadra, where dusk came early,
bringing in its shadows a harsh cold that cast a certain gloom.
Because there was little wood in this area, the people used it
sparingly, allowing for the days to come and for unexpected
emergencies like a caravan's arrival or a death. Because of this,
the people were accustomed to going to bed early and speaking
little, showing nothing of that wit that sparked the imagination
and roused the emotions, as in Wadi al-Uyoun.
Al-Hadra's was a very different winter. The winter past had
brought deep gloom and pessimism, especially to the family of
Miteb al-Hathal. This year it brought in addition to the gloom
a black melancholy stemming from Naj ma al-Mithqal's unusual
death and what the women retold of the old woman's last words
and prophecies. Those prophecies had instilled fear or more pre­
cisely a certain watchfulness; they were narrated differently from
woman to woman and interpreted in endless different ways.
When the men heard them they laughed mockingly and said that
it was all madness and could not be taken seriously or even
considered worthy of any attention, but nev ertheless the women
continued to retell what Naj ma al-Mithqal had said, with new
additions every day, for in the past Naj ma al-Mithqal had said
c e s 0 f s a

things which came true. The men racked their brains to try to
extract the likeliest or most convincing explanations, and because
they could not arrive at any conclusion they pretended to forget
it all for a time, but their hearts grew anxious and uneasy.
Al-Hadra and its surrounding areas a few days' ride in every
direction had not changed since God created the earth. Since the
life of the people was marked by extraordinary difficulty and
harshness because of the lack of rain, the scarcity of caravans
and the consequently high prices they paid for flour, sugar and
cloth, they were used to it and never expected anything better.
If the earth became too crowded, something had to give. It was
usually death that solved that problem, in the form of raids and
feuds, frequently the results of disputes over grazing and water,
or as the result of diseases that struck men and animals. Death
was the regulator that made them capable ofliving and enduring,
and when the men got tired of death and were no longer able
or willing to continue killing one another, or when caravans
arrived, they felt the powerful lure of travel, unprepared as they
were and having given it no previous thought. When they did
leave, there was more room for the others, who kept on living.
What Najma al-Mithqal had said, and what had been attributed
to her by the women, excited even more curiosity than fear, but
curiosity was the beginning of fear, and so the gloom inspired
by some of the words and prophecies of that wise and powerful
old woman, who had seen so much that no others had seen,
roused even more turmoil than her unusual death had done.
Suleiman al-Hadib lost patience when he saw his son nagging
his mother to do something to assure him of Watfa's hand in
marriage.
"My boy, after what the old woman Naj ma al-Mithqal said,
we should all prepare ourselves for the Judgment Day, " he told
him.
He felt that he was getting into trouble with these words, for
 0 0
1 69

until recently he had been ridiculing Naj ma's words whenever

anyone brought them up, but now he was quoting them himself,
and he wondered if they had settled in his inner mind as a hidden
conviction, and if he had made a mistake.
"Be patient, my boy, " he said in an attempt to rectify his
error. "The old woman has just died. " He paused a moment
and added in a different tone: "Everything will come in time. "
Suweyleh put the matter aside for the time being, but his old
lust for travel flickered again. ''I'm going with the first caravan, "
he told his mother, "but as soon as you know it I'll be back and
getting married. "
"Don't worry, my boy, " she said smilingly. "Trust in God. "
Once again Suweyleh and Fawaz entertained the idea of leav­
ing and began to prepare. Suweyleh burned with enthusiasm to
travel as soon as possible, to make sure that he had enough
money to last him. Naj ma al-Mithqal's death had unsettled him;
it had given rise to circumstances that called for canceling and
postponing weddings. One of Watfa's male relations had visited
and asked for her hand in marriage, but after she moved to her
aunt's house she told Suweyleh's mother, "Aunt, I have no one
in this world but God and you ! " This was taken as an uncon­
ditional acceptance, only after a decent interval passed and Su­
weyleh came back from his trip; at that time al-Hadra would
celebrate the match it had awaited for so long.
The two of them had invented the lie together and had to
stand by it together. While it was true that Fawaz was deeply
unhappy in al-Hadra and wanted to leave as soon as he humanly
could, after the frustration of his visit to Wadi al-Uyoun he felt
that he was powerless to do anything to confront this cruel
world; he had better wait a year or two before packing up again
and going to Wadi al-Uyoun, to Shaalan, to work with him as
Ibn Rashed had promised. Suweyleh, however, insisted and painted
glowing pictures of the world beyond Wadi al-Uyoun, new
c e s 0 J s a

places and big cities, not to mention the money they could earn,
and Fawaz grew more confused as his resistance weakened.
Suweyleh never stopped retelling the tales for a single day.
Fawaz listened without responding and looked at him as his mind
wandered. If he was convinced deep down that he should leave,
it was largely because of Miteb al-Hathal himself. The disease
he had seen in Shaalan's eyes, and the fear that had pursued him
since his first night in Wadi al-Uyoun, the sight of Miteb in the
flesh in Rawdhat al-Mashti which had deprived him of sleep and
peace for days and nights at a time, all induced in him the defiant
urge to follow and catch his father. He could tell no one of this;
even his mother and Radiya would not listen to a single word
from him about his father.
Could he and Shaalan both be wrong? He told himself, "I
might make a mistake, and he might make a mistake, but can
we both be mistaken? No!" Miteb al-Hathal had become more
than a father to them, and he could not be absent forever. Had
it been merely a question of absence, a man might have found
some explanation and put his mind at ease, but this was bigger
and more complicated than that.
All Suweyleh's efforts would have done no good had Fawaz
not seen Miteb al-Hathal in Rawdhat al-Mashti, but he was still
afraid, not knowing where to go or what to do.
He was silent and undecided whenever Suweyleh asked for
his approval, and he might well have remained undecided or not
traveled at all had Khosh not appeared.
When Fawaz looked back now at those moments, he felt that
a hidden force shaped men's destinies and pushed them from
place to place and defined their life and death.
This man, absent for long years, with no message or news of
any kind, who had brought on his old mother's madness and
then death on her last day in Wadi al-Uyoun, was assumed to
have perished in some nameless place. Scarcely anyone even
 .. 171

remembered what this Khosh had looked like; he had become

a mere memory, his features fading and waning as each day
passed. This man who had been gone all these years now returned
unexpectedly with Ibn al-A'sar's caravan, which came to al­
Hadra at this time every year for a month or so to sell mer­
chandise brought from far-off places-flour, sugar, tea, textiles
and uncounted other things-bringing back on its return trip
butter, wool and a few horses.
Time had much changed the seventeen-year-old who had gone
off with al-Salemi's caravan. He was a grown man approaching
middle age, or at least so he looked.
Fine wrinkles showed clearly when he smiled or was immersed
in thought or remembrance. A weather-beaten tan covered all
the exposed parts of his body, and when he turned up his gar­
ments or took off his ghotra the people wondered at the con­
trasting colors of his skin, but his facial features had stayed the
same or perhaps changed only slightly.
Khosh's coming was greeted with surprise more like disbelief
and excited as much endless nostalgia and sadness as it did joy.
The people's past life flashed before them without their willing
it, and there was an uninterrupted stream of tales and memories:
how he had been so set on traveling that his mother had in­
terceded with the men, among them Miteb al-Hathal, to let him
go; how he was the best of Wadi al-Uyoun's youth; and the
night he had left, how his mother had packed him enough pro­
visions-as Miteb al-Hathal said-to see him to Egypt and back!
When Wadi al-Uyoun was mentioned he said that he had
passed through there and not recognized anything; had it not
been for Shaalan and Ibn Rashed he would not have known that
it was Wadi al-Uyoun at all. When the old woman was men­
tioned he bowed his head and went completely silent, as if he
did not want to remember or to say one word. He seemed sad,
dead or like another person altogether; he wished he had come
c e 5 0 f s a

earlier to see his mother before she died. Shaalan had urged him
to stay in Wadi al-Uyoun and work with him in the company
but was unable to convince him to stay after Khosh heard about
his mother's death just prior to the leaving of Wadi al-Uyoun
and how Miteb al-Hathal had fled, no one knew where to or for
how long.
Delight at the return of Khosh increased day by day. Even
Wadha, who had maintained her silence since Rawdhat al-Mashti,
was a different woman: she could be heard making sounds like
those produced by children who arc learning to speak; her eyes
lit up with happiness and she became more active. When Khosh
drew from within his dusty old clothes the leather wallet that
hung around his neck on a stout thong, stuck against the flesh
by his heart, Wadha, j ust opposite him, watched closely, not
knowing what he was going to do. He opened the wallet calmly
and spread out all its contents in his lap with both hands. She
began to cry copiously. It was the first time she had cried out
of joy, sorrow and pain all at once, and this was very different
from the crying she had done on their first night in Ujra after
coming from Wadi al-Uyoun.
Khosh had done this with exaggerated calm, and when he saw
her tears he bowed his head but without sorrow, and stayed that
way for a while. When he raised his head again there was a faint
smile playing around the corners of her mouth and eyes, and
without a word being spoken the two understood each other.
Fawaz followed this scene silent and perplexed. Radiya had
gone in and out more than once looking irritated and upset; her
woman's intuition told her that something important was hap­
pening then, and that something she had been waiting for over
long years, and dreamed of more than anything else, had just
quietly taken place.
Two weeks later Khosh married Radiya.
"If you can find us a caravan before Ibn al-A'sar's leaves, we'll
 0 0
1 73

go with it, " Fawaz told Suwcyleh one week after the wedding.
"Otherwise we'll have to wait until he travels. "
When he told his mother that he was planning to return to
Wadi al-Uyoun to see Shaalan and work in the company, that
the search for his father would not let up for a single day and
that he would come back with Miteb, she seemed happy and
sad at the same time. Her heart filled up with hopes and fears
and her face looked stern, but she got up quickly and began to
prepare some things for his journey. She questioned him with
her eyes and stammered incomprehensibly, apparently asking
when he intended to leave and what he would need to take with
him.
''I'll be going with Ibn al-A'sar, " he said smiling.
Wadha had prepared him ample supplies of food by the time
Ibn al-A'sar's caravan was ready to go, and Khosh laughed when
he saw her, repeating what Mitcb al-Hathal had told her long
years before. "All this will sec him to Egypt and back!"
 Z5

]\ L-H ADRA SEEMED OLDER AND SADDER AS THEY

left. Even the children looked sad and en­
treating as they crowded around the caravan
and were less boisterous than usual. The men showed all their
sagacity and overdid their advice on how to tie. up the luggage
properly, but others paid no attention. As usual, the women did
not come near, but they did not miss a single word or movement.
Wadha al-Hamad, who displayed superb detachment, prepared
everything with such exaggerated care that everyone noticed her.
She knew deep inside that this time her son would be gone a
long time. She did things for him that she had not done when
he'd first left, and she monitored his every movement, never
taking her eyes off him. This discomfited and embarrassed him
a little, and when he bid his brothers and sisters farewell and
came near her she hugged his shoulders tightly and shook him
 .. 175

a s i f testing his strength, entrusting t o his body the strength that

remained in hers. When she saw his features hard and expres­
sionless, she shook her head with the detachment of a mare and
buried her face in his chest. She did so with all her strength and
did not move for several moments, and when she raised her face
to his, two tears showed in her eyes but did not fall. The tears
grew larger and at the last moment rolled onto her chest. She
took one step backward to tell him wordlessly, "You may go
"
now.
Khosh was full of energy and enthusiasm and stayed with
Fawaz and Suweyleh until the caravan was ready to move. He
told them many things that seemed irrelevant and out of context,
as if he were passing on to them all the acquired knowledge of
his personal experience, wanting them to understand and fully
grasp more than his gestures and head shaking could convey.
On the trip to Rawdhat al-Mashti, which took them seven
days since a strong head wind forced them to take the northern
route to al-Rawdha, their memories returned, and with them
the last moments: Fawaz, who exercised his self-control and
insisted on being tougher than a boulder, especially against the
old woman he had left behind in ai-Hadra, felt a deep sorrow,
which confused Suweyleh, whose eyes continually asked if he
were afraid or possessed by the same worries that had bothered
him whq1 they were on the return journey from Wadi al-Uyoun
to al-Hadra. No matter how Suweyleh tried to put him at ease,
to interest him in other things, Fawaz did not cheer up. When
Suweyleh began to sing, as he did several times, to the delight
of the other travelers in the caravan, he felt that this time his
song was sad or even anguished.
Did he sing of his permanent separation from places he would
never see again or people he would never have the chance to
meet again? Did he sing of his separation from Watfa and of this
unknown journey which would lead him to he knew not where,
c e s 0 J s a

or when or if he would return? Did he sing of the life and

memories that were already fading as the caravan moved out of
al-Hadra?
A certain finality fluttered over their heads and cried out in
the shadows of night and dawn. There was no saving them from
the unknown into which they rushed with each step from al­
Hadra, and from which they would not emerge until the end.
The strong gusts of wind dusted the men's faces and made
the camels skittish, ruined visibility and slowed the pace. Their
faces refle cted the violent inner strength which drove them along,
forgetful of their weariness.
"We'll rest in al-Rawdha for one day and then go on to Ujra, "
said Suweyleh when Rawdhat al-Mashti came into view.
He said this looking straight into Fawaz's eyes, as if testing
the strong intentions he had shown on their previous trip. Fawaz
said nothing.
"You know that from Ujra we can go on to wherever we
want, " Suweyleh continued. "We could go to Baghdad or Da­
mascus, or to Oman. If we want, we can go to Egypt. "

Fawaz's mistake was in agreeing with Suweyleh to spend a short

time in Rawdhat al-Mashti, then to proceed to Ujra.
Suweyleh was very much afraid that Fawaz would not want
to leave Rawdhat al-Mashti, that he would wander around look­
ing for his father, especially since they were crossing the wadi.
And after that the sudden harsh voice sprang spontaneously from
Fawaz's lips: "Here-here, Suweyleh. " He jumped off his mov­
ing camel with the lightness of a cat and pointed his bamboo
cane.
Suweyleh patiently nodded to show he understood and agreed,
or perhaps he was hatching some other idea, but he quickly slid
down, seized his camel and made her kneel. Then he did the
 .. 177

same with Fawaz's camel and asked abruptly, almost offensively:

"What do you say, Fawaz, to spending the whole day here?"
Was he challenging him? Telling him indirectly that what they
had seen on their previous trip had been nothing but his imag­
ination? Did he want to prove to him that his father, whom he
had seen here on the assumption that he had really been present
had gone somewhere else and that therefore it would be useless
to stay here and look for him?
Suweyleh must have reached some final decision, and now
wanted to compel Fawaz to go along with him where he wanted.
Fawaz was upset and afraid, and perhaps needed someone to
think it over and decide for him: no sooner had Suweyleh made
his suggestion to leave the caravan and spend the day there than
Fawaz felt he was being mocked.
"I told you I saw him here, " snapped Fawaz. "He was here.
I didn't say let's stay here. "
"It's a fine spot, and convenient. There's nothing wrong with
staying. "
"No. We'll stay with the rest of them, near the wells. "
"You said it, not me, cousin. Whatever you want. "
This was the first mistake of the journey; had Suweyleh not
given in as he did they would have spent the day here, the place
where Miteb al-Hathal had appeared and spoken to the men,
women and children of Rawdhat al-Mashti, where his voice had
drowned out the thunder and rushing water. If he did not come
in the daytime he would surely come at night. If he did not
come here he would surely be somewhere nearby. But Suweyleh
had agreed to continue the journey, so they crossed the wadi
and made it to the eastern edge of Rawdhat al-Mashti, by the
wells on the road to Uj ra, and the mistake was made.
Fawaz was a changed man in Rawdhat al-Mashti. The accursed
water had entered his body and paralyzed him. It was decided
that Ibn al-A'sar's caravan would stay for three or four days,
c e s 0 f s a

but one day had scarcely p assed when Suweyleh pulled Fawaz
aside. "They want to buy and sell, but we have nothing to sell
or buy. What do you say to leaving?"
In the same deadly, occult way, and perhaps from fea r of the
accursed waters, Fawaz agreed that they should continue on to
Ujra the next day.
The same measure ofjoy that motivated Suweyleh to continue
the journey quickly in a small caravan to Ujra filled Fawaz with
the dread and fear that paralyzed his thinking and immersed him
in silence.
Suweyleh feared that some sort of illness would prevent Fawaz
from continuing the journey and create problems they were not
prepared for, so he did his best to put Fawaz in a healthy state
of mind. He spoke of the world that the Sultan's Road was
leading them to, far from the harsh, deadly desert; there they
would find everything men dreamed of. Their travels would not
last long, but they would return rich. He recited all the stories
he knew about poor men who had taken the Sultan's Road to
faraway places and returned before long with proverbial wealth
and power; some had gone away again and others had stayed
away until now. They married and had children, divorced and
married two or three wives, sent money and clothes to their
families in al-Hadra, al-Rahba and Ujra, and would someday
come back themselves.
Suweylch had hardly finished the story about the men who
had traveled to faraway places and gone back to them when he
noticed that Fawaz was still completely silent and preoccupied,
so he began to sing.
Suweyleh tore his heart out when he sang. Fawaz had heard
him sing before, but this time, on their way from Rawdh at al­
Mashti to Ujra, he sang as never before. His voice rose and fell
like a dove and a falcon conversing. It would almost fade away,
only to burst out and soar to the sky.
 0 0 1 79

They had just reached the Sultan's Road, one or two hours
from Ujra, when they saw a tent, and a little farther on they
saw a group of men. In their midst was Ibn Rashed.
When Ibn Rashed saw them he would not leave them and did
not let them proceed to Ujra until they had spent three days
with him. Then he only let them go to buy some provisions
they needed, because "work begins today, and you get paid
starting from today; we cannot wait. "
Thus it was, though no one could have foreseen it, that Ibn
Rashed recruited Fawaz and Suweyleh and they went all together
on to Harran.
 z6

I
BN R ASHED TOOK CHARGE OF THEM AS SOON AS THEY
met just outside Ujra. "You have come, and God
sent you. You are my family, and all a man has are
his family and his friends. If he doesn't look after his friends
he'll come to no good. You must come with me to Harran. "
He had forgotten everything he had said in Wadi al-Uyoun two
months ago, and when Fawaz tried to bring it up Ibn Rashed
dispensed with the topic. "God curse the Devil. A man has to
act. "
He went on to tell them that the work in Wadi al-Uyoun was
arduous and below them, whereas in Harran "a man could make
piles of gold" in the space of a year or two. He used diabolical
arguments to convince them, and in spite of the deep mistrust
and bitterness they felt on account of his previous refusal and
Fawaz's inclination to turn him down, Suweyleh was hesitant
 .. 181

to deny him. Then Suweyleh wavered and finally agreed to go

as long as Fawaz came too. At this Ibn Rashed began to entice
and intimidate Fawaz and made many promises until he con­
sented.
After a few days in Ujra, during which Ibn Rashed gathered
the men he required, they set off for Harran, that unknown place
which only a very few had heard of and which none of them
had ever visited before. They stopped several times on the way
and asked the shepherds and old men they found near one of the
ponds to make sure they were headed in the right direction.
After five days they reached the sea.
They stopped and looked in disbelief: water . . . endless water,
as far as the eye could see. It was the sea! The sea, like the desert
in its breadth and volume, the very sight of whose fabulous
expanse of water flooded a man with joy and terror.
No one could ever dream or imagine that any part of the
world held such a stupendous amount of water. Where had it
come from? Had it rained down or sprung from within the earth?
Did the townsfolk of al-Hadra, al-Rawdha and the dozens of
other places behind the hills know that all this water was here?
How long would it be here-where was it going?
None of the twenty men had ever seen the sea before. Wonder
and amazement showed on their faces. From this spot they could
also see a small village that their eyes could not identify at this
distance. Ibn Rashed pointed, and everyone looked in the di­
rection he was pointing. "From what the old man we saw yes­
terday said, that must be Harran, " he said. They could see a
cluster of low mud houses with long ranges of hills rising to the
right and left of them. There were a few trees, but no one could
tell which kind from this distance.
In a silence that suggested secrecy or conspiracy they started
down the hill, headed to where Ibn Rashed had been pointing.
The men had heard the name of Harran mentioned for the
c e 5 0 f s a

first time in Ujra, and now that they had arrived they saw Harran
and knew what it was.
"Is this the Damascus you've been telling me about, cousin?"
Fawaz asked Suweyleh scornfully as they made their camels
kneel.
"Shut up. " Suweyleh laughed. "All places are the same. " He
added, as if talking to himself, "And this place is a lot closer
than Damascus. "
The people of Harran showed no surprise at the caravan's
arrival; they knew in advance that it was coming because two
of Ibn Rashed's men had preceded them, and perhaps there had
been other visits as well before their arrival. The townsfolk of
Harran were like those ofWadi al-Uyoun, kind and helpful; they
did everything they were asked to do. The only difference was
the people of Harran were very quiet: they spoke little, and then
only when they were spoken to.
Ibn Rashed gathered the men of Harran around and addressed
them, just as he had done in Wadi al-Uyoun. "Have no fear,
my friends, for blessings have come. Almighty God has opened
the gates of Heaven to you and now, God willing, after all your
toil and hardship, you will rest. His Excellency has spoken of
you to say there are no men like the men of Harran-strong,
brave and generous. This company is your company. It has come
in your interest to serve you. It is here to help you so you must
help it, and with regard to the compensation due to each one of
you, have no fear. God willing, none of you will be anything
but satisfied; every man will get his due and then some. "
He paused a moment, examined their faces carefully and then
went on. "The friends are arriving in a few days and we want
you to do your utmost for them, to work hard and obey them
as if you were their servants. "
After that there were questions and comments, but Ibn Rashed,
who had talked and joked paternally in Wadi al-Uy oun, dealing
 0 0 183

patiently with every man's opmtons, was a different m a n in

Harran. He was extremely self-confident and made no jokes; he
was serious and even harsh. He gave curt orders and spoke in
such a way that no one knew whether it was out of hostility or
distrust. When one of the old men said that they were happy
with the life they had, that they did not want to change it and
did not want anything else, Ibn Rashed scanned their faces care­
fully as if looking for the son of Miteb al-Hathal, and after
looking into each man's eyes for a fleeting moment he addressed
the old man. "Old man, in a few short years you're going to
say to yourself, 'If only I were younger and stronger, ' because
the happiness to come will flood the world, and everyone will
have his share. "
The old man blinked and said despairingly, "We've had our
share of this world, cousin, and God willing it will end well!"
Decisively, in a way that admitted of no further discussion,
Ibn Rashed told them it was absolutely necessary to cooperate
with the company and help them out. He said that the houses
they were living in would be demolished because the whole area
had to be changed; then he plunged into detailed questions about
the surrounding areas, their names, the distances between them
and the roads and how much water was available in each place.
A few days later a group of Americans arrived by the sea road
and it appeared that they had been here several times before,
since they clearly knew the old man and some of Harran's other
people: they joked with the men and slapped them on the back.
Then they went away, absorbed themselves in the papers they
took from their boxes and began to write and make plans. They
told Ibn Rashed, through their translator, that a ship would arrive
in a few days and that he should get the laborers ready to help
unload the many things that the ship would bring.
 Z7

T
HE DEMOLITION OF THE HOUSES IN HARRAN
began only a few days after the hellish ma­
chines arrived by sea. If the people of Wadi
al-Uyoun had shown shock and bewilderment in watching those
machines arrive and get to work, the people of Harran were less
affected. True, the ship that had dropped anchor far off the shore
frightened everyone, even Ibn Rashed, whose unease was ob­
vious. He was clearly alarmed when asked what this "calamity"
was that drifted toward Harran, and he mumbled a reply that
no one understood. He seemed placated after a whispered con­
versation with the translator, which involved a great many signs
and gestures, but he still looked surprised. His men were plainly
nervous and afraid and kept as far as they could from the shore,
leaving the unloading of the machines from the smaller boat that
was dropped from the ship's side to the Harranis. When Ibn
 .. 185

Rashed tried to spur them on, emphasizing i n his own way the
importance of going in and helping, the men responded by telling
him, "We'll do everything except go near the water. The water's
dangerous. " He understood them and did not insist after that,
keeping himself occupied as the frightened supervisor.
Most of the men felt pangs of pity as they destroyed the small,
poor houses. Until compensation could be arranged later, tents
and money were distributed to the townspeople, who gathered
on the western hills to watch.
"If we hadn't come, Ibn Rashed would just have found some­
one else to do the same thing , " said Suweyleh that evening, after
Harran had been reduced to rubble.
He showed considerable skill, attempting to convince himself
before trying to convince the others, in arguing that work was
work, whether it involved flattening houses, mining salt or any­
thing else. There was no difference at all. When Fawaz com­
plained about Harran's humidity, which he found unbearable,
Suweyleh answered wistfully. "Men adapt, cousin. Be patient
for a month or two and you 'II get used to it. "
In the first days a number of the workers thought of leaving
Harran, of going back where they had come from as soon as
they were paid, but the first salary Ibn Rashed distributed changed
their minds. No one had ever dreamed of getting that much
money, and none had ever possessed that amount before. They
received their pay in a silent, solemn, almost majestic rite.
On the afternoon of the third Thursday, Ibn Rashed suddenly
asked them all to stand in a line. Daham al-Muzil stood haughtily
at his side, and when the men stood waiting he called their names
one by one and took a handful of silver coins from a canvas bag,
and after pouring them from one hand to the other in a regulated,
ringing stream, he counted them quickly and expertly and handed
them out, asking each man to count them again. He turned away
to motion the man where to go, then looked at Daham to have
c e s 0 f s a

him cross off the name. When Daham nodded his head to indicate
that he had done so, Ibn Rashed had him read out the next name,
and so on until the end.
When Ibn Rashed had finished distributing the salaries and
made sure that everyone had counted them, he said that the
salaries would go up in coming months since the allowance now
subtracted for food would be reviewed: each man would have
the option of taking company food or preparing his own after
buying what he liked from the shops that would be established
soon.
Ibn Rashed explained all this in several different ways, and
then looked at their faces. "There's one more matter, my friends. "
He looked at them carefully. "The camels. From today onward
they are of no use here. "
He gave them a choice between selling the camels directly or
assigning one of themselves to take the camels to Ujra, where
they could be sold at the market, but he assured the men that
they would never get as much in Ujra or anywhere else as he
was ready to pay.
For the first time the men felt that they were confronting an
agonizing situation and a decisive choice; they were being asked
to give up the most precious things they owned. Each had ex­
hausted himself and made sacrifices in order to buy his camel
and knew that if he sold it today he might never have the chance
to buy another; in doing so he was committing himself to this
place, to staying a long time, perhaps forever.
Fawaz had fought long and hard to get from his father that
camel which had accompanied him everywhere for the past two
years; she was extremely wise, obedient and understanding, and
he had invested great hopes in her. He could not let her go to
an unknown place or person, and he was ready to leave his job
and go back whence he had come in order to keep this camel.
Suweyleh knew it without being told, without Fawa z alluding
 0 0 187

to it; he looked sad and lost, and late that night, after most of
the laborers were asleep, he asked Fawaz to go out to the desert
with him, because he could not sleep and wanted to talk with
him.
In the still of the night, in this place that no longer had a name
since the houses had been destroyed and all the landmarks oblit­
erated, Suweyleh wanted to tell Fawaz so many things, to talk
without stopping, but he was troubled and hesitant and substi­
tuted a song for the words that filled his breast.
He sang a sad song more like a whispered monologue. He
sang of Watfa. He wanted to fly to her, to see her even for a
single instant, to hear her speak one word. For her sake he could
stand anything, he could suffer or travel, to work anywhere.
When he had earned the money he needed, nothing and no one
would hold him back: he would return to al-Hadra.
After singing he spoke, as if talking to himself. "My insides
arc burning, God help me. Cousin, you have to help me! "
He was pleading. He wanted Fawaz to stay, to put up with
everything, even though they were able to leave immediately if
they wanted to. A man could not tic his fate to a camel; they
had to take up Ibn Rashed's offer and sell the camels, and when
the time came to go back to al-Hadra they could buy new animals
anywhere.
When Suweyleh talked this way Fawaz felt that he was very
far from home. He knew that Suweyleh would do anything for
Watfa, for the sake of getting the money he needed. He spoke
in a moment of anger. "I hate this place. I want to leave. "
Was Suweyleh looking at him in the dark? Did he sigh? Was
he trying to say that he would abandon or kill any man to get
what he wanted? Perhaps so, for Fawaz suddenly felt ready to
stand by him. He did not say so aloud and made no move to
suggest that his decision was made, but he felt dejected and
defeated, and utterly alone in this bleak place. Even his closest
c e s 0 f s a

friend, Suweyleh, thought of nothing but getting the money to

go home and marry. This being the case, Ibn Rashed could do
anything he liked.
The next day they turned their camels over to Ibn Rashed
with no discussion, and he gave them some money.
"Now you have nothing to worry about. We'll take care of
the animals and you won't have to worry about them. "
No one said a word. They were all thinking of the safest ways
to store their money so that it would not get lost or stolen, and
after long deliberation most of them decided that the best and
securest way to safeguard it was to have Ibn Rashed keep it for
them.
 UJ
ADI AL-UYOUN, UJRA, AL-RAHBA, RAW DHAT
al-Mashti and most other towns and villages
had roads from which caravans and news
arrived. People knew the routes and watched them for newcom­
ers; even when U mm Khosh used to wait, having tired of beg­
ging and searching, she did so in Zahra, always on the same
dune because it commanded a good view of the road and the
horizon. In Rawdhat al-Mashti the wells were on high ground;
this was where caravans arrived and the people waited and kept
a lookout even to Ujra, where, though numerous roads from
all directions converged, the Sultan's Road was viewed by every­
one as the road; all the others were tributaries.
And so it is throughout most of the world. The idea that eyes
might turn instead toward the raging water, to gaze unceasingly
at the sea-that men and caravans and news could come from
c e s 0 f s a

that quarter too-never occurred to most of them; but this is

how it was in Harran.
The desert on the other side was, most of the time, flat, hard
and desolate; nothing and no one came from its depths except
rarely. Even the food Ibn Rashed provided for the workers,
instead of coming from Ujra, arrived on ships from various
foreign lands. The bedouin who had at first refused to go near
the sea or take part in unloading cargoes from the small boats
were soon won over. It seemed to them curious, arousing and
somewhat risky, and before long they went closer to the sea.
They did so hesitantly, in stages, with a sense of experimentation
and secrecy. One of them approached slowly and cautiously in
measured steps parallel to the shoreline; he stepped quickly and
lightly as a cat, tracing a broken line near the water, then just
as quickly j umped back. They all tried this numberless times.
They sat on the beach and contemplated the water carefully, lost
in thought, completely dumbfounded at the sight of the Har­
ranis, young and old, diving into the water, riding it with such
ease that they seemed to be walking on solid ground. They
envied them for being able to do this and secretly wished they,
too, could swim, but their fear never left them, for "water is
treacherous, a swallower who never is satisfied. "
Later on they waded into the shallow water. It was enticing,
caressing their feet with its coolness and density, and with the
passing of time they did not hesitate to bathe in the sea; they
squatted right on the beach, where the water immersed their feet
and swelled up to the middle of their calves. They scooped up
water in their hands and with metal cups to pour over their heads
and bodies, but the waves alarmed them: they got up and ran
away, looking all around, afraid that these wild beasts would
attack them.
Among the bedouin two brothers, Mizban and Hajem, were
the only ones who knew how to swim; they had learned in a
 .. 191

well in their village. They enjoyed the water the most and did
not hesitate to help the people of Harran, going into the water
as soon as Ibn Rashed asked them, though they spent much of
the time in childish playing and racing. They were ready and
eager to teach the others to swim, insisting that swimming was
easy and could be learned in one day, but no one was convinced.
The others listened and watched, their wonder apparent, and
though they seemed to approve none of them was ready to
undertake the perilous experiment: the sea before them was end­
less. The way it carried and moved the boats despite their huge­
ness, and the stories circulating about how it swallowed up great
ships with hundreds of men aboard, leaving not a trace of them
behind, filled their hearts with a nameless dread that reached the
outermost limits of terror.
The new things-appearances and places-instilled in the men
a desire to explore and presented a challenge that could not be
resisted for long, but the sea, especially for those who had never
seen it before, excited undying wonderment and fear, though
the tales they knew and the others they made up did not satisfy
their curiosity. So in spite of the long hours each of them spent
submerged in endless contemplation, the mystery grew with
every passing day: Where had all this water come from? Why
was it here instead of in other places where people needed it?
The rainwater and well water were sweet and drinkable, if at
times a little brackish, but how had the seawater become so salty
and bitter that no one could possibly drink it?
Those who had come from the interior, from the depths of
the desert, were lost in a whirlpool of thought and bewilderment.
They were deeply troubled and afraid, and their fears increased
when Ibn Rashed bought all the camels. They felt afflicted by
total paralysis; in this isolated place, which had lost even its name,
they were only a band of men besieged, not knowing what to
do or what their lives would be like in the days to come. They
c e s 0 J s a

were prey to anxiety and whispers, and they no longer wanted

to eat. Some ascribed their loss of appetite to the nature of the
food Ibn Rashed supplied; others said that the smell of the sea,
which filled the men with anxiety, also made them incapable of
eating. Still others explained it by saying that the smell of the
Americans and the boats they arrived on would choke a dog and
made them unable even to go near food.
When the men reached this point Ibn Rashed was no longer
able to stall or avoid them, for some of them were ill and others
had demanded their camels to go back where they had come
from. At first he was angry and upset, but soon he asked them
all to be patient and tolerant, to give him a little more time, at
least enough time to travel to Ujra and back again. After that
he would grant what they asked: allow them to do their own
cooking. He only wanted time, enough to go and come back,
"just for the road, " as he said, and in the meantime he ordered
that the men be served more meat and rice.
The traffic of ships never slowed or stopped. Some were small
and others were as huge as mountains, and from these ships
came endless new things-no one could imagine what they were
or what they were for. With the cargoes that mounted and piled
up came men from no one knew where, to do God only knew
what. All day they unloaded the heavy cargoes, tied them with
strong ropes and hoisted them higher than the ships themselves.
Who was pulling them up? How were they raised? Everyone
was possessed by numb fear as they watched the huge crates
rising in the sky, with no one pulling them up. Even the man
on the deck of the ship who pushed the tremendous crates with
one hand, moving them from one side to the other, seemed to
the watchers on shore more a demon than a man. When Daham
al-Muzil called him the Demon, everyone agreed that that name
suited him. Their eyes followed him everywhere, monitoring
 .. 193

his every move, and when h e came ashore their eyes never left
him for a moment: how he behaved, how he moved his hands,
how he looked at the people around him. When he took off his
clothes, leaving only a small garment covering his nakedness,
and leaped into the water, everyone retreated. They were afraid
that he had the same power to j ump that he had to move the
crates on the ship; they were sure of it when he raised one arm
and beat the water-surely the water would rise and rise until
it submerged the whole shore. They thanked God loudly when
he headed from the beach out to sea; otherwise there would have
been a disaster. When he neared the ship he had come from,
Daham al-Muzil spoke. "The son of a bitch will move the whole
ship. He'll turn it over. "
He floated ncar the ship for a while, and when he began head­
ing back to the beach Daham asked everyone to move back and
be extremely careful, "because how can you confront someone
who can move a ship as big as a mountain?" When he reached
the beach and stretched out on the sand everyone watched cau­
tiously from afar, for this beast could get up at any moment and
might behave like a beast if he didn't like being watched or didn't
like the looks of the people. Nairn Sh'cira, the translator, went
ncar him and they began to talk and laugh, then Nairn waded
into the sea and scooped up water in his hands and poured it
over the Demon, who shouted, then got upset and chased Nairn
until he was four or five yards out in the water and fell down.
He got up again and tried to catch Nairn, who managed to stay
away. Everyone watched, waiting with bated breath until the
two men disappeared around the other side of the ship.
Everything was strange in this desolate place. The ships brought
tons of things that kept everyone busy, and Daham, who su­
pervised the workers, was not content with shouting and boss­
ing: he swore and cursed, especially at the poorest and youngest
c e s 0 f s a

workers, and the ones who had come a long way from the
interior, in his attempts to force them to work without stopping
or even pausmg.
Despite the arrival of more ships and the interest and curiosity
they provoked, as well as the exhausting work they provided,
depriving the men of any ability to rest or even talk, everyone
was in low spirits by the time night fell. Their depression grew
when the work ended and the sound of the sea grew louder and
the wind suddenly began to blow. The men were silent and
bitter. Questions that could be answered in other places had no
answers here; they did not know how long they would be here
or what their lives would be like in the desolate place where they
found themselves.
In this hollow in the earth, where poor mud houses nestled
by the sea, nature took shape in a fashion unknown anywhere
else: on one side a long rocky cape j utted into the sea, and on
the other the shoreline was shallow and sinuous; further on the
sea was broader and deeper. Instead of large boulders there was
sand, and behind the range of hills of varying height the desert
began.
In this depression, like a mother's enfolded arms, where the
water met the shore, far enough from the sea to avoid the distance
and the islands or nature's wrath, which flared up without warn­
ing, the small village was created in one day, the village which
named itself, or was named by some passing stranger, Harran.
It was hotter and more humid than anyplace else, perhaps because
the east winds, which often reached other places, did not reach
Harran with the same strength: the winds broke when they hit
the projecting cape or swirled around it. The desert winds, which
were fresh and sweet at times of the year, blew high over Harran
without stopping. When the sandstorms raged, Harran disap­
peared in the dust and the surrounding hills were buried under
huge quantities of sand, and before reaching the sea to smite the
 .. 195

water most o f the blowing dust fell o n the shores o f the gulf.
Harran was Hell itself in summer: the wind died and the sky
hung low like a leaden dome. The air was saturated with hu­
midity. Breathing was difficult and bodies were heavy and slick
from constant sweating. Clothing, damp and reeking with per­
spiration, became a hindrance. Men were overcome by apathy
and exhaustion, and each limb of their bodies felt disconnected
from the others, as if randomly assembled without flesh to bind
them together.
Other hot places were bearable at night, but Harran's nights
were no different from its days; when the sun went down the
sky filled with a light haze, which limited visibility and made
breathing a chore. The coolness that accompanied sundown here
was like a thick damp blanket which a man did not know whether
to throw off or burrow into, and the salty heat hung in the air
until an hour or two before dawn; only then could a man fill
his lungs with good air and rest, in anticipation of another dread­
ful day.
This was the weather through most of the year, except for
winter, which lasted about three months. Then nature softened,
became hidden and secretive, almost spectral, and man hardly
felt the heat or the coolness. The humidity disappeared; the air
was clear except for the days of intense rain, but even those rains
lasted just a few hours, after which Harran was swept by sweet­
ness-laden desert winds redolent of soil and rare vegetation,
which imparted feelings of well-being and nostalgia.
A forgotten human community lived and waited for such days;
they survived by fishing and receiving assistance from travelers,
depending also on the trade of the small ships that plied the
coast. Harran had little contact with the world, but it remained
strange and volatile though the town had but two or three roads
for the rare, brief journeys necessary to secure her few require­
ments. Men were often seduced by the calls of the mysterious,
c e s 0 f s a

arousing sea and set off in their small boats for the port of Mana!,
only two days away. If the wind or the powerful waves were
against them, they would be a day or two late in getting there,
but if the wind were far too strong for them, they would have
to turn back and wait for the next time. When favorable winds
brought them to Mana!, they behaved like madmen: most sold
their boats and continued their long journeys into the unknown
on one of the large ships usually at anchor in the harbor. They
lived, worked, sang songs and reminisced on these journeys,
and years passed before most of them returned home to Harran
richer in faraway places, stories and memories than in money
and possessions but able to live on their earnings for a year or
two. They went back to fishing and the life of Harran. Some
got bored or wearied of town life and sailed off again. Many
men did that, to the sorrow of their wives and children, but the
old men did not object; something about Harran made men act
that way; even the old settled men, whom the sea no longer
seduced or drove to make mad decisions, had in their time been
prey to the urge to travel to Mana! and beyond.
Just as the call of the sea was powerfully arousing, carrying
so many men to Mana!, the lure of the land behind Harran held
fascination for others; some of the men who went into the desert
and reached Ujra, then took the Sultan's Road to far distant
places, were not heard from for long periods, and at times they
came home close on the heels of news of their travels. The
travelers at sea usually returned with tales, but those who took
the Sultan's Road had fewer and more commonplace stories and
exchanged them for the many things they brought with them.
The Sultan's Road seemed better and luckier for those who set
off upon it. Those who didn't return or stayed out for long
periods never forgot Harran; they sent all they could to those
who had stayed behind-gifts, money, letters and constant as­
surances that they would come back soon.
 .. 197

S o Harran lived and waited, bearing u p under the pain of

waiting for winter. The people there who had known past win­
ters seemed stronger and more optimistic, and some of the village
elders went so far as to say Harran's climate was better than that
of many other places!
The humidity thickened and the heat, carried by winds from
the west, oppressed the air with a heavy layer of dust. The people
felt they could take it no longer. Surely it was only the images
of their traveling sons that allowed them to survive in this des­
olate part of the world and enabled them to be patient and endure
and wait.
 Z9

S
0 H ARRAN HAD BEEN SINCE THE BEGINNING OF
time, and so it was when Ibn Rashed and his
men arrived. The company men, who had vis-
ited many places before Harran, chose it as a port and head­
quarters of the company, as well as a city of finality and damnation.
The ships docked one after the other, and no sooner were the
huge crates mounted up in ever higher hills with every new ship,
than another large plot of land was sealed off behind barbed
wire. This land began in the middle of the gulf coastline and
stretched northward and eastward as far as the far-off hills. Ibn
Rashed and his men were asked to move to the other side of
Harran, no less than a thousand yards from the fence. Soon after
the arrival of a new group of foreign men in a ship different
from the others, a phase of work began that never slowed or
stopped. It was like madness or magic. Men raced back and forth
 .. 199

with the raging yellow machines that created new hills racing
behind them. They filled the sea and leveled the land; they did
all this without pausing and without refle ction. Ibn Rashed's
men were called together within a few days of their arrival and
divided into small groups of three or four. What with the crazed
racing to and fro and the rumbling machines that swerved like
untamed camels, the men were utterly frightened and confused;
they had no idea how to make themselves useful. They carried
the wooden planks, steel posts and precast concrete sections with
so much fear and misgiving that they fell down often, made the
crates collide with one another and dropped things.
The Americans gazed at them with a neutral curiosity when
Nairn gave them instructions, but this neutrality turned to
amazement when they saw the Arabs carrying the lumber and
steel posts from one place to another, and then the amazement
turned to hilarity as they pointed at the workers bumping into
the crates and falling down. The loud peals of laughter and
pointing fingers made the men nervous and bitter and they made
more mistakes, and one of the Americans moving among the
work crews and supervising them asked Nairn to dismiss the
Arab workers early.
The workers trudged in a herd back to the area designated as
theirs on the western side of the site, and in spite of the sun that
bore down from the sky like a raging cataract, darkness envel­
oped their eyes and hearts. Their throats were parched and filled
with a bitterness that gave everything the taste of colocynth.
They took short steps in complete silence, overcome by fatigue.
They wanted to get to their tents as quickly as possible, to fling
themselves on the ground, to flee in deep sleep from the imbecile
manners and mocking smiles and sneers that pursued them every
moment of the day.
Daham, who strutted like a rooster among the workers in the
early morning, busy and energetic, could not understand why
c e s 0 f s a

he'd been asked to take the workers and go back at this particular
time.
Now he was marching toward the tents on the western side
like the rest of them: silent, confused and defeated. He said to
himself that had Ibn Rashed been here when the Americans spoke
to him that way, they would never have gotten away with it.
It was Daham's nature to make everything his own business,
to talk too much and swear, and he wanted to get back before
the rest of the men, to vanish from sight, for if there had been
a mistake he would be held responsible for it. Had he been able
to give the men precise orders, to make them understand what
they were to do, things would have gone more smoothly. Why,
he wondered, was Nairn's voice so soft, like a woman's? Why
didn't he talk like everybody else? He hated him. He was to
blame for all the mistakes; he told them things only at the last
moment and always so that they could hardly hear.
Hajem and Mizban made it to the tent before Suweyleh and
Fawaz, though the latter two could see nothing at first. There
was unbroken silence. When their eyes grew accustomed to the
comparative darkness after the brilliant sunlight outside, Mizban
spoke aloud to himself. "God gave me a new life today. " He
was silent a moment. "If that black hadn't held the blasted thing
back it would have crushed my bones . "
Most o f the workers had seen the hellish yellow machine
nearly pulverize Mizban, since the black man driving it had let
out a yell and drawn everyone's attention. Now Mizban told
the story to all the workers to remind them how the terrible
incident had come about and why.
Mizban told the tale in a weary, subdued voice; he seemed
sad and happy at the same time; he could not really explain what
had happened. He had been at quite a distance from the "blasted
thing. " He was carrying a wooden plank and suddenly found
himself face to face with the machine. Why hadn't he heard the
 . . 201

deafening roar o f its engine? Why hadn't h e seen i t moving

nearer?-for none of them had ever seen anything so huge in
their lives.
Angrily, cursing, Suweyleh's snarling voice began. "The bas­
tards run like devils. One of them flies by, and you have no idea
where it came from or where it's going. They race and butt each
other, and rear up over each other, and the roar is enough to
deafen you . "
He sighed tormentedly and went o n in a sad voice. "Where
did these things come from? What can we possibly do against
them?"
"God curse the day Ibn Rashed brought us to Harran, " said
Hajem bitterly. He laughed, looking at their faces, and spoke in
a different tone: "If those machines don't kill us today, they'll
kill us tomorrow. "
Silence fell again. The men felt overcome with despair. The
hard days, the black days, were not the ones past but the ones
that were still to come. They felt that Ibn Rashed had not only
deceived them but had placed them in a desperate and irreversible
situation. They had lost the freedom to act while he went off
and abandoned them in this accursed place with people who did
not understand them and did not even know how to behave.
When Hamidi called them to gather for lunch, Suweyleh said
wryly, "Who can get a crust in this world might as well eat it. "
Fawaz did not move from his place; he had no appetite.
"God damn the Americans and their fathers , " Suweyleh told
the other men loudly. "They've come and brought all the evil
in the world with them . "

Nairn came to them unexpectedly that day, between mid­

afternoon and sundown, and some instinct in the men told them
that something was happening.
c e s 0 f s a

The men were sitting in the tents or in their shade that after­
noon, thinking or walking back and forth, looking at the sea
and the nearby hills, sipping tea after it cooled off, contrary to
their usual habit.
He appeared far away like a black specter, but no one noticed.
He was one of the other camp, and those of the other camp were
up to all their strange doings, as usual: rushing around like mad­
men, swimming, moving in packs like dogs, quarreling like
children, in a word, doing things it would never enter a man's
mind to do. His shadow stretched behind him as he came step
by step closer to the workers' camp. As always, they laid bets
on who it could be. Most of them guessed it was Nairn Sh'eira,
the translator.
Nairn did not raise his head as he drew near; he walked with
his eyes on the ground, as if thinking or avoiding looking at the
men's faces, not wishing to know that they were watching him
and following his every step.
He looked up just once, to find Daham's tent, and headed
directly toward it.
Daham had selected the first tent for himself so that he would
be the first, the nearest to the other camp and the nearest to the
path that led from the hilly western side to the Ujra road. The
men said to themselves: "Something's up; that's why he's com­
ing here. " Everyone began thinking, trying to guess what had
brought Nairn here unexpectedly; surely it had something to do
with the day's work. He had only come to this camp two or
three times before, only after Ibn Rashed had pestered him with
several messengers insisting that he had something very impor­
tant to tell him.
Now he hurried along, pensive, his head bowed, after a tense
day: he must have some message. No sooner had the men told
Daham who was coming than Daham came out from his tent
to greet Nairn loudly and ostentatiously, so the men's fear and
 .. 203

curiosity grew. Nairn swept into the tent without stopping or

looking at them, and they all concluded that something was
wrong.
"Fawaz! Fawaz!" shouted Daham from the flap of his tent.
For a fleeting moment Fawaz was afraid, but then resentment
displaced his fear. This was so clear to Suweyleh, who was sitting
by him facing the sea and turned suddenly on hearing Daham's
call, that he told Fawaz in a fatherly tone, "Be careful. Don't
make trouble, even if they try to make trouble for you. "
Fawaz was ready for anything at that moment, despite his
youth. He was able to assert himself, to command the respect
of others, and Daham treated him differently from the others.
Perhaps Ibn Rashed had told Daham to avoid him, or perhaps
the avoidance had to do with the distance Fawaz had kept from
him from Ujra until the present. He had rarely spoken to Daham
in the past weeks except to say hello or ask a question. But what
did Daham want from him now that the translator had come?
Why had he chosen him out of all the others? Had he made some
mistake, or did it have to do with Mizban's accident?
It made him uncomfortable, but he was ready for a fight,
ready to face any man. He ignored Suweyleh's words and did
not look at the faces of the men sitting by the tents. He had
barely arrived at Daham's tent and greeted him when Daham
spoke to him softly, as if he did not want Naim to hear. "The
translator wants us to talk with the men, to tell them how to
work . "
Nairn was seated when Fawaz entered and did not return his
greeting. He nodded briefly and gave Fawaz an almost hostile
look, as if he did not trust him. He spoke after a short silence.
"Do you know how to read and write?"
Fawaz nodded yes. Naim did not look convinced.
"Where did you learn?"
"In Wadi al-Uyoun. "
c e s 0 f s a

"Is there a school in Wadi al-Uyoun?"

"I learned from the sheikh. "
Nairn scrutinized the lad's face and watched his movements
appraisingly. One of the lessons Fawaz had learned from his
father, which he had put into practice earnestly in Wadi al­
Uyoun, was to look into the face of whomever he was talking
to, for when a man's tongue was silent his eyes spoke. He stared
directly at Nairn with equal hostility, or at least without the
submission expected of him.
"What sheikh?" asked Nairn sarcastically. "What did you learn?''
"Sheikh Manawar, the imam of the mosque in Wadi al-Uyoun,
taught all the children reading, writing and arithmetic. "
Fawaz did not know why Nairn was so hostile. His questions
were unfriendly, full of mistrust and sarcasm. His manner and
arrogant gaze, and the kind of man he was-slightly built, speak­
ing from between his teeth, as if the words were coming from
somewhere else-made Fawaz hate Nairn.
"Fawaz writes letters for everybody, " said Daham, to end the
pointless discussion.
Nairn gestured with his hand, as if to dismiss this remark as
unimportant or untrue, and spoke brusquely. "In any case, you
two are responsible. We've written out the instructions for the
workers to follow, and you have to explain them to those people. "
Nairn held out a large printed sheet, which Daham took anx­
iously and respectfully. He looked at it and nodded gravely.
"It begins with conditions and ends with bye-bye. "
Nairn said this almost inaudibly and looked at them ques­
tioningly. They were silent. He laughed.
"They don't report to work tomorrow. Tomorrow you read
them these instructions. Read them once, or a hundred times,
until they understand, and we'll start work the day after to­
morrow with no misunderstandings. " He added, sternly, "To­
morrow morning send us over three men to receive the new
 0 0 205

clothes the workers will wear instead of the filthy rags they
have. "
He struck the cushion beside him to signal that business was
concluded and asked, "Understood?"
Daham expressed his perfect understanding and unconditional
readiness to carry out his instructions to the letter with all the
servility of an abject, hungry animal; he expressed these attitudes
in words and excited, exaggerated movements, as his eyes al­
ternated between the piece of paper and the translator's face.
Fawaz felt depressed and deeply hostile to this short man, to
Daham for humbling himself, and to the mission imposed on
him. Daham tried to make Nairn stay for dinner, but Nairn
replied with a smile that spoke more of rejection than apology.
He shook his coffee cup as a sign that he had had enough and
stood in the opening of the tent looking at them appraisingly.
"We'll sec after tomorrow, " he said as he walked away.
 _3 0

{I) !THIN LESS THAN A MONTH TWO CITIES BEGAN

to rise: Arab Harran and American Harran.
The bewildered and frightened workers, who
had in the beginning inspired American contempt and laughter,
built the two cities. They lifted the white lumber on a winch,
carried the heavy steel girders, and placed them over the wood
and screwed them together; they installed the glass windows and
the shutters, and they did all the painting. Every few hours they
put their tools down to step back and look at another completed
house. The American engineer who watched and supervised
came over at this point to test the walls and ceilings with his
hands and with instruments, and if they seemed sound he looked
at the men's brown faces with surprise and some wonderment,
and repeated the same word: "OK. "
This happened again and again in American Harran, and in
 . . 207

less than a month the nucleus of a large and well-ordered city

had appeared and sped toward completion: hard streets, some
wide and others narrow, all perfectly straight, rolled smooth by
the accursed heavy machines and coated with a gleaming black
substance. Houses like the geese who flew over Wadi al-Uyoun
in winter, small houses and others so tall and huge that no one
could imagine who would inhabit them. Many swimming pools,
on several scattered sites, near them houses made of straw and
palm branches, and a long street linking the northeastern hill to
the sea. Hundreds of pipes lay by this roadside, but no one knew
what their secret might be.
An endless line of ships arrived, carrying cargoes whose use
no one could guess: even after they were unpacked from the
crates and emerged from the crude wrappings and boxes to be
carried away by one or two Americans to stand in shining heaps
of steel, no one had the slightest idea what these new terrors
were.
The Arab workers, who stood like dummies in the first days,
their muscular bodies straining the overalls and stiff new white
caps on their heads, were divided into small groups and sent to
different areas all over the work site, and within a few weeks
they had become different creatures. Words of praise and slaps
on the shoulder meant approval and appreciation. They never
hesitated to accept any work or to offer any assistance asked of
them. They were not motivated enough to take anything on;
after the fear and anxiety of their first days, especially when they
were read those deadly instructions, they had felt intimidated to
the point of despair, but doggedly, and independently of each
other, they saw things take a new turn: their hands moved more
quickly, oft-repeated foreign words and names somehow found
their way into their vocabularies, and relationships were formed
as they smiled and gestured more. Their fears vanished, or at
least retreated.
c e s 0 J s a

The ships that brought all the new "calamities" also brought
men in ever-larger numbers, men who came from God knew
where for purposes no one could guess at. They poured off the
ships like locusts and swarmed to every part of the camp. Their
housing was completed in a single day; even the food served in
that long hall whose use no one could guess at while it was under
construction, was ready for all of them.
Every finished building pushed the Arabs one step backward,
for after the walls were completed the roof was put up, and after
the windows and shutters were installed the Americans started
to do strange jobs, hanging strong black ropes inside the walls.
They filled the windows with iron blocks that emitted a cold
breeze. The men who had come by ship were each given com­
plete sets of clothes, blankets and furniture, and their very own
places to sleep. After a day or two they all had become one
group, as if they had always known each other, and were equally
driven to work without stopping. Some worked in the sea,
others moved the pieces of pipe from one place to another, while
still others assembled the machines which had arrived in pieces
in crates. They ran back and forth like frightened cats, naked
except for short drawers and white hats; most of the time they
wore nothing else. Their faces and bodies were covered with
spots; they had small scars on their fingers and elsewhere on
their bodies, and sweat ran like rain over their chests and faces.
Clownish people like these had never been seen here before, but
they became such a common sight that no one even noticed
anymore.

Less than a month later, Ibn Rashed came back with several
more men. Seven of them were from this region, from Ujra and
al-Rawdha, but the rest were from far-off places that no one had
heard of.
 .. 209

Ibn Rashed had left Harran when it was a wilderness, without

a single house or even any marks on the ground except for a
few tents and packing crates on the western side. Now he could
not hide his amazement at the miraculous things constructed in
his absence; he loudly voiced his astonishment to the group of
men. When he arrived and saw the men returning from American
Harran in overalls and caps, he threw his hands in the air and
shouted with fear, "God help us! What of your souls, you poor
men?"
At first most of the men did not notice how shocked Ibn
Rashed really was; they looked at each other and then at Ibn
Rashed, who spoke again, only laughing harshly this time. "I
said to myself, the Americans could never change the sons of
Arabs-never! ''
He went over to Daham, who looked silly in his tight clothes,
with his round belly and bulging rear end, and patted him on
the shoulder. "Man grows a new heart every day . "
Ibn Rashed had not got over his shock, but he loudly and
exaggeratedly praised everything he saw. He praised Daham and
the other men, he praised the beautiful houses the Americans
had built and said that the Arabs should try to emulate them;
then he somewhat shyly asked to have everything explained to
him: when the buildings were put up, who had built them and
how long it had taken, and when they had been given the over­
alls. He reached out to finger one of the caps admiringly and
asked if all the men had got clothes and caps and if there were
any left. He was very excited, asking a new question before they
had finished answering his last one, and in his passion to know
everything he missed many of the details that Daham told him.
In his excitement Ibn Rashed forgot to introduce the men he
had brought. They were deeply impressed, too, but stood quietly
off to one side with their camels, and when he began asking his
questions they made the camels kneel and began to unload them,
c e s 0 f s a

until they realized that they were still far away. In an attempt
to show equal awe when he saw what the men were doing, he
moved quickly and called out to the others for help in unloading
the camels and putting their supplies in his tent.
They made short work of this task in their enthusiasm and
eagerness to cooperate, joking and asking more questions; they
looked at each other, and then Ibn Rashed spoke up as if he had
suddenly remembered something. "Don't worry, my friends,
everything is going to be j ust perfect. "
The men gathered together and sat down in the clearing be­
tween the tents which faced the sea; most of the workers had
taken off their dose-fitting work clothes, undoing the buttons
that made the overalls as tight as molds, and left their caps in
the tents or on the ground beside them. In a moment of silence,
Ibn Rashed announced that one of the men he had brought would
work as a butcher, like his father and grandfather before him,
and sell meat to everyone who wanted it. He pointed to a short,
very dark man and said that he would sell goods to everyone in
Harran-all kinds of goods, j ust as in Ujra and other towns.
Then he looked around until his eyes met with those of a very
small, skinny man . He laughed, showing his gappy teeth. "I
know the bedouin-they like their own kind of bread and won't
touch anything else, and he knows how to make it! " He laughed
loudly. "Never fear, Arabs-trust in His Highness!"
No one knew who was meant by "His Highness"-the baker,
Ibn Rashed himself or some third person. The shamefaced young
man, who was wearing trousers and a jacket, who sat silently
at a distance as if dreaming or watching some strange play was­
Ibn Rashed said-the "engineerist" who would build houses for
the Arabs like those the Americans had.
That is what Ibn Rashed told the men. He was visibly tired
from his long journey but was still animated. He wanted to see
 .. 211

everything and hear about everything that had transpired in his

absence: the number of ships that had come in and what they
had brought, and the new people who had arrived. Daham an­
swered the questions as fast as he could, but Ibn Rashed was
interested in too many different things, and eventually he stood
up and asked Daham to accompany him to Arab Harran.
Ibn Rashed was a different man among the townspeople of
Harran. He was extremely gracious and talked to everyone. He
inquired about their health and asked if they were happy in their
new houses or needed anything. He was especially polite to the
"aged gentleman , " as he called Ibn Naffeh out of respect. When
he was through with his first question, he asked about the land
in Harran, if it was mostly public property or divided up, and
if it was divided up, who owned it. Then he asked about the
lands adjoining Harran, whether they were wilderness or pri­
vately owned. He was very precise in his questions and asked
Daham to make notes of everything he was told. On their way
back he told him to "take good care of all this, because it's
important, " but he said nothing more.
Ibn Rashed thought and made decisions by himself; he con­
sulted no one and let no one in on his secret. He had gone to
Ujra very suddenly, as if involved in some conspiracy; the only
people who knew he was traveling were the ones who saw him
ride off. He had asked the men several times to allow him plenty
of time on the road, as he put it. He had been gone a month
and now he was back-instead of solving the problems they had
had, he had brought with him new men and new problems.
These were his own secrets. On arriving he had asked about
Nairn before asking about anyone else, and when Daham al­
Muzil told him that "there arc a lot of new men and Nairn is
busy with them, " Ibn Rashed had one of his men go to the
American compound and tell Nairn that he had arrived and
c e s 0
f s a

wanted to see him on matters of importance. But the man came

back and said that he had not been able to see Naim.
"You have to see him tomorrow. It's urgent, " Ibn Rashed
told Daham. He smiled and said softly, "He is the key . . . we
have to get him. "
Daham nodded vigorously but had no idea what Ibn Rashed
was talking about.
 31

]\ MERICAN H ARRAN GREW TALLER, MORE SPA­

cious and more alien with every passing day,
until one afternoon the workers were sent
away early and not allowed to reenter certain sectors, even though
their work was incomplete. The large pool, for instance, was
not finished. That afternoon there was an uncanny feeling in
American Harran, as if something were about to happen. Ibn
Rashed decided to declare a holiday for the next day and a half,
to celebrate the opening of the three shops-the bakery, the
butcher's and the general store-but it was a huge ship appearing
on the horizon that changed everything in both Arab Harran
and American Harran, and a great deal more besides.
When the huge ship dropped anchor at sundown, it astonished
everyone. It was nothing like the other ships they had seen: it
glittered with colored lights that set the sea ablaze. Its immensity,
c e s 0 f s a

as it loomed over the shore, was terrifying. Neither the citizens

of Harran nor the workers, who streamed from the interior to
look, had ever seen anything like it. How could such a massive
thing float and move on the water?
Voices, songs and drums were heard as soon as the ship neared
the shore; they came from the shore as well as the ship, as all
the Americans in the compound flooded outdoors. Music blared
as small boats began ferrying the passengers from the now mo­
tionless ship. There were dozens, hundreds of people, and with
the men were a great many women. The women were perfumed,
shining and laughing, like horses after a long race. Each was
strong and clean, as if fresh from a hot bath, and each body was
uncovered except for a small piece of colored cloth. Their legs
were proud and bare, and stronger than rocks. Their faces, hands,
breasts, bellies-everything, yes, everything glistened, danced,
flew. Men and women embraced on the deck of the large ship
and in the small boats, but no one could believe what was hap­
pening on the shore.
It was an unforgettable sight, one that would never be seen
again. The people had become one solid mass, like the body of
a giant camel, all hugging and pressing against one another.
The astonished people of Harran approached imperceptibly,
step by step, like sleepwalkers. They could not believe their eyes
and ears. Had there ever been anything like this ship, this huge
and magnificent? Where else in the world were there women
like these, who resembled both milk and figs in their tanned
whiteness? Was it possible that men could shamelessly walk
around with women, with no fear of others? Were these their
wives, or sweethearts, or something else?
The men ofHarran stared, panting. Whenever they saw some­
thing particularly incredible they looked at each other and laughed,
and looked back again yearningly. They clicked their teeth sharply
and stamped their feet. The children raced ahead of them and
 .. 215

arrived first to sit by the water, and some even dove into the
water to swim toward the ship, but most of the people preferred
to stay behind on the shore, where they could move around
more easily. Even the women watched everything from afar,
though none of them dared to come near.
This day gave Harran a birth date, recording when and how
it was built, for most people have no memory of Harran before
that day. Even its own natives, who had lived there since the
arrival of the first frightening group of Americans and watched
with terror the realignment of the town's shoreline and hills­
the Harranis, born and bred there, saddened by the destruction
of their houses, recalling the old sorrows of lost travelers and
the dead-remembered the day the ship came better than any
other day, with fear, awe and surprise. It was practically the
only date they remembered.
The workers who marched down in groups to see everything
with their own eyes were far more tormented and depressed than
cheered by what they saw. For the first time, they were overcome
by the agonizing feeling that they had made a bad mistake in
coming here and must not stay long. Ibn Rashed did not seem
interested at first, but he sent a couple of men to have a look at
the "new calamity" and report back to him. He was busy plan­
ning for the men to resume building Harran, but even he could
not stay away long. When the ship came in and its whistle blew
twice and the men and women crowded its decks, waving and
dancing amid the lights and the music, he started and said to
Daham: "If your whole tribe loses its mind, what use is there
in reasoning?" He laughed loudly. "No one I've sent over has
come back or even sent word. Let's go and sec for ourselves
what's happening."
They started off slowly, but as the ship came into view and
he saw more of the scene, something impelled Ibn Rashed to
walk faster. He sat with the workers on the beach and saw the
c e s 0 f s a

women and heard their laughter. After one of the men let out
a loud groan, there was silence.
"Brothers-this is the court of King Solomon you've heard
about!" shouted Ibn Rashed giddily.
They laughed and began to talk and comment on what they
saw, and even some of the boys made rude remarks and were.
not rebuked by their elders.
Arab Harran was silent, and the men sitting on the beach were
rapt in their longing surveillance, but the festivities on the ship
and in American Harran grew noisier. The Arab workers had
not noticed that the first A mericans to arrive had brought musical
instruments with them, so they were astonished to see the drums
and trumpets and other instruments now piled on the American
beach. After the ship emptied and its music stopped, the music
from the beach grew louder, especially the sounds of the big
drums, which set the beat for the singing and dancing of the
partygoers, creating a new atmosphere.
"The American sons of bitches!" said one man angrily. "They
don't even mind if we watch-we're no better than animals to
them . "
"They eat like sheikhs, Mubarak, " Hajem told him. "And
why shouldn't they do just as they please in their own colony?"
Most of the men had something to say, but the blaring music
and dancing and the bizarre scenes that followed prevented them
from speaking; others were immersed in contemplating this im­
possible dream. At first they pointed in fear or shame at some
of the goings-on. They nudged each other to look at some new
scene, but as the party spread and grew wilder and the naked or
seemingly naked men and women appeared on the ship and in
the small boats striking dramatic poses-the men stroked the
women and then attacked suddenly for hugs and kisses, and
carried the women around on their backs, and made them sit
 . . 217

on their laps-the Arabs shouted and pointed more boisterously.

The climax was when the last boat came ashore with one man
and seven women. The women were reclining around the bushy­
bearded, hairy-chested man, who fondled, smacked and leaned
over them one by one and put his arms around two at a time.
He shrieked with laughter and jumped up, rocking the boat in
time with the drumbeat, and helped one woman stand up with
him. They danced three or four turns to the drums, which grew
louder as they neared the beach; then the man j umped into the
water and pushed the boat in, singing.
"The j inns of Eden, underneath which rivers flo w, " said Ab­
dullah al-Zamel, "with lads and maidens there to serve. "
"By God, it's just what Abu Muhammad said, " replied Ham­
mad al-Zaban. "Solomon and a thousand Queens of Sheba. 'Die
in your lust, you poor bastards, you Arabs! ' "
No one could believe his eyes: it was indescribable. Words
failed them; it could not be happening. Even the boys and small
children, constantly laughing and making remarks in their high
voices, eventually fell silent, utterly spellbound by what they
saw. The men changed their positions and craned their necks to
look, more fascinated than the children, at the procession of
celebrants entering American Harran. The men were mostly
quiet now and slightly dizzy, feeling sharp pains throbbing in
certain parts of their bodies. Some cried out, and most of them
wished that they had never come to see what was transpiring
before them.

The gates of American Harran swung shut behind the ship's

passengers, and Juma, the black man, stood by the gates with
an elephant-tail whip in his hand, like the king of Death. The
voices and din intermingled and grew fainter but never faded
c e s 0 f s a

away completely. Music and singing could be heard from scat­

tered places all night long. When for a moment it died away,
the men squatting on the beach expected something to happen,
for whenever there was silence and the minutes passed slowly,
violent screams of laughter burst out suddenly, followed by
music louder yet than before, and because of this game their
waiting was sweet and cruel at the same time.
None of the men felt the cold that filled the night, and none
of them felt like talking. The ship had arrived and the Americans
had filed into their compound hours ago, but time passed tonight
in a way it never had before. Although the people of Harran
usually went to bed early, except for a few workers who stayed
up to play cards, tonight none of them felt the time passing or
wanted to leave the beach. The children, fascinated by what they
had seen, could not stay still. They chased each other and called
out words their parents never imagined they knew! Some of
them ran back to the tents, perhaps to tell the women exactly
what they had seen, for it turned out that the women who had
kept far off when the ship landed and disgorged the Americans
knew everything that had gone on, as if they'd seen it all them­
selves. They even knew all about the Billy Goat, as they had
named the bearded man who came ashore in the last boat, and
could describe in the greatest detail how he danced, how many
women were with him and how he had jumped into the water.
They told the story with shame at first, then with more spirit.
They reminded the children to have their fathers come home for
supper, but they must have done so unclearly or not very in­
sistently, because in their excitement the children forgot to relay
the message.
Had it been a summer night, a night with a moon filling the
sky or a night that saw the triumphant return of long-absent
travelers, this long evening in Harran would have been one
 .. 219

endless succession of stories about the old days and far-off places
interrupted by peals of delighted laughter and persistent ques­
tions about other travelers and foreign lands, about rain and
vegetation; but tonight the men were silent except for anxious
questions with no answers. They were overcome by endless
worries and uncertainties.
Every one of them had much to say, and even the habitually
quiet men may have wanted to speak. Some of them sang, as if
to ·deny that their hearts were as leaden as they seemed, but
depression overcame all their senses and paralyzed their power
of speech. A feeling of bitterness spread from their dry throats
to their stiff joints, and silence reigned completely: even Ibn
Zamel, who had been active and talkative, strolling more than
once to the gate to stand by the barbed wire and reporting back
to the men whatever he heard, had now quieted down. He had
not managed to find anything out, so he got up abruptly.
"Good night, my friends, " he said weakly. He paused for a
moment until they took notice, then said, "These American sons
of bitches arc nothing but trouble and bad news. We'll never see
any good from them. They'll get the meat, and we'll get what­
ever bones they care to throw us. "
He walked a few more steps, then turned and spoke again.
"Leave them be-have nothing to do with them. God curse
them and the day they came here. "
Someone had to do something, because the mood of wariness
born of silence and expectation that now enveloped everyone,
and the departure to shadowy places near and far, and the phan­
tasm that suddenly blazed up permitted no one to think or act.
Ibn Zamcl, who had dodged like a hungry wolf from one spot
to another and urged the boys to j ump over the barbed wire on
the eastern side to have a look and report to the others in spite
of his own failed attempts, now instinctively knew that their
c e s 0 J s a

stay here would only mean more pain and problems for them
all. When he made up his mind to go and had said his piece,
they began to move around, to curse and sigh.
Ibn Rashed stood up and cleared his throat. "Like you said,
Ibn Zamel. We have enough to worry about. "
"Happy days are short, " said one of the men from Harran.
"And nights shorter yet, " said Ibn Zamel, now some distance
away.
"Say what you want, but I'm afraid we've lost our world and
our faith, " said one of the men from the darkness. "We'll never
touch the meat they have-we'll be lucky to get gravy!"
They all laughed because they knew what he meant. The
Harrani-whose pride was inflamed by what he had seen, well
traveled enough to know how people lived in lands far distant
from this desolate, unknown part of the world-did not want
to come back like this. As the laughter died down, he said,
"You'll know by the end of this night. "

No one in American Harran slept that night. The American

singing and shouting never let up, and some of the men later
said that the singing was louder at sunup than it had been the
evening before. Others said that the ship's whistle let out a loud
blast at sunrise, which only provoked louder singing.
Nor did Arab Harran sleep. After the men went home, the
boys stayed out to wander along the beach in front of the ship
and near the barbed wire. When they got tired of that, they
moved closer to the tents to sing, shout and tell obscene jokes.
Hammad al-Zaban shouted at the boys and dogs to be quiet­
"There arc people trying to slccp! "-but they paid no attention.
The men who headed home felt hungry but had no appetite
for food. Abdullah al-Zamcl told them that his father had always
 .. 221

quoted a saying of the Prophet that said fasting was the only
way to conquer sin and temptation and suggested that they go
to bed without supper. Some men thought this a good idea, and
others just did not have the energy, at this late hour, to prepare
food, so they decided to have only tea. They sat in the clearing
between the tents and sipped at the small glasses in silence.
They were no less bitter there than they had been on the beach,
and the stories they tried to tell trailed off as the desert rang with
the sound of loud music and shrill laughter. It happened again
and again. Even Hajem's and Hammad's ribald jokes, which at
any other time would have raised loud laughter, were met with
wan, forced smiles.
It was the same in the homes of Harran, where some men had
light meals and went straight to bed, though it took them a long
time to fall asleep.
Sorrow, desires, fears and phantoms reigned that night. Every
man's head was a hurricane of images, for each knew that a new
era had begun. Harran had been a desolate, forgotten village,
which received only the kind of visitors who came to sell or
barter goods and then promptly rode away-and then only rarely.
The only exceptions were the foreigners who came to bring
news, presents and money from Harran's own traveling sons.
It would have seemed unthinkable for Harran ever to change
as it now had, this quickly, for ships to bring such immense
numbers of people, for its eastern quarter to be covered with
buildings. This was unimaginable. The people had got used to
the new buildings and even to the new faces, but nothing had
prepared them for the arrival of this last ship. Ibn Rashed had
called it the ship of King Solomon, because the women it brought
resembled the Queen of Sheba, or were even more beautiful.
No one in Harran had the powers to describe to others what he
had seen.
c e s 0 f s a

What new era had begun-what could they expect of the

future? For how long could the men stand it? This night had
passed, but what about the nights to come?
No one asked these questions aloud, but they obsessed every­
one and visited the uneasy sleep of men in the form of phantoms;
their repressed desires swarmed over them as the night wore on.
Those men who went to bed wide awake, whose sleep came to
them in uneasy fits, woke in vivid terror only to be filled with
desire and warmth, fear and expectation.
 T
HE ARRIVAL OF K ING S oLoMoN ' s SHIP-OR S A­
tan's ship, as Ibn Naffeh called it-which sailed
off after sundown the following day, was not
the only thing that prevented the Arabs from resuming work
on the new city. Ibn Rashed, who thought more than once of
asking the men to return to work, held back and finally put it
off, because the frame of mind the men were in made discussion
impossible. Whoever didn't complain about the previous night
pleaded sickness or exhaustion, and the more honest or daring
among them did not hesitate to say that they had simply wanted
to stay at the beach to gawk at the American sluts! In Harran
those who knew where the stone quarry was and had the proper
tools for stonecutting considered their Friday prayers excuse
enough not to comply with any requests. So Ibn Rashed pre­
ferred to close the subject, especially after noticing, the next
c e 5 0 J s a

morning and afternoon, the clearly fragile state of the men's

nerves. They were pale and excitable, and though they were still
mostly quiet, Ibn Rashed told himself somewhat resignedly,
"Men are men. The workers left their families long ago and have
been patient since then, and the sights they saw yesterday must
have turned them into animals. I'll wait until they cool off. "
Most of the men usually said their Friday prayers in the mosque,
the only building that had not been changed; Ibn Rashed had
asked the Americans, through the translator, to leave it alone
after the earthmovers had flattened the ground. They seemed
deeply ashamed this morning, torn by doubts, sins and suffering.
The ones who had to go to the sea to wash themselves were
embarrassed, because the partygoers had been spread all over
the beach since early morning. Some of the men watched the
ship and others walked nervously, over a long circuit, though
if they strayed too far they hurried back, afraid of missing some­
thing; still others were so sunk in their own thoughts that they
noticed nothing.
"Don't worry about it now, Ibn Muzil, " said Ibn Rashed when
Daham asked him if the time was right to order the men back
to work. "The Arabs' minds are not right just now. "
When Daham made a face, Ibn Rashed laughed.
"Ibn Muzil, you know that there's a time for praying and a
time for singing. " He paused a moment and looked Daham in
the face without seeing him. "Yesterday the fellows sang their
hearts out. "
Daham understood and pressed him no more.
Harran may not have slept well the previous night, but it had
not been still for a single moment since dawn. People were
everywhere. Even the women, so reticent yesterday, were struck
with sudden daring: they wandered closer to the beach to see
everything for themselves. The young men who had slept late
this morning jumped out of bed when they saw the rising sun
 .. 225

and raced like scared birds to the beach to see what had happened
in the last few hours. The men, who were so deeply affected
and disturbed by the events of the night, whose heads were so
confused and desires so aroused by them, hesitated to go directly
to the beach, but they soon found sufficient pretexts for going
and set off.
The whole population of Harran was on the beach-all except
for the very old and infirm and the very religious, who stayed
in the mosque. They did not gather all in one spot as they had
the night before, but they were all there, for it was easy enough
to be in one place without any invitation or excuse, to see every­
thing for themselves. Ibn Rashed and Daham were busy, deep
in thoughtful conversation, when they heard the sound of distant
voices, and when the ship's whistle blew Ibn Rashed looked
attentive and stood up.
"So they're leaving, " he said to Daham.
They both started over to the shore, slowly, just as they had
the day before, even though something inside them urged more
speed. When they arrived the ship was still in its place, like a
white mountain, and sailors were moving back and forth pol­
ishing the steel.
"Hah. So they're still here, " Ibn Rashed said to Ibn Zamcl
and several others. "Do you think the party is over, or not yet?"
"The sons of bitches' party is never over. They party all the
time, day and night. We've had as much as we can take. "
"As our friend said yesterday, happy days arc short. "
"All our days are short, Abu Muhammad, and you know it. "
"You seem full of trouble. "
"Who wouldn't be, after what we saw last night?"
Ibn Zamel paused, sighed, smiled sadly and went on as if
talking to himself. "The men's balls arc ready to burst after what
they've seen, Abu Muhammad. These women might as well be
nymp hs of paradise. Their thighs are like fire. Bring us some
c e s 0 f s a

manacles. Get us some rope to tie up the men, Abu Muhammad;

we'll need it after today. " Ibn Rashed and Daham laughed loudly,
as if they'd had the same thought but didn't dare say so out
loud.
"To think they aren't even wearing j ewels , " said Ibn Rashed,
trying to provoke Ibn Zamel into saying more. "These women
are like sheep-white and soft and naked, and nothing else. "
"Abu Muhammad, my friend, give me a sheep and you can
keep your paradise. "
"Sheep don't grow on trees, Ibn Zamel. If they did, our trou­
bles would be over. "
"If I got one, it wouldn't be to teach her to say, 'There is no
god but God, ' " said Daham between his teeth.
When noon came only a few men went to the mosque to
pray-fewer than had ever gone before-and those who stayed
away had their reasons! When the ship sailed away at sundown,
its departure marked by events that could not be described, that
none of them would ever forget, most of the men went to bed
early. But before going to sleep they traveled far, traveled to
horizons they had never known before, and their dreams were
full of women, bej eweled white women with firm bodies, and
slave girls whose appetites knew no bounds. The men were
strong and happy in their dreams, and the women happy and
full of desire, and so it was until daybreak, when the men woke
to find their throats parched and their limbs stiff, crushed by an
extraordinary weariness. When they remembered what had hap­
pened the night and day before, and the dreams that had filled
their sleep, and looked around them now, they were filled with
misery.
 _3_3

]\ MONG THE TENTS THE NEXT MORNING, THERE

was an uncommon clamor of hurried move­
ment, of cries and shouted questions, and
when the workers came out to sec what was happening they knew
something was wrong. They learned, from barked questions
and answers, and Daham's racing to and fro and his accusing
looks, that three workers, two of them brothers, had fled the
camp. The third was a distant relative. What made Ibn Rashed
angry was that they had stolen four camels; this had been dis­
covered only long after they had left. What proved that they
had left in the first part of the night, as soon as the men went
to their tents, was the discovery of their torn work clothes,
scattered by the wind, at the beginning of the Ujra road. They
had sent a message to the company and to Ibn Rashed personally
by shitting in the caps, though one of the men, whose bowels
c e s
0 f s a

had not obliged him, had filled his cap with camel droppings.
After much discussion and examination of the traces left be­
hind, it was discovered that they had left Harran early, after
choosing the best and fastest camels, so it was impractical to try
to follow them; but Ibn Rashed refused to give up. He chose
Daham and three others to accompany him, and they set off in
pursuit.
The men were shocked and surprised, but the thought of the
three who had left inspired admiration. The three, especially the
two brothers, had enjoyed great respect; they'd never thought
twice about lending a helping hand to anyone; they were hand­
some and friendly and universally well liked. One of them was
a brilliant talker with a repertoire of memorized stories that he
retold magically, and the men often sought him out and followed
wherever he went in order to hear his stories and thoughts.
Now that they had left this way, the men recalled their be­
havior in the two or three days before they'd left, and though
they could not remember all the details, they did remember that
Muhaisen had played some practical j okes the day the ship ar­
rived and also when it left; he had even been behind some of the
children's practical jokes. Hazzah al-Majoul, Harran's nine-year­
old orphan boy, had thrown a cat into a boat as the Americans
left, creating a panic among the women. One of the Americans
tried to throw the cat over the side of the boat, but it hid under
the seats, and in the ensuing commotion, as the drums beat,
they forgot about the cat and it rode with them to the ship. It
later leaped from the deck and fell into the sea but did not drown,
to the hilarity of everyone watching.
At Muhaisen's urging, Hazzah had pinched the buttocks of
an American woman when she was clambering onto one of the
smaller boats. Juma the gatekeeper grabbed him by the ear and
squeezed it until Hazzah felt it had been torn off, and he screamed
 .. 229

and cursed all the Americans. When h e got away h e shouted

obscenities at the top of his lungs and threw rocks.
Hazzah and other boys gathered stones to pelt the Americans
and their boats, and ignored Hammad al-Zaban's shouts to stop
it at once, so Hammad ran after Hazzah and almost caught him
but then stumbled and fell down and everyone laughed. This
episode was remembered for a long time, and Hammad claimed
not to recall it even though the fall had broken the little finger
on his left hand, which was bandaged for three weeks afterward.
Muhaisen was behind all this. At the time everyone had thought
of them only as spontaneous jokes, but now they saw them as
something different, especially after his insult to the company
and Ibn Rashed. His escape and that of the two brothers had a
special meaning, though no one had noticed anything strange
and though they had not said a word to anyone, and it appeared
premeditated to everyone; surely the three had been planning it
for a long time. All the men hoped that they would cover their
tracks so that Ibn Rashed would never find them; if he caught
up with them there would be a battle. Ibn Rashed was proud of
his British rifle, which he constantly shifted from his shoulder
to his camel's back, to show it off, on the ride from Ujra to
Harran. He had used it twice, once after asking a man to set up
a target at the outset of the journey as they had left Ujra. The
second time he had drawn it in irritation and taken aim at a fox
but missed; the fox had disappeared immediately. Both times
he had used it to scare the men and teach them a lesson. Now
the three men surely knew that he would try to use it again to
assert his authority, especially since they would never surrender
or come back to work.
The men remembered their faces clearly and felt that tragedy
was in store for everyone; they knew that the arrival of Satan's
ship, and the temptations it had brought, marked the beginning
c e s 0 f s a

of an era of hard times, otherwise why had those three fled? Had
they been forced to steal camels and expose themselves to dangers
the others could only imagine? Ibn Rashed had said, when he
took their camels after buying them, that he was ready to return
any camel to its owner if the owner wanted, so why had the
three men put their lives in danger by stealing? And their flight­
why had they bothered to flee? All they would have had to do
was pack their belongings and tell Ibn Rashed that they did not
want to stay. Try as he might, Ibn Rashed could not force anyone
to stay or work against his will. He had been very flexible when
he left on the trip to Ujra; he had told them to take it easy until
he came back and said that things would change when he re­
turned. True, he had not kept his promise and had been back
for quite a while, but things would surely change, as he had said
they would.
These were the thoughts and questions that filled the men's
heads, but there was one real, unanimous conviction on the part
of the men: the ship, the women on the ship, were the sole cause
for the three men's flight. They just could not stand it any longer,
and had chosen that solution, having no prospect of any other.
When the men went to the other camp, American Harran,
they saw everything differently. They wanted to find some trace
of that night and the day that had followed it. What had the
Americans done, and how were they now that they had acted
out their pent-up desires? The accursed ship, and the women it
had brought-had they all left, or had some of them stayed
behind?
The Americans appeared much more cheerful and energetic
this morning; they smiled and behaved as never before, but when
they asked for the other workers and could not find them they
were surprised. Nairn came to explain and interpre t, but he
looked half-asleep and his eyes were bloodshot. His exhaustion
was apparent, and his lips hardly moved when he asked for
 .. 23 1

Daham and Ibn Rashed. The workers gave him vague answers.
"These bedouin don't understand any language but a beating, "
shouted Nairn. After conferring with the Americans-no one
knew what they were saying-he turned to the workers again
and shouted angrily. "We thought you were human beings, and
we thought you knew that work was work, but that wasn't your
mistake. We made the mistake by trying to trust people like
you!"
The workers said nothing.
"Where's this shit Ibn Rashed, and the shit Daham?" Nairn
asked sharply. "Where are they?"
The workers said nothing, possibly because they did not know
what to say, or possibly out of protest at his language and manner
toward them, and he changed his tone. "Fine, fine . . . if they
show up we'll settle it then. "
He muttered a few words no one understood, then divided
the men up into different groups and sent them to work. They
were seething with a rage that bordered on despair, for while
they saw themselves as guiltless, they regarded Ibn Rashed and
Nusayis, as they now called Nairn, with hatred and contempt­
and their self-hatred increased, for they had chosen to come here.
They were possessed by an urge to leave, to destroy things and
to kill Ibn Rashed, who had embroiled them in this predicament
in the first place.
Ibn Rashed returned unsuccessful at sundown the next day.
Muhaisen and the two brothers were continuing their journey,
no one knew where.
 I
BN R ASHED CAME BACK A DIFFERENT MAN; HE EVEN
looked different. His happiness was gone, and his
talkativeness and willingness to listen of two days
before were replaced by scowls and silence. He got angry at the
slightest thing, was easily provoked to shout and even curse,
and grew suspicious of everyone. He kept his eye on everything
and asked about the smallest details, but when they told him
what Nairn had said, quoting the very words, he nodded and
said nothing. The men expected him to get angry, to threaten
and curse, but he heard it all in silence. Most said that his fury
at failing to find the men and bring them back, or even to recover
the camels, would be unleashed on Nusayis. He would return
every curse with a viler one, put an end to that effeminate dwarfs
meddling and see that the men were treated with more respect.
As the men were preparing to go to work the next day, Daham
 .. 233

seemed irritable and fearful. H e did not stand u p straight and

his gaze wandered; he seemed confused. The work clothes he
wore every day looked funnier on him than ever before, as if
he was wearing them for the first time, and when it was time
to go to the site he ran over to Ibn Rashed and talked with him,
and from their speech it was clear that they were both uneasy
and afraid.
All the men were waiting for Daham and Nairn to meet; they
would stand facing each other like roosters: one would speak,
then the other, then they would start pounding each other, and
everyone in the camp would sec; everyone would stand breath­
less as Daham grabbed Nairn's neck and threw him to the ground;
if the other workers did not take part in the fight, they would
at least form a human barrier to protect Daham from any Amer­
icans who tried to help Nairn; they would stay by Daham and
give him encouragement. What would the Americans do? What
would they think? Oh, if only one of them would get into the
fight! They would soon learn that these Arabs they ridiculed
were stronger and tougher than their slim bodies seemed to
indicate. They would turn the camp upside-down. This was a
chance to settle things once and for all, to make themselves
understood. It would not be easy; if the Americans tried to fetch
their weapons, that would be that. Perhaps it would be best not
to take sides, for Nusayis would have to pay the price for what
he had said yesterday, and the time of reckoning had come if he
was man enough for it.
These thoughts and images filled the men's minds as they
walked to the compound, and they wanted to talk to Daham
and shake his hand to encourage him, but for the first time he
was walking at the tail end of the group. This and his appre­
hensive silence made the men hold back.
Daham saw Nairn from afar, standing near the mess hall and
talking to an American; as soon as the workmen entered Amer-
c e s 0 f s a

ican Harran, he headed directly for him. He ran clumsily and

almost fell down. When Daham came near and tried to talk to
him, Nairn motioned him to be quiet and wait, and so like a
child he waited two or three steps away. Nairn kept conversing
with the American until they suddenly burst out laughing and
the American slapped him on the shoulder then walked away
waving. Nairn turned to Daham and they exchanged a few words.
Nairn nodded and moved nearer to him, and after talking a short
while longer he walked off in the direction of Administration.
What did Daham say? Why was Nairn calm after yesterday's
threats? Had he heard about the men who deserted, and how
Daham and Ibn Rashed gave chase, though they came back
empty-handed? Did Nairn consider the men's taking the camels
a serious theft?
Nairn must have heard some important news; the men gath­
ered that from his frequent nods and the fact that he went to
Administration. Most mornings he supervised the counting of
the men and divided them up into work groups, with his usual
scowl of contempt and mistrust. But he did not do so now, even
though all the men were present except for the three who had
left, and their absence should have required a recount. These
facts, plus Daham's face, which had changed in these few min­
utes, made the men surer than ever that something was seriously
wrong. When Nairn stepped out of Administration and signaled
for Daham to follow him, the men were positive that things
were much worse than they had first imagined.
Ibn Rashed showed up at the compound shortly before noon.
He could have come earlier but chose noon because the men had
been at work all morning and the lunch hour was a much more
congenial time in which to explain everything to Nairn. And his
anger had ebbed considerably too.
Daham used gestures more than words to explain everything
to Ibn Rashed; it was clear that what he told him was important,
 . . 235

because Ibn Rashed nodded many times to show he understood

and took it seriously. When the two men met-for Nairn showed
up suddenly-Ibn Rashed spread open his hands and welcomed
Nairn loudly in a warm and friendly voice as if they had not
met in a long time. The men, who saw what was going on and
heard what he said, smiled and looked at each other disgustedly
when they recalled Nairn's words of the day before.
Immediately after lunch the workers were photographed, much
to their surprise and suspicion, and they talked about it for a
long time afterward. They were even more afraid when their
fingerprints were taken, and though they submitted to the pro­
cess with an air of resignation, they could think of no satisfactory
reason for it. They told the people of Harran about it and dis­
cussed it with the more recent arrivals, but no one could come
up with a clear or reassuring explanation, and two or more of
the workers talked of leaving the company and going back to
Ujra, because "Satan's work has begun, and once started it never
stops . " Daham tried, through persuasion and sarcasm, and the
occasional threat, to make them stay; he hinted that leaving the
company now would reflect badly on him. They all agreed to
stay for the time being, but their fears and doubts were still very
real, and for this they all blamed Ibn Rashed. He had acted in a
way that would harm all of them, had become a different, under­
handed person and put up a wall between himself and the rest
of them.
"I told you, 'Let's stay in our own village, ' " Hajem said to
his brother before they went to sleep that night. "You said, 'No,
let's go, ' and we went and here we are. Now look. If you think
today was bad, who knows what might happen tomorrow. "
"Go to sleep, " said Mizban, pulling a blanket over his head.
"Go to sleep, and maybe you'll have a dream about an American
gir1. "
"The American girls have all left, and now it's the Americans'
c e s
0 f s a

turn. If you weren't as ugly as a horse, they'd grab you and fuck
your ass. "
Fawaz laughed. "My friends, I think today was better than
tomorrow, and tomorrow will be better than the day after. "
"Ibn Rashed is j ust what Nusayis said he is: shit, " said Hajem
bitterly. He paused, then added, "That Nusayis is a bastard. He
knows people. You saw Ibn Rashed today. "
"Be patient, " said Suweyleh. "Patience is all. "
It took the men a long time to fall asleep, and when they
finally slipped into deep sleep they saw many things, but none
of them dared to tell the others what he saw.
 )5

T
HE WEEK AFTER S ATAN ' S SHIP ARRIVED AND THE
three men fled, construction began on Arab
Harran. After the confused and fearful anger
that had possessed the men, and the events that had followed
their refusal to eat the food Ibn Rashed gave them, especially
since the presence of the men who had been brought to sell
bread, meat and other necessities created an atmosphere of prov­
ocation, an agreement was reached; the people of Harran would
do the stonecutting during the week, Ibn Rashed's camels would
transport the stone and construction was to be completed by
Thursday afternoon or Friday, even if the Harranis did not join
in. And so this is what happened.
The first shops in Arab Harran were built from the remnants
of the big wooden crates, sheets of zinc and rough stones col­
lected at the last minute. The roofs were a mixture of zinc, junk
c e s 0 f s a

from the storehouses, cartons and what branches were left over
after the demolition of the orchards that had once set Harran
apart from other towns. The shops were built hurriedly, and all
the workers took part in the building because they wanted a
bakery and butcher's shop from which they might buy meat
directly, so that they could cook their own food, and though
they did not say so to anyone else, they also longed to build
something of their own, after building the American city from
the eastern hills to the sea.
The workers finished their task on Friday afternoon, and Ibn
Rashed ordered two sheep slaughtered to celebrate. Abu Shayeh
slaughtered them, and while doing so he gobbled up a large piece
of one of the livers. He carefully excised the fatty posterior and
offered it to the others after tasting it himself. When he had
finished preparing the two sheep, he turned triumphantly to Abu
Kamel and said, "This is Arab-style slaughter. Tomorrow let's
see how the city people do it! " Ibn Rashed, who was busy
I
socializing here and there, his robe drawn up and tucked into
his drawers so that he could walk more easily, was giving every:..
one construction advice, telling them how and where to place
the stones. He inspected the wooden planks himself to see that
they were sound, and when he was content that everything was
in order, he stepped back for one last appraising glance. Looking
satisfied, he slapped the dust from his hands and readjusted his
robe.
"Thanks be to God! " he told the men around him.
When the meal was finished, the men discussed methods of
building houses over their glasses of tea and coffee and described
the cities they had seen. Muflih had been to Egypt and seen
buildings so tall that even jinn could not get to the top of them.
He said that the Egyptians were the best builders in the world;
he had never seen anything like their buildings in any other
country he had visited. Ibn Rashed-who, unusually for him,
 .. 239

was i n high spirits-was very talkative and gave advice t o the

men who would work in the shops: how to care for them, and
to keep him informed of everything. He promised to help them
out in every way he could, and when he stood to signal them
that the celebration was over, he told the men to go to bed early
so that they would wake up refreshed.
"One year from now, the people of Harran won't recognize
their own city!"
 ]\ '
BDU M UHAMMAD, HARRAN S EXPERT BAKER,
sang as he slid loaves into the stone oven, and
sang louder as he drew them out. In addition
to baking bread, he prepared grilled meat and pastries and cooked
other dishes that he invented himself with whatever scraps were
left over. He loved life and singing, and rumor had it that he
was fond of "the stuff. " After working hours he was a different
man: when people saw him in his immaculate street clothes,
looking like a barber, they could hardly believe this was the same
man who wore a blue loincloth over his middle from dawn until
evening in the sweltering bakery. His brief and at times sharp
conversation at work was replaced at sundown or early evening
by chatty eloquence, songs and jokes; but not for long. His
excuse was always ready: "Dawn waits for no man!" They said
he went home early to indulge in his passion, because his eyes
 .. 241

were always bloodshot. Despite his gentle behavior and loyalty

to his friends, he could be irritable. One word was sometimes
enough to change his world and turn him into a different man.
Abdullah al-Abyad, the owner of Harran's second bakery, opened
seven months after Abdu's, said that Abdu had killed two people;
it had happened in Tihama or Sumatra, and that was why he
had not gone home to visit his family for years. When they asked
Abdu when he would go back to his own country to see his
family he evaded the question, and so their doubts grew; but his
relations with the people did not change.
When Ibn Rashed opened the bakery, Abdu was only an em­
ployee, and so he remained for the first year, but as Ibn Rashed
conceived more and grander projects he was advised to form
partnerships with others, for " the more working people there
are, the greater the profits. " Ibn Rashed thought this advice
sound, particularly since "Daham doesn't know how to keep
books, and Ibn Hathal is too young and will mess things up.
Men are only human: they forget, and they mix things up,
because the mind is not a ledger. " So Abdu Muhammad became
a one-third partner.
From his first day on the job Abdu adorned the bakery with
pictures he had torn out of the foreign magazines other workers
brought from American Harran. He selected them carefully,
chose the right spots to display them in and used flour paste to
stick them up.
Most of the people who saw his pictures were shocked: they
stared at them and commented on each one. The townspeople
of Harran, especially some of the religious ones, objected, be­
cause the children, some of them young girls, often went to get
bread from the bakery, and the pictures might corrupt them.
Ibn Rashed asked Abdu to be content with "pictures of horses,
castles and suchlike modest scenes, " and for a while Abdu com­
plied, but only formally and craftily, by hanging new pictures
c e 5
0 f s a

over the ones people objected to, and then only high up, so that
by blowing hard or waving one hand he could make the front
picture float up and reveal what was underneath. The diabolical
idea came to him because he had just come upon a magazine of
nearly naked women to arrange and stick up. He slowly but
excitedly raised the front picture, which revealed bare legs, and
mumbled and moaned at each small, slow revelation. He did
this whenever he was alone, but as time passed he grew careless
and let some of the people he knew and trusted look at the
pictures. This he did after carefully closing the bakery door and
checking to see that no one was looking.
Abdu subsequently elaborated on this process by placing pic­
tures of men and women together in such a way as to suggest
obvious activities, and this obsessed him; but not satisfied, he
touched up some of the pictures with a piece of charcoal and
assigned names both to the women and to some of the positions.
Finally he cut up some of the pictures, j uxtaposing them to suit
his fancy, and was delighted with the results.
Every day brought more work, and more people came in.
The Harranis began to build a neighborhood of their own as far
as possible to the west, ncar the hills. The original three shops
doubled in size and expanded every month, and the old road to
Ujra, which had nearly disappeared in places, was now so broad
and passable that one or two caravans came through on it every
week. No one knew whether to consider Ibn Rashed a resident
or a visitor, because he was always traveling but never told
anyone what he was doing. He reappeared after every absence
with a new group of men, all so different that no one could
guess where they had come from or what they would do here.
In addition to men who would work in the company were others
who spent their time surveying the land from the sea to the hills,
measuring the distance from one place to another with their feet
or with ropes, placing stones here and there to mark out the
 . . 243

places. Having done that they thought a long while and some­
times measured it all out again. The people of Harran were
relieved when these mysterious, closemouthed characters finally
left-their behavior smacked of witchcraft. But a month or two
later they were back creating havoc, and within a short time
there was a profusion of new shops: a restaurant, a warehouse,
a shop for cloth, rope and other merchandise, and an office for
Ibn Rashed and his new workers, where he received businessmen
and job applicants and paid out salaries.
Abdu, who found time to sing and j oke with his friends at
work and finished with his doughs and batters early, had more
and more mouths tb feed, so instead of the one large sack of
meal that had once sufficed for all Harran, the amount required
multiplied week after week. As to the preserved meats and pies
he had become proficient in making, he complained that he
couldn't even start on them until he had prepared the last of the
dough and taken the last loaves from the oven. His relations
with Abu Kamel, the butcher, which had been friendly at first,
had turned cool and tense: behind the many requests he had from
people to prepare meat and vegetable lunches or meat dumplings
in the bakery was Abu Kamel's wish to get rid of the last of his
meat and take the rest of the day off.
At first people accepted Abdu's firm refusal, but they knew
his weak points and asked about "the love animal, " "the sword
rider" and "the blonde. " They began to blow, and the thighs
flew, and the buttocks billowed, and as Abdu felt his mind
wandering and his resistance weakening, and they repeated some
story or joke, he became more willing to talk and listen, so he
retreated bit by bit, and after his categorical refusal the favor
was granted "not now, but in an hour or two, after I finish up
with this dough. " When he met with persistent nagging and
privately decided to give in, he finally spoke up sharply. "I know,
you're all thinking that Abdu is like a bridegroom's donkey: he
c e s 0 f s a

has a strong back, he can take it. But one of these days I'll get
enough of this, and then God help you all!"
In the sincerest voices they could manage, they told him that
he was the greatest man in Harran and the most generous, and
that was why they loved him and craved any cooking that came
from his hands; an hour with him was like a visit to paradise:
the rivers and streams and mountains and his virgins of paradise
were what made life bearable in Harran. Their rough hands
reached out for the pictures to turn them over, and when he saw
their playfulness and lack of comprehension in turning over the
pictures he shouted, "Fire! Fire!"
When they looked at him in fright he said sarcastically: "You
jackasses, you and him. Treat him with some respect, some
manners and grace. Otherwise forget it. " He stopped a moment
to look at them and shook his head. "Like you're hitching up a
camel or cutting stone. Put your faith in God. Say 'Thank You,
Lord God, we worship You alone because You gave us such
goodness. You are beautiful and love beauty. ' "
Sometimes he responded to their flattery and quoted poetry
or sang, which calmed him down, and sometimes he ignored
them.
This was Abdu Muhammad, and so he was for a long time.
Harran was hot and suffocating to its longtime residents, but
it was far worse for the later settlers; it filled their chests with a
strangling oppression from the very time of their arrival there,
unless they came in winter, and it got worse every day, aggra­
vating their weariness and distress and sometimes the restlessness
that could turn to violence.
Abdu worked and slept in the bakery despite the blazing heat
of the oven in summer and winter, all day and much of the
night. No one else could have stood it, especially when the cool
winds ceased and the air grew heavy over Harran, but he passed
most of his time there, even when he was not working or sleep-
 . . 245

ing. People explained this by saying that Abdu was using nar­
cotics all the time and did not want anyone to see him or know
what he was doing. He always locked up carefully and never
responded to the knocking of late shoppers who wanted bread.
When his friends, or those who considered themselves his friends,
came and knocked for a very long time his voice sounded from
within as if from the depths of a deep well. "We're closed. The
door is locked. "
If they kept knocking even after that or asked him to open
up, he came near the door to shout: "Keep faith in God, ye
faithful! Leave people to their cares and miseries. Leave us alone. "
This kept happening, and Abdu's responses and firm stand
did not change, so many people were even more positive that
he was using narcotics, but no one said so out loud or with any
intention of hurting or slandering him, because they liked him;
they knew they could not live without him. He had become a
regular feature of the new life in Harran.
"There's no sense in foolish talk like that, " still others said.
"Abdu worships those pictures, he turns them over and looks
at them and finds one to doze over, and falls asleep. "
No one knew precisely why Abdu was like that. When he
was asked he gave answers they did not understand.
"I have to find out who the scratcher is, who bangs at my
door and doesn't let me sleep . . . " He looked accusingly at
whoever asked him, as if that person had been the one to knock
at his door the night before, but no one confessed, so he shook
his head. "Maybe someone gave him a few coins and told him
to go disturb someone and wake him up!"
Then slowly, almost to himself: " Whoever the sons of bitches
are, they'll be found out. Dig a hole for your brother and you'll
fall into it yourself. "
They agreed with him to calm him down and changed the
subject by asking to see his latest pictures, and how he had
c e 5
0 f s a

arranged them and about the names he had given the new beau­
ties. Sometimes this worked, but most of the time it didn't. To
cut off questions he did not want to answer he said sarcastically,
"Leave the Devil alone" and looking in their faces asked, "Don't
you have work to do? Hmm? . . . Say something!"
Without waiting for an answer, he laughed. "Like they say:
People who have nothing to do play with their balls . " After
relaxing and clearing his throat, he wandered far away with his
many confused thoughts and memories and said, as if addressing
invisible persons: "Listen . . . let people work. In an hour you'll
all be hungry. 'Abdu, wherc's the bread!' "
But when he was in a good mood it was because of new
pictures. When he saw an opportunity he pulled a new sheaf of
pictures from his hiding place. "Look, by the Prophet . . . look!
Hair like a horse's mane, a radiant forehead, a gazelle's eyes and
a perfect mouth, no, better than perfect, pink checks-an apple,
by the Prophet! Swelling breasts. Hail, Lord Elijah, a thousand
greetings to you, Prophet Jonah, who was in the belly of the
whale. The belly, the belly, look! Oh!" And he paused and
looked at those around him, looked without seeing them, and
when his ecstasy passed he looked at the picture again and said,
"If you pressed her waist hard it would snap, " and he beat his
stomach where he rolled the dough and answered himself: "You'd
choke, you'd lose your breath before it happened. You'd die
before doing the filthy thing . . ."

When they asked him to go on describing the picture, to go

deeper and lower, he looked sad and said, "At the waist, Sche­
herazadc perceived the coming of dawn and spoke no more. "
On rare occasions, with a few very close friends, he would
go on to say intensely beautiful and tender things and breathe
hot sighs, hotter than the air from his oven. The men dreamed,
and when they finished they felt sharp pains in several parts of
their bodies, and weariness as well.
 . . 247

So it was for long months. Harran grew and more people

poured in. Abdullah ai-Abyad opened a new bakery with Dab­
basi. The competition between the two bakeries intensified, and
with it came rumors and slanders, but Abdu did not care what
people said. He heard and forgot. The war between Ibn Rashed
and Dabassi heated up, and the bakery was only one of the
reasons, and perhaps one of the least important ones. Harran
sank in the heat, humidity and flood of new faces and surprises.
Abdu was pleasant one day and irritable the next. People were
used to him and learned how to deal with him more nicely.
Baking bread was his only responsibility now; he no longer had
to deal with making meals, for several different kinds of restau­
rants had opened in Harran: some small, with limited menus,
for the workers, and others large and more expensive. And the
shops sold canned goods, fruits, vegetables and sweets.
In the beginning Abdu had been on everyone's mind, with
everybody keeping track of him and his pictures, but now they
all occupied themselves with their own business, hardly remem­
bering Abdu except when they saw him or went in to buy bread.
In those few minutes-if the atmosphere seemed right-they
asked the same questions: "Any new pictures? When will we see
them?" Abdu, absorbed in his work, usually did not reply, for
he knew when to show his pictures and when to hide them, and
most important he knew who to show them to.
In the daily routine of ever increasing and ever more com­
plicated affairs, people turned in on themselves. In spite of the
crowds and the endless influx of new people, each man became
a world unto himself. Dealings between people from different
and perhaps mutually hostile places were wary and full of ap­
prehensions. In the rush of everyday life few felt the changes
taking place around them, for they happened slowly, one by
one, but had they come to pass all at once it would have been
a shock.
c e 5 0 f s a

Abdu went on with his work in the bakery, and few of the
customers noticed the changes drawn on his face as they took
bread from his hand. His eyes had changed, and his body, and
his behavior. His pale, almost emaciated face, his sunken eyes
and his trembling hands, which grew shakier with every passing
day, and his almost dazed silences, were the gradual changes
which no one noticed all at once and which he himself barely
understood. True, his shaky hands bothered him, especially when
he was with other people, but he ascribed them to tiredness and
overwork. The clothes he wore in the afternoon and evening,
once always clean and neat, were somewhat less so.
Later, perhaps due to a mistake on his own part, or a trap laid
for him by the others, the enigma that had been so mysterious
early on began to clear up: after long hesitation he confessed to
a few trusted friends that he was in love. He said nothing more.
Who was she? How and where had he met her? No one knew
a thing.
Day after day Abdu sank into passion and torment, into silence
and seclusion. Those who had said from the beginning that he
used narcotics, that he did nothing in his small retreat but cloud
his head, were now surer than ever that they were right. The
rumors started by Ibn Rashed and Dabbasi, and spread by Ab­
dullah al-Abyad, went a long way to explain his isolation to
many: he was afraid of revenge after the two murders he had
committed; some of the victims' relatives might come to get
him one way or another, so he took care to stay hidden most
of the time.
Those who assumed that Abdu worshiped the pictures and
was infatuated with them had nothing good to say about him;
they took particular note of his shaky hands. They said that he
was addicted to masturbation, that he did it several times each
day and that it was ruining his health.
Abdu heard some b ut not all of the stories, but he was in
 .. 249

another world, engrossed in a problem few others knew existed.

For a long time he was silent and patient, but he finally confessed,
just as he had the first time, either by mistake or because of a
trap set for him by others.
After much hesitation, in a moment of weakness, he took a
picture from his pocket and showed it to the people with him,
and confessed with a humility more like despair, in an almost
tearful voice, "That's her. "
The men expressed their surprise and disapproval and then
began to make fun of him, and he spoke in a tremulous voice.
"She was on the ship that came to Harran that day. "
They understood that he meant Satan's ship that had docked
so long ago, and when he saw that they knew which ship he
meant he went on. "As soon as she landed she looked at me.
She left all the rest of them and looked at me. She did not leave
me!" He paused and then went on as if talking to himself. "She
was smiling happily, she was laughing. The day the ship left she
left the others and kept looking at me and smiling. Even when
the ship was sailing away she kept waving and smiling. "
The men listened but said nothing.
They all were touched with pity and concern to see him in
such pain, and after a long silence he went on. "I found her
picture in a magazine, and if someone comes along who can read
and write, he'll read her address and write me a letter I can send
to her. Then she'll come. "
 37

S
OME UNEXPLAINED KINSHIP BETWEEN D ABBASI
and the townspeople ofHarran made them call
him "uncle. " Even men of his age or a little
older called him that as a mark of respect. He had come to Harran
in the very early days, two or three weeks after the arrival of
Satan's ship. Ibn Rashed said that the Harranis were idiots:
"Whoever doesn't have a big shot to protect him has to look
for one or go and buy one. They'll send a messenger to go and
find them an ancestor or a tent peg, and he'll bring them a devil.
He'll bring them a plow . "
I t was clear that the people were deeply worried by the waves
upon waves of foreigners. They had seen the Americans, and
the ship-the curse that had changed so many of their lives­
and before that the tractors that had torn up the earth, smashed
houses and filled in the sea. When Ibn Rashed began to recruit
 .. 25 1

young men to send to American Harran, the townspeople were

so afraid that they did not know what to do. They wanted to
find some eminent, powerful man to protect them and confront
the flood that came nearer every day. Then Dabbasi came.
No one knew what Dabbasi had been told or what had prompted
him to move so quickly. He had lived in Ujra a long time, or
more precisely had had a store in Ujra and spent much of the
year there, for he traveled a great deal along the Sultan's Road.
He had visited Harran long ago: the first time in his youth and
the second time just five years ago. It may have been by force
of his travels or the shop he had in Ujra, which gave him links
to the people of Harran because of delivering letters, especially
letters from their travelers and the money they sent, but he also
sent two or three caravans to Harran each year to buy supplies.
Because of blood kinship, or perhaps for other reasons, they
regarded him as generous, but he was still difficult to deal with
in buying and selling. Harran's residents and travelers alike were
used to him. They entrusted their money to him and he arranged
credit for them, and whenever one of them went to Ujra, the
first person he asked about and visited was Dabbasi.
So the people of Harran were not surprised by Dabbasi's com­
ing; in fact they were overjoyed. But Ibn Rashed did not like it;
he thought it an ill omen. Only a few days after Dabbasi settled
in Harran and began mixing with the people, the two men started
a silent feud. Although they treated each other with outward
friendliness and respect, it was clear to everyone that each of the
two was preparing himself for the coming battle.
The Harranis who had chosen the western side of town, and
begun to build their houses there, ignored most of what Ibn
Rashed told them; they stalled and put off building. Some who
had decided to sell their land now turned down any offer to buy.
Even the land American Harran was built on was, they said,
grazing land for their animals, and now that it had been taken
c e s
0 f s a

from them they wanted compensation. They hinted vaguely that

they had contacted the officials to find a solution before matters
got much worse.
Dabbasi, who had spent a month or more in Harran and
personally supervised the building of some of the houses in the
west, went back to Ujra, to return, he said, as soon as possible.
He promised to ask all the Harranis he met, or communicated
with, to return to Harran as soon as possible. He told them to
"hold fast to the land at any cost, for it is your only capital . "
So much for I b n Rashed's efforts and the preliminary agreements
he had reached with them in the new and complicated series of
negotiations and stalling. Instead of giving in, Ibn Rashed ini­
tiated a new war by having sorhe of his people inform the Har­
ranis that "all the land belongs to the government; it is the
government's privilege to take and give out land" and that "they
couldn't eat or drink land, so they had better take what was
being offered them now, because someday the land might be
taken from them, and then they would be no better than
refugees. "
The Harranis listened to Dabbasi and nodded, and heard what
Ibn Rashed had conveyed to them, and nodded, and were pro­
foundly bewildered. They did not know whether to sell or not
to sell. If they sold the land, would Ibn Rashed pay a fair price?
Would anyone else buy if he did not? Who had the money to
buy land no one had ever before thought worth buying or selling?
Was it really theirs to do with it as they pleased without being
punished by the government?
Ibn Rashed often went on long visits to American Harran,
and sometimes he spent the whole evening or brought Americans
back to his home to spend the evening there. Before going into
his tent, his visitors walked along the beach as far as the western
hills, looking closely into the Arabs' faces and not hesitating to
talk to old and young alike. Some of them knew Ara bic, but
 .. 253

their pronunciation was ridiculous. Having finished their stroll,

with all its little incidents which the townspeople regarded as
being of the deepest significance, they headed for Ibn Rashed's
tent, and he slaughtered an animal and gave them a banquet.
When it was over he sent a messenger or two to the Harranis,
offering to buy their land and to help them if they depended on
him and trusted him, but his generous promises were accom­
panied by indirect threats.
Their confusion and fear mounted. What could they do? How
long could they wait? Dabbasi had gone to Ujra and tarried
there, and no one even knew if he planned to come back. Even
if he did come back, was he strong enough to confront Ibn
Rashed?
Their doubts and fears increased with the profusion of people
and the commotion. When they did not respond directly to Ibn
Rashed's offers, he sent them a new messenger.
"lban Rashed didn't send me. I came on my own. "
They said nothing, but waited for him to speak.
"You must have heard about what happened in Wadi al-Uyoun.
There isn't a single house or person left there-everyone had to
leave. They were all scattered under the stars, some in the east
and some in the west. Here, in Harran, some of the workers are
originally from Wadi al-Uyoun. "
He paused so that they might all see his point, and register it
in their hearts and minds, and remember their traveling loved
ones, and then he continued. " Common sense is the best thing
a man has, and sensible people know what to do: they give and
take, and buy and sell. Stubborn people lose everything they've
got. "
They thought this over after he left, and a new messenger
came the next day who asked them, in a tone somewhere be­
tween wheedling and bullying, "So what have you good men
decided?"
c e s 0 f s a

Their eyes said nothing.

"Ibn Rashed says: The land from the graveyard to the last hill
in the west belongs to the people of Harran, to them and no one
else, and from the graveyard to the market is for sale to whom­
ever will buy, at market price. If you sell it to him he'll pay well
above the market price. "
Some of the Harranis sold, and Ibn Rashed bought from sev­
eral persons. As the buying and selling were consummated he
knew that they were waiting, so he generously opened his sack
of money as he wrote out the contracts with the help of Daham
and Ibn Hathal and took the sellers' fingerprints, and the trans­
actions were witnessed by several of the people present. The
Harranis were surprised at this method of selling-they were
not used to signing papers, and some of them were afraid to
leave their fingerprints. One of them refused to put his thumb­
prints on paper and said that he had a seal that had been wrought
for him in Damascus years before; Ibn Rashed was satisfied with
the seal, the fingerprints and the witnesses.
"My friends, the man has sold and I have bought. This paper
is worthless, because a man's word is worth more than any paper
or money, but this world is life and death. The land he has sold
goes from east of the graveyard up to the mosque. You are the
witnesses. "
The land that Ibn Rashed had bought was marked off in a
primitive but deliberate way, by placing stones in the corners
after the distances were measured out with rope. On part of it
he built a storehouse for the lumber he had brought from Amer­
ican Harran, and on another large site he piled heaps of rock
which his camels had carried from the quarries west of the city.
He moved the camel stand from the Ujra road to a spot near
the market.
Ibn Rashed acted with a speed and confidence that excited
 .. 255

quite as much envy a s admiration, particularly since the Amer­

icans who came to Arab Harran to visit Ibn Rashed spent an
increasing amount of time among the people, and more time
with Ibn Rashed himself, but Nusayis no longer came with them,
as he had before. They did nothing but talk to the people and
ask them all kinds of questions.
Many said that the ones who spoke Arabic were all old and
could not work. Others said that they were infidels and wanted
to make everyone else like them. Like devils they moved from
one place to another, and Ibn Rashed was the devils' confidant.
Three months and a few days later Dabbasi came back, bring­
ing two of his sons and three other relatives. This time he stayed,
settling for good, leaving his middle son in Ujra. With his com.­
ing a new era began in Harran.

Dab basi was, in spite of his long delay, very confident when he
arrived. That was plain from the first night, and everything he
did subsequently confirmed it. His travels had taken him to many
far-off places, such as Egypt, and he had crossed the sea three
times, once from the port of Alexandria to Haifa during the war,
and twice from Beirut to Gaza and Port Said a few years after
the war; he traveled the Sultan's Road two or three times each
year to Iraq, Damascus, east of the Jordan and Palestine. His
spirit of adventure showed even in buying and selling. His travels
and his energy made him decide, without a second thought, to
choose Harran as his new home; and he came prepared, with his
sons and relatives.
Deep in his heart he had already decided to work without any
regard for Ibn Rashed or anyone else, for "the earth is wide,
there is room enough for everyone, the clever and the stupid,
and everyone in between ! " That was what he told Majbal al-
c e 5
0 f s a

Khursa, his partner in Ujra, who had refused to extend their

partnership to "that graveyard that even ghosts try to avoid. "
Al-Khursa thought that his partner was embarking on an un­
necessary adventure, and a very risky one. Dabbasi's other ad­
ventures had paid off-once he had bought a flock of sheep,
without even the price of a single head of them in his pocket,
and sold them all the next day at an unheard-of profit; he had
bought sugar, flour and textiles from a large supply caravan,
spending all the money he had, but the prices had plunged in
Ujra after the arrival of several other caravans. He had refused
to sell at a loss and been able to wait, fearing only that the flour
would get weevily. A sudden flood detained the other caravans
and led to a rise in prices, with the result that Dabbasi made
huge profits that year. These and other stories said much about
his personality and his constant readiness to embark on adven­
tures and begin anew, but the fact that so many ofhis adventures
had succeeded did not mean that the opportunity available to
him now would succeed. So as a token of the confidence and
commitment between him and his partners, Dabbasi left his son
Jasser in Ujra and took his other two sons, big Saleh and little
Hmeidi, with him.
They arrived with no great fanfare and settled in Arab Harran
as he had done before. Dabbasi learned, his first night, all that
had taken place since he had left. He was disappointed that some
of the people of Harran had sold their land, but he did not discuss
it long or dwell on the point. What had happened was done
with, and there was no good in regret or recriminations.
"The people of Harran got some benefit from the deal, " he
said at the end of the evening, "and if the foreigners have opened
their mouths and bellies and come here, like Ibn Rashed and the
others, then we must be greedier than ants and more cunning
than foxes!"
 .. 257

He did not wait, but began the next day.

His specialties were real estate and trading. On his third day
he invited Ibn Rashed to a meal.
"We are the sons of the Sultan's Road, " he told him, "and
we know nothing but business. We buy and sell, we lose once
and profit the next two times, and so on. You know how it
goes. "
Ibn Rashed had no quarrel with these sentiments but did not
know what he was getting at. What could Dabbasi do? What
was he doing? He seemed humble and friendly, but how long
would that last? Was Harran big enough for two men like himself
and Dabbasi?
"My friends, " Dabbasi told the Harranis, "you are the nerve
center, you are the backbone. Have no fear. "
When the Harranis were quiet, as was their habit, he went on
hastily. "You don't need these people; they need you. You may
be poor today, but everyone says that there's gold under your
feet. Just be patient. "
They said nothing. They looked at him calmly but did not
speak.
"The problem is easy and difficult, but not like before, " he
said paternally. "Hold fast to the land-hang on to it with your
teeth and pretend that nothing has changed. Don't sell even if
the sky falls. Stay where you are . "
After much explanation the Harranis understood that Dabbasi
wanted them to be patient, to wait and, most important, to let
him do as he pleased, but still they said nothing. They sensed
that they were entering a battle of unknown duration. They had
only these two men, Ibn Rashed and Dabbasi. They had known
Dabbasi for a long time, though only by way of business deals
and the letters and caravans that came each year, but for several
months, until the present, they had seen only Ibn Rashed. They
c e s 0 f s a

knew how he talked, how he sent messengers, and they knew

best of all how he meant for them to give him whatever he
wanted. Now they heard Dabbasi speaking this way and they
did not know what he wanted of them. True, they had left their
previous homes and started anew here; they saw how life changed
and rolled like the sea, how the foreigners increased by the day;
nothing was as it had been before, but they did not know what
to do, or what Dab basi was asking of them.
"We are patient people, uncle, " one of the old men told him.
"Our children are gone traveling-they left years ago. We say
it's a good thing to keep moving, and they do come back, if not
this year then next year. Praise God, we are more patient than
camels, but from the day those devils came nothing has been
the same. Since the ship came even our children have changed
on us. You can see for yourself that everyone on earth is coming
here. What will we do today and tomorrow? The world is all
.

rum. "
The old man had spoken, and the others spoke their minds.
Dabbasi listened, nodding his head in agreement. When they
had finished, he stroked his small beard.
"The old Harran you knew is gone. It has been obliterated.
Nothing is left of it but the mosque and the cemetery, and maybe
tomorrow or the next day Ibn Rashed or someone else will come
and build a cinema in its place. They may build a whorehouse
over the graveyard. To someone not of this land and this town,
all land is the same-it's just land. Men are all the same, and a
native of this town is like a stranger, and a Muslim is like a
Jew. "
They followed all this, listening attentively. They did not
understand all the words he used. He sensed that he had gone
too far and shifted his sitting posture.
"Right now the most important thing is the people of this
town. Everyone must get his rights and his share. Those people
 .. 259

have eaten their fill and increased their numbers, but the people
of Harran are the most generous people you will ever meet. So
welcome, Ibn Rashed and all the rest. "
That night the Harranis understood that a relentless war was
at hand, and that the enemy was Ibn Rashed. They did not
exactly understand whether he was their enemy or Dabbasi's,
and they slept uneasily that night.
 0 NE OF THE FIRST UNDERTAKINGS D ABBASI EM­
barked upon-unhesitatingly, for he must have
decided to do so during his previous stay in
Harran-was to marry a Harrani woman.
By the time the first week had come to an end---.:. full, as usual,
of upsets and changes in their lives-Dab basi had pretty firmly
established himself between the two Harrans. One night he had
most of the men over to visit and in a carefully chosen moment
said-half seriously, half jokingly, as a way of creating greater
warmth and trust between the natives and himself, a new­
comer-"Listen, my friends . . . "

They listened and looked his way. His round face and small
beard showed strength and confidence. He was smiling broadly
and pulling at his beard , and when he was sure they were paying
attention he went on. "If you want us, hitch us up!"
 . . 261

None o f the Harranis understood. H e laughed loudly-guf­

fawed, really.
"From the time of Adam, men have bound themselves to­
gether by way of women. When a man gets married he binds
himself to the land and the tribe. He becomes one with the land
and the tribe. "
The men looked at each other and then at Dabbasi. Things
were clear now, or at least getting clearer, but no one said any­
thing.
"What do you say?" he asked when he saw them silent. "Do
you want us or shall we leave-shall we go back to our own
folk?"
The men's laughter and the eager looks they gave each other
made it plain that they were in agreement with him, but who
would be Dabbasi's in-law? How would it be done?
"You're one of us, Abu Saleh, " said an old man. "As for
going back to your own folk-put that idea out of your head!"
"The prompt giver gives twice, " Dabbasi said, laughing
The men shouted with laughter and looked at each other ques­
tioningly-who would put himself forward? And which girl
would be the most suitable?
Until that moment, when the men realized what Dabbasi was
driving at, it was not clear whether the girl was to be married
to Saleh or to one of the three other men who had come with
Dabbasi-they were all fairly young, except for one who was
forty or fifty. Dabbasi, as their boss and decision maker, was
making a proposal on their behalf that none of them could un­
dertake directly.
"Uncle, Abu Saleh, your son is my son, " said one of the men,
looking at Saleh and smiling. "And his brother will be my other
son!"
Dabbasi shifted in his scat. His face changed completely. He
was surprised. To clear up the misunderstanding he shifted around
c e 5 0 f s a

a few more times and moved forward with his hand raised. This
salute surprised everyone, and some of them thought they had
made a mistake in thinking this had anything to do with mar­
riage. The man who had spoken up cringed.
"Listen, cousin, " said Dab basi, "Saleh's time will come, if
not today then tomorrow, but for now it is Abu Saleh who
wants to marry! "
Shouts o f laughter filled the air; not one o f them had guessed
that it was the older Dabbasi who wanted to get married. They
had thought he wanted a wife for his son Saleh, and some had
thought he had come to see a betrothal for one of the three men
who had accompanied him to Harran. But him? He was fifty­
five years old or more, so it seemed somewhat strange, or at
least unexpected.
Exactly two weeks later, a Thursday evening, Dabbasi was
married. He married the daughter of Muhammad al-Zamal, the
man who had cringed that night after offering his daughter to
Dabbasi's son Saleh.
It was the first wedding in the new Harran and was obviously
of great interest to the Americans who visited Arab Harran fre­
quently, for as soon as they heard that a wedding was to take
place on Thursday, they were in touch asking to attend, and
they wanted to come early.
Dab basi's joy at being married was equaled by his joy at the
presence of the A mericans. He did his utmost to welcome and
honor them and made sure that his son Saleh did not leave their
side for a minute. He asked the Harranis to treat the Americans
with deference and to see that all their wishes were satisfied. The
Americans, who looked and behaved like small children, showed
endless, unimaginable surprise and admiration. They asked about
everything, about words, clothing and food, about the names
of the bridegroo m an d his bride and whether they had known
each other before, and if they had ever met. They asked people
 .. 263

how old they were and how many children they had and looked
shocked when an old man told them that the fellow who sat
near and talked with them all night was the son of Ibrahim al­
Dabbasi. They asked Dabbasi's permission to take some pho­
tographs and hoped he would allow them to photograph him
with his bride, and the rest of the women, but these suggestions,
which they did not press, were only their way of finding out
whether or not such things were acceptable to their hosts.
It was a great night for Harran. So many sheep were slaugh­
tered that several guests disagreed on how many there were and
made bets. Five sheeps' heads were laid before the five Ameri­
cans, and one before Ibn Rashed. Among the workers, Harranis
and other guests, heads were jumbled together with other pieces
of the animals. The men made an extravagant show of carving
the meat in front of the Americans and extracting the internal
organs, especially the brain, and of making the rice into balls
with one hand, which they tossed into their mouths without a
single grain of rice sticking to their palms.
Every small thing excited the A mericans' amazement. They
took a great many photographs during the meal and tried to
conquer their embarrassment at their inability to eat like the
others, despite all the help offered them; or perhaps they did not
like the food. They tried to overcome this awkwardness by
constantly asking questions, speaking among themselves and
taking photographs.
Dabbasi, who wore an elegant suit in the early part of the
evening, much too hot for that time of day and that weather,
took off some of his clothing; he did so theatrically, before
summoning his guests to eat and to encourage them. Ibn Rashed,
doing his best to smile and talk naturally, began to fail at this
and went nearly silent. Visibly disturbed, he spoke only to the
people immediately beside him, and then only in a whisper.
"Your house is built and your glory assured, Abu Saleh, " said
c e s
0 f s a

Mizban loudly, and perhaps deliberately, when the meal was

finished.
Dabbasi nodded but did not look anyone in the face, out of
embarrassment or modesty, but when Suleiman al-Zamel said,
"Food for the men, Abu Saleh. Men have faith and the wretched
have charity, " Dab basi understood these words as a token of
support, perhaps even against Ibn Rashed himself! This was how
the people of Harran understood the words, or explained them.
They smiled broadly and some of them looked at Ibn Rashed,
no doubt remembering the party he had given not too long
before, to celebrate the completion of the shops.
Dabbasi was not the only one who wished this evening never
to be forgotten-so did all the people ofHarran, and the workers
as well. The disjointed chatter of the early evening, the jokes
and stories, the murmurs and conversations, grew louder and
more orderly, then flared up and began to sound more like a
battle. That was before dinner; afterward, after the cups of coffee
and glasses of tea, some of the people looked like they were
ready to leave. Ibn Rashed laughed and shifted around to look
at the men.
"Abu Saleh says, in his heart, 'You've had your dinner, you've
drunk your coffee, and God bless my guests this night. ' "
Abu Saleh trembled like a wolf on hearing these words and
said with menacing friendliness, "We understand what you mean,
Abu Muhammad. There are two feast days a year, and today is
the third!"
Harran was mad with excitement that night, as much from
brilliant planning as from their spontaneity. Everyone sang, even
the old men. Despite everyone's happiness, the songs were sad
ones, as if Harran was singing of its bygone days, of a life that
was coming to an end. When Suweyleh began to sing, which
no one had expected him to do, he did so with piercing sweet­
ness. Silence fell; even some of the women came near. The
 . . 265

children, who had been romping around from one place to an­
other and shouting, sat quietly in the middle as if dazed. Su­
weyleh sang as much to himself as to his audience. So faint was
his voice at times that people craned their necks to catch the
subdued melody they could barely hear; then his voice rang out
again in a roar, like the crash of sea waves, and they followed
closely the climax and resolution of the song, joining in and
crying out; in spite of themselves several women shouted out
loud. In the songs which demanded repetition and participation,
the people were gripped by an enthusiasm that left no one un­
touched. Even Ibn Rashed, who felt compelled to stay, had never
expected to see such an evening in Harran; he had never imagined
that Suweyleh, this half-blind boy he had expelled from Wadi
al-Uyoun as unfit for work in the company but allowed to come
to Harran because he needed anyone he could get, had such a
voice or could sing songs like this.
What longings filled the hearts of men in this desolate corner
of the earth? What joys were detonated by song? And this coarse,
overpowering sorrow-where did it come from?
Every shout shook the night and spread out endlessly, only
to contract again like a black coal, and with the rising and the
falling of the melody their hearts trembled and almost stopped,
flying faster than lightning to distant places and then returning.
The men, who had mastered sorrow to the point of addiction,
had mastered silence with the same perfection. If a breath sounded,
coarse and grief stricken, to break the silence, it lent the silence
an earthy, murky color and seemed improper, and the man who
had breathed might look searchingly at the others, anxious and
apologetic, speaking without words. Pain reached the point of
agony, and sorrow prevailed over everything.
Had the men been in any other place, or been fewer in number,
or not had to deal with the foreigners, they would have known
how to express all their sorrow and anguish, but something held
c e 5 0 f s a

them back. Only their eyes roamed in the distance to encounter

the distress in the eyes around them, exactly like those of a
prisoner in his cell or an animal tied to a post. Only their eyes
spoke, and at times vented pained screams. When they faded or
dwindled away, or suddenly shone in a prolonged appeal for
help, blazing, the pain flamed out and called others near, to
extend a hand or rope to save them. Suweyleh, singing to himself
and the others, intensified their pain; the men were immersed
in far more sorrow than they had felt at the start of the evening.
Dabbasi, gripped by a rapture that transported him to faraway
places, looked like a slow-witted child, confused and intensely
affected. He repeated a few syllables, sang and asked his neigh­
bors to join in and sing. At one point, as Suweyleh prepared to
split the silent Harrani night, Dabbasi's loud, rasping voice roared
like the voice of an enraged camel, provoking waves of raucous
laughter, and he himself laughed hardest of all.
Just as Suweyleh's singing came as a surprise, so did Abdu
Muhammad's. No sooner had a weary Suweyleh stopped sing­
ing, drenched with droplets of sweat which he at first wiped
away with his sleeve then with the palms ofboth his hands, than
Abdu Muhammad began to sing. He sang in his own way,
varying his melodies and creating a sudden change in mood­
more festive.
It was the singers who set the mood and won all the admiration
that night, but the Americans were no less excited: they were
fascinated by the singing, by these people who had suddenly
become creatures of a different species. At the start of the evening
they asked careful, detailed questions about things and names,
and wrote all the answers down in the small notebooks they
carried, but they were overtaken by the air of excitement that
had seized the Arabs and asked fewer questions. They did not
ask what the song was about, or of which region it was char­
acteristic, and suspended their questioning until Abdu Muham-
 . . 267

mad sang. As a result of the happy mood that prevailed after

Suweyleh had stopped singing, and because the men were now
laughing loudly, they guessed that the man did not confine him­
self to performing the song but was throwing in his own j okes,
ambiguous allusions and other such pleasantries; in any case they
understood very few of the lyrics.
Sinclair whispered to one of his friends, "You can't explain
the sadness of these people's lives unless you've known the desert
and lived in it. This damned desert breeds nothing but this kind
of people and the kind of animals we saw on our way here. "
When the other American nodded in understanding, Sinclair
went on. "Weeping relieves them, but they're hard people, and
stubborn. They weep inside-their tears fall inside them and arc
extinguished again by the shouting and lamentations they call
song-they do it in their weddings, when they're celebrating!"
A moment later he added sarcastically, "They call this music!"
The other American pursed his lips, looking at the faces around
him, and said, "These people are strange-they seem so mys­
terious. You never know whether they're sad or happy. Every­
thing about them is wrapped up, layers upon layers, just like
the desert under their feet!"
When Suweyleh resumed his singing, to the accompaniment
of general murmuring and the rhythmical movement of the men's
heads and bodies, Sinclair poked his companion and spoke rap­
idly. "Look, look-now they're expressing their happiness!"
After listening for a while he added, "They're like animals­
jostling each other and moving around in this primitive way to
express their happiness. Imagine! "
The Americans were utterly enthralled and could not stop
taking pictures.
For a long time afterward the people of Harran remembered
that night, the night of Dabbasi's wedding.
 _3 9

Ci
HAfEL AL-SUWEYD, EMIR Of HARRAN fOR LONGER
than anyone could remember, was a prince un­
like others. He bothered no one and wanted
no one to bother him. Very few people had seen him, and even
fewer had known him from close up. He liked neither his po­
sition of authority nor Harran itself, · nor even the desert. He
memorized poetry, recited and sometimes sang it. He would go
LO the remotest corner of the desert to hear an ode, to see its
author and hear it from a reliable narrator. One old man in
Harran remembered that when Ghafel al-Suweyd was named
emir of Harran and the adj acent area of desert and first arrived
there one summer day about noon, he was utterly speechless.
The men who had come to greet him thought he was a deaf­
mute. When he began to speak-this was a few days later-he
found nothing to say to " these idiots who sit in fron t of the sea
 .. 269

brooding and doing nothing else!" He asked them several ques­

tions but found nothing interesting about them. He recited them
part of his favorite ode, but no one responded, so he left his
black servant, Maimoun, to rule over "these deficient wretches,
to pick fights with them-who cares if he kills them, or they
him. " He went back whence he had come, taking a number of
his men with him.
The stories told about him were few and somewhat contra­
dictory. According to one, he traveled deep in the desert, moving
from one place to another, to hear poetry. Another alleged that
he was searching for a huge white bird that had kidnapped his
beautiful bride the night before their wedding. She had been
stolen away at night, when the moon was full. Ghafel al-Suweyd
had seen with his own eyes how the bird tucked her beneath his
left wing. Other stories said that the emir had loved and desired
a woman, but his cousin, on learning of the emir's wish and
intentions, carried her off into the desert one pitch-dark night.
She was never heard from again, and the emir went off on these
long, mysterious travels in the desert solely to find her.
These were the stories told about the emir, and what inclined
the people to believe them was that the prince, though he was
past forty, had not married or even thought of marriage. On
one of his visits to Harran, Ibn Nafeh, who was trying to be
friendly and hoping to form a bond with the emir, asked him
if he was considering marriage. The emir smiled ironically at
the question, not replying, and slowly shook his head for a
minute or two.
His habit was to come to Harran every two or three months
and ask Maimoun out of the corners of his mouth if anything
had happened in his absence-if any caravans or travelers had
come through. He asked if the people of Harran were the same
idiots he remembered, or had they come to their senses? When
he had asked all his questions he called for coffee and a stringed
c e s 0 f s a

instrument and began to recite. The men shook their heads as

he performed, not concealing their admiration; he felt refreshed
and played with delight, his mind far away. They said that on
moonlit nights he was terribly sad and at times even wept.
He was not happy to see the townspeople of Harran when
they came to pay their respects and remained silent most of the
time; he regarded them as his enemies. Why had he come to this
place "that even birds avoid"? The Harranis, who could find
nothing to say to the emir and had no requests or complaints to
make, only drank coffee, rubbed their hands and smiled two or
three times, then asked leave to be excused, which the emir
quickly granted, and as soon as their footfalls died away he asked
for the instrument to be brought and sometimes for the musician
to sit and play upon it directly in front of him so that he could
appreciate every beautiful and tender note.
So it went with Ghafel al-Suweyd for years. In the course of
the years he spent only a few months in Harran; had it been any
longer than that he would have appointed Maimoun emir and
gone off into the desert for good; but when the Americans came
he was traveling, and when he came back and saw how changed
things were he was shocked and became very upset. After two
Americans came to visit him, with Nairn to translate for them,
he made an important decision: to leave and never come back.
"We used to have one problem, " he told some of the men
from Harran. "Now there's no problem we don't have." He
turned to Maimoun and laughed. "Have you actually seen them?
Have you seen their faces? They look like kangaroo rats, or like
bread dough. They're speckled and have beady eyes. They might
make it through the winter, but I doubt they'll be able to take
the summer. "
He was silent a minute amid the quiet and confusion, then
said to himself, but wanting the others to hear, "Tomorrow
they'll be out of here. They'll be farting from fear! "
 .. 271

Several days later the camels were saddled up and loaded with
the big tent and the smaller ones which had been erected a long
time ago, and the emir and his friends, including Maimoun, left
with no one knowing if they would ever come back. After a
few weeks passed, a new emir came, and no one ever heard from
Ghafel al-Suweyd again.

After Ghafel al-Suweyd came Khaled al-Mishari, the new emir

of Harran.
Emir Khaled was middle aged, heavyset and dark skinned­
almost black. He arrived to a boisterous welcome and noisy
reception, having sent some of his men ahead of him to inform
the people that Emir Khaled, Harran's new emir, would come
any day now, and they took care to describe the emir to the
people with a combination of sternness and menace. They told
how he ordered executions for the slightest of crimes and would
take pity on no one, not even his own brother; his mission in
Harran was to make the town as peaceful as a graveyard, since
already people spoke of its fights, misunderstandings and general
chaos; left to themselves, it was said, the people ofHarran would
end up killing each other off. This terrified many of the towns­
people, and those who were not terrified were shaken by the
waiting and anticipation. Harran, which for long years neither
had nor needed an emir, and saw Ghafel al-Suweyd half asleep
most of the time he spent in Harran, thought itself unable to
stand an emir. What would he want-what would they do with
him? Would life in Harran continue to change with the coming
of the Americans and all the other foreigners, plus Ibn Rashed
and Dabbasi-let alone who might come along tomorrow? And
as Harran was changing, would an emir make things better or
only create more problems, making things much worse?
The Americans sent Nairn to help welcome the emir. This
c e s 0 J s a

move might have come about with Ibn Rashed's connivance,

since no sooner was the day of the emir's arrival announced than
Ibn Rashed and Daham made their preparations and went with
several men, including Nairn, to the Ujra road. They set off in
the early morning, and when the emir arrived just before sun­
down they went with him to Harran.
The emir was entirely different from his predecessor in his
looks, his manner and the number of men in his party. The
people of Harran, whose caution had reached the point of out­
right fright, for they had committed an unintentional error in
failing to meet the emir on his arrival, as Ibn Rashed had done,
felt that some new evil would befall them; but that night Dabbasi
spoke to them in a way that soothed them considerably. "He is
the emir of Harran, " he said, "and we are the people of Harran,
and have been since God first created the world. The emir knows
that everyone chasing around him now is saying, 'I'm so-and­
so, ' but tomorrow when he has a chance to relax he'll get to
know everyone equally well. "
Furthermore, Dabbasi agreed with the men that he and some
of them would go to the emir the next day to pay their respects.
He would be with them, but since he did not think he'd ever
seen the emir before or heard anything about him, he hesitated
to make any prediction about the future. Nevertheless he was
confident that this small battle that Ibn Rashed had won would
not change anything-he would know what to do next.
When the Harranis went along the next day, Ibn Rashed was
just leaving the emir, and in the brief moments they stood with
him chatting, the man seemed supremely self-confident, almost
haughty, as if he had some favored position with the emir or
wished to convey to the people ofHarran that he had come first,
and that this was significant. Dabbasi, laughing, could not let
this opportunity pass.
 .. 273

"Very impressive, Abu Muhammad-are you living with the

emir?"
Ibn Rashed laughed and nodded, so as to avoid making any
explanation, but Dabbasi went on. "Don't forget, a week of
familiarity breeds a week of contempt. "
"One day at a time, Abu Saleh!"
The people of Harran took an immediate dislike to the emir,
for after some pleasantries about the journey and the road, he
told them that he had come to Harran to enforce the law and
put an end to fighting and theft. He asked, suddenly, if any of
them knew the three men who had stolen the camels, and if any
of them had any complaints or requests to make.
The conversation might have gone on in this vein, with the
result that their relations would have remained chilly, but Dab­
basi caught sight of one of the emir's men holding and stroking
a falcon and guessed that the emir was a huntsman; skillfully,
full of cunning, he turned to one of the elders of Harran and
asked about the bustards-whether they had come to the area,
and when. Suddenly, unexpectedly, the emir's face showed keen
interest. The men of Harran mentioned some of the areas, but
Dabbasi brought out some of the hunting information he had
accumulated over long years: the right places and the right sea­
sons; how in Egypt he had seen uncounted birds filling the sky
like black clouds; how on one of his trips to Gaza he'd seen birds
massing near the shore; all of the sand grouse, gazelles and bus­
tards he had seen. The vast amount of information he was able
to discuss absolutely amazed everybody.
The people of Harran recall that Dabbasi was a devil in human
guise, because from the minute he began discussing hunting the
emir underwent a complete transformation-he was like a small
child listening raptly to Dabbasi's tales. After the coldness and
antipathy of his words and looks during the first part of the visit,
c e s 0 J s a

he softened and asked Dabbasi to come nearer; Dabbasi, for his

part, asked him if by chance they had met before, and where.
In an attempt to excuse himself from the ordeal of trying to
remember any such meeting, the emir said that he traveled a
great deal and saw so many faces that he could not remember
clearly, though all the same " I never forget a face-[ just can't
recall when and where. " The emir, delighted with Dabbasi's
remarks, looked him in the face carefully, as if perhaps he might
remember, and help determine the time and place, but they did
not continue this game long, because they could not.
Next, the people of Harran described how they had left their
homes and built new ones on the western side of the town, to
help the company and in accordance with government orders;
how they feared the future, especially after seeing the ship with
the naked women; how the young men, since that day, had
become unsociable and hot tempered. The emir smiled several
times and asked detailed questions about the ship that had come
to Harran and about the number of women on board, what they
had done and how long they had stayed. He promised the people
that this would not happen again: the preservation of religion
and morals was his chief mission here, and he would never
hesitate to take whatever steps were necessary.
Once again Dabbasi spoke, asking the emir to "include the
people of Harran among his concerns, for they had no one but
God and himself. " He said that some of the foreigners who had
arrived in recent days had used threats to force them to sell their
land, and that the foreigners had appropriated everything, leav­
ing the Harranis with nothing. He did not mention Ibn Rashed
once, or refer to him by name, but the people of Harran under­
stood his words perfectly. The emir repeated that he had come
to safeguard religion and morals: "Truth is truth, and natives
come before strangers. " Before the visit came to an end, Dab basi
asked the emir, in the name of the people of Harran, to name a
 .. 275

date o n which the people might celebrate his coming. The emir
laughed, not setting a date or promising anything. He stood in
the middle of his huge tent to bid the visitors good-bye and
addressed Dabbasi and the two men by his side. "When the
winter comes, the coldest part of the winter, we'll go bustard
hunting in the places you mentioned. "
 4o

T
HE EMIR AND THE AMERICANS OFTEN EX­
changed visits during the first weeks.
During the emir's visit to American Harran,
which came off in an atmosphere of immense ceremony and
splendor, there was a shooting contest between three Americans.
The emir was delighted with everything he saw and told them
so in words that Nairn could not translate with much precision
because he did not understand them perfectly. After the shooting
was over the emir asked to see the hunting rifles, and they brought
them before him, and in a joking and congenial mood Ibn Rashed
suggested he try one of them out. At first he was hesitant, but
when Daham set up one of the empty shells as a target at about
ten or fifteen yards distance, the emir sent away the hunting
rifles and asked his companion Mubrid al-Huweizi to hand him
his own Mauser rifle. He aimed carefully, and with consummate
 .. 277

skill scored a direct hit o n the shell t o loud applause and shouts
of admiration, then without a pause pulled the empty shell from
his rifle and handed it to Mubrid, asking him to put it for a
target in the place of the first one. Then with the same care, and
a certain unhurried skill, he raised his head a few times to check
the shell's position, aimed and fired, and blew it away. The
Americans and others did not content themselves with mere
applause or repeating their admiring shouts but whistled loudly,
and two of them stepped forward to pat the emir on the back.
Then, in an atmosphere of mirth and good feeling, the emir was
invited to the Americans' clubhouse to eat.
It was the first time the Arabs had ever set foot there, and
only a few of them went in. Daham told the workers to "keep
a good distance and be well mannered for the sake of the emir
and the foreigners . . . food will be brought to you where you
are. " The luncheon party was only for the emir, his men, Ibn
Rashed, Daham and Saleh Dabbasi; box lunches were prepared
for the others, full of foods that none of the men recognized or
could name. The emir marveled at everything he saw and every­
thing that was put before him. When he remarked on the im­
mensity of the dining hall, its orderliness and cleanliness, Ibn
Rashed told him that the workers who had helped to build it
could scarcely believe its size and could not imagine how it would
be used-and that went for himself too, for though he had
walked by many times, he had never imagined it to be this
spacious or beautiful. After lunch the emir and his group were
given a tour of the compound: the swimming pools, the rec­
reation club and the offices. The Americans consented to the
emir's request to inspect one of the houses. He was awed to the
point of incredulity by everything he saw and told them so in
his own way, forcing Nairn to consult Ibn R ashed for the mean­
ing of certain words and expressions.
The emir was visibly hesitant to take up the Americans' offer
c e 5 0 f s a

of a boat ride. He said he had never sailed before and was very
much afraid of the water and could not swim. When the Amer­
icans assured him that it was easy and completely safe, since
"the boats were designed with great care and could sail to any
part of the world without danger of any kind of accident, and
were in any case equipped with lifeboats and other devices, " and
after Nairn translated all the compound manager's assurances,
the emir consented so as not to look like a coward, on the
condition that " the ride be short, and we do not go far from
shore, " to which the A mericans agreed.
It was the first time that any of the men had traveled on water.
Their hearts beat violently, Ibn Rashed's face turned yellow, and
the emir wished that he had never embarked on this experiment.
Daham resisted slightly in boarding the boat, but Ibn Rashed
laughed and gave him a shove, telling him nervously that "if
we have to die, Ibn Muzil, you be our model, " and when they
sat on the wide, comfortable seats they did not say a word or
even look around them. Even the few wan smiles they exchanged
did more to frighten each other than to instill confidence. When
the engine roared and the boat took off, everyone heard Ibn
Rashed saying, "In the name of God, in the name of God . . . thou
shalt not be affiicted except by what God hath decreed, " and
although the Americans moved back and forth, showing no sign
of fear, the rest of them were obliged to stay rooted to their
places like parts of the chairs. They made even the slightest
movements with the greatest economy and caution, and when
the emir- looked toward the shore and saw it moving away, he
asked softly, " What do you say, Ibn Rashed, shall we go back
and die on dry land? What more could you want?" Ibn Rashed
nodded and said nothing. When the boat swerved and sped across
the gulf toward the open water, the men could stand it no more.
"Tell your friends we've had enough, " the emir instructed
Nairn firmly. "We would like to go back. "
 . . 279

The Americans looked surprised when Nairn told them what

the emir had said, thinking that there was some misunderstand­
ing, and when Nairn asked him to explain, the emir reiterated
the necessity of returning at once, and so the boat returned.
With the same ceremony and splendor with which they had
welcomed the emir, the Americans saw him off as the sun began
to set.
For a while all Harran talked of nothing but this visit. With
the passage of time and the retelling of the story and comments
upon it, however, it got greatly distorted. Some of the workers
swore that the target the emir had hit was a small needle set so
far off as to be scarcely visible, whereas the American marksmen
had been unable to hit a large glass bottle! In the restaurant and
around the swimming pool were naked women, at whom the
emir had leered and smiled! The sea voyage was said to have
been fraught with countless perils, and save for the emir's valor
the boat would have been lost.
This is what many people said, how they recounted the events.
When, the day after his visit, a hunting rifle was delivered to the
emir by Nairn and Ibn Rashed, Dabbasi was disgusted.
"The game is won at the end, not the beginning, " he declared
in front of several Harranis, "as Ibn Rashed will soon find out. "

When the emir made preparations for a reception in honor of

the Americans, he asked Ibn Rashed and Dabbasi to help him.
He asked each of them separately and then met with them to­
gether. The men showed every willingness to cooperate but were
in stiff competition when they all met, and within a short time
all the preparations were final. It was decided that the reception
would be held at sundown, followed by dinner.
The emir decided on Thursday, and he and his men did every­
thing in their power to make the party magni ficent and the event
c e s 0 J s a

memorable; Ibn Rashed and Dabbasi helped prepare with in­

describable zeal, and each of them held something back until the
last minute.
All the Americans came but three-the chief of their camp
said he could not bring them because some urgent matters re­
quired their presence there. They arrived in Arab Harran, some
of them for the first time, in a cloud of dust early on Thursday
afternoon, although they were not expected until sundown.
Everyone was waiting for them, though a heavy silence more
like fear hung over the people of Harran as they saw the Amer­
icans coming in armies-armies. They marched in disarray, waving
their arms, and their voices could be heard as they approached.
The eyes of the Harranis and workers took in every step of these
guests. Even the women came out, though it was unusual for
them, to have a look at those whom the men talked about so
much every day, to see what kind of men they were. The teen­
agers and children waited nearby, then walked along with the
Americans, but at a distance. The Americans tried vainly to speak
Arabic with them but could not get into a conversation with the
youngsters or induce them to come any closer.
When the Americans approached the huge tent erected for the
emir, roughly halfway between residential Harran and the mar­
ket, he came out to greet them. He took several steps toward
them, surrounded by a crowd of men, and when the Americans
came closer, leaving only a few steps between them, he wel­
comed them warmly and shook all their hands. Nairn at first
busied himself with introductions and interpreting, but he could
not keep these up for long because of the noise and confusion,
and some of the words he heard, perhaps for the first time, whose
meanings he could not even guess at.
After the coffee cups made the rounds and the emir chatted
with the chief of the camp and some of the Americans who
 .. 281

spoke Arabic, he said that h e had arranged a camel race for them
and asked them all to proceed to the open space behind the tents,
for there Ibn Rashed and the emir's men had readied the best
and handsomest camels. Ibn Rashed was pacing nimbly and
excitedly between the large tents and the clearing, waiting for
the emir's signal. Then the guests arrived.
It was a huge surprise for the Americans. They had imagined
that camels were created only as pack animals and that, should
they run, they would be able to do so only very slowly and for
short distances. But when the A mericans saw them racing they
were astonished; they took photographs, applauded and ex­
changed wondering looks. When the race was over they insisted
on going nearer the camels to have their pictures taken beside
them. Two of them expressed their wish to ride on the camels,
which they did with enthusiasm, and all their wishes were granted.
Dabbasi had arranged the next surprise, shrewdly and in se­
cret, with Sakhr, who tended the emir's falcons.
As soon as the camel race was over-Sakhr had done his
utmost, in collusion with some of the jockeys, to try to end it
early-Dabbasi went to the emir and whispered something in
his ear, which changed the atmosphere at once. The emir, look­
ing surprised and excited, told Nairn to ask the Americans for
complete quiet, because they would now see something that
would amaze them; then he again asked for silence. With the
dexterity of a magician Sakhr and two of the emir's men came
forward and presented the falcons with such an air of sublimity
that several of the guests thought that this was all they would
see. But then the pigeons were set loose-no one knew where
Dabbasi had got them-and the falcons dispatched behind them,
and the battle in the air took place, and everyone-including Ibn
Rashed, who had never expected this surprise-was gripped
with astonishment and a little fear. When he learned that it was
c e s 0 f s a

Dabbasi's doing, he felt that he had lost face in front of this

enemy-where in the name of Hell and earth had he come from?
The Americans were no less amazed than Ibn Rashed, and they
took dozens of pictures of Sakhr and got too close to the falcons.
An American tried to stroke one of the birds, and several acci­
dents would have occurred but for Sakhr and his men, who took
the falcons far away and did everything they could to calm them
down.
Emir Khaled al-Mishari presented the Americans with his sur­
prise at dinner; a camel's head placed in front of the camp chief
among the other dishes, with the sheep's heads, for one sheep
had been killed for each guest. Since three had not shown up,
the extra sheep's heads were put in front of other guests.
After dinner the emir had planned a sword dance for his guests,
and it was performed magnificently by his men. At one point
the emir himself got enthusiastic and got up to join in the dance;
this had an electrifying effect on the party: several of the Amer­
icans asked permission to join in. The emir's men consented and
offered to teach them, but the Americans ruined everything.
Taking photographs was the only thing they cared about, and
instead of enlivening the dance, their behavior and the remarks
they made weakened it and slowed it down, and when the dance
was over it was clear that the party had ended. In an attempt to
create a better mood and to get back at Dabbasi, Ibn Rashed
proposed to the emir that some of the men sing, as they had
done at Dabbasi's wedding, but the emir's anger and the things
he said settled everything. "After we've become their acrobats,
Ibn Rashed?" said the emir sharply. When Ibn Rashed tried to
explain himself, the emir snapped at him angrily. "If we sing
for them today, then tomorrow they'll want us to dance for
them, like monkeys; that's all I'm worried about, Ibn Rashed. "
The coffee cups were passed around again, and the Americans
who spoke Arabic talked to most of the people and asked about
 .. 283

many things. The chief o f their camp said that i t was a long
walk back to the compound, so they would have to leave. The
men crowded out to see them off with exaggerated compliments,
and the Americans' voices were audible from afar long after they
had set off with some of the emir's men.
The people long remembered this night in Harran .
 41

T
HE AMERICANS WHO SPOKE ARABIC NO LONGER
visited only Ibn Rashed. They began to visit
Dabbasi, Ibn Surour, al-Salaami and others,
and whenever they came they brought others who had not come
before. The newcomers took charge of the conversations and
set forth many topics of discussion with those accompanying
them, then translated everything.
All Harran talked about these visits, which were as a rule very
lengthy but full oflong-remembered novel occurrences. At first
the visits were spontaneous: the Americans had barely reached
the houses in Harran, or by the camp, before the Harranis or
workers saw them and invited them in for a cup of coffee or
glass of tea, which was always accepted. In the course of the
hour or so these visits lasted all talked companionably, even the
youngsters, who generally did not speak in the presence of their
 . . 285

elders. They were not afraid t o speak, and in any case were
forced to speak in order to answer the questions that were put
to them. The Americans listened carefully, scrutinized their hosts'
faces and everything else around them, and thought nothing of
touching things, whether textiles or skins, and one time they
stood for an hour or more, watching an old man dye a skin and
taking pictures. Another time they stood and watched the shoeing
of a donkey and shot a whole roll of film. They took pictures
of an American holding up one of the donkey's hooves and then
another, as if he were shoeing the beast.
This is what the visits were like in the beginning-very cha­
otic, with all the children running behind the Americans and
large groups of people crowding around to look.
Later on the Americans began to come directly from their
compound to some of the houses in Harran, to Ibn Rashed's or
Dabbasi's or someone else's. They brought books and vast quan­
tities of paper with them. Some of the paper was colored card­
board of various sizes, tiny, medium sized and large. Young and
old were fascinated by the cardboard; the older men felt the
sheets and turned them over, and the children never stopped
trying to get some of it for themselves. Sometimes the Americans
gave them some, telling them to take it and go away, and as
soon as calm had reasserted itself they opened up their books,
flipped the pages and started asking questions.
What astonished the people of Harran was that there was so
much in these books that was familiar to them-names, places,
tribes, the seasons for rainy weather, wind and the migration of
birds-and they felt an indescribable sense of importance when
the Americans started to write down everything they were told.
The men stopped when they said certain names, which the
Americans asked them to repeat several times before writing
them down on the colored paper.
The Americans' books inspired puzzlement and a little fear.
c e s 0 f s a

Books of every color and size-some of them carried several

books and others only one or two. The people of Harran, who
were baffied and frightened by the books, paid careful attention
to see if the Americans carried the same books on successive
visits or changed them for different ones, and when they saw
that some of the books came and went several times while others
were brought only once, the old men said: "They are magical
books, and each of those men has a jinn of his own. Those
Americans are trying out book after book to gain control of
Harran and its people! " On several occasions the men managed
to get hold of some of the books and examined them, but they
could not understand a thing. Ibn Naffeh once said, after his
youngest son came down with fever the day after the Americans
visited the house of his neighbor al-Salaami, that "the jinn had
infiltrated his house. " He was sure of it, because he found a sheet
of yellow cardboard beneath his son's pillow, and the boy was
not cured of the fever until the cardboard was burned.
Others said that Abdu Muhammad had learned magic from
the Americans, and that he practiced witchcraft in his long pe­
riods of seclusion, which led some of the Harranis to switch to
Abdullah al-Abyad's bakery. Perhaps they were the ones who
made Dabbasi decide to open a new bakery, for "bewitched
bread cures no one-it kills. "
The men asked the Americans about the books-what they
contained, and why they always carried them around-but the
muddled and contradictory answers only fueled the Harranis'
worries and doubts. No two Americans gave the same answer,
and no one American ever gave the same answer twice.
"History books , " the Americans said, but each time they said
"history" they had a different book than the last time. Some of
the books were black as night and others blood red; and some
were blue or green. They were all bound in tough leather like
the amulets Sheikh Salem al-Oteibi had written years before
 .. 287

when h e had visited Harran and stayed for two months; during
his stay he had made several kinds of amulets to protect the
children from worms and other vermin, and from fear, and
encased each amulet in leather. These books were like those
amulets, though of course the Americans were using infidel magic,
which sooner or later would work its evil on everyone.
At other times, when they asked about the names of the books
and what was inside them, the Americans said things besides
"history. " They said "geography" and went on to say that they
were looking for desert formations, and studying the wind pat­
terns and caravan routes. Still later, they said that they were
researching ancient ruins; they asked serious questions about
some of the sites and asked if any of the Harranis had visited the
areas or could give directions to them.
These books and questions provoked quite as much worry as
surprise and wonderment. What did these devils want? Precisely
why had they come? They said that they had come to help the
people and to search for water, that there was gold underneath
the sands and that they would extract it and distribute it among
the people, but what did any of that have to do with their books
or the questions they asked? Was there gold only in Harran or
in other places as well? So the gold was there and they were
going to extract it; but what had made them go there to look
for evidence of it in the first place?
Many such questions began to make the rounds among the
people, together with the other questions of those who had direct
contact with the Americans. The people of Harran began to ask
others, who had come from Ujra, Rawdhat al-Mashti and else­
where, whether the Americans had reached there, which books
they had brought with them and whether they were books of
witchcraft or books of blasphemy.
One day the group that usually visited was accompanied by
an American with a beard as red as if it had been treated with
c e 5 0 f s a

henna and notable for its sheen and thickness. No one in Harran
had ever seen such a beard before. This American carried a big
book and sat down in Ibn Rashed's camp, with Ibn Naffeh
present, and after a list of questions about the wind, the sands
and distances, this man began to ask very strange questions. He
asked if the people of Harran practiced any kind of magic, and
if they had any other beliefs besides Islam, and whether they
had heard of nearby communities that worshiped trees and the
wind and the sun. The men were deeply shocked by these ques�
tions and looked at each other. The man opened up his big book
and pointed to some of the pictures. Some of the men came
closer to inspect the strange figures-idols and animals they had
never seen before-but, frightened, they drew their hands away
from the book and fell silent.
Once again the man began asking questions, and one of the
Americans interpreted. Seeing them silent, the interpreter said
that "his friend was studying the beliefs of various peoples and
the evolution of religion" and wanted to know all the current
beliefs.
Ibn Naffeh was excited and enraged.
"Now we know for sure, " he shouted. "They arc infidels­
all of them are infidels, and anyone who sits with them is an
infidel!"
When the townspeople of Harran went to visit the emir, Ibn
Naffch was outspoken and angry. He said that the Americans
had come to turn the people away from Islam, that they practiced
sorcery and that if they were allowed to stay they would lay
Harran waste; there would be catastrophes. The emir listened
carefully to what Ibn Naffeh and others had to say and nodded
several times, though no one knew exactly what was meant by
these nods, for he muttered only a few vague, general remarks.
When they asked his leave to depart, he excused them. Only
Dabbasi remained, and no one knows what the two talked about
 .. 289

together, but the Americans changed. They visited Arab Harran

less frequently and no longer carried their books around, though
they did usually have the colored paper with them and wrote
down what they heard. The questions they asked had little to
do with religion or magic. Later, they stopped writing altogether
and started carrying around small black boxes, which they pressed
whenever they got into a conversation. "Devils are inside them, "
Ibn Naffeh said when he heard about the boxes, "and sooner or
later they'll come out and settle in our houses in the form of cats
or snakes. " He asked the people not to allow these boxes into
their homes and failing that to refuse to speak in front of them,
because "all the devils had to do was to hear a voice once in
order to follow its owner to the ends of the earth; they could
follow you even if you crossed the sea to Egypt. "
The Americans made fewer visits to Arab Harran in this pe­
riod, but Ibn Rashed, Saleh Dabbasi, al-Salaami and others went
more often than ever to the American compound, and some of
the workers said that one night they saw Ibn al-Zayan going
home from the American compound.
 T
HE SEVEN TENTS I BN RASHED HAD ERECTED LONG
ago, in which the workers had lived for six
months, were maintained as a receiving sta-
tion for new workers. A new city, near the American compound
but closed off behind a barbed-wire fence, was built for the
workers who had lived in the tents. This was done after their
numbers swelled and it became clear that the workers should
live nearer the compound while the seafront was dredged and
the harbor built.
The new city, by the hills between Arab Harran and American
Harran, facing the sea, started out as three large barracks hastily
constructed with wood and sheet metal. The earth was paved
with cement. Daham and Nairn, who supervised the workers'
move to the new quarters and assignment to the different struc­
tures, assured them that "these are temporary-in a short while
 .. 291

the Arabs will have houses built for them just like the ones the
Americans have. "
The workers moved into the barracks with completely dif­
ferent feelings. As a result of several quarrels over who would
fetch water from the wells, or sweep the tents' packed-dirt floors,
in addition to the shouting of the cardplayers, which made it
hard for many of the others to sleep because the tents were so
close together, some of the workers thought that "the barracks
were a clean place with good water just two steps away; and a
barracks is better than a tent. " Others held that the mere move
from the tent, from that tomb, even if it meant living in the
desert, under the stars, would save them from the depression
that affected them all, creating tension and short tempers. They
needed a change and did not care where it was to. Still others
thought that the site chosen by the Americans for the barracks
was the worst possible place, "because a man doesn't know if
he's in Heaven or Hell, if he's with his people and among his
own kind or isolated in the desert. " Despite the depression they
all suffered, the return to Arab Harran each night, passing be­
tween the houses and the shops, talking to the people, and the
sight of the children, dogs, donkeys and camels, provided a
respite from the torment and silence that reigned the whole eight
hours they spent in the devils' compound. That was not all, for
"the sight of Abdu Muhammad strolling down the beach mut­
tering his gibberish and counting his sweethearts is better than
a vacation! " as Abdullah al-Zamel used to say. When they sat
with Ibn Naffeh he looked them right in the face and asked
whether or not they had seen the Americans conjuring that day
or what exactly they had been doing; then while they answered
he repeated, "I seek refuge in God from the accursed Satan; I
seck refuge in God from the accursed Satan; I seck refuge in God
from the accursed Satan . " He trembled at anything they said
that he did not like, rose to move closer to his interlocutor and
c e s 0 f s a

glare in his face, then resumed, more excitedly and more rapidly:
"I seek refuge in God, I seck refuge in God from the accursed
Satan. "
For most of the workers, the sight of Abdu or a chat with
Ibn Naffch, listening to the latest news of the world from trav­
elers recently arrived from Ujra or other places, was as good as
the kingdom the Americans had, especially since this desolate,
fenced-in place made everyone inside feel like a genuine prisoner.
Why had the barbed wire been strung around them? Why were
they always to enter and leave by that same gate, each showing
his yellow identification card as if it were the only thing that
proved a man's existence?
These were the men's thoughts and feelings as they moved
their few belongings into their new "homes . " Ibn Rashed, who
had not been seen in three days and may have been away on
business, showed up on the fourth day, and after inspecting the
barracks he praised their cleanliness and the wisdom of dividing
the men up in them.
"Beautiful and lasting residences, " pronounced Ibn Rashed,
standing amid a group of workers. He shook his head and laughed.
"God shame him, this Ibn Muzil, I'm sure he didn't slaugh­
ter . . . "
After a moment he went on in a chuckling tone, "That's the
way he is. Thinks it would look conceited. "
He palpated the wall with his hand and knocked hard to test
it, then grasped the barracks door and opened and closed it a
few times, and when he was through continued talking. "If
we've stinted you this time, brothers, we'll compensate you
many times over, God willing. "
 4_3

T
HE NEW CITY THAT STARTED OUT WITH THREE
barracks and thirty-five workers, a source of
joy to some workers and a source of anguish
to others, certainly a change for most of them, grew wider and
higher. In less than a month a new barracks was built, and before
the end of the year there were seventeen of them. The barracks
that originally housed fifteen men was later to hold twenty or
twenty-five. The men who had rejoiced at the move were badly
disappointed, for the atmosphere of the tents, pleasant and agree­
able late at night and at dawn, did not exist in these tin cans that
became suffocating ovens reeking of heat, sweat and sleep. Within
a few weeks the white wooden walls were an unrecognizable
color, a mixture of smoke, sweaty hands and dust. Hardest of
all for the workers to deal with, and a cause of distress they
could do nothing about, was the metal roofing. These roofs had
c e s 0 f s a

become their worst enemy, for they not only radiated heat but
shed melted leaden death constantly from the earliest hours of
daylight until late at night. The lead was harsher and more hostile
than the faces and behavior of the Americans; for a long time
the workers were not content with glaring hatefully at these
ceilings but actually spat at them, and some even hurled sandals
or anything else that came to hand at them. A sandal party
happened at least once a week in all the barracks, for as soon as
it started up in one barracks the next one over would join the
competition, and within minutes sandals were piled on the beds
and scattered between them after their flights between the hands
and ceilings, and some flew into the barracks, by way of the
windows or participants outdoors.
Every past source of disturbances or quarrels had just the
opposite effect now. The men who had complained about the
cardplayers and fought with them late at night when they had
lived in the tents now slept peacefully among the noisy card­
players. When the players went out into the open air, the others
did not hesitate to stretch out beside them to seek the sleep that
had deserted them indoors.
Those who had quarreled over keeping the ground clean dis­
covered in the barracks that they were even readier to argue and
fight in spite of the fact that they now had cleaners and were
themselves exempted from that chore.
The same may have been said of the water, and the hours for
sleep and the time to wake up, and the question of who slept
where.
Everywhere there was potential for endless quarreling, and
many of the men felt, vaguely, that the fistfights and constant
cursing were not always the result of mistakes or ill intentions
and had little to do with the actual words spoken; they felt this
even more since depression and homesickness and other damned
"things" were still within them and tore them apart before the
 .. 295

quarrels and curses and the rest. Had i t not been for the ex­
haustion that crushed their bodies and helped to break up their
quarrels, compelling them to sleep, there would have been om­
inous incidents, but as it was every day brought new problems.
It was true that a secret desire was more powerful than the will
that ruled their men's behavior and their relations with one an­
other, and this desire was visible in their antagonism and ex­
traordinary actions. Despite their remorse, unforced faith and
firm resolutions not to fight or lose their tempers, the quarrels
continued and incidents did not cease.
The depression was never deeper than when the workers looked
around them to see, in the east, American Harran: lit up, shining
and noisy, covered with budding vegetation; from afar they
could hear the voices of the Americans splashing in the swim­
ming pools, rising in song or laughter. On some nights they
filled the sky with colored fireworks, particularly when new
groups of Americans arrived. To the west were the houses of
Harran, from which smoke rose at sundown and the sounds of
human and animal life came. Last of all they saw the barracks
they lived in and this dry, harsh, remote life, at which point
memories flooded back and their hearts ached with longing, and
they found endless pretexts for quarrels and sorrow, and some­
times tears.
The evening gatherings the workers held, to sing, tell jokes
and spring surprises on one another, to cheer themselves up,
usually ended with new wounds. Instead of cheering them up,
the songs filled the men with intense gloom. The stories that
made them laugh loudly when first heard went stale, and many
of the men were surprised that they had ever laughed at them
at all. The practical jokes some of them played, instead of pro­
ducing gaiety and lightening the atmosphere, often led to fist­
fights, especially when the " victims" were not chosen with great
care.
c e s 0 J s a

Suweyleh-the "neighborhood singer, " as Ibn Zamel called

him, with no obj ection from Suweyleh-who had enthralled
everyone at Dabbasi's wedding, had not changed. His voice was
still strong, but he could no longer produce the splendor and
radiance he had created in their hearts that night, even though
every time he sang his emotion reached the point of tears and
collapse.
One night in early summer, Ibn Zamel spoke up in a voice
that trembled with anger. "My friends, if we keep quiet we'll
die like prison mice, and as long as death is the beginning and
end for us all, death among friends is better than death among
the blue devils. " He was silent a moment, then went on. "If I
leave, who'll go with me?"
He looked at their faces questioningly, almost pleading. He
wanted to hear a voice, an assent, and when he saw the men
silent and confused, he spoke as if to himself. " You'll be sorry
tomorrow, but then it will be too late. "
What dissuaded him from leaving was Ibn Rashed's promise
to find a way to "fix these roofs and keep them from spreading
death."
Using means of terror and persuasion, and with promises
galore, a number of the emir's men were placed among the
workers. They were called observers, and they set wooden planks
between the crossbeams and the roof and put a layer of dirt on
top of the planks. They cut new windows in the southern walls
of the four old barracks, and when the decision was made to
put in the windows, Ibn Rashed said, "Fresh air will sport like
a stallion in these spacious residences! " The new barracks were
built by the company itself, not subcontracted to Ibn Rashed as
the first four had been. The new barracks were smaller and built
of several different materials: cement, earth and stone. They were
cooler than the others, which led to more fights: who would
move to the new barracks, and who would stay in the old ones?
 .. 297

The first workers had some power due to their seniority as

well as to the clan relationships that bound most of them to­
gether, but the Americans began to usc new criteria in classifying
the workers; the first arrivals were better aware than the others,
or better able to get their way. They spoke up and made de­
mands, and drew rude and hostile stares. The more peaceable
or docile among them were treated with special care; Abdullah
al-Zamel, for example, who rarely stopped making jokes or
criticisms and had created a fuss over the housing, did not have
to wait long to be sent to Station 4 · That station was so far away
that workers were able to come home only once every three
days, and the work there was notoriously dirty and difficult. Ibn
Zamel agreed to work at that station after being compelled to
do so by a threat from the emir, but he still made no secret of
his desire to escape someday-though only, he said, after he had
"killed two or three Americans, and Ibn Rashed, and their little
dog Daham. " Mizban, who had once punched Daham, was not
allowed to forget the affront: he, his brother Hajcm and twelve
other workers who had been relative latecomers were selected,
on the pretext that they knew how to swim, to help cut sea rock
in the port expansion project. The brothers and the other workers
with them did not protest the assignment; they seemed eager for
a new adventure, but subsequent events made all the men view
the matter differently from the way Ibn Rashed and others did.
Mizban and Hajcm, who had never given up trying to teach
the workers to swim and had always spent long intervals in the
water-Ibn Zamel called them "the two fishes"-had finally,
after much perseverance, convinced several of the workers to go
ncar the water, for a start, and later to step into it; much later
on many of them plunged into the shoals where the water reached
their waists . Carefully and gently they immersed their bodies
until only their heads showed. They did this very warily and
only on rare occasions, especially after Salman al-Jaraf nearly
c e s 0 f s a

drowned while trying to learn how to swim. The brothers had

been by his side, laughing delightedly as they watched him dunk
and heave in the water, gulping it down. They laughed because
the water they were swimming in barely reached their chests,
but when they saw that he was in danger they hauled him out
more dead than alive. For a long time afterward the men were
hesitant about swimming, and newly wary.
Being chosen suited the brothers' own wishes, but the job
they were given was so dangerous that the accident took place.
After the start of the project to expand and deepen the seaside
adjacent to the American compound, the men went back and
forth every day and took on a dark tan color. They seemed
different from the other workers; they told all kinds of stories
about the boat that took them out to work and the tools they
used, and, later, about the explosives that shook the sea and
made gigantic waves collide. They saw what the Americans ate
and what their table manners were like. The stories that the sea
workers told the land workers made Harran's nights easier to
bear that summer.
They remembered a night with a full moon. Suweyleh was
singing in a soft but impassioned voice more like a sorrowful
confession, having refused all requests to raise his voice or change
his tone, and in spite of the first notes the workers tried to
stimulate him with, most of the men remembered that Mizban
was silent and pensive, and that he had only spoken once in the
course of the long evening, to say, "My friends, I'd trade this
whole sea for the well in our town. Tonight Ibn Hadib is opening
wounds in me that won't ever heal. " He said this during a lull,
in a moment of anxiety, but the men would not have remem­
bered his words had it not been for the accident.
At dawn the next day, when the port workers were accus­
tomed to leave before the others, they had left the camp to board
the boat, and three of the workers were asked to dive in and tie
 . . 299

a rope t o a boulder t o pull i t out. Mizban was one o f the three

who dove down to the seabed, but though the other two re­
surfaced within a few moments, Mizban did not. Ibrahim al­
Saffar and Saad al-Rajeh came back, but Mizban did not. When
two or three minutes passed and he did not surface, several
workers plunged in to find him, but they returned and he did
not.
They found Mizban after a long search: his foot was stuck in
the crevice of a boulder. The crevice was like a necklace with
Mizban hanging up from it. It appeared that he had fought hard
to free himself, for his body was covered with bruises, but he
had been unable to.
It was a black and sinister day, the day they brought Mizban
back as a stiff corpse. The news spread quickly through the camp,
American Harran and Arab Harran.
Mizban was buried at noon that same day, in anger and sor­
row. Not a soul was left in Harran; everyone followed his body
to the grave. For a long time to come they remembered the
ringing laugh of the big fish, as Abdullah al-Zamel called him.
 44

UJ ORK ON EXPANDING AND DEEPENING THE PORT

never let up for a single day, and Hajem,
who was not asked to report to work the
next day or for the next several days, was a different man from
the very hour Mizban was lowered into his grave and the dirt
heaped over him. He stared aimlessly, his jaw drooped, and he
seemed feebleminded. He had not shed a tear or uttered one
-vord; he was dazed. He looked in the men's faces as if searching
for someone, and having confirmed that the person he wanted
was not there, he smiled and then screeched with laughter, slap­
ping his palm against his thigh. He did this unconsciously, in­
voluntarily. The workers, who averted their gaze so as not to
look at him in the beginning, were grief stricken, and some of
them felt weak, almost dizzy. Mizban had not been just another
worker. He was loved and respected, like a father or a big brother,
 .. 301

and had been given many different names: the camel and the
horse, and Abdullah al-Zamel called him the big fish. This last
name was the best known and most widely used. Men used to
seek him out when they felt depressed or lonesome. He looked
like a big child but was very strong, and at times even rough.
He used to grasp the forearm of whoever spoke to him and pull
him in the direction of the sea in order to hear him better, and
they would return looking different, like two brothers. When
two men had a disagreement, Mizban was generally the mediator
whose judgment was accepted.
Now that they had buried him, they had to believe that he
was dead. When they saw Hajem's face as he peered around,
looking bewilderedly into people's faces, smiling his imbecilic
smile, they knew that they had lost a dear friend. When they
remembered what Ibn Naffeh had said over the grave, they found
different meanings in his words. He had shouted, "The man
didn't die-they killed him with witchcraft before they killed
him with the sea. "
Why were they outcasts, pushed closer to death every minute?
They had come to work but here they worked and were killed
at the same time. The money they were given did not compensate
for a single night under the roofs that dripped melted lead over
their heads. And Ibn Rashed's words? Daham? Nairn? The
Americans' cruel faces? At first the Americans had laughed and
slapped them on the shoulders. Now they did not look at them
or if they did, spat out words that could only be curses. This
was a guess but they were sure of it, for "you can't hide curses
in any language, " as Ibn Zamcl said. Even the Americans knew
it when the children of Harran came ncar them to raise their
hands in greeting and said something like "you son of a bitch"­
they shook their fingers in warning, and one American even
kicked a boy, knocking him down. The Americans had changed;
and that was not all, for the relationship between the two sides
c e s 0 f s a

was curtailed and handled only through the "personnel office. "
The personnel office now meant Nairn, young Dabbasi, Daham
and two of the emir's men.
Ibn Rashed came on the afternoon of the day Mizban died.
He seemed more solemn than he ever had before. He was wear­
ing his new black cloak, which he generally wore only when
visiting the emir or the American compound. He walked slowly.
They saw him entering the gate of the camp with two of his
men. The workers stayed at their posts, silent. They knew he
had come to have a word with Hajem, to express his condo­
lences, and at this moment they sensed that Ibn Rashed was their
true enemy. He had brought them to this place and given them
over like sheep to those people. They hated him and considered
him responsible not for Mizban's death but for his murder.
Hajem was sitting with a group of workers in the shade of
one of the barracks on the east side. When Ibn Rashed began to
approach he cleared his throat, but no one heard him or looked
up, even when his firm footsteps brought him right beside them.
"Peace upon you, men . "
Some of the workers came near him; they shook his hand and
walked with him. Hajem looked at their faces, then turned in
all directions and smiled. Ibn Rashed approached until he stood
above him, and Hajem looked at him and smiled.
"God bless you, my boy. I hope your sorrows are over. "
He bent down to kiss Hajem's shoulders, then sat beside him.
Hajem looked at him again and then again, and smiled. Ibn
Rashed looked at the silent men's faces and shook his head,
sensing what they felt. He spoke to change the mood. "Death
is foreordained for every man from the day God creates him.
Just as he is born, he must die. That is the law of life. A man
never knows where he was born or where he will die. God is
truth and death is truth, and no one is immortal but the Ever­
lasting, the Eternal. "
 . . 303

Ibn Rashed spoke by himself, to himself. His words seemed

dry and meaningless, and when he saw the men's cold stares
and felt the silence surrounding him, he asked, " Who was with
the deceased?"
When a few names were mentioned and some of the men
moved spontaneously because they had been with Mizban, Ibn
Rashed addressed one of the men. "Come here, come here, my
boy. Come near and tell me how it happened. "
Even though Ibn Rashed and all of the men had heard how it
happened several times, from several different people, silence
fell and the man animatedly retold the whole story in detail,
from the time they left the camp at dawn until the accident
happened.
The only one to listen raptly to the story, as if hearing it for
the first time, was Hajem. He stared into the man's face. He
moved nearer to him and smiled, and when he finished, Hajem
slapped his thigh with the palm of his hand, and raised his head
excitedly to look in several directions, as if searching for some­
one. Ibn Rashed held him and made him sit down, and spoke
to him in a sad voice. "Be patient, my boy. There is no power
or strength save in God. We must all return to Him. "
When silence fell again in a heavily charged atmosphere, Ibn
Rashed spoke testily. "The man's blood must be compensated. "
He shifted in his sitting position and said in a different tone:
"There is no question that it happened at work. For some time
the workers have been under the company's protection. The
company is responsible-they pay the wages and everything
else, and they provide housing. "
"The personnel office should pay compensation," said Daham,
who had been silent until then.
Ibn Rashed was badly in need of some help, of someone to
stand by him just then, and as soon as Daham spoke Ibn Rashed
replied decisively. "Listen, Daham. You and Ibn Hathal, today,
c e 5 0 f s a

yes, this very day, you two write out a petition to the company,
and tell them everything. Yes, everything: how the accident
happened. When. And ask for compensation. Are you listening,
Daham?"
Daham nodded his understanding and compliance. When he
lifted his head to look for Ibn Hathal to assist him in the job,
he saw Hajem's eyes. Hajem had turned to look at the men's
faces, and when his eyes met Daham's he smiled. Ibn Rashed
bent over to kiss Hajem's shoulders again and got up.
"God bless you, men. We belong to God and to Him we all
must return. "
When he left, some of the men went with him part of the
way, but Daham accompanied him to Arab Harran.
When darkness fell that night the men felt intensely depressed,
and not one of them remembered seeing the moon that filled
the sky.
 I
N THE LATE AUTUMN H ARRAN WAS BUSY WITH THE
construction of the emirate building and the emir's
residence. Heaps of rock and sand, steel rods and
lumber were piled up near the tents and on the north central hill
between Arab Harran and American Harran, west of the Amer­
ican compound. There was unusual bustle in anticipation of the
start-up of construction. In this period the emir, accompanied
by Nairn, visited several of the Americans. They showed him
the plans and drawings, and it took the emir three days to give
his approval, for he asked Ibn Rashed, Dabbasi and others about
the proposed site and the number of rooms; he showed them
the plans and drawings, which meant nothing to them. They
merely suggested, in general words, that "the building be as
sound as the Americans' houses, and spacious. " When the Amer­
icans came with Nairn to see the emir a few days later, to present
c e s 0 f s a

the plans and drawings again, Khaled al-Mishari told them in a

soft but firm voice, "We approve . . . with God's blessing."
When the emir was asked which set of plans he had approved,
he replied, "We have given our approval. Trust in God. "
Nairn was confused and said nothing. He looked at the emir
and then at the A mericans, and the emir spoke to end the matter.
"Tell them to use plenty of steel, and to put in windows on the
southern side. "
Nairn explained to the Americans that the emir left the choice
of the most suitable plans to them and indicated that there should
be large windows facing south. The emir asked how long the
construction would take, and the Americans said two or three
months.
When the jackhammers set to work the emir went nearly deaf
from their blasting, and when the earthmovers started piling the
dirt he told Dab basi, " Now keep your promise, Abu Saleh. "
Dabbasi grinned and nodded, and pointed his finger at his eye:
"By my eye, Your Excellency!"
The emir smiled and then laughed loudly, and Dabbasi smiled
too.
"I thought it had slipped your mind, Abu Saleh, or that you'd
forgotten . "
With some effort, and after a great deal of sarcasm and evasion,
Dabbasi understood that the promise the emir was referring to
was the hunting trip, especially since "these damned machines
are enough to take your head off or blind you!" Dabbasi seemed
eager to accompany the emir on the trip and promised to take
with him some of the men who knew where the best hunting
places were, but he asked for a few days in which to complete
some urgent business that could not be postponed. The emir
consented and told him to choose their companions carefu lly.
When the emir asked Ibn Rashed to come along on the ex­
cursion, he rubbed his hands, seemed unable to accept or refuse
 .. 307

and said nothing. When he was asked to explain he laughed.

"Your Excellency, so many responsibilities . . . "
The emir understood that he wanted to stay in Harran.
"Don't worry, Ibn Rashed. Harran isn't going anywhere, and
we're not coming back until it is even more beautiful! "
"Harran i s for the Harranis, " replied Ibn Rashed, raising his
hands. "For Dabbasi and the others, and you, Your Excellency,
you know that a man without his family gets no son, and Ibn
Rashed longs for a son. "
Ibn Rashed might have cited the example of the emir himself,
who had brought his family with him, being unable to live
without them, but he preferred to mention Dabbasi, to refer to
his marriage to a Harrani girl within a few days of his arrival.
"You are right, Ibn Rashed, " said the emir playfully. "Money
makes men blind. "
"I didn't mean that, Your Excellency, but people need money
to live . "
"If we come back and find y o u still in this town, we'll marry
you off or get rid of you. "
''Just as you say, Your Excellency. "
Within a few days the emir's excursion was prepared-he was
to be accompanied by several of his own men as well as Dabbasi
and two Harranis, one of them an old man who could hardly
talk and the other a smiling young man who seemed well trav­
eled, intelligent and quick on his feet.
Emir Khaled ordered his deputy to keep an eye on the con­
struction and to supervise all its stages personally. He reiterated
his wish for large windows facing south and said that although
he would not be gone long, he did not know exactly when he
would return, because "everything depends on the hunting. We
might be back in a few days or we might take our time. " He
added paternally, " God bless you. We arc depending on God,
and on you . "
c e s 0 f s a

Ibn Rashed stayed in Harran for three weeks after the emir
left. He had to procure the rock and sand for the emirate and
the emir's residence, and recruit a crew of workmen. He had to
reach an agreement with the Americans to guarantee supplies
for the workers' cafeteria, especially since the rivalry between
himself and Saleh Dab basi had almost reached the point of out­
right warfare. He had these responsibilities, as well as a secret
and anxious decision, still to be made, over whether to build
himself a house in Harran now or put it off until later.
These were Ibn Rashed's ostensible reasons for staying behind
in Harran, but there was another, known only to himself and
Daham: he had to get rid of Hajem. Ibn Rashed had put all his
genius into wording the petition presented three weeks after
Mizban's death. He made several additions and emendations to
the text and decided to have Fawaz al-Hathal write it out, because
"his script is straight as a sword on the line and his words are
clear and legible, unlike Daham who writes crookedly, with one
word big and the next one small. " Ibn Rashed filled the petition
with all the flattering and imploring words he knew or could
remember, and it took a long time to arrive at a version that
satisfied him.
The petition was presented to the personnel office, and it went
from there to the main office and from the main office to the
legal committee so that it might be decided whether or not Ibn
Rashed was responsible for the compensation, since steps to
formalize the transfer of the workers to the company's respon­
sibility had not been taken until ten days after the accident. The
issue was further complicated by Hajem's condition: he was in
a daze, incapacitated by visions, which led to his termination
from employment after referrals to several doctors, one of whom
was Indian. This doctor's opinion contradicted all the others,
and the disagreement delayed the doctors' report and conse­
quently Hajem's termination from service; there was a good deal
 .. 309

of interference and rumormongering in the process, as Ibn Rashed

and Saleh al-Dabbasi noted, aimed at "weakening him in front
of the Americans and inciting the workers against him . "
Ibn Rashed wanted the matter closed before he took any ac­
tion, especially since the emir did not seem eager to get involved.
When Ibn Rashed had asked him to, the emir had replied, "The
people are our concern, Ibn Rashed. You had better look after
your own, and win them over as best you can, and give us a
rest from these complaints. " Ibn Rashed reckoned that unless
the problem was settled at once, it was bound to get far more
complicated, particularly since Dabbasi was now traveling with
the prince "and talks about nothing but Ibn Rashed these days­
Ibn Rashed did this, and Ibn Rashed did that, and the emir will
be like a woman or a small boy-he'll listen to all that and believe
it, and the next time I have any business with him he'll be
impossible. "
Ibn Rashed's efforts to have the Americans close the case as
quickly as possible clashed with the legal and medical processes,
because "rules are rules, and they take priority over people and
their wishes! " His indirect efforts with Hajem were foiled by his
silly smiles and the workers' provocations. Ibn Rashed thus made
his decision privately and carried it out one night, in complete
secrecy.
At noon he sent Daham to take Hajem to the medical board,
or so he told Daham, and so Daham told the worker in charge
of Hajem-for the workers had decided among themselves that
one of them should remain with him at all times. Instead of
taking Hajem to the medical board he took him to Arab Harran,
to Ibn Rashed's tent, where Ibn Rashed had prepared one of his
men to travel after dark, to escort Hajem back to his family.
And indeed that is what happened. Some money was placed in
the saddlebags of Hajem's camel, rather than in his pocket be­
cause "he'd throw it away or give it to any bedouin, " Ibn Rashed
c e s 0 f s a

told the man who accompanied Hajem to Ujra, then to Umm

Saaf, "because he has an uncle there-turn him over to his uncle
and tell him the compensation is on its way!"
When Ibn Rashed was asked about Hajem three days later, he
said, "The American doctor took him in, and God willing he'll
come back cured. " But on the fifth day, Daham grew fearful
and anxious and said, "Hajem is with his family. If he doesn't
get there today he'll make it tomorrow. "
The workers were filled with black hatred when they heard
what Daham said, and they vowed never to forget.
 46

]\ FEW DAYS AFTER THE EMIR LEFT, M UHAMMAD

al-Seif and Abdullah al-Saad arrived in Har­
ran. They were Harranis who had left a very
long time before. Abdullah had always sent his family letters,
gifts and money, and although Muhammad had not been in
contact for the first three years, after that he began to send letters
and money, and the bearer of one of his letters claimed that
"Muhammad al-Seifis doing splendidly-he's one of the richest
and best-known men in Basra . "
Now they were returning, and when they stopped a t al­
Mattaleh, at the beginning of the Harran-Ujra road, they thought
they were lost, and for a moment Abdullah thought he was
dreaming. He rubbed his eyes and stared, but he recognized only
the two palm trees by the mosque: that was all that had not
changed. There was no sign of Harran, which had been in that
c e s 0 f s a

lowland among the wells. There was a scattering of colored

buildings and a group of tents where he remembered houses,
and the hills to the east and west were covered with things that
had not been there before.
They were silent, looking around, for perhaps there had been
some mistake, but when they were sure they had arrived, sure
that the astonishing sight before them was Harran itself, albeit
a different Harran, they felt frustration and something like re­
vulsion. Why had the Harran they knew been demolished? Where
were their families-what had happened to them? Were they
themselves capable of living in this Harran they did not know
and had never lived in?
The men had much to say, but the shock and the urge to
explore and discover left them silent and confused. After a few
words of wonderment and incredulity in al-Mattalch, they jogged
along on their camels with this caravan which they had loved
at first sight in Ujra. It was a huge caravan, full of people who
would never have come together in any other caravan, and car­
ried a full range of goods. They had chatted with most of the
other travelers but had not said that they were from Harran, or
that they were now returning after years of absence. When one
of the bedouin in the caravan asked them if, like him, they were
going to Harran to look for work, Muhammad nodded his head
yes.
Now they were riding toward the mosque, feeling terribly let
down and worried. How would they find their families? Should
they ask the strangers who had only just moved here themselves
to guide them to where their families lived? Would the families
know them after all these years, and all the changes that had
taken place everywhere?
"Muhammad, all we can do is go to the mosque, " said Ab­
dullah jokingly. " We'll say our prayers and look for whatever
 .. 313

old men haven't died yet, and surely they'll know us, or some­
thing about our families. "
Muhammad laughed. "Like they say in Egypt-'Tell me if
you can, young men/Where my father's house has gone. ' "
"Trust in God-we'll find them, don't worry. "
"I'm not worried, but . . . " Muhammad shook his head and
looked closely at Abdullah, then smiled and went on. "Twenty,
thirty years ago, we used to blindfold ourselves and race our
donkeys from Tel Zeeb to Harran, and we'd always get there!"
Abdullah laughed. "Donkeys can always find their hitching posts. "
Harran had not changed completely. As soon as the caravan
arrived the people swarmed around it. Much sooner than they
thought, at the first looks they exchanged with the people, the
two felt enveloped in an atmosphere of home and friends. The
people crowded around them as if they had been away only on
a short trip. Time had left its marks on all their faces, but these
marks were dissolved by the emotions underneath, and these
emotions revealed the inner strength which eliminated time and
distance, returning their features to their original loveliness.
The men's meetings with their families and friends were deeply
moving and at times diffic ult, for the Harranis were unruly in
their happiness and went out of their way to demonstrate it, but
there was an unhidden rebuke in their eyes: why did you leave
us for all these years? Or: how can a man forget or abandon his
roots so lightly? The new arrivals turned every which way and
asked dozens of questions without waiting for complete or de­
tailed answers. They were apprehensive: Where were their moth­
ers, sisters and aunts-where were the women ofHarran? Could
the people be living contentedly after the changes that left no
trace of the original Harran? Where were they living now?
Muhammad al-Seif and Abdullah al-Saad made their chaotic
way to new Harran amid the screaming and shouting of the
c e s 0 f s a

children and the agitation of their camels, which was a result of

the shouting and general uproar. Many saw Abdullah al-Saad
wipe his tears away when he met his mother. She was a very
elderly lady who had gone blind and could barely walk. When
she met him she buried her face in his chest and did not move
for a long time, and even when she moved back a little and lifted
her head she still clutched him. She clutched him tightly at first,
as if afraid that he would turn away from her or leave her again;
she wept copiously and buried her face in his chest every few
moments, smelling him and crying, and the people saw Abdullah
smile, but it was a tearful smile. After a while she freed one of
her hands to explore his face while holding him fast with the
other.
These were hard and violently emotional moments for every­
one present, not only for Abdullah and his mother. She was
silent as she moved her hand back and forth, as if using this hand
to ask questions, to search and to reassure herself. She felt her
son's small beard tenderly, with evident delight, and kissed her
own hand, then stood on tiptoe to kiss the beard itself, and when
she was sufficiently reassured, or intoxicated, she loosed her
hands, though she repeatedly stretched out one or both her hands
again, as if stroking an infant, to feel this strange creature who
had suddenly appeared.
Abdullah was surprised that his mother had lost her sight; no
one had told him about her blindness and he had not expected
it. When he saw her this way he felt wretched, guilty of a misdeed
so great that he could never forgive himself; when his sisters
embraced him he felt the terrible weight of time's passage. Even
his youngest sister, whom he had left as a girl often, was married
with two children; she was carrying one and holding the other
by the hand. How had all these years passed-why was it so
heartbreaking?
Abdullah was surprised by what he saw, but Muhammad,
 .. 315

who could not be surprised by a sightless mother, since his own

had left this world when he was a boy, was surprised by every­
thing else. Even after days had passed, in which they came to
know all the young of the town and asked for all the older ones,
toured the new houses of Harran on the western hill, visited the
market and the wells, and walked along the beach, they still felt
no repose in the Harran they saw. It was not only unease they
felt-it was fear.
Instinctively, the townsfolk of Harran surrounded the two
new arrivals in love and fear to fight any thought they might
have had of leaving again. The people felt what women feel
before men-that the two men could turn away and say what­
ever they liked, make any excuse to go traveling again. They
sensed it in the men's eyes and the solemnity that had possessed
them shortly after arriving, though the two had said nothing.
The townsfolk all felt responsible for Muhammad al-Seif, though
not as the result of any plan or explicit decision, but the old
blind lady took charge of her son Abdullah on her own and
joined in with the rest of them besieging Muhammad ai-Seif to
prevent him from leaving. They all felt abandoned, in need of
some kind of protection, protection that could only come from
within their number-not from the emir or anyone else. It was
this feeling which made them act and talk as they did with the
men and which informed the desires that overcame them every
so often. The days passed, and within a month Abdullah told
his mother that he would send his brother Ibrahim to Basra to
bring his family; he would send a letter with Ibrahim to his
partner there in which he advised him that he would be a long
time in returning. The old lady nodded and tears flowed from
her eyes, but she said nothing. A few days later Ibrahim was
ready to go. The night he left, Muhammad al-Seif said, "I have
my money, and any place else is as good as Harran. If I don't
leave this year, I'll leave next year. "
 I
N THE BARRACKS RESENTMENT MOVED LIKE A BIRD FROM
one man to another. It circulated constantly, for any
reason or even for no reason. Daham, who used to
be so strong, with his powerful voice and self-confident gait,
who thought nothing of cursing-he considered it one of his
natural talents-became meticulously wary after Hajem's ab­
sence and Ibn Rashed's departure. Daham spent little time in the
camp, on the pretext that he had work to do or business to attend
to in Arab Harran or the American compound. The workers
had not seen Nairn since Mizban's death. After taking part in
Mizban's funeral as the official representative of the company
(as he kept pointing out), he disappeared completely. Some of
the workers said that they had seen him from a distance, and
others said that he had gone on a long journey and might never
 . . 317

come back. A s t o the personnel office, a s that phantom was

called, no one knew if it was still operating; the workers received
several orders from the foremen and the emir's men, but these
were later canceled.
New groups of workers arrived about this time. They had
been recruited by Dabbasi, not Ibn Rashed, and Saleh Dabbasi
showed an unusual interest in receiving these workers and as­
signing them to the recently completed barracks. They were
advanced a half month's wages "in case they needed to buy
supplies from Harran, or for tea in the cafes. " In addition, the
clothing and other things handed out to the new recruits were
better than those given to the original workers. Saleh inquired
every day to make sure of that.
The new men, who came from all different places, brought
with them the fresh air of the world outside Harran. They told
stories which were medleys of dreams, wishes and lies-how
new recruitment offices had been opened in Uj ra and al­
Samaayineh and on the Sultan's Road, and how Ibn Rashed's
men attached to the offices or roving in the interior to look for
workers boasted of the privileges in store for men who were
ready to join the company: excellent food, wonderful pay, short
hours with no end of free time and free housing in homes sur­
rounded by water and gardens.
Their eyes explored every corner, looking with the desire to
know and discover. Some of the lies would survive a little while,
but the new barracks, though better and cooler than the older
ones, wrecked the newcomers' expectations and gave notice of
the harsh and difficult life before them.
The personnel office, so long a phantom, now resurfaced to
inform the men that interviews to determine their classification
would be held within the next few days. One of the emir's men
told the workers so and told them to get ready! Get ready? What
c e s 0 f s a

did that mean-what would they do? What did the "classifica­
tion" of the workers mean, and what would it lead to?
Such an announcement might ordinarily have had no great
effect or inspired no dread, but three days later the workers were
told that they would be split up into groups: the first group
would go for interviews and the rest of the groups would report
to work as usual. Daham read out the names of the first group
on the spot, asking the others to go off to work, and the selected
workers were led off to the American compound.
A long time, several months, had passed since they were last
there, and some of them had never been in the compound before.
American Harran looked like a new place to all of them. Even
the buildings they had worked on, in whose shade they had
rested, looked completely different. The Americans had added
many new touches such as trees-where had they come from?­
and the soil had been dug up and replaced with a strange sub­
stance. The trees were tall. There were large and small clumps
of different vegetation here and there, and even the barrels had
been painted white, filled with plants and placed all around. The
streets, whose packed dirt had been coated with black liquid
within the first days of work, were different as well: there were
new buildings beside the ones they had put up, and there were
rows of small houses not far from Central Administration.
The sight of all these new and strange things in American
Harran bred both awe and wariness, especially when the workers
saw the Americans going from building to building staring at
them curiously, as if to ask: what are they doing here-who
brought them?
Silence like the shadow of a heavy tent hung over the group
of some twenty men. There was no sound but their footsteps­
the friction of sandal leather and their breathing. There was
nothing they could say to each other out loud. Even the questions
 0 0 319

they'd asked each other as they left their camp for the American
compound now increased their unease and suspicion with every
step they took.
One of the Americans told them, with a wave of his hand, to
halt. They stopped thirty or forty steps short of the Central
Administration office, at a roof supported by poles, but they
could not all fit underneath, so some of them stood in the sun.
They could look around in all directions: to the east was the
large swimming pool and two rows of houses, and on the other
side was the restaurant where the emir had dined, part of another
pool and a row of small houses. Directly in front of them, beside
the administration building, was a large structure about as wide
as the restaurant but elongated, with small rooms along one side.
They watched silently. None of them dared ask a question­
if they had, none of them could have answered it. At first they
avoided looking at each other's faces so as not to see how pale
and afraid they all were, but after taking in the whole scene in
all directions, and waiting a good while in this place, they began
to exchange looks of uncertainty and terror. Their eyes never
stopped talking, and enigmatic muttering had displaced the si­
lence.
Suddenly, as they waited, Nairn came at them, as specters
rush out of tombs. He headed toward them from the Central
Administration building, not looking at them once while walk­
ing from the building to the place where they stood. He was
looking at the ground, and though the strength of his features
showed when he came near and they saw him, it was the strength
of hatred or contempt. He wore loose clothing, unusual for
him-his clothes were usually tighter and less varied. As he
surveyed them with one brief, sweeping glance to determine
where the group began and ended, Daham spoke up decisively.
"They'll enter in groups of five, alphabetically. " Daham drew
c e s 0 f s a

the list of names from his pocket, read out the first five names
and added, "Follow me. "

A sudden cold breeze in the long, dim corridor chilled the five
workers and gave them gooseflesh. It was like a blast of winter
wind or late-night air. They turned every which way to see
where the wind was coming from but saw nothing. The rooms
on either side of the corridor were locked and quiet; they could
hear only their footfalls as they walked nervously behind Nairn.
They walked a long way, and when they reached the end of the
corridor Nairn halted abruptly, so they stopped. He looked at
them with one side of his face, then opened the door in front of
him and went in. They did not know whether to go in or to
wait, so they looked around at each other and then at the open
door a few steps away. Nairn stuck his head out of the door like
a magician and said, "Come in. " '
They walked in to find themselves in the presence of a very
dark-skinned man sitting behind a desk. There was a group of
chairs to the side of the room. The man gave them a cool, neutral
glance. He spoke with Nairn for a few moments, then they both
stood up. They opened the side door and went in, closing it
behind them. Voices were heard from inside. The workers stood
in the middle of the cool room-no, it was cold, very cold.
They turned around and looked at the walls and chairs, then at
each other. They were absolutely quiet, their throats were dry,
and their hearts were beating violently.
The same door reopened and the two men came out. "Come
with me, " said Nairn to one of the men, and "Sit down here"
to the rest of them, indicating the chairs to their right in front
of the door. They tried to sit down, but two of the men bumped
into each other when they both headed for the same chair. Once
they were seated their gazes were drawn to the brown man, who
 .. 321

reseated himself behind the desk, and the door through which
Nairn and Ibrahim al-Faleh had disappeared.
The very dark-skinned man-darker than anyone they had
ever seen, and so exquisitely clean that he seemed bathed in oil­
leaned back in his chair and gave them a long look, more kindly
than he had before, and when he saw them looking at him he
smiled. His teeth were very white, or perhaps they only seemed
so because he was so dark. The men looked away quickly and
kept quiet. They involuntarily moved their hands and feet and
one of them shifted in his chair, and when their gaze met his
21-gain he smiled more broadly than before. He tapped his left
index finger twice on his chest, smiling. "Musulman . . . Mu­
sulman. Ali Iqbal. "
They smiled nervously but said nothing. They did not un­
derstand a word of what he had said. Was it supposed to be
Arabic? They looked at each other curiously. What did the man
mean-what did he want from them? Had he asked them a
question? Was he expecting some kind of answer? He looked at
them and nodded, then slapped his chest with the palm of his
hand and spoke again. "Alhemdu Alah, rabb al-alameyn. Al-rah­
man, al-raheem .
n

So he considered this gibberish Arabic. This time his smile

was a grin, but again they looked at each other and said nothing.
The man raised his two index fingers in an even line and pointed
them to his chest as a sign.
"Musulman. "
They were nervous and afraid. They understood and did not
understand at the same time. They said nothing.

When Ibrahim al-Faleh went in he found the room very large

and cold. It was at least three times larger than the first room,
but just as cold. In the front of the room was an empty round
c e s 0 f s a

table, and three Americans. He recognized them immediately:

two of them were always visiting Arab Harran and knew Arabic,
and the third was the one with the huge red beard. They were
sitting in a semicircle in the approximate center of the room,
and there were several empty chairs. He could think of nothing
to say to them, though he wanted to greet them, to say some­
thing, but he was too nervous, so he jerked his hand and said
nothing. They looked at him from head to foot as he approached
them. One of the two who spoke Arabic smiled at him and asked
him to be seated, pointing to a chair. He sat down, and Nairn
sat nearer them, leaving the chair nearest him empty.
The Americans glanced at each other and spoke a few words
he did not understand; then Nairn turned to Ibrahim.
"We are going to ask some questions, and we'd like you to
give accurate answers. " When he saw the fear in Ibrahim's eyes,
Nairn said kindly, "They're easy questions, just routine ones.
Anyone could answer them . "
The Americans spoke English and Nairn translated, but before
asking him any questions one of the Arabic-speaking men moved
over to the round table and sat behind it, ready to write. After
a short silence the questioning began.
"Your name-full name, father's and grandfather's?"
"Ibrahim al-Faleh al-Ibrahim. "
"The name before your grandfather's?"
"Ibrahim al-Faleh al-Ibrahim al-Muhammad. "
''Great-great-grandfather?''
"Ibrahim al-Faleh al-lbrahim al-Muhammad al-Ibrahim. "
"Which tribe?"
"The Atoum. "
"Which branch?"
"The Harb. "
"Mother's name?"
Ibrahim al-Faleh gave Nairn an astonished, shocked look, then
 . . 323

looked a t the three Americans, and when he saw them awaiting

his reply he asked, "What do you want with my mother?"
Nairn shot him a serious, almost rebuking glance, then turned
to the Americans and translated what Ibrahim had said. The
three Americans roared with laughter, and one of them who
knew Arabic spoke. "The information we need is quite simple­
and necessary. " He paused for a moment and smiled, then stood
up, went over to Ibrahim until he was opposite him and patted
him on the shoulder.
"Do you have a mother?"
Ibrahim nodded yes.
"Does she have a name?"
Again he nodded yes.
"What is the name?"
Ibrahim sighed like a wounded wolf and shook his head de­
spairingly. He looked at the American who stood over him , then
at Nairn, and said patiently, "My mother's name is Muzna. "
"Is she living or dead?"
"Dead, " said Ibrahim, s miling.
"And your father?"
"My father is alive. "
"Did he marry several wives?"
"What's wrong with you-can't you talk about anything but
my father and mother?"
Again the three Americans laughed, and Nairn joined in after
he translated what Ibrahim had said. The American who had
been standing by him went to have a word with the other two,
then said something to Nairn that made the other two smile,
and Nairn nodded vigorously to show that he understood or
agreed.
"Like I told you at the beginning: the information we need is
simple and necessary, and it is confidential too. No one will
know about it, so you can answer freely , without fear. " He
c e 5 0 J s a

paused a moment and added in a different tone, "All this infor­

mation is necessary for us to raise your salary-for your pro­
motion. It can help us send you to America for training . "
Ibrahim curled his lip t o show h e did not care. The questioning
resumed.
"Did your father marry anyone besides your mother?"
"Yes, two others. "
"What was your mother's position in relation to the others?"
"What was my mother's position?"
"Was she the first wife? The last?"
"The first. "
"The wives after her-during her lifetime or after she passed
away?"
"One before, and the last one three or four years ago. "
"You mean after her decease?"
"Yes!"
"How many brothers do you have?"
"Three, and I make four. "
"Are they older than you or younger?"
''I'm the oldest; they're all younger. "
"How many sisters?"
"God help me-leave me alone!"
"We told you, " said Nairn firmly. "This information will
remain confidential and no one will see it. It is important for the
company to know . "
Ibrahim al-Faleh mumbled. Indistinct sounds came from his
throat.
"Number of sisters?"
"Five. "
"Are you married?"
"No . "
"Are your brothers and sisters married?"
"Three of my sisters are married. "
 0 0 325

"Did they marry relatives o r men outside the family?"

"Relatives. "
"Now we're through with the family questions. " One o f the
Americans smiled. " Naturally there are plenty of other questions
that have to be asked, but no more of those. " He paused and
looked for Ibrahim's reaction, but seeing him silent and visibly
distressed, he turned to speak to the man with the red beard,
then resumed asking questions.
"You are a Muslim, correct?"
Ibrahim nodded yes but said nothing.
"Do you pray?"
"Sometimes. "
"Why sometimes? Why don't you pray all the time?''
"What do you care!"
"We want you to answer accurately. Why don't you pray all
the time?"
"Listen, prayer is God's-not His servant's. "
"What do you mean?"
"If I'm with people who are praying, I pray. "
They smiled, and some of them exchanged glances.
"Besides prayer, which religious duties do you observe?" asked
the man with the red beard.
"I fast. "
"Do you fast because your family tells you to, or for other
reasons?''
"Because the Lord God said: 'Fast. ' "
"Do you fast any time other than in Ramadan?"
"No. "
"Have you made the pilgrimage to Mecca?"
"No. "
"Don't you want to?"
"God willing, I'll go. "
"Any other religious observances?"
c e s 0 f s a

Ibrahim exploded. "Tell your friends, " he said to Nairn, "this

is just useless talk, and they had better stop it. "
The man with the red beard shook his head in surprise when
Nairn translated what Ibrahim al-Faleh had said, and he ex­
changed a few words with the two others, one of whom took
over the questioning.
"How many members does your tribe have?"
"As many as there are grains of sand. More. I don't mean to
brag. "
"Do you like the sheikh?"
"If he's a real sheikh, loves the people and fights beside them,
and is one of them, then I'm with him. "
"Does your tribe have quarrels with other tribes?"
"That's our business. It is no business of yours. At present,
no. " He laughed and shook his head as he said no, but they
pretended not to notice.
"Do you like the emir?"
"Yes!"
"Have you spoken to him? Have you visited him?"
"No . "
"Do you like the j ob you have, o r would you like t o do
something else?"
"I wouldn't go to the sea. I'd go home to my family before
I'd work at sea, but all the other jobs are the same. I've carried
rocks here and there, and done digging all around. It's all the
same . "
"How many of the workers are your friends?"
"They are all my brothers. "
"What about friends?"
"Trust in God, my friends-all people have good in them. "
"Would you like to go to America for training?"
"No . ,
"Why not?"
 .. 327

He laughed loudly and did not know why h e said, "The jackal
is a lion in his own country. "
They laughed when Nairn translated this saying, after asking
Ibrahim al-Faleh what his word forjackal meant. When the laughter
died down the Americans looked at each other as if deciding to
end the questioning there, especially after one of them looked
at his watch and then at the ceiling as if calculating how long
the interview had lasted. They conversed among themselves,
and then one of them spoke to Nairn, who nodded several times
in agreement.
"As we told you, the questions we asked you, and your an­
swers, will remain confidential and no one else will know about
them, so we must ask you not to mention anything to the other
workers if they ask you. "
Nairn escorted Ibrahim to the other room, told him to go
directly back to the camp without joining the other workers and
asked one of the four workers waiting outside to come with
him.
 48

Y
B
THE TIME THE WORKERS RETURNED TO CAMP
that afternoon, fifiteen of them had been inter­
viewed; the others. were to be interviewed at
an unspecified later date. Although some of
them were quiet at first, not speaking, asking or answering ques­
tions, a feeling of anger and unrest pervaded the camp. Their
inner turmoil made the men behave moodily and raise their
voices for no reason; some of them went straight to bed, though
they did not usually go to bed this early.
When the other workers-those who had not been called in
for interviews-returned early that evening the mood in the
camp changed: the questions and discussions began. The ques­
tioners were motiva ted by mere curiosity, not fear or misgiving,
but once they had begun their ingenuous inquiries they were
 . . 329

shocked by what they heard from those who had been inter­
viewed.
"The bastards want to know everything, " said Ibrahim al­
Nasir. "Even why my father got divorced and remarried. They
wanted to know if I was unclean, because I didn't pray all the
time. They asked if l had a lot of wet dreams, and they laughed.
The bastards want to know who has planted every seed and laid
every egg in history. "
He spat angrily.
Fawaz bin Miteb al-Hathal could not keep his patience. Though
he tried to keep quiet, he spoke up sharply and loudly enough
for everyone to hear when one of the workers asked him to write
letters for him-he wanted a letter of resignation and one to
inform his family that he would come home soon.
"Did they tell you what they told me? 'You're one of the best
workers we have. You have a future here. We've got to send
you to America for training-you can learn English and go to
college and someday you'll be a manager. ' " He paused to take
a deep breath, then went on. "If you had been Miteb al-Hathal's
son they would have asked you, 'We'd like you to tell us why
your father quarreled with Ibn Rashed, and where he is now. ' "
They had asked Suwcyleh to sing, and when he curtly refused
the red-bearded one told him that they only wanted to write
down the words of some of the songs because they loved what
they'd heard him sing at Dabbasi's wedding. He hesitated and
refused again, but finally had to give in because Nairn kept
nagging him: "These fellows just like our singing and only want
to hear the words so that they can understand them. "
The men's piecemeal narrations produced consternation; their
attempts to convince the others that it was all true-what they
were asked, and what the Americans wanted-did not wholly
succeed. Some of the others felt that they were wrong to have
c e s 0 1 s a

told everything: perhaps they should have kept the sessions se­
cret, as Nairn had constantly warned them to.
It was the workers' custom to go to Arab Harran every once
in a while to buy supplies and sit in the coffeehouse that Abu
As'ad al-Hclwani had opened near the beach, which he called
the Friends Coffeehouse-but tonight they could not get out of
the camp fast enough.
They needed to walk, and it was a good distance from the
camp to Arab Harran. Such a long walk might help them to
forget, and if it were not long enough, at least their errands in
the market, socializing with the people and a good session in
the coffeehouse would soothe them. But they could not just sit
quietly in the camp and look at each other, nor did any of them
feel like talking. The silence was harder to bear than the fights
that broke out between them now and then. If they did speak,
they would be watched and spied upon by informers, and the
Americans would summon them again to hear Nairn's wheedling
tones: "I've told you a thousand times: rules are rules. I could
talk to rocks or walls and the rocks or walls would finally un­
derstand, but with you it goes in one ear and out the other.
We've overlooked it time and time again but not this time!"
And the questions would begin again, and the questions would
lead to other things they could happily do without.
They noticed several new shops in the market in Arab Harran;
now there were only one or two empty lots between the shops,
and even those were cluttered with the heaps of stones and sand
that Ibn Rashed had put there in preparation for construction.
They also noticed that a great many workers and foreigners had
arrived and were sitting all over the place: by the tents, ncar the
mosque and in the shops. When they reached the Friends Coffee­
house, Abu As'ad al-Helwani beamed at them and at the few
empty seats in the coffeehouse and could not stop repeating the
same words-"Welcome, men! Welcome, welcome, welcome! "-
 .. 33 1

as he rushed back and forth to make room for so many unex­

pected guests.
In Arab Harran they ran into Ibn Naffeh and Abdu Muham­
mad, who told them that some of the men from Harran who
had been away were now back in town.
Ibn Naffeh felt sure that an evil wind had blown the workers
into Arab Harran in such large numbers. Anyone who worked
with and lived beside the Americans had to be crawling with ill
spirits. It was his custom to be sure and hear every new thing
that was said, but tonight he was afraid; after offering his hand
two or three times to shake the hands of the men who were
coming in droves, he pretended to be busy with his prayer beads
and refused to meet their eyes as they passed into the coffeehouse.
But he listened carefully. From what he was able to glean, he
understood that the Americans had summoned the workers to
their compound and asked them about all kinds of things. He
shifted excitedly and opened his eyes and ears, and with his
never-changing supplication-"! seek refuge in God, I seek ref­
uge in God from Satan the accursed"-intermixed with sporadic
mutters of "Yes, yes . . . what did they say then, my boy? What
can they possibly want? Did you talk? Did you tell them any­
thing? The bastards, every one of them is a devil, " his voice
rose and fell between the questions and answers, incredulous to
the point of real pain. The workers spoke loudly on purpose;
they wanted Ibn Naffeh to hear what had happened. When Ibra­
him al-Nasir told how they had asked him if he had wet dreams,
Ibn Naffeh stood up and began to rant and rave. "Cut their cocks
off, people of Harran, and throw them to the dogs! The Amer­
icans have come between our men and their wives; they've made
fools of us and tomorrow they'll use their witchcraft to turn
men into women and women into men! They'll conjure us into
monkeys! God damn them and the day they came here! God
help us-! seek refuge in God from Satan the accursed! "
c e s 0 f s a

He stood in a transport of rage and hatred and glared at the

faces around him, then spat several times as loudly as he could
and left.
"The haj has gone to the mosque to say his evening prayers, "
observed Abu As'ad al-Hclwani placidly, to calm the atmo­
sphere.
Abdu Muhammad was sitting in a far corner with his back to
the room to prevent anyone from sitting or speaking with him;
he did not want to talk about his new pictures. The workers
were used to him now and kept the distance he desired and
imposed on them, especially now that they knew he was in love,
but tonight they were immersed in this new problem that had
jolted their lives with a disruption they did not know how to
counter, so none of them went near Abdu Muhammad. Some
of them greeted him loudly from across the coffeehouse, to let
him know that they had seen him but that they did not intend
to disturb him, and he responded to this gracious gesture by
turning around to acknowledge each greeting and even stood up
when he responded as a mark of respect and affection.
At one point some of the workers noticed that Abdu turned
as if afraid or reluctant, in order to follow the mood in the room,
to see that the others were immersed in their own problems and
discussions. He heard everything Ibn Naffeh had said. Some of
them saw Abdu extract a photograph from his pocket and look
at it for long moments as he smiled, murmured and shook his
•.ead slowly, then return it to his pocket and sneak a glance in
this direction and that to make sure that no one had seen him.
This he did several times; had the workers been in any other
place they might have made comments or asked questions or
called each other's attention to what Abdu Muhammad was
doing, but those who saw him only shook their heads and said
nothing. When Ibn Naffeh threw his fit of anger, Abdu Mu­
hammad turned his chair directly around to face the others and
 .. 333

began to listen t o the proceedings from his corner. When Ibn

Naffeh used the vulgar words that made all the workers shout
with laughter, Abdu placed his hand on his genitals as if to make
sure that they were still there, and shortly after Ibn Naffeh stormed
out and quiet had returned to the Friends Coffeehouse, he stood
and walked through the maze of small iron tables toward the
door. Some of the men spoke to him, but he only muttered in
reply, and though they invited him to sit with them, since they
missed his company and had come a long way on foot from
their camp to see him, he only gave his usual answer. "Dawn
waits for no man. Tomorrow you'll all be hungry. 'Abdu, where's
the bread!' "
 T
HE ECHOES OF THE MEN ' S CURSES AND FEARS
were not long in reaching the personnel of­
fice, and reverberating from the personnel of-
fice to headquarters, where the reaction was silence and a halt
to the interviews.
Administration gave no sign of anger or even dissatisfaction;
indeed the conduct of the Americans, especially the ones who
spoke Arabic, became milder and more cunning. They continued
to visit Arab Harran but accepted invitations much less fre­
quently than before, and even in the rare instances when they
visited homes or individuals, they limited their conversations to
the weather and the meanings of certain words and expressions.
On one o ccasion, they visited Abdullah al-Saad when Ibn
Naffeh happ ened to be p resent. He stared at them a long time
and shook his head, and asked them if they wanted to separate
 . . 335

men from their wives, or brothers from their brothers. Then he

asked them where they kept the jinn, and if they wanted to fetch
a number of demons equivalent to the number of Harran's res­
idents and the surrounding tribes. When he put the questions to
them, suddenly and aggressively, the Americans looked at one
another and laughed, and began to quote some verses from the
Koran. One of them said that "accusing Christians and Jews of
unbelief was a sin against God. " Ibn Naffeh's j aw dropped when
he heard the Koranic verses. He could not believe it at first, and
when they quoted some other passages he got up furiously and
screamed: "Satan has a thousand faces and a thousand tongues!"
Although Abdullah al-Saad was deeply embarrassed by Ibn
Naffeh's conduct he stifled his anger, but on hearing these words
he lost his temper, and when his brother Rashed tried to calm
Ibn Naffeh and make him sit down again, and Ibn Naffeh shouted
and tried to get free and shouted more curses, Abdullah spoke
up loudly to his brother so that everyone could hear: "Rashed,
leave the door open, wide enough for a camel, so that any guest
of ours can come in, and so whoever doesn't like our company
can go where he chooses-God's earth is wide! "
Ibn Naffeh came back when h e heard this and stood i n the
door of the room where Ibn Saad and his guests were sitting.
"Yes, by God, the earth is wide, " he snapped angrily. "God
have mercy on those who sleep on the hard ground, like your
father, who used to pray God to build a wall of fire between
himself and all infidel sons of bitches. "
He paused for a moment and looked the frightened Americans
in the face, then smiled mockingly and went on. "My boy,
foreign lands are corrupt, and foreign people bring corruption,
and money corrupts worst of all. "
Abdullah al-Saad's lips tightened in disgust but he said noth­
ing. There was silence. In the doorway Ibn Naffch waited to
react to any remark, and to curse, but he saw that he was unable
c e 5
0 f s a

to provoke them any further and so turned away, facing them

in profile.
"Tomorrow they'll bite your hands, but it will be too late to
be sorry. "
The Americans visited the workers' camp to o. The first time
they did so on the pretext of examining the water pump, and
-
again in order to determine a site for the new barracks, and both
times they stayed longer than was necessary to examine the pump
or select a site, and both times they waved at and spoke with
the workers.
The third time, four of them came, including N aim and one
other who spoke Arabic. It was on a Friday, the workers' day
off, in the morning. They said that they wanted to build a mosque
and a clubhouse for the workers and had to name a supervisory
committee: would the workers prefer to elect the committee or
to leave the selection to the personnel office? The workers were
asked if they had any other proposals to make. The workers
were extremely cautious and said as little as possible, and when
they were asked directly they told Nairn that they preferred to
elect the committee themselves.
Despite the friendliness of the Americans' words and behavior,
they gazed intently into the workers' eyes and closely watched
their movements and reactions to every proposal or idea they
put forward. They wanted to keep talking for a long while; they
wanted the workers to respond frankly and fearlessly, but with
these impassive faces and brief words it was difficult or impos­
sible to keep a conversation going for long.
At one point the Arabic-speaking American, who had been
on the team of interviewers, said that he wished to make it clear
to everyone that the company had come to serve the workers
and for their sake, and that it would be better able to serve their
interests if it could obtain more helpful information: What kind
of food did they want? What kind of work did they like best?
 . . 337

When, for example, the company asked the workers i f they

prayed, it was only in order to know whether or not it was
necessary to build a new mosque, or if the mosque in Harran
sufficed.
The American discussed these matters in a manner intensely
serious and yet comical at the same time, for his accent was all
but incomprehensible, and twice he had to ask Nairn for words
he did not know. When he finished, he was delighted to see the
workers smiling and exchanging glances. He knew that the rea­
son for this was his way of speaking, but he had been trying to
establish some intimacy and mutual confidence.
After an hour of discussion and questions, during which the
workers smiled and winked at one another, the Americans said
that, having heard the workers' views and requests, they would
convey all they had heard to headquarters. Within a short time
steps would be taken to begin construction on the mosque and
clubhouse.
This was not the only action the Americans took: they sent
presents to Arab Harran and the camp. They also informed the
workers, by way of the personnel office, that the interviews
would not be resumed; in their stead, green questionnaires would
be circulated, asking the name, age and hometown of each worker.
As to the section dealing with family matters-marital status,
number of children and so on-Naim had made it clear before
the questionnaires were sent around that the purpose of this
question was to allot pay raises to married workers and those
who had children; the amount of the raise would correspond to
the number of children. Naim was taken by surprise when Ab­
dullah ai-Zamcl asked whether the raises would take into account
only the number of children, or the number of wives as well.
"Administration hasn't considered that, " he answered some­
what perplexedly. " We'll check it with the legal department. "
 50

]\ FTER FOUR MONTHS OF UNRELENTING LABOR,

the dredging of the shoreline and expansion
of the port in front of the American com-
pound were complete, and a number of roads were opened. One
linked the compound directly to the port and another beside it
led west along the beach to Arab Harran. A third road, a short
distance from the harbor, connected the second road with the
workers' camp.
With the expansion of the port and construction of the roads,
Harran changed once again: large and small ships came in every
day, carrying people, goods and new fears as well as strange
objects in gigantic crates. Harran trembled with the arrival of
every ship and filled with anxiety as it watched everything and
every move through the eyes of its children and old men. The
children occupied themselves with counting the new people that
 0 0 339

disembarked from the ships, while the old men watched and
meditated, overcome with worry; they turned back to go to the
market of Abu As'ad al-Helwani's coffeehouse, where they dis­
cussed the latest news with an air of fright and bitterness until
it was time for the sundown prayer. Then they left the coffee­
house for the old mosque of Harran, where before and after
prayers they spent long periods immersed in silent meditation.
After that they rose up again, strong in body but with heavy
hearts, to trudge back toward the new city of Harran on the
western hills.
There was no limit to the diversity of the new arrivals in
Harran or to their strange conduct. Some of them went straight
to the American compound and were not seen again until much
later. Another group was furnished by the Americans with a
field of tents near the beach. It happened that the tents w<:re
erected before they arrived, so as soon as they came off the ships
they reported to the tents, though within a fairly short time
some of them were housed in new barracks and others were
moved to the American compound itself. No one knew where
some of the others went; they did not enter the American com­
pound and no tents were put up for them; indeed there was no
one to welcome them off their ship. They waited a long time
for their ship to drop anchor and took their time disembarking,
and looked thoroughly bewildered and lost as they stood on the
beach amid the piles of their luggage and belongings. It was clear
from the way they looked around them that they thought there
had somehow been a mistake in choosing their destination. They
wandered around looking for other places, carrying their suit­
cases and parcels with them , behaving noisily and acting very
confused.
In no time they were everywhere: in the market, in Abu As'ad's
coffeehouse, in the mosque and outside the camp.
Most of the people who arrived on ships like this one were
c e s 0 f s a

poor and terrified and never refused any work they were offered;
no sooner did Daham or Dabbasi or anyone else from Harran
invite them to work in the camp, at stonecutting or in house
construction, than they readily accepted. With unhesitating zeal,
in their desire to please and be allowed to stay, they agreed to
any salary and any type of work.
Harran itself hummed, changed and grew bigger every day.
The emirate building rose broad and tall on the northern hill,
and two or three hundred yards to the east the emir's residence
grew higher. Anyone standing on the beach or anywhere else
in Harran could plainly see the two buildings stretching taller
with every passing day.
Abdullah al-Saad did not wait or procrastinate as Ibn Rashed
had done in deciding to build a house on the western hill. He
recruited a number of Harranis to help him build the house, and
they were eager to be of assistance, as if driven by an unseen
force to challenge the emirate and emir's residence on one hand
and to prove to the Americans that they were just as capable of
building houses on the other. To aid them they enlisted the
services of Abu Abdu al-Teli, from Ujra. He came with a number
of assistants, and after a few days spent touring Harran and
testing the soil and rock, they went near the A merican compound
to "inspect" the houses there; they had been refused entry to the
compound in spite of all their requests. After all the tests and
the "inspection"-accomplished with a great deal of whispering
and clear apprehension-Abu Abdu al-Tcli and his men went
to work with supreme confidence, and before the coming of
winter that year the last stone arches over the windows were in
place, but work never stopped.
Even Ibn Rashed, who was traveling, did not stay away long.
He returned to Harran one week before the emir. As usual, he
had a number of new men with him. Although no one knew
what they would do, Daham made no secret of Ibn Rashed's
 .. 341

intention to put up a modern building in the market district. He

said that it would be the most magnificent building in all Harran
and for miles around. It would have three floors: the ground
story would be a huge bazaar with several spacious shops, the
largest of which would be Ibn Rashed's office. The two upper
floors would provide Ibn Rashed's living quarters, with each of
his wives having her own floor. He refused to talk about this
directly, but when he was asked about it one day as he sat in
Abu As'ad al-Helwani's coffeehouse, he smiled and avoided the
gaze of those seated around him. "All property is God's, my
friends . " When they looked at him and smiled he laughed. "Har­
ran is packed with people now, and it doesn't make sense to live
in the desert anymore-certainly not for a man with wives. "
Not only that; he spoke again, more to himself than to anyone
present, his brows knitted: "As you see . . . this market isn't
big enough anymore. Harran needs more than one market. "
They understood that Ibn Rashed would bring his family to
Harran after putting up this new building, and that he would
do so very soon.
Within a few days of his arrival, most of the people saw him
strolling through the market, near the mosque, with some of
the men he had brought. He looked excited and preoccupied at
the same time. Another day he was seen, in the early morning,
with his robe tucked up in his broad belt, with a long rope or
what r.esembled a rope. He and another man were measuring
the plot of land and writing something on a piece of paper-no
one knew exactly what, but everyone was sure that Ibn Rashed
would begin construction before long.
At about the same time it was rumored that Saleh al-Dabbasi
would marry Muhammad al-Seif's sister; the two men's close
friendship, the long hours they spent together, the close ties that
bound the Seif and Dabbasi families, and what the women,
especially Dabbasi's wife said, made another marriage, aimed at
c e s 0 J s a

strengthening and renewing these ties, seem inevitable. But

everything had to wait until the elder Dabbasi came back from
his trip.
As to Hajem, who had left so mysteriously-or, more pre­
cisely, been made to leave, with no one the wiser-he too reap­
peared, accompanied by an old man, two days before the emir
returned.
Hajem's return had the impact of a bolt oflightning, especially
for Ibn Rashed. Everyone had assumed that the problem was
gone, to be forgotten with the passage of time, so Hajem's
strange reappearance gave Harran one of its most painful and
difficult nights.
Hajem was extremely thin, as if he had not eaten or slept for
days, and apparently in a complete stupor. He could not even
hear the voices around him and seemed unable to perceive the
faces and eyes that looked at him. When the old man wanted to
address him, to tell him something, he grasped his forearm and
gave him a shake. Hajem flinched violently, as if returning from
a distant reverie or waking from a deep sleep, and looked at the
man with sorrowful eyes, like those of a wounded animal, and
his eyelids fluttered several times as he nervously jerked his head.
Even when the man was sure that he was paying attention, he
asked loudly, "Hajem! Are you listening, Hajem?" If Hajem
nodded yes, he went on. "Tell me, my boy, do you want to
eat? Drink? Aren't you hungry? Thirsty! Aren't you thirsty?"
Haj em made a motion with his hand to indicate that he did not
know.
As soon as Ibn Rashed heard that Hajem was back, in the
company of that cross old man, he was filled with fear and
bewilderment, and for a while he vanished completely. No one
knew where he had gone or why; as soon as the news spread
that the caravan had arrived and was near the mosque, someone
brought word to . Ibn Rashed , who was sitting in Abu As' ad's
 . . 343

coffeehouse, that Hajem had come back with a cross old man
who was cursing and threatening and asking about Ibn Rashed.
Those who had seen Ibn Rashed go into the coffeehouse, those
who had seen him in the coffeehouse at sundown, did not know
when or how he left. They looked for him in the tents, in the
market and in the workers' camp but had no luck.
With every minute that passed, as they searched in every likely
place for Ibn Rashed, never finding him, the old man accom­
panying Hajem grew angrier, cursing and threatening vigor­
ously.
"Where would Ibn Rashed go? By God, by God, if he ran to
the remotest corner of the earth I'd find him. If he flew up into
the sky I'd grab him and haul him down, and even if he tried
to creep back into his mother's --- I'd fetch him out. " He
paused a moment and groaned, and looked around him at the
people's faces. "Does he think that human beings are cut from
trees? Doesn't he have family? No, Ibn Rashed, a human being
is not a dog, a person is a person, and if you send Hajem off
with a bedouin and say that's that-no, that's not that. Hajem
and his brother Mizban-where is Mizban? Did you bury him
and say that's that?
"No, it's not over yet, Ibn Rashed, I'm onto you, and time
is long. "
The men looked at Hajem. So changed was he that they hardly
recognized him. They held out their arms to shake his hand and
saw him look at them without seeing them. They shook the
limp hand that hung at his side and said, "How are you? Are
you fine, Hajem?" but his stare did not change and he did not
utter a word, not even his lips moved. The men felt a crushing
sadness and could not bear to look in his face, especially his eyes.
They grew even sadder when they remembered how this had
been the "small fish, " and Abdullah al-Zamel, who came run­
ning when he heard that Hajem had come back, buried his face
c e s 0 J s a

in the boy's chest and did not move for several long moments.
When he lifted his head to look at the men around them, some
of them said that his eyes were red with weeping, and others
swore that they heard him sobbing when he buried his face in
Hajem's chest.
Harran, wretched with grief, could do nothing to soothe the
old man's anger. The Harranis invited him to their homes to
rest and have some supper, for Ibn Rashed might not be found
until the following day, and a solution for the problem could
be reached then, but the man gruffly refused their invitations.
After he waited a long time and grew tired searching for Ibn
Rashed all over town, the old man went back to Abu As'ad's
coffeehouse and shook Hajem awake.
"Get up, boy. We'll show Ibn Rashed. "
When they got up to leave, Hajem smiled for the first time.
The old man looked at him and then at everyone in the coffee­
house.
"I'm onto him-time is long. "
 51

T
HE TOWNSPEOPLE OF H ARRAN WERE USED TO
Ibn Rashed's sudden departures and reap­
pearances, but no one had thought him ca-
pable of vanishing this quickly. After searching for him in all
the likely places without finding him, some of them said that
he had left town. Others said that he had left even before the
caravan arrived, because some of the men he had brought to
Harran stayed only three or four days and then departed, and
he must have gone with them. Still others said that he had not
left at all, that he was still somewhere in Harran-but no one
knew where.
Two of those who had said their evening prayers in the mosque
ofHarran, and who had seen and heard what Hajem's companion
had said, reported that, as they were crossing the market on their
way to New Harran, they saw Daham and Nairn walking toward
c e s 0 f s a

the emir's encampment. They could not be sure whether there

was a third man with Daham and Nairn because the night was
very dark and only Daham returned their greeting; Nairn and
what might have been the other kept walking briskly so as to
meet no one.
Harran's sleep was sad and uneasy that night. Hajem and the
man with him went to sleep in the mosque, and no one knew
what happened after that. The men who usually sat up until late
in Abu As'ad's coffeehouse saw and heard nothing as they played
cards or immersed themselves in learning the new games Abu
As' ad had brought from Damascus to encourage people to come
in and sit for long stretches without getting bored.
An hour or so after supper three men sent by the emir's deputy
went to the mosque, apparently because they knew or guessed
that the two men asking for Ibn Rashed were there. Without
asking anyone they went straight to Hajem and the man with
him. One of the emir's men knew Hajem. The men took them
away calmly, and Hajem's companion actually seemed delighted;
his eyes twinkled when they asked him if it was he who sought
Ibn Rashed. When he smiled and nodded yes, they asked him
and Hajem to come along with them, and in no time they found
themselves before the deputy emir, who addressed them se­
verely, almost angrily. " Who arc you and what brings you to
Harran?"
The man answered politely but firmly that he had come to
Harran to get what was due him; to find out how his nephew
had been killed and who had killed him; and to find out how
his other nephew had lost his senses. He indicated Hajem, who
was standing at his side.
"Why arc you making such a fuss about Ibn Rashe d?"
"Ibn Rashed is my enemy!"
" Do you know Ibn Rashed?"
"I haven't seen him, but I know all about him. "
 . . 347

"Who told you he did it and left?"

"Everyone knows it. "
"Everyone knows it? What about the government?"
"I want the government to help me get my rights. "
"So why haven't you gone t o the government to ask them to
get involved?" The deputy emir paused a moment to glare at
him, then shook his head and went on. "If you were thinking
you could get your due by showing your muscle or pushing
people around, you'd better know right now that those days are
gone. Now the government is above everybody. The govern­
ment isn't afraid of anyone; it and it alone secures people's rights,
but you bedouin only learn from a beating. "
Without waiting for a reply he addressed his men, who were
standing by the flap of the tent. "Take them away. "
Earlier, as the man had struggled up the hill to the tent gripping
Hajcm's arm, he had expected to get his rights at any moment;
surely the emir had seized Ibn Rashed and perhaps even tied him
up pending their arrival. The emir would hear the whole story
of how Hajem had been sent to him with the bedouin. The old
man would take the money from his pocket and place it in front
of the emir and say, "Here is the money. " The emir would fly
into a rage and punish Ibn Rashed to show how problems should
be solved.
Now, as the men led him out of the tent to he knew not
where, and having heard what the deputy emir had to say, he
could not believe his cars; he could not believe what had hap­
pened. Had there been some mistake he had not understood?
Didn't the emir know what had happened; had he heard nothing?
The whole story, which had taken place right here, in Harran,
which everybody had heard about, not just in Harran but in far
distant places like Ujra, al-Rawdha, Umm Saaf and Wadi al­
Uyoun, was still the subject of gossip . . . the emir did not know
this story that people knew in all these faraway places? Wasn't
c e s 0 f s a

the sight of Hajem himself sufficient evidence of Ibn Rashed's

disgusting treachery?
How had Ibn Rashed been able to get to the emir so quickly?
Where was he now? Why didn't he show himself and speak in
front of the emir if he did not consider himself responsible or
guilty?
The emir's men did not know where they were supposed to
take the two men, for Harran had no prisons-had never had a
prison. There was no need for such severity toward the two
men, they felt, especially since they knew how Mizban had died
and could see Hajem for themselves: the remnants of a man,
with a simpleton's gaze, oblivious to everything around him. If
there had been a prison in Harran, was it possible to consign
such a man to it?
The employees of the emirate looked at each other and then
at the two men in the half darkness of the tent, lit by a dim
hanging lamp. They were completely bewildered and downcast,
and when they looked at Haj em's face their bewilderment turned
to fear. "A madman is capable of anything; he might burn or
kill. He might piss on other people while they are sleeping. "
This is what some of the men were thinking; this is how they
looked at such unfortunates, with fearful and pitying im­
pulses . . . but for now, what were they to do with this imbecile?
A shout from the deputy emir interrupted their confused and
bitter thoughts, and one of the men ran to answer the call. When
he returned a minute or two later his tone suggested rancor akin
to obscenity. "God has deserted men's hearts-they've become
vipers. "
When the others asked him what he was talking about, he
turned his back to Hajem and the man so that they would not
hear and said that the deputy emir had ordered that the two men
be tied to their hobbled camels. The emir's men were shocked;
they protested, and the man with Hajem supposed, in a final
 . . 349

deluded moment, when h e heard the deputy emir's call t o one

of the men, that the deputy emir had come to his senses and
wished to rectify his error, or retract his words or apologize.
When he heard what the deputy emir had told the man he laughed
derisively-feeling, at that moment, an urge to weep or scream.
He had to do something to keep from falling down dead. When
he looked at Hajem and the boy returned his gaze with those
wretched cheerful eyes, and smiled, he grasped his upper arm
tightly and spoke up loudly enough for everyone-including the
deputy emir-to hear: "If a man doesn't take his rights using
his own muscles, he'll die and get nothing. "
 T
HAT NIGHT THEY ALL SLEPT NEAR THE CAMEL
stand. A low, uneven stone wall, about waist
high, separated them from the camels. The
ropes they had been ordered to use were looped carelessly and
angrily; none of the emir's men had made any serious effort to
carry out their impossible orders. After looking at each other
and then at the two men's faces, they decided to sleep and told
the two, "We'll sleep here" and pointed to a spacious corner
filled with sacks of straw; they said not a word more.
Harran seemed harsh and oppressive that night, though the
coolness that filled the night helped the old man to forget; even
so, deep unbroken sleep eluded him. When he looked over at
the five sleepin g men, Hajem among them, it seemed to him in
the light of da wn that he knew them, that he had seen them
before. When one of them rolled over, his face directly opposite
 .. 351

him, he thought for a split second that this was Mizban! Mizban's
face had looked just like that when he had last seen him, three
years ago. The camels constantly made chewing noises with their
lips; he could see their shoulders and heads as they shifted in
their sleep. They were sadder than any camels he had even seen,
straining their tongues and throats as if cursing, and looking
around them resentfully. The man was burning with anger, no,
not only anger; it was mingled with something as black as pitch
and oozy thick as old blood that had not dried yet. He sat on
his bed in the first light of dawn and asked himself, "Is the world
now so depraved that a murderer's victim is at fault, that a man
is imprisoned for seeking his rights? Can a man take all this and
remain silent?" He looked around. He saw a number of tents
and two huge, crude buildings. " Ibn Rashed won't get away
from me even if he learns how to fly, even if everyone in the
world is on his side. " He shook his head and looked at the
sleeping men around him, and they seemed more familiar than
before. Hajem, asleep on his back, his face to the sky and his
arms stretched out, his lower lip slack as if in a smile, looked
like a small child. He was like the other children, only larger.
"If their mother knew, she would kill herself. "
If there had been some mistake the night before, because of
his anger, or because his words had been understood as direct
threats against Ibn Rashed-if they thought he had come to take
revenge and kill him instead of to seek his rights as was custom­
ary-if there had been some mistake the night before, then the
deputy emir should act differently today. So the old man rea­
soned, but when morning came and the sun rose to the move­
ment and noise of the area, especially in the two buildings, and
when they were told to go into the small tent and stay there, he
was beset by doubts all over again. They were more than doubts,
for had the deputy emir wished to discover the truth, he would
have asked the people what had really happened so as to solve
c e s 0 J s a

the matter as quickly as possible, but the deputy emir's leaving

him thus imprisoned, tied up, not knowing why or for how
long, made rage drift, like a vapor, to his head. Hajem, who
slept late, not waking until the sun crept above the wall to shine
on his face, stayed silently in the tent; his gaze was fixed on the
lamp. He did not notice when a piece of bread and a glass of tea
were placed in front of him, but he showed greater fear than
ever before when the old man grabbed his arm and shook him.
He ate only a small fragment of the bread and drank the tea cold.
Three men came in the afternoon, as the emir's men moved
around here and there and Hajem and the old man sat in the
tent. One of the three walked quickly, nervously, and the other
two tried to catch up. The first man glanced at the two seated
men out of the corner of his eye, then adjusted his black cloak
and walked away. The other two men exchanged a few words
as they looked. The old man looked up, recognizing none of
them, but when he turned to Hajem and saw him smiling broadly,
as he had not smiled for days, his heart missed a beat and fear
seized him. He watched the workmen washing their hands and
faces in the barrels of water nearby, and he let this and the other
movement around him absorb his attention.
Shortly before sundown, when he was asked to appear before
the deputy emir, he felt uneasy, and when he went in and saw
the three men seated he knew that the man seated next to the
emir was Ibn Rashed. At first Ibn Rashed did not look at him;
the other two watched him attentively and a little fearfully. The
deputy emir asked him and Hajem to sit down, as he had done
the night before, though he now seemed more prepared to listen.
There was a long silence.
"Do you know your enemy?" asked the deputy emir.
The old man looked at the faces around him and took a deep
breath.
"My enemy knows himself, " he said contemptuously.
 . . 353

"You say that Ibn Rashed i s your enemy. Take a good look.
Do you recognize Ibn Rashed among these men?"
"If the Almighty does not deceive me, that's him!"
He pointed to the man beside the deputy emir.
Ibn Rashed sat up with a mocking and self-confident smile,
and spoke in a loud but stammering voice. "This Ibn Rashed
you're talking about, who you've spared no disgrace in all you've
said about him, who you've never laid eyes on-he's the one
who wants to secure your rights for you, even from the lion's
mouth, but you don't care about that. "
At that moment the old man knew he was in the presence of
his enemy, and he spoke in a menacing tone. "Listen, Ibn Rashed,
if you are Ibn Rashed, truth is truth and it is a boon from God,
not from you or anyone else. Men are not money, and you don't
bury men's blood at night. You're an Arab, and you know how
men secure their rights. "
"Are you threatening me? Did Ibn Hathal and the others send
you after me?"
"Listen to me and understand: truth is truth, and rights are
rights. That's all. "
"I have nothing to do with your rights. "
Angrily, Ibn Rashed began to tell the story again, before the
deputy emir, who nodded to show he understood. Suddenly Ibn
Rashed turned to the man and spoke sharply. "These are wit­
nesses, they wrote the petitions, they wore themselves out trying
to get you some compensation, and the money you received
was sent by Ibn Rashed. It was from Ibn Rashed's own purse. "
The man extracted an old wad of cloth from within his shirt
and threw it in the middle of the floor.
"Then the money is yours, Ibn Rashed, or someone else's,
and here it is, and now your witnesses arc my witnesses. "
He pointed at Hajem, who sat looking at Ibn Rashed and
smiling .
c e s 0 J s a

Ibn Rashed looked at Hajem, perhaps for the first time. He

might have seen him before, but he seemed alarmed to see him
now. He shifted several times and addressed the deputy emir.
"The Americans said, 'We have no medicine for this man. Go
see someone else. ' You know, Your Excellency, that the Arabs'
medicine is better than American medicine. It can cure burns,
and injuries, and illnesses. "
"And Mizban, Ibn Rashed?" This from the old man.
"He died. It was God's will. "
"You took him to the sea and drowned him and you say it
was God's will?"
"Don't you understand? Life and death are from God. "
"If you hadn't taken him away to the sea he wouldn't have
died. "
"I didn't take anyone away anywhere. "
"So I took him away?"
"The company, the Americans, they're the ones who took
him away and they are responsible. They say that they will pay
compensation. "
The old man grew angry and shook his finger threateningly.
"Listen, Ibn Rashed, a man's blood doesn't flow into the dirt. I
don't know anyone but you, you who ran all over the place
hiring people and herding them around, and now you say you're
not responsible?"
A confused and fearful Daham began to tell how he and Ibn
Rashed-he pointed into the distance-did everything in their
power to obtain compensation, how they went to the personnel
office and met with Nairn personally on several occasions. The
petition they presented to the personnel office, which the per­
sonnel office submitted to headquarters, had been composed
with Ibn Rashed's cooperation, and the company had promised
to study the matter, "though up until now the personnel office
hasn't conveyed any response. "
 . . 355

Daham's speech was halting, confused and cold, and added

nothing to what Ibn Rashed had already said. The old man
listened and looked at Daham and the glowering black man, then
spoke to the deputy emir. "You see what has happened to our
children, Your Excellency. One is dead and buried, and this is
the other. "
He pointed to Hajem, whose gaze wandered aimlessly as he
smiled. The old man shook his arm.
"Hajem! " he shouted. "Do you hear me, Hajem?"
Hajem turned to him his wretched, sad and imbecilic face.
"Hah, my boy-how are you?" shouted the old man.
Hajem stared at him but said nothing. The old man addressed
Ibn Rashed. " Was he in this condition when you took him away
from Uj ra?" He smiled derisively. "And his brother Mizban­
does he have a grave or did the fish eat him?"
Ibn Rashed answered sharply. "The company owes you your
due. There is their door. "
"I know only one door-this one. "
He pointed to Ibn Rashed, who seemed angry. Ibn Rashed
spoke up animatedly but with fear in his voice. "Do you hear
this, Your Excellency?"
The deputy emir seemed deep in troubled thought. He turned
to the old man. "You'll get your due. " He added decisively,
"Everyone will get his due. You'll be our guests for three or
four days, and then we'll sec. "
And so Hajem and the old man remained the "guests" of the
deputy emir for another day. Ibn Rashed stayed around for a
short while, then left with the two men who had come with
him.
 53

T
HE EMIR RETURNED SUDDENLY FROM THE HUNT;
no one had expected to see him again so soon.
More surprised-not to say shocked-than
anyone was Ibn Rashed himself, for after Nairn's visit to the
deputy emir with Daham, Hajem and his uncle were "restrained"
or "detained . . . in order to prevent any disturbance resulting
from their accusations and threats, or unrest on the part of the
workers in the company, " which Ibn Rashed convinced the
Americans would be inevitable when he talked to them that
night, which he spent in their compound; and Nairn told them
the same thing. The question of cash compensation for Mizban's
death was still very complicated, because the company's legal
department judged that "the company is neither responsible nor
liable, since the transfer of the workers to the company's re­
sponsibility was not effec ted until after the decease. " The com-
 .. 357

pensation due Hajem would, i t was promised, b e paid "within

the coming few days, on condition that law and order prevail. "
This was why Hajem and his uncle were kept under detention:
so that the disturbances might die down and the threats against
Ibn Rashed cease. Payment would be made via the emirate, and
the case would be considered closed.
This is how it was planned, and how it was carried out. Miz­
ban's death months before had caused a great deal of silent unrest
among the workers, the recent interviews had aroused much fear
and suspicion in everyone, and nothing had been done to ease
these ill feelings, which had spread to Harran itself-thus, Nairn
explained to the Americans on several occasions, the situation
could bear no further strain or disruption.
Now, Hajem's reappearance in Harran was a painfully obvious
indication of the treatment of these human creatures and the way
the Americans viewed them. In addition to this living, breathing
example were his uncle's threats and the contagious anger of the
workers-"things are bound to lead to an outcome the company
would prefer to avoid. "
As the emir neared Harran he was captivated by the two
buildings even before he arrived. He saw them from afar-at
ftrst he could not make them out clearly and asked if they be­
longed to the company, though the company's buildings were
clearly visible from that distance. When he was told that they
were the emirate and the emir's residence he could not hide his
jOy.
"Never mind if we didn't get all the birds we wanted, " he
told Dabbasijokingly as they rode together toward Harran. "Just
look at our consolation prize!"
He pointed delightedly at the two buildings and seemed de­
termined to get home as fast as he could. They arrived in the
midafternoon, as the workmen were about to go home, and
headed straight for the site to inspect the progress that had been
c e 5 0 f s a

made. The deputy emir, who rushed out to meet the emir, and
who was clearly excited, assured the prince in broken, breathless
words, as he trotted by his side, that he had overseen all the
work personally, and that His Excellency's instructions had been
followed to the letter. He pointed to the large window openings
on the southern wall and thumped the thick walls with his palm
to show how solid they were. The emir asked if the work had
gone on steadily for the whole period of his absence and how
many workmen were on the job; he asked about the materials
they used and many other related things. Dabbasi was making
the tour with the emir, and his astonishment showed plainly; he
praised the construction and the quality of the building materials
and said he was " truly awed"-if all the work was of this stan­
dard, he said, then the buiiding might well stand for hundreds
of years: "Furthermore, this is what the buildings in Egypt look
like-some of them were built in the days of the patriarch Joseph,
peace be upon him, and are still standing!"
The emir was happy as a child and praised the workers ef­
fusively, telling them that were it not for their dedication and
loyalty the construction would never have come so far or been
so impressively solid. The workers, who were pleased by the
emir's praise, made a few briet remarks about the window arches
and their breadth as well as the fact that "the cement had to be
poured several times before it settled right, but now it will never
crack. " All this was explained to the emir, who again praised
their efforts. He asked how much longer it would take to com­
plete the building and whether the noise and dust were as bad
now as they had been in the beginning, and when his deputy
assured him that he was thinking of the preliminary stages, and
that the heavy equipment that roared and stirred up the dust was
no longer in use, the emir addressed the workers, standing a few
feet away, in his loudest voice. "Those things that dug the foun­
dation were enough to split your head open and blind you!" He
 . . 359

paused t o laugh. "Praise the Lord . . . we've seen the last of

them. "
Dabbasi, who insisted on accompanying the emir until the
end of the tour, said, when the emir invited him to have supper,
entertain himself and spend the night before going back to his
family, "I think it better, Your Excellency, that you visit with
some of your other friends . " He smiled before going on. "There
are so many besides me, Your Excellency, waiting to see you!"
"The way you talk, Abu Saleh! " The emir laughed. "Every
word you utter has a thousand meanings. "
The two laughed together, and after they drank some coffee
Dabbasi went back to his family, and the emir asked his deputy
what had gone on in his absence, what caravans and people had
come to town. He listened to a few responses without really
taking them in, then got up to go and see his family in another
tent.
"So it goes with people's problems, " he said. He took a few
slow steps and laughed. "There is no end to people's problems,
Abu Rashwan. "
His deputy laughed. "In Harran, Your Excellency, there is no
end to people's problems, or to the people-even death doesn't
rid us of them!"
"Trust in God, " said the emir.
 I
BN RASHED WAS AMONG THE FIRST TO VISIT THE EMIR
the morning after his arrival. He came earlier than
usual. The emir was inspecting the buildings, happy
and relaxed, slapping his palms against the walls to test them as
his deputy had done the day before. When he saw Ibn Rashed
coming at this hour, he did not know what to think: Was he
coming to greet and supervise the workers? Did he do this every
day, or had he heard of the emir's arrival and come only this
once to show how loyal and ambitious he was? If he had come
to pay his respects, his timing was wrong. The emir spoke while
Ibn Rashed was within a few hurried steps of arriving. "Why
so early? Something is amiss, Ibn Rashed. "
"It's almost noon, Your Excellency!" said Ibn Rashed, at­
tempting a smile as he hurried along nervously.
"Are you telling me?" replied the emir.
 .. 361

Ibn Rashed did not know what the emir was getting at, whether
he was praising or rebuking him. After greeting the emir warmly
and asking whether the hunting trip had been enjoyable and the
prey plentiful, Ibn Rashed joined the emir in inspecting the two
buildings and made many observations regarding the strength
of the structures and the care with which they were built. He
assured the emir that everything would be complete within a
month, and he said that only the interiors needed some finishing
touches. With a little encouragement, Ibn Rashed said, no doubt
the Americans would do for His Excellency what they had done
when building their own homes: no sooner had their doors,
windows and many other ready-made furnishings been hauled
out of their crates and wrappings than they were installed. The
emir was greatly interested in having some of these things and
wondered aloud if the Americans would give them without being
asked; he hinted that he was ashamed to ask for them himself.
Ibn Rashed immediately perceived the emir's weak point.
"I shouldn't allow you to ask for them, Abu Misfer, " he said.
He smiled and added, in a different tone, " With your approval,
Your Excellency, just leave it to me. "
He paused for a moment and spoke through his nostrils. "I'll
keep after them night and day. I'll tell them, 'The emir's house
has to be just like the Americans have. ' "
Craftily and brilliantly, Ibn Rashed promised the emir to act
on his behalf in talks with the Americans to fit out the emirate
and emir's residence exactly like their own houses. The emir
took happily to the idea, though his eyes and other features
seemed to express some reservations; in an attempt to overcome
his doubts and give Ibn Rashed a chance, he looked directly into
his eyes and said, "Trust in God, Ibn Rashed, and don't let up
on them. Keep after them, only don't let anyone know that it
was I who asked. "
Ibn Rashed nodded wordlessly, with a confident little smile.
c e 5 0 f s a

A few moments passed. He struck his chest with an open palm

and said, "You will get just what you want, and no less, Your
Excellency. "
He resumed his tour with the emir, and when he saw two or
three of the workers arriving he shouted at them sternly and
somewhat sarcastically: "God-God! It's nearly noon, my friends!"
When the workers saw the emir they were struck with fear
and unease and said nothing. Ibn Rashed went on in a paternal
tone: "Get going, men! Let's move it along-you've all got work
to do!"
To spur them on he shed his black cloak and threw it on a
heap of rocks, then tucked up his robe into his broad belt.
"Let's get going, all together now!"
In an atmosphere of noisy excitement and exaggerated energy
they began to fill the water barrel, shift the bags of cement and
prepare the sand. Ibn Rashed's participation, his energy and the
orders he gave confused the workers more than they helped the
pace of the work, and the emir, watching from a distance with
a smile-whether a smile of pleasure or of pity it was impossible
to tell-spoke to him. "Get your cloak, Ibn Rashed, and let's
get some coffee. "
Ibn Rashed quickly washed his hands and snatched up his cloak
as if he had been waiting for these words; he ran behind the
emir, who had begun to stroll away. When he caught up he
spoke to the emir as if talking to himself. "If you don't stand
right over them, Your Excellency, they just fall asleep. "

Ibn Rashed was deeply worried and upset, for in the same mea­
sure that he needed the emir's approval and confidence, he was
afraid that this confidence would be demolished by any inves­
tigation of the case of Hajem and his brother Mizban not carried
out with careful planning and in the right atmosphere. He still
 . . 363

remembered what the emir had said long ago when the case was
first investigated; he had been harsh and almost hostile, telling
him, "Look after your own, Ibn Rashed, and give us a rest from
these complaints. " If he told the emir that Hajem and a kinsman
were now in a tent only twenty or thirty steps away, that they
were imprisoned because the kinsman had been making threats,
that he had thrown away the money he had sent; if Ibn Rashed
said anything like this the emir would surely fly into a rage and
turn the world upside down on his head, whereas if he told him
that he had agreed to detain them with the approval of the
Americans and the deputy emir, the emir would surely feel in­
sulted; he might ask sarcastically, " Who's the emir-you or me?
And since when do the Americans have anything to do with it?"
Worst of all-what would the emir say if he saw Hajem this
miserable and destitute? And what would the deputy emir say
in his own defense?
His head was a whirl of thoughts and imaginings. He felt
besieged and threatened; the smiles he now saw on the emir's
face were only a deceptive veil, especially since "that bastard
Dabbasi must have raked me over the coals but good on their
hunting trip!" There was no doubt that Dabbasi had stirred up
the emir against him; if he were to see Hajem and his companion,
a single word from the latter and a crazed stare from the former
would settle things once and for all.
"You seem preoccupied, Ibn Rashed, " said the emir, looking
directly into his eyes. He paused a moment and then laughed
loudly. "Trust in God-you can't change the past, Ibn Rashed. "
Ibn Rashed sat up abruptly and pretended to smile when he
saw the emir looking at him that way.
"You said it, not I, Your Excellency. "
"And you know as well as I do that worry burns the heart­
it kills. "
"That 's the truth indeed! "
c e s 0 J s a

"Your heart is troubled, Ibn Rashed. "

"People have troubled it, Your Excellency. "
"People-or money?"
"Money does not disease the heart, my dear friend. "
"Money is the disease and the cure. "
Ibn Rashed sighed deeply, as if preparing what he was about
to say, and spoke in a humble voice when he saw the emir
smiling. " Your Excellency, please hear what I have to say. Judge
me afterward, and I will accept whatever judgment you make. "
These words took the emir by surprise. When Ibn Rashed
began to tell the story of Hajem with a fearful and nervous
excitement, the emir sat up, drew back slightly and began to
nod his head methodically as if recalling what he had said before,
how he had wanted the problem solved quickly and with good­
will on all sides. But when Ibn Rashed came to how Hajem had
returned with one of his relatives, their threats and subsequent
imprisonment, how the problem was worsening every day in
the workers' camp and among the Americans, and how Ibn
Rashed did not know what to do, what with the Americans
refusing to pay compensation-at this point in Ibn Rashed's
narrative the emir made an angry gesture with his hand. "I told
you, Ibn Rashed: the problem is money. "
He shook his head a few times and spoke in a contemptuous
tone. "Between you and the Americans the people's rights have
been lost, Ibn Rashed. "
Once again Ibn Rashed tried to explain how he had done his
utmost to obtain compensation for Mizban and how the Amer­
icans still refused. Compensation would be paid out to Hajem,
but not all the necessary steps had been completed yet. How he
had sent a sum of money from his own pocket to placate them
and as evidence of his own good intentions, and how he was
still doing his best to clear up the matter as quickly as possible,
in spite of the Americans, who had stipulated that nothing would
 . . 365

be paid out until things had quieted down and Hajem's friend
had stopped making threats.
As he talked Ibn Rashed gestured with his hands and waited
for the emir's reaction. He watched closely, because his reaction
was all-important to him, for if the emir heard him out, his heart
might soften and all manner of doors would be open to him,
meaning that he could remain powerful, whereas if the emir
opposed him and refused to listen, there would be no end to his
troubles.
"If you give me your consent now, Abu Misfer, " he said
slyly, "I will go from your presence straight to the Americans
and not leave them alone until they resolve both questions: the
question of the doors and windows and the question of Jazi's
sons. "
The emir spoke up wearily. "Pull your thorns with your own
hands, Ibn Rashed. We'll sec tomorrow. "
 55

]\ LL EFFORTS TO RESOLVE THE PROBLEM FAILED.

The company stubbornly refused to pay any
compensation, or even to make a nominal
payment, because " the law is the law, and rules are rules. " Their
excuse was always that responsibility for the workers' welfare
had not been transferred to the company until after Mizban's
death, "and before that date the company did not recognize or
assume any rights or liabilities; the agreement reached with Ibn
Rashed obliged him to provide day workers, and he was solely
responsible for them. " The emir's attempts to "divide the heap
in half-half from the company and half from Ibn Rashed-"
failed as well: Hamilton and Nairn visited the emir and empha­
sized to him that "basically it's not a question of the amount of
money under discussion, it's a matter of principle, of legality,
and on that basis the company refuses to discuss details. " Ham-
 . . 367

ilton added that the company would pay compensation for any
subsequent accidents, whether loss of life, total or partial dis­
ability, loss or injury of limb or organ, eye, leg or ear, or even
less serious injuries; the compensations would be generous, just
as if the Arabs were regular people!
Ibn Rashed was desperate to place the burden of compensation
on the company, "because my money, Your Excellency, has all
gone into people's bellies, into buying steel and stone. " When
the emir decided that Ibn Rashed should pay the whole amount
himself, since the company had refused, he shrieked as if he had
been burned. "I barely have enough money to pay the workers'
wages, Your Excellency! Try to intercede with the company,
and if they agree to give me a loan for one year . . . I'll pay. "
The emir lost his patience.
"I will not intercede. You know the company better than I
do-go and borrow money from them, or from the Devil. "
The emir turned away to where his deputy sat and told him
sharply, almost menacingly, "I've listened to enough of this!"
Ibn Rashed made a blatant attempt to influence the emir, ex­
ploiting the presence of the deputy.
"The Americans have agreed to everything, Your Excellency.
They said your doors and windows will be just like the ones in
the company houses, even better. " He paused to take a deep,
anxious breath. "Right now they don't have three or four big
doors ready to install, but tomorrow, Your Excellency, they'll
take the measurements and make them to size, and they'll be
ready in a few days' time. "
The emir's features softened, but he did not look directly at
Ibn Rashed, as if he had not heard or had no comment on what
had been said. Ibn Rashed had said something very similar after
his first visit to the Americans, though nothing as decisive and
final as this. At the time the Americans shook their heads and
looked at each other and said, Ibn Rashed recalled, that they
c e 5 0 1 s a

would have to look into the availability of the requested doors

and windows; now, in light of the impasse he had reached, he
tried to pressure the emir, to make him change his mind or at
the very least to soften his stand.
The deputy emir made an attempt to propose a settlement
that would secure the money they needed from a source outside
the company, and at the same time preserve peaceful and friendly
relations with the Americans.
"Forget the company. Talk to Dabbasi or al-Seif, or Ibn Saad.
One of them might give you the loan. "
"Let's change the subject, " said the emir disdainfully. He turned
to give Ibn Rashed a fleeting glance and then addressed his dep­
uty: "Don't worry about this one, money is no problem for
him. He knows how to raise money. "
Ibn Rashed almost wept to express his inability to find the
money. He said that he had spent all that he possessed, a mistake
that he could never forgive himself for making, because "land
is worthless, and there was no other madman like himself in
Harran who would squander his money on land and in people's
bellies. " He said that if things went on like this much longer,
he would have to leave town, because he could no longer face
the empty mouths that asked him for money day and night.
The emir seemed to be weakening. "To listen to you, Ibn
Rashed, one would think you needed charity. "
"What do people have but appearances-nothing but talk. "
"As Abu Rash wan said: talk to Dab basi. Go see al-Seif. "
"You know them as well as I do, Your Excellency. "
That is what Ibn Rashed said. He paused a moment and then
went on sarcastically. "Ibn Seif wouldn't give me the time of
day, and Dabbasi lives for the day I sell my cloak and go begging!"
 .. 369

Dab basi was indeed waiting for an opportunity to deal the death­
blow to Ibn Rashed-or at least a blow hard enough to weaken
and humble him-so as soon as he heard the tale of Hajem and
his reappearance, on his first day back in Harran, he got to work.
He visited the emir at noon the next day. The majlis was
crowded with guests of the emir, most of whom who had come
to pay their respects. The emir was in good spirits, even cheerful,
especially when they asked him how the hunting trip had gone,
but he referred the questioners to Dabbasi with a meaningful
smile and a gesture of his hand for Dabbasi to respond. When
the crowd thinned out a little Dabbasi approached the emir and
whispered a few words in his ear. The emir turned this way and
that and answered him loudly. "I know-I know, Abu Saleh. "
When the majlis was completely empty, with only the emir
and his deputy remaining, the emir turned expectantly to Dab­
basi.
"Hah, Abu Saleh. What are the people saying?" He looked at
his deputy out of the corner of his eye. "Our return was a mercy
for the people, not just for the birds, Abu Saleh . "
"For the birds, yes, b y God, Your Excellency, " said the dep­
uty emir in an effort to defend himself. "As for the people, I
don't know-they're busy with their daily worries and concerns,
and were it not for that troublemaker, they couldn't be any better
off. "
"Speak, Abu Saleh, " said the emir grimly.
"There's so much to say, Your Excellency, but the story I
heard yesterday, when I arrived, and which I heard again today
in the market, is the story of the bedouin who went simple­
minded-Ibn Rashed's man . "
None o f the three men needed any further details o n the sub­
ject , for no sooner had Ibn Rashed left the emir for the American
compound to see about the building of the emirate and emir's
c e s 0 J s a

residence, and the deputy emir arrived, than they summoned

Hajem and his uncle. When the two had finished listening to
him, the emir spoke. "You'll get your due. Hold your tongue. "
The emir peered for a long time into the man's face and then
into Hajem's, looking sad and pained, and added, in a calm but
firm voice, "Do you hear me? Do you understand what I said?"
When the man nodded to show that he had heard and under­
stood, and seemed reassured by the emir's face and words, the
emir spoke again. "If you wish to remain as our guest you are
most welcome, and if you wish to go down to the market, that
is the market road. "
The old man muttered a few rapid and jumbled words which
were taken to mean that he wished to go, so the emir called out
for one of his men. " Show him the way to market. And give
him something. "
When Dabbasi made his way to the emir's tent, he did not
see Hajem and his uncle, but many people reported seeing them
in the market, near the mosque and in Abu As'ad's coffeehouse,
and although the old man did not answer any of the questions
put to him, his eyes were blazing, and his grim silence said more
than any words; Haj em, walking by his side, looking curiously
and surprisedly into people's faces, smiling every so often in his
peculiar way, aroused their pity and anger at the same time as
he emitted sounds like the neighing of an injured horse.
Dabbasi was deeply affected when he heard this, realizing at
the same time that he had his opportunity to strike.
"If he had listened to you, Abu Misfer, none of all this would
have happened. "
"Money infatuates, and ambition blinds, Abu Saleh. "
Dabbasi and the deputy emir shook their heads and said noth­
mg.
In the following few days Ibn Naffeh took over. As soon as
he saw the two men by the mosque, the afternoon of the day
 .. 371

after the emir arrived, he began t o shout wrathfully. This h e did

spontaneously, without provocation, and after he greeted the
old man warmly everyone heard him shouting. "This man"­
he pointed so that his index finger almost touched Hajem's face,
as Hajem grinned at the people's faces-"this man has no prob­
lem. Death is every man's right and no one fears it, death is
closer to man than his jugular vein, and his problem is not death.
No. Death is an institution. A demon has possessed this man.
The Americans came and the demons came with them. Anyone
who drinks their water or eats of their provisions will have a
demon enter him, if not today then tomorrow, and if it doesn't
show right away, it will show in its own time. "
Ibn Naffeh looked into the men's faces to see what effect his
words had had upon them, and when he saw them standing
silent with bowed heads he spoke again in a louder voice. "Ibn
Rashed has gone roaming east and west and gathered people
from the four corners of the earth and handed them over to the
Americans. He's handed the sheep over to the wolf, and for
every beast, for every head of them, he gets his money from the
Americans and they ask him, 'Have you got any more of these?'
and he runs off and gathers more and tells them, 'Here you are!'
And he and the Americans are like hellfire, never quenched,
never satisfied. "
He sighed deeply and grasped Hajem's shoulder, which he
gave a strong shake. "My boy, illness and treatment come from
within. "
He turned to the people around him and pointed to Hajem.
"Today it's him, and tomorrow it will be all Harran. As our
ancient friend put it: 'I see the demons entering through your
nails to clothe themselves in your bodies and take up residence
in your brains. ' "
The uncle's head nodded unceasingly, and rage was evident
in his eyes and other features. When he was asked ifhe had seen
c e s 0 f s a

Ibn Rashed, and how the emir had received him, and before that
the deputy emir, he only gazed in his questioners' faces for a
long time and shook his head silently. When the questions were
repeated, with no response or explanation, Ibn Naffeh shouted
again. "The Americans are the problem-they're to blame!"
When the question about Ibn Rashed rang out-no one knew
whether it was directed at Ibn Naffeh or Hajem's uncle-Ibn
Naffeh made obscene gestures and answered contemptuously.
" Who is Ibn Rashed? Ibn Rashed is a bag of shit. "
He went on, laughing. "Ninety needles don't make an awl,
and Ibn Rashed is even smaller than a needle, but the Americans
are an awl. Tomorrow or the next day they'll make us swallow
a needle and pull awls out of here. " He pointed to his buttocks.
Ibn Naffeh's words made them laugh and were repeated every­
where, inspiring wonder and fear. People whispered and com­
mented and sneaked glances at him. A bitter severity was drawn
on the old man's face, as if he did not see or hear what was
happening around him; when he looked up at all it was to stare
at Hajem and shake his head.
Dabbasi missed nothing. He listened and knew everything
that was happening, especially the proposal of the emir and his
deputy that Ibn Rashed take a loan from him. He was not in a
hurry. He made a simple, almost naive remark, which by the
time it had been passed from mouth to mouth had become like
a fiery skewer. He commented on what he had heard Ibn Naffeh
say near the mosque-that Ibn Rashed was nothing but a needle­
in Abu As'ad's coffeehouse that same night.
"God Almighty, my friends! A man's nature never changes. "
He was silent for a while, then spoke to the group of Harranis
around him. " Fear whoever does not fear God. "
He shook his head and spoke to one of the men seated near
him, loudly, so that everyone might hear, "Make sure these
fellows get something to eat, and let them sleep upstairs. "
 . . 373

They understood that he meant Hajem and his uncle.

Three days later the emir's deputy sent Daham to ask Dabbasi
to loan Ibn Rashed the sum of money they had agreed upon as
compensation for Hajem and his brother.
"I have the money. This afternoon, at the emir's, " said Dab­
basi. He added, smiling, "Tell Ibn Rashed to be there. The world
is only life and death. "
Although Dabbasi was ready to lend the money, Ibn Rashed
stalled-perhaps the Americans would come through after all­
but in the end he seemed ready to go along. What no one realized
until after that afternoon was that Hajem and his uncle had left
Harran the previous night. They told no one they were leaving,
and no one saw them go. All that evening's efforts to locate
them in the mosque, the coffeehouse, the market, even in the
workers' camp, ended in failure.
"Ibn Rashed has put us in a plight-God help us, " said the
emir when he heard that they had left.
He looked dejectedly at his deputy as if to rebuke him. When
Ibn Rashed arrived to pass on the news he had just heard about
the departure of Hajem and his uncle, the emir replied, "Money
exalts and humbles, and makes men masters or slaves. "
A heavy silence fell, and most of them knew that there was
a great deal more yet to come.
 {I) ITH THE END OF SPRING AND THE TEMPERATE,
refreshing days and nights sometimes blessed
with coolness, the pitiless, oppressive sum-
mer carne in. The people, accustomed in former years to the
slow advent of summer, heralding its own arrival with rising
heat and humidity, were surprised by this summer's sudden,
early assault. It began with searing winds and tumultuous sand­
storms. Harran was nearly obliterated by these tempests that
raged in from the desert, under the heaps of sand and dirt which
the winds swept in from miles around by day and night. Even
the nights falling at the end of every spring, so mild and soothing
in their coolness, enabling the people to forget the heat of the
day, were harsh and heavy this year, more like midsummer
nights. The older men said that they had not seen such a spring
in long years, and others said that there had never been a drought
 .. 375

like this one; it would raise prices, especially for wheat and
barley, and make people's lives miserable-and the animals?
They didn' t have a chance of survivng into the hottest part of
the summer. Only Ibn Naffeh ignored what the people said; he
maintained that the heat that filled the air came not from the sun
but from the earth, and from within certain spirits, "since the
new demons live under our feet, and waste no time in conjuring
themselves into the bodies of men and beasts; before long they'll
take over everything, for within every creature dwells a small
black demon, which grows ever bigger unless man makes some
effort to kill it. "
The people of Harran generally expected the arrival of a car­
avan or two at this time of year-caravans bringing news, letters,
money, cloth, sugar and flour-which changed the tenor of life
in Harran, bringing cheer and liveliness, or fear or disquiet be­
cause of news or the lack of it. This year was different from all
previous years, however, in that no one was awaiting any specific
caravan, for they were so plentiful now that barely a week went
by without one. In addition, news and goods came now not
solely from the direction of Uj ra but from many sides, especially
from the sea. These caravans, too, brought fear and disquiet as
well as many new residents nearly every day, and no one knew
how they would live or what they would do.
In past years the absence or delay of caravans was a source of
great worry, especially among the elderly, but the caravans that
came now, with their news, rumors and travelers, made them
all feel that Harran was no one's property, no one's city. So
chaotic and crowded had it become that everyone asked and
everyone answered, but no one heard or understood. The men
who spent most of their time in the market, going several times
each day to Abu As'ad al-Helwani's coffeehouse, carefully mon­
itoring the rise of the new buildings, watchin g the newcomers
with a wary fascination- these men watched, listened and asked
c e s 0 f s a

questions, but they did not know how to explain what was
happening around them, nor did they know how their own lives
were changing, so they sank into silence and anxiety. When they
went back to their homes and tried to explain to their wives
some of what they had seen and heard, they ended up talking
only to themselves, for the women, having their own problems
and cares, neither looked nor listened to them. If they did chance
to look or listen they understood nothing of what the men said,
and their faces showed signs of genuine surprise at these prob­
lems that occupied their menfolk, and at the fear the men dis­
played for no apparent reason. When the men's hidden anger
burst forth, or they emitted short, sharp shouts, warning that
everything might come to an end any moment now, with the
earth opening up and everyone dying, the women knew that life
around them was taking a turn for the worse and that their men
had much on their minds, though they did not realize it. Within
a few moments, in a highly secretive and sly manner known
only to mothers and other experienced women, the children were
put to flight, and every woman acted as gently and sympathe t­
ically as she could at a moment's notice. So expert were they
that the harshest and coarsest of the men softened and were all
sweetness and apologies. Their anger was replaced by a placid
sorrow more like despair, as if they were confronting an un­
changing and unyielding force.
These were the days that followed the disappearance ofHajem
and his uncle, that mysterious and sudden disappearance. Some
of those who attributed the depression they felt to that occurrence
no sooner said so in front of a large number of people than they
forgot the reason, though the depression did not leave them; it
grew stronger every day. Even the severity of the emir, who
had come to treat Ibn Rashed harshly and speak to him rudely,
and who became extremely upset when any reference was made
 .. 377

to what had happened, was transformed into a bitter sarcasm,

and his anger and resentment were replaced by defiance.
Ibn Rashed himself, who could hardly believe anything that
had happened, as if it had been a dream, was a changed man.
At first he was shocked, then his shock turned to bafflement and
silence, then both turned to fear. He became a desperately uneasy
and fearful man, afraid of everything and everybody. He started
and stared, frightened by every sound, and looked into people's
faces with an almost accusatory curiosity. This transformation
took place within a very short time but quite slowly, and for a
while it went unnoticed by many, but the panic that showed in
his conduct and actions, and in his troubled relations with others,
and the irresolution that marked his every move, drew the at­
tention of most of them and made them wonder.
When Ibn Naffeh heard the men in Abu As'ad's coffeehouse
discussing Ibn Rashed's daze and silence in awed tones, he said,
"The demons have started to eat him up. " He shook his head
and laughed.
"We'll see, if we live that long. "
 57

D
AHAM AND DABBASI WERE MOST AWARE OF I BN
Rashed's new condition: Daham through his
direct daily contact with him and Dabbasi
through conjecture and reasoning in addition to a number of
unrelated remarks, rumors and information that came to him
from various sources, having to do with the man's words or
behavior. Each of the two men, not knowing what the other
knew, decided independently to finish Ibn Rashed off and make
him pay dearly.
After long and difficult bargaining and haggling to force Ibn
Rashed to pay compensation, he consented in spite of himself,
and since he did not possess the required amount, Dab basi agreed
to lend it to him. After Hajem and his uncle made their sudden
departure, Ibn Rashed reckoned that there was no need for the
loan at the present time, but Dabbasi spoke to the emir. "The
 .. 379

money is safe i n my pocket, Your Exccllency"-he paused a

moment to look at Ibn Rashed-"but if you ask for it tomorrow
it might not be there. "
He changed his tone completely as he redirected his speech to
the emir. "Perhaps, Your Excellency, the old bedouin has gone
to find an ally, a gang, to help him get a few more coins out of
us. ,
He resumed his former tone, addressing Ibn Rashed. "If he
comes back tomorrow, don't come to me-'Come on, Dabbasi,
hand over the money, Abu Saleh. ' "
Reasoning this way, they decided that the money should be
held in trust by the emir until such time as the bedouin came or
the problem was resolved. Since the money was to be held in
trust, and Ibn Rashed was unable to raise the sum in the fore­
seeable future, this was required of Dab basi, so he spoke to the
emir to conclude the business. "Abu Muhammad, God bless
him, has put all his money into people's bellies. " He took a
sudden deep breath and said in a different tone, "And that's like
putting your money down the well-it's gone for good! "
Barely a week later Dabbasi said, i n the coffeehouse, that he
had made the loan to Ibn Rashed and now wanted to make a
deal with him: he would let him keep the money, and he would
take over the piece of land west of the mosque, "since that land
is worthless anyway, and no one would ever think of buying
it. " When a garbled version of this proposal reached Ibn Rashed,
he only shook his head and said nothing, but then a messenger
from Dabbasi came to ask him "if he really needed that land
west of the mosque, because Abu Saleh would like to build a
house and the western hills arc too far away for him, and he'll
pay whatever price you ask . " When the messenger came and
talked like that, Ibn Rashed knew that the land west of the
mosque would be taken from him one way or another, but he
could not say yes or no.
c e 5 0 J s a

"I will go along with whatever Abu Saleh wants, " he told the
messenger. He sighed and looked him in the face. "If we meet
we can settle it. "
Dabbasi considered this response satisfactory and auspicious
enough for the time being, so he did not insist or even mention
the subject again. On the strength oflbn Rashed's evident unease
and fear, however, rumors began to circulate in the market and
Abu As'ad's coffeehouse to the effect that a number of travelers
had spotted Hajem and his uncle in Ujra. This time they were
not alone: they were with Miteb al-Hathal himself and a group
of armed bedouin. Some said they'd heard that Miteb al-Hathal
would arrive in Harran any day now; according to other reports,
some of the new residents recently arrived in Harran were ac­
tually close relatives of Hajem's and had come to seek revenge.
Did Ibn Rashed hear any of this? Did anyone tell him what
was being said? No one could confirm or deny the story, but
Abdu Muhammad, who had heard some of the story making
the rounds, and who still kept to his own corner of the coffee­
house, roared with laughter when he heard these kind of sup­
positions.
"My friends, why don't you ask me about Ibn Rashed?"
He paused a moment and shook his head as if recalling or
visualizing the many stories he knew and added, "Ibn Rashed
is worse than the devil himself. He knows who planted every
seed and who laid every egg. "
The people heard this and looked at each other in amazement­
how could he know everything? Who had told him? When they
could find no satisfactory explanation they were surer than ever
that whatever they heard surely had to reach Ibn Rashed's ears,
perhaps even before they knew. They had heard that Ibn Rashed
had not left his house for days, that he had not left town, nor
had he visited the emir or the American compound, although
he was in Harran . . . knowing that, they realized that some-
 .. 381

thing new had happened: what was being said about the presence
of Hajem and his uncle in Ujra with Miteb al-Hathal, and how
they would come to Harran with the next caravan, was all true.
This was why Ibn Rashed had gone into hiding, as he had done
before.
When Ibn Rashed appeared in the market-and he was no
longer seen without two or three of his men at his side-he
seemed greatly distraught and much changed: he moved quickly,
and his eyes were extremely alert and fearful; he was constantly
turning nervously to look behind him for no apparent reason.
Sudden noises, even the voice of one man calling to another or
the sound of a falling object, terrified him. Once in the coffee­
house, where he turned up after a long absence, he j umped
violently when a bedouin dropped a vessel for roasting coffee
beans and looked around in terror. When he calmed down, he
collapsed in his chair limp as a sack, cold sweat running down
his brow.
When the people saw Ibn Rashed in this state they were pos­
itive that something new was growing and developing in front
of their very eyes, and that it would surely get worse.
Daham watched like a hawk, and listened, and made his plans.
No sooner had two or three weeks passed, with Ibn Rashed's
problem becoming plainer every day, especially to Daham, than
Daham began to represent Ibn Rashed in all dealings with the
Americans, even in following up the work on the emirate and
emir's residence, particularly since Nairn had made clear his
displeasure with Ibn Rashed's insistence that the company should
pay the compensation and with his threat to stop procuring
workers.
In order to emphasize his new role, and since he had to meet
with the emir every now and then, Daham decided to dispense
with his overalls and cap for good; he now wore Arab clothes
at all times. He had inspired surprise and some derision when
c e s 0 1 s a

in the beginning he had been the first to put aside Arab clothes,
as an example to the rest, but his return to his old clothes, plus
his hurried purchase of a black cloak, caused quite as much
surprise and wonder. He explained his decision to Ibn Rashed.
"Your life, Abu Muhammad, is as dear to me as my father's or
brother's. But the American clothes are tight enough to show a
pimple underneath, and I can't hide this. "
He wagged a pistol in the palm of his open hand, as if testing
it or playing with it.
Ibn Rashed's surprise at the sight of the pistol was evident,
and he did not understand the connection between it and the
talk about the American clothes. He looked perplexedly at Daham,
and for a moment he felt an obscure fear. Daham smiled to allay
his suspicions.
"You should keep one with you day and night, Abu Muham­
mad. "
Ibn Rashed shook his head and did not reply, but he sighed
deeply, for he had heard what people were saying.
"These clothes, " Daham went on confidently, indicating his
Arab clothes, " can hide ten of these. " He tucked the pistol ex­
pertly into his belt and whispered, "With a cloak over it all,
Satan himself wouldn't know what you were carrying. "
Ibn Rashed understood, and to show his courage, and respond
to what was being said in the coffeehouse and the market, he
smiled and spoke through his nostrils. " God has not yet created
the hand that can touch Ibn Rashed, my man. "
"Tie up the j ackal with a lion's rope, " said Daham to end the
discussion, "and you won't have to worry about a thing. "
Thus Daham came to be seen everywhere and at all times
wearing his Arab clothes, and people stopped talking about him
in the workers' camp and American Harran. They got used to
him like this and could not imagine him any other way.
More than Daham's clothing changed: his behavior changed,
 .. 3 83

as did his manner of dealing with people, and even the way he
walked. Now he walked quickly, j ust as Ibn Rashed had walked
when he was busy or did not want to get into a conversation
with anyone. He removed his cloak when his work required
him to do so, in order to show the power he now enjoyed.
Anyone seeing Daham tuck the end of his robe into his belt
might well have thought, at first glance, that this was Ibn Rashed
himself.
How did he change so profoundly, so quickly?
He went to see the emir for the first time to suggest putting
iron bars over the windows on the ground floor of the emirate
building. The deputy emir and Dabbasi were there as well.
"Hah!" the emir said. "Are you trying to bury us alive, my
boy?"
He laughed when Daham looked uncomfortable, unable to
say a word.
"Tell your friends to be generous with their iron-but not to
us. " He added, in a different tone, "Tell Ibn Rashed he's been
absent too long. We want to see him. "
"What's this, my friends?" wondered the emir aloud after
Daham had left. " What's happened to his pants?"
The men laughed and nodded, the emir laughed and made a
gesture of disgust with his hand.
"God Almighty, now he talks about iron and wood, about
what should be done and what not. "
"He's Ibn Rashed's deputy, Your Excellency, " said Dab basi
slyly. "Like it or not, Ibn Rashed can't lift a stone without his
advice-and his approval. "
The emir curled his lip and motioned with his hand.
"He's a dolt, " said Dab basi, "but he has a good heart. "
The conversation turned to Ibn Rashed. Dabbasi had spoken
in a meaningful way in the coffeehouse, in front of the others,
about the report that Hajem and his uncle were in Ujra with
c e 5 0 f s a

armed men and how it prevented Ibn Rashed from venturing

outside, but at the emir's he said that Ibn Rashed's problem was
only an idle notion, not fear; perhaps the illness had brought it
on.
Ibn Rashed's specter never left the workers' camp. The stories
that circulated, the news that spread through Arab Harran, in
the market and the coffeehouse, all quickly reached the camp.
As the news made its short journey from one place to another,
new details and distortions were added. A number of the workers
said that ever since Hajem and his uncle had come to town, Ibn
Rashed had lost control over his bladder and constantly pissed
on his clothes, and that was why he could not leave his house.
The ones who related this story swore that they could not sit
near him in the coffeehouse because he smelled like a corpse. He
emitted a damp reek of urine and perfumes that gave severe
headaches to all the people seated near him, one of whom loudly
asked Abu As'ad if he had any incense or perfumes.
Others maintained that he sometimes disguised himselfin beg­
gars' rags, and two workers said that they had seen him with
his face daubed completely black! Still others claimed to have
seen him late one night, putting a cap on over his headcloth in
an effort to disguise himself.
While there was a great deal of imaginative distortion in these
narratives, the one certainty was that fear had entered Ibn Rashed's
heart. Ibn Naffeh said that "fear will not leave the man until
Mizban leaves his grave. " As for the talk about treatment with
irons and bloodletting, "it might help Hajem, but not Ibn Rashed, "
as Ibn Naffeh said.
When the workers talked about the armed bedouin who were
to avenge Hajem and Mizban-for they were all sure that they
would come today or the next day-they lowered their voices
and agreed that they would prepare a place for Ibn Hathal and
 . . 385

his bedouin t o stay; they would b e hidden i n places that n o one

would discover, and Ibn Rashed would never find out.
In the past the workers had had varying opinions about Daham,
though all at the very least differentiated between him and Ibn
Rashed, but when he became a new Ibn Rashed, and showed
up in the workers' camp wearing his Arab clothes, Abdullah al­
Zamel slapped his hands together. "God, God! Munir leaves and
Munawar comes in his place!"
He shouted with laughter and turned to the men around him
before Daham arrived.
"Be careful, my friends-like Ibn Ghitar's donkeys: the loose
one is worse than the one who's hitched up!"
When Daham began to make some requests of the workers
and to give them orders, as he had done many times before,
Abdullah al-Zamel whispered into the ear of the man nearest
him, and they both laughed loudly. Daham looked cross, but
he turned the other way and said sternly, so that Ibn Zamel could
hear, "A rational man, a good man, is not misled and does not
change. "
He paused a moment and looked at them.
"You all should know that today is unlike yesterday, and
tomorrow will be different from today. We shall see. "
After a long and wide-ranging discussion about work, the
barracks and the new workers, Daham left the camp. The work­
ers asked Abdullah al-Zamel why he had laughed and what he
had said.
"Like our sheikh said, 'Today is unlike yesterday, and today
is not like tomorrow. We shall sec. ' " He shook his head several
times and said angrily, "The fool thinks we don't know him.
Like a blind man who shits on the roof and thinks nobody sees!"
The workers kept questioning Ibn Zamel, and the man who
had been laughing with him replied. "He asked me, 'This sheikh
c e s 0 f s a

we see, is it our Daham, the friend that we know?' And I told

him, 'Who eats th eir figs does their bidding-this is Ibn Rashed
the Second. ' "

At about the same time, during one of Ibn Rashed's rare visits
to the coffeehouse, he looked sallow, wild eyed and confused in .
his movements. His appearance provoked conflicting emotions,
ranging from sympathy to incomprehension. Several of those
present tried to start a conversation with him, but he answered
them only with sad smiles and brief, fragmented replies.
Ibn Rashed's visit to the coffeehouse and lengthy stay there
may not in itself have excited much concerned discussion, but
what happened during his visit caused the greatest commotion
and was long remembered by the people.
"The bedouin. Fetch the bedouin, " shouted Abu As'ad to the
boy who helped him out in the coffeehouse.
Ibn Rashed jumped like a madman when he heard this shout;
everyone with him jumped to their feet at the same time and
looked in the direction in which the boy ran. Ibn Rashed mo­
tioned with his hand and gave a few brief orders. The boy
reentered the coffeehouse with a bedouin, who exchanged a few
words with Abu As'ad, then sat on the floor and opened a small
bag. He extracted a coin and handed it to Abu As'ad, and when
he did so Ibn Rashed saw him, as did everyone in the coffeehouse,
and all of them, but especially Ibn Rashed, felt a weakness akin
to shame. Visibly upset, Ibn Rashed rose and left the coffeehouse,
but his eyes did not leave that bedouin for a single moment.
As soon as word of this incident reached the workers' camp,
and the ears of Abdullah al-Zamel, Abdullah had them repeat
Abu As'ad's words and how he'd said them. He nodded several
times and smiled, but no one understood why.
 T
HIS LINGERING SUMMER WAS THOUGHT BY MANY
to be the worst in living memory. The days
grew long and the nights very short, as the
harsh blaze of the sun grew ever stronger, and many of the people
felt assured that this summer would annihilate men and beasts
alike and leave nothing and no one alive. Ibn Naffeh never stopped
telling the people, joyfully, almost gloatingly, how demons would
soon fly around their feet like mice, and how the Hell that boiled
beneath the earth would soon burst out and burn everything to
cinders. The people, who were tormented by the heat and hu­
midity as well as by Ibn Naffeh's predictions, lost their appetite
for food and fell prey to apathy, distractedness and forgetfulness,
remembering nothing but the hour they were living now, seeing
nothing but what was taking place before their eyes.
Harran, which had been undergoing constant change since the
c e 5 0 J s a

hour of the Americans' arrival, knew how to keep people busy

and make them run like dogs, why and to where no one knew,
for they were immersed in cares that they had never known
existed; nonetheless Harran never ceased to surprise itself and
others, its residents and those who had come in recent months
and days.
In the market, where the newly arrived caravan travelers gath­
ered in throngs with those deposited by the ships, no day passed
without dozens of major and minor incidents-from arguments
to the endless haggling over deals to buy and sell among the
wooden shops and mud houses-when they were built, why
and by whom, no one knew. In the mosque, whence men with­
drew to take their Lord's counsel, there was no end of prayers
and complaints. Between the prayers and complaints the men
exchanged news and gossip, shrugged their shoulders and shook
their heads, awaiting the days to come.
The workers' camp, which had known some quiet and con­
tentment in winter and the first days of spring, became an un­
bearable hell in summer. The Americans seemed tough and bigoted
at the best of times, as did the emir's men and those of the
personnel office, but as June wore on their visits dwindled, then
ceased, with the result that the grip of the emir and the personnel
office relaxed, and no one knew whether this letup was per­
manent, if their domination had ended for good. Most of the
Americans left on long vacations in July and August and behaved
with exaggerated happiness and anger in the few days before
their departures; they acted like children.
The barracks, notable the previous summer for admitting
burning sunlight all day long, were now so suffocating that no
one could stand to be inside for more than a few minutes, just
long enough to fetch whatever was needed. They were mere
storehouses for clothes, shoes, tools and quantities of food; and
when the odors of all these things intermingled with the intense
 .. 389

heat and humidity, n o one could g o inside at all. Some workers

insisted on pushing the sacks and stray objects out of the long
aisles to clear a place for napping, to escape the burning sun, in
the narrow spaces beneath the tent or beside it, and threw them­
selves on the cement floor inside the barracks, but they soon
came out again with haggard faces, drenched with sweat, deeply
upset and afraid, for many of them had seen or felt snakes or
been stung by the little yellow scorpions that trooped out from
under the beds. Those who survived the stings were bitten by
insects of types unfamiliar to them, for they had swelling and
itching all over their bodies. The big black rats made the barracks
their home during all hours of the day, and at night they scattered
everywhere, between the tents, near the barrels and in the toilets.
They made quick, agile leaps forward, and having reached a safe
distance paused and turned around to look at the men they ter­
rified, and some of the workers said that the rats looked at them
and laughed; some of them said that the rats laughed just like
children.
The Americans guessed-or perhaps knew-that while it was
easy to dominate and tame the workers in cold or mild weather,
they turned into savage beasts in summertime, growing more
brutal as the temperature rose. A man had to stay by them to
some degree, but stay away to a greater degree. They were
exactly like sharks, which arc impossible to soothe, tame or
control when they scent blood.
The barracks buildings had been exposed to the blows and
insults of the men the previous summer-to the surprise and
hilarity of the Americans-but this summer neither the Amer­
icans nor the emir's men raised any objection, nor did the Admin­
istration object when the workers spread their blankets and
possessions on the ground outside the barracks in the early spring;
in May, when the heat intensified and the workers asked for
tents, it was promised, without long discussions, that they would
c e s 0 f s a

be supplied. It did actually happen this way, albeit with some

delays, and some of the workers went out of their way to find
excuses for arguments and fights.
That summer more A mericans took vacations than stayed
behind in Harran: they left in waves. As soon as the hottest part
of summer began the workers got the impression that the Amer­
icans who'd stayed behind were unlike those who had left, unlike
even the way they had themselves been in the past. The gra­
ciousness displayed by those leaving, especially in the last days,
the happiness in their faces as they made their preparations and
the strong handshakes they offered the Arabs, made those re­
maining seem even ruder and more hostile. Some of the workers
were reassigned, some suspended, and some departments were
shut down. Everything seemed confused and temporary-just
as it had been in the early days.
The workers moved warily, but every one of their move­
ments, no matter how minor or careful, met with rebukes and
shouts from the new bosses, whose angry remonstrances grew
louder by the hour. They sometimes ran, they were so angry,
and shouted in all directions, and a man did not have to be very
bright to figure out what kinds of things they were shouting.
The workers, who looked around in genuine baffiement to see
what they might do to please their bosses, began to answer their
curses with even viler ones, with angry and defiant looks. But
nothing was ever settled except according to the wishes of these
boorish Americans.
As the hours of the day wore on, relations strained, deterio­
rated and broke down. When it came time for the workers to
head home in the afternoon, everything was at an end. The
foremen, so alert in the morning, moving even more briskly
than necessary, sagged by the end of the day, even wearier than
the men they supervised. Their voices were hoarse and stran­
gulated, and their eyes frustrated, and they got angry over the
 .. 391

slightest action or question directed a t them. The American bosses,

who in the morning hours strutted busily around like roosters,
were soon overtaken by exhaustion and futility as their move­
ments slowed and their enthusiasm waned. Their tongues, which
never stopped shouting and swearing, almost lolled out of their
mouths by the end of the day, like those of thirsty dogs, or else
they never showed, as if stuck to the roofs of their mouths. They
answered the workers' and foremen's questions with their eyes,
or limp motions of their hands, living only for the end of the
workday.
The shift ended, and all the men drifted home to the two
sectors like streams coursing down a slope, one broad and one
small, the Americans to their camp and the Arabs to theirs, the
Americans to their swimming pool, where their racket could be
heard in the nearby barracks behind the barbed wire. When
silence fell, the workers guessed that the Americans had gone
into their air-conditioned rooms whose thick curtains shut every­
thing out: sunlight, dust, flies and Arabs.
The workers repaired to their camp for their second shift of
hardship: preparing meals, washing clothes, cleaning out the
tents, fetching water. Some went to the market to buy bread,
canned goods and what was left of the meat, for the best was
quickly sold in the early morning.
Every undertaking, every step, brought endless difficulties and
disagreements. Although some of them had consented early on
to do these chores, usually at the beginning of the week, there
were always new discussions and arguments. After growing
weary and bored by the arguments, which had been refought
dozens of times, they went away in silence, no one talking to
anyone else, full of discontent and unfriendliness.
This happened countless times, and this is how it went most
days. Night came, infusing their bodies with a kind of narcotic
laziness. Exhaustion sucked away all their energy, but with their
c e s 0 f s a

first cigarettes after supper they felt the first hint of relaxation,
and their mood changed; even their voices regained the friendly
tone of people who had something in common. They began to
tell jokes and exchange bits of news, reflecting on the day just
passed. Anyone talking about the bosses or foremen was careful
to look around to see that no friend of these was present; then
the discussion started in earnest, full of profanities and inside
jokes.
The workers did not know Hamilton's name; to them he was
Abu Lahab. The use of this name spread to Arab Harran, and
some said that Hamilton himself had found out about it. James,
director of the harbor project, was renamed Abujineeb; the chief
of the American compound was named Crooked Camel, because
he often stood at the compound gate looking at the footprints
on the ground and at the feet of everyone leaving and entering,
as if looking for some kind of clue.
Not only the Americans had nicknames-the deputy emir's
name was the Barrel; the workers passed on secretly and carefully
the name they had chosen because of his fatness and because,
during the construction of the emirate, he was always after them
to fill the barrel before they left the site. Saleh al-Dabbasi they
called Saleh the Donkey, perhaps because of his high-pitched
voice or his limp manner of speaking.
In the early evening their conversation was comical and am­
biguous, but as night came on with the moonrise and the twin­
kling of the stars, it turned to other places and times past. Every
man has a past, and those who so poetically depicted these distant
places and lost times were rare indeed, but they were the back­
bone of the camp and its most important residents; the workers
gathered around them, and they initiated the nightly councils.
With every new story or biting comment, or remembrance that
stirred their hearts and minds, most of them felt more strongly
than ever that they were nowhere, wearing themselves out for
 .. 393

nothing, and they were filled with sadness and regret; they felt
alone and forgotten. When things reached this point their voices
rose in song and they were lost in dreams and memories of
faraway places; grief bred grief, and the song that started out
graceful and timid gradually became a sad, plaintive lament to
life and existence and everything else. Very few of them had
mastered this kind of singing, which was a rare treat; the singer
burned with emotion and almost passed out until the climactic
moment when his voice drowned out the others, to fill the
darkness, saying things that the singer himself had not foreseen,
for the pain that penetrated his heart like a knife left no choice,
not permitting him any voluntary or conscious will.
This was how Harran's nights passed, but Harran, which
changed every day, and was new each day, never knew any two
of its nights to resemble each other; there was always something
new.
 59

T
HERE WAS NO PATIENCE OR PERMANENCE IN HAR­
ran, not in people nor in things; even nature,
including the water and air, shifted and
changed. The people, so preoccupied by Hajem for so long,
saddened, expectant and curious about what would happen after
his sudden departure, forgot the man in the onrush of events,
and even when they remembered him in their nightly councils
other memories carried them away and prevailed over that rec­
ollection or blinded their minds and hearts with other matters.
Before Hajem, Abdu Muhammad had diverted the people,
but he was now secluded in his bakery. No one thought of him
or talked about him anymore except as a recolle ction deeply
rooted in the past.
Even Ibn Rashed had kept the people preoccupied for a while
with his news and behavior, and been very much o n their minds
 .. 395

with his comings and goings, and now they saw him leaping
like a cat from one place to another, measuring the ground,
contemplating the buildings, rummaging through planks and
twisted steel, gathering up things that no one in his right mind
would dream of gathering . . . Ibn Rashed himself, after all that
had happened, and all the talk and apprehension he had caused,
was all but forgotten, or at least was not on their minds in quite
the same way he had been before. The isolation he had imposed
upon himself, and the melancholy that compelled him to go for
days without seeing anyone or being seen, this isolation removed
him completely. When they thought of him it was usually be­
cause he had been seen in Abu As'ad's coffeehouse one afternoon,
or walking along the beach with two or three of his men. He
was much changed: his rapid stride had given way to a slow,
heavy gait; his strong, plump body was now stooped and almost
thin, and had it not been for the darting, suspicious glances he
still cast around, the people nearest to him would not have known
him.
The ships brought more men every day. Tons of cargo came
in and were quickly transported, most of them, to the American
compound. Buildings were built here and there and grew higher
by the day. Crowded shops jammed up against one another,
people rushed around, shouting and calling, and their memories
were frantic. Unease and unrest mounted: no one knew what
the next day held in store for them.
Arab Harran, which retreated as far as possible in an attempt
to distance itself and flee its fate, could not resist for long: the
mud structures heaped up against one another, which blocked
the roads or made them wind and zigzag, could no longer hold
all the people, and the people were no longer content to remain
as they were. New buildings went up everywhere, scattered like
boils on an arm or patches on an old broad garment. The market,
which began with three shops, was the strangest place of all.
c e s 0 f s a

New shops went up every day, every type and size of shop,
some strong and immovable and others made of hurriedly as­
sembled wooden crating. Daham was now a contractor for the
hurriedly assembled type of shop: he brought the huge wooden
crates from the A merican compound, and whoever wanted one
of them had only to bring in their merchandise and open for
business in "the delivered, ready-built shop . . . with profits to
be evenly split" between Daham and the new merchant. Every­
one liked the crate shops, which suited their needs admirably,
and they appeared everywhere: in the central market, by the
mosque and outside the workers' camp. Several were installed
in the western hills of Arab Harran itself.
Beside these shops were built houses of the same type, though
as a rule they were more spacious, and they were renovated to
make them more beautiful or better fitted to the new owners'
needs. These houses sprang up everywhere, on the seafront,
between the shops, on the hilltops, in other words on every plot
of vacant land wide enough for such a house, and no one had
any serious objection.
As these shops and houses were erected, another type of build­
ing flourished as well. These were houses built of well-hewn
and tightly spaced stones of a gray, almost black color. The first
and biggest of these houses was Abdullah al-Saad's, and Dabbasi
followed him, building his house on the open land west of the
mosque which Ibn Rashed had agreed to give up, with the emir's
:pproval. Others, al-Salaami and al-Marzouq among them, were
quick to build stone houses, though theirs were smaller and
humbler.
The emirate and emir's residence were completed in late sum­
mer and early autumn, but the emir did not move out of his
tents, which had been brought from their old place and set up
anew in the middle of the large open space which he had enclosed
by a fence to define the courtyard of the emirate and residence.
 .. 397

The reason the emir gave for his delay i n moving was "the stink
of the new paint-it blinds you and gives you a headache, " in
addition to the fact that "it is much better for a man to sleep in
the open air than to shut himself up in one of those tombs, " as
he told anyone who visited him or asked him about it.
Just as Abdullah al-Saad and Muhammad al-Seif had come to
settle in Harran, two other men made a much-heralded arrival
in Harran in this period. The first carne from Basra with Ibrahim
al-Saad; Abdullah al-Saad had not expected him to come, because
Mohieddin al-Naqib-the Shahbunder of Merchants, as he was
known in Basra, for his formidable and wide-ranging commer­
cial interests-had business to look after in India, Manchester
and everywhere in between. Mohieddin al-Naqib had come out
of curiosity; then he decided to stay permanently. The second
was Hassan Rezaie. He arrived to a warm, boisterous welcome,
on a ship smaller than those of the Americans yet also unlike the
poor, miserable ships that brought so many dozens of wandering
travelers. Hassan Rezaie arrived with pomp and splendor, and
although not a soul in Harran knew him, he visited the prince
the moment he disembarked. They discussed any number of
things, and by way of introduction and explaining his coming,
Hassan Rezaie said that he was exploring and that "he had no
objection to offering whatever kind of assistance Harran needed,
today or any day. " He brought the emir a telescope, which the
emir was at first hesitant to accept, but he was thoroughly de­
lighted when he put the telescope to his eye and looked in this
and that direction, and pointed and laughed with pleasure and
surpnse.
Hassan Rezaie stayed in Harran just three days on this visit,
"because his affairs and appointments allowed him no more than
that, despite the good time he'd had and his wish to stay longer,
and his pride in having met the emir. " The emir offered him
the opportunity to stay on as his guest in the emirate building,
c e s 0 J s a

but Hassan Rezaie refused very politely, saying that he would

spend all of the time "at the court of the emir and in his company,
but the bed he was used to, due to his illness, compelled him to
go back to the ship. " In the process of explaining this and trying
to win the emir's consent, he said that while he would be on
board the ship, he and the emir could each use his telescope to
carry on a long and delightful dialogue, as sailors on shipboard
did. He bet that the emir would enjoy this kind of conversation
and learn it easily.
The people did a lot of talking about this man, whose origins
they knew nothing about. They did not know how he had be­
come so friendly with the emir so easily or how he was able to
discuss so many things with him, or how they would continue
to communicate, after parting, over such a long distance!
Ibn Naffeh shouted angrily when he heard what the people
were saying about the telescope-that it permitted a man stand­
ing on the beach to see a kernel of wheat in the farthest area of
the western hills and to see the night stars as if they were lamps
hanging above his head. "The judgment Day is drawing near­
man no longer fears the reckoning, or his Lord!"
When the people asked him what made him think this way,
he shook his head sadly, in utter despondency.
"From the first day the Americans came they brought demons,
sins and catastrophes, and no one knows what will happen in
these next days. " He was silent for a moment, then quavered,
"Lord God, our sovereign, the mighty and compassionate, keep
me in the faith of my father and forefathers, the faith of our
prophet Muhammad. Do not make of me a sinning infidel like
the sinners of my tribe. Hear me, 0 Lord, and answer my
prayer. "
"Leave this old man now , " said a man in the midst of the
prayer and supplication. "The ship has arrived . "
"What ship?"
 .. 399

"Like the one you remember. "

Abdu Muhammad went mad when he heard that another ship
of women had come in. He wanted to get rid of the loaves he
was working on, to get out of his bakery, out of his skin, out
of Harran altogether. He seemed never to have had so much
baking; he had never seen so many loaves in one place at once;
and not only the bread, the fire was thwarting him; it did not
cooperate: Why was the dough not cooking? Why didn't it cook
so that he could take it out? Would the ship wait for him? Why
did he have to stay behind and burn in this hell while the others,
there, sat lazily on the beach, dangling their feet in the water
and watching the beautiful shuttling of the little boats back and
forth, bearing bevies of ladies. Their eyes followed the delicious,
perilous little voyage until its last moment in the water; like
seabirds they lit on the beach with their clamorous voices, like
nightingales, and showed their white, white, tender white bod­
ies, so near, so desirable, pushing forward like gazelles at a pond,
surrounded by hands and watchful eyes . . . God, was it possible
that all this was happening, and him so far, far, far away? So
what if the people had to wait for the bread they needed so that
Abdu could go and watch like the others? Even if they didn't
eat for one day, would that be the end of the world?
Everyone was against Abdu Muhammad. That was a known
fact, and he knew it better than anyone else. He fed them all,
every day, he was proud of giving them the best and tastiest
loaves possible, but no one, yes no one, so much as looked at
him or felt any affection toward him, or knew anything of the
fire that burned in his heart, especially now that he knew the
ship had arrived. Why didn't they come now, this minute, to
take their bread? Where had they all gone-why had they left
him alone like this?
When Abdu took the loaves from the oven, he found them
completely burned. He looked at the three or four that were left
c e s 0 J s a

and said to himself, "I burned up before they did, " and could
not go on.
He went to the beach, to stand in the same spot he had the
year before.
He moved closer. He moved as close as possible, and his face
touched the barbed wire, but at this distance he could see nothing
but a far-off white ship. He could not even determine the color
of its fluttering flag. He argued with J uma; he said that the
Americans had sent for him, had asked him to come, but Juma
did not listen or reply, as if he had never eaten Abdu's bread!
He wandered far from the gate and looked around in all directions
to see ifhe could jump the fence, to get nearer, but all his attempts
failed. He saw some boys nearby and asked them if they had
seen anyone ask about him, but they laughed and made indistinct
replies. He felt bitter regret as he watched them swim out, cross­
ing the American barrier and shouting to one another, because
he did not know how to swim.
He remembered what he had heard in recent days about the
telescope, the gift the emir had received. They said that since
the emir had acquired the telescope, he had spent most of his
time lying on his stomach, with the telescope set up, watching
everything. If Abdu had this telescope even for a minute, he
would be able to watch her. One glance was enough for him to
live on her for another year. When he saw her, she would doubt­
less be searching for him, watching every new arrival and scru­
tinizing every face.
That day, at about sundown or a little after, a widely believed
rumor spread, to the effect that Abdu Muhammad had drowned
in the sea. While it was true that some of the people had seen
him near the shoreline, no one had seen him after that. The
bakery had been closed all day. All the knocking and calling out
was in vain. Even his friends, who knew when to knock on his
door and what to say, who knew how to rouse him from his
 . . 40 1

hideaway even during his worst bouts of isolation, even they

failed and were seized by the fear that Abdu was not there in
the bakery. Perhaps he really was dead. Some of them thought
of breaking the door down, but they decided to leave things
until the next day: "Morning is a blessing, and this is nothing
new-the man is feeling melancholy and doesn't want to see
anyone. "
This same day Abdullah al-Abyad's bakery did business as it
had never done before, and with the loaves he placed in the
people's hands he filled their cars with the details of Abdu's
drowning.
But nothing in Harran was constant, and late that night, one
hour before dawn, the men coming out of Abu As'ad's coffee­
house saw Abdu on the beach, not far from the coffeehouse. He
was crooning sad songs, and sometimes sobbed and cried loudly.
Abdu was thinner and more haggard than usual for the next
few days, and his hands shook badly. He was hardly able to put
the loaves in the oven and take them out again, and he spoke to
no one and did not look anyone in the face.
But within a few days the rumors reported that Abdu, who
did not know how to swim and had never gone into the water
before, went in that day and beat the water with his arms and
legs until it carried him to the distant anchored ship; and he
boarded with the help of a rope his woman friend lowered to
him, and there he spent long, busy hours. He swam to the beach
on his back, holding a woman's picture clear of the water with
one hand. It was seen by a number of the men coming out of
Abu As'ad's that night. The picture was dry and glossy, for the
water had never touched it, and he kissed it as he wept.
 6o

R
UMORS ABOUNDED, IN MIDSUMMER, THAT D A­
� ham's visit to Ujra was intimately related to
-l, the problem of Hajem. It was said that the
funds left in trust with the emir had been withdrawn, because
Ibn Rashed had decided to look everywhere for Hajem and his
uncle in order to pay them the compensation; he had increased
the sum · the emir had decided upon, in case it should prove
insufficient or unsatisfactory. What enhanced the rumors' strength
or credibility was that Ibn Rashed, contrary to his custom in
recent days, began to appear among the people, and that although
he had never been particularly pious or devout, not going to the
mosque unless compelled to, he was seen in the mosque several
times; what is more, several people swore that he was deeply
engrossed in prayer, supplication and trembling. His eyes were
half closed as he murmured his very lengthy prayers, which was
 .. 40 3

a slightly alien thing to do in Harran: neither the bedouin nor

the people of the surrounding regions prayed so, and indeed they
were a little suspicious and apprehensive toward people who
prayed that fervently.
What further added to the strength and credibility of the ru­
mors was the fact that Ibn Rashed was slowly regaining his
health: he often sat in the coffeehouse for long periods and went
for walks on the beach. True, he paid little attention to the many
business matters that had preoccupied him before, but most of
the people reasoned that his present moodiness did not allow
such concentration; before long, he would be back doing busi­
ness as usual. Although as had become his wont, he was very
quiet and reluctant to do much talking with others, except for
brief greetings and fleeting questions, he often sat and talked
with the two or three of his men who never left his side.
When Dabbasi was first told that Ibn Rashed had spent an
hour or more in the coffeehouse and seemed animated, he feigned
sadness. "The wakefulness of death, my friends. " A moment
later he added, as if talking to himself, "He imagines that if he
learns to live with his fear, he'll feel safe. "
He sat back for a short while.
"He's in deep touble, Ibn Rashed, and who with? Ibn Hathal
and the bedouin. Any one of those would take his revenge forty
years from now and say, 'Why was I in such a hurry?' "
To make sure of Ibn Rashed's new situation, Dab basi sent his
son Saleh to visit him and to extend an invitation to his wedding
party, for Saleh was to marry Muhammad al-Seif's sister, but
Saleh came away with a very confused impression. Sometimes
he said that Ibn Rashed had not changed a bit, and other times
he said that he detected something eerie, incomprehensible, in
his eyes, but what was for sure was that "the man does not want
to talk!" Saleh urged his father to go visit Ibn Rashed and see
for himself, and they agreed to meet in the coffeehouse.
c e s 0 J s a

"He chose the coffeehouse, " said Dab basi to clear himself. "I
told him, 'I want to visit you, Abu Muhammad. ' He said, 'In
the coffeehouse, we'll meet this afternoon, ' and we met, and
that was that. "
The moment they met Ibn Rashed suggested to the men who
were with him, rather rudely, that they go away. He stood up
as soon as Dabbasi moved near him and said happily, "Just as
you see, Abu Saleh, as strong as a horse. Stronger. "
"What good is a horse without a mare or two?" replied Dab­
basi and laughed.
"We're looking, Abu Saleh, " said Ibn Rashed. He paused a
moment to turn and whisper, "Once all this is over. "
Without Dabbasi asking, Ibn Rashed proceeded to tell him
about the band of armed men, led by Miteb al-Hathal himself,
who wanted to kill him. He said that they lay in wait for him
day and night, but that he was ready for anything; they would
have no opportunity. Excitedly he pulled a pistol from his cloak.
"Before they even draw their weapons, I'll get them with this,
one by one. "
He spoke very sharply and excitedly. Dabbasi was surprised,
but he smiled and pretended to be calm.
"Trust in God, Abu Muhammad. The matter is much simpler
than you think-it doesn't call for gunpowder and bloodshed. "
"Whether i t calls for them or not, I know how things stand,
and before they kill me I'll kill ten of them. "
"I heard they were satisfied, " said Dab basi craftily. "They
took the money and shut up. "
"They were ready and willing, but the people, the people,
Abu Saleh-especially the one that never forgets and never wea­
ries, Miteb al-Hathal. " He paused to sigh and then went on.
"Every one of my friends still talks to me, they all say, 'Ibn
Rashed , ' but they know. "
He paused again, wiped the sweat that ran down his forehead
 . . 405

and added in a different tone, " That money was a good sum,
but so is this, and anyone who wasn't happy with that will like
this. "
He shook the pistol confidently and looked around him.
At this moment a boy burst into the coffeehouse, screaming:
"The bedouin! The bedouin!"
Shots rang out. Shouting and the acrid smell of gunpowder
filled the coffeehouse. When the shouting and the echo of the
gunshots died away, Ibn Rashed collapsed in his chair. He had
fainted.
Ibn Rashed had thought that persons were about to enter the
coffeehouse and kill him, so he moved before they did-that is
what he said after he carne to. He was in such a state of panic
and fear that everyone took pity on him.
It might have been written off as a coincidence and forgotten
like so many other things, but the cries that began to follow Ibn
Rashed, that he heard in his house, as he said, at all hours of the
day and night, sometimes the cries of boys and at other times
those of men, forced him to seek refuge in his house for days
and nights on end. He could forgive the children, but what about
those rough voices in the middle of the night? He started from
his sleep, terrifted, or flew out of his bed like a slaughtered
chicken. The voices goaded him to come out if he had any
courage. If he kept quiet or hid the cries grew louder, but if he
ran out no one was there. When he asked other people they
looked surprised and denied hearing or seeing anyone.
Some of the people said, to explain the shouts of the boys,
that the coincidence had turned Ibn Rashed's head; no sooner
did they learn of what had happened in the coffeehouse than
they saw a connection; as for the shouting men, Ibn Rashed was
the only one who heard them.
When Daharn returned from Ujra with a group of workers
and heard what had happened in his absence, and saw the frenzy
c e s 0 f s a

that had possessed Ibn Rashed, he spoke out in front of every­

body. "This is Abu Saleh's doing. Abu Saleh is the father and
mother of it all!"
Dabbasi heard what Daham said but pretended he did not
hear. Preparations for the wedding were moving ahead, and he
was handling most of them himself. He invited the guests and
saw that the sheep to be slaughtered were being well fed and
had them taken to the beach twice to be washed, so that they
would be immaculately white. The lamps with the most pow­
erful lights were brought especially from Ujra and tested the
same day they arrived and again on the following night: Arab
Harran glittered radiantly in the night on the western hills, and
many of the workers who were watching from the camp thought
that this was the night of the wedding, though others told them
no, that the wedding was Friday night; what they were seeing
now was only a rehearsal.
Harran, which remembered the father's wedding the year be­
fore, expected the son's to be even grander, "because Saleh is
the oldest son, and Dabbasi is richer and more important now
than he was a year ago, and he has to prove it. " The emir, who
was invited, and reinvited time after time by Dabbasi himself,
never actually promised to attend because he was secretly hoping
to watch the wedding through his telescope; this was very im­
portant to him, since he would see it brilliantly lit from such a
vast distance. He was busy looking at matchsticks or pictures
which his men held up at various distances, again and again. The
emir took different bearings, and at one point rolled onto the
floor and stabilized the telescope on a pillow. He knelt, propping
the hand holding the telescope on the other hand, trying to attain
"target identification, " as he called sharp focus. Dab basi insisted,
however, and made it clear how important the emir's presence
was to him.
 .. 40 7

"Come this afternoon , " said the emir without turning around.
"Have some coffee and leave us. "
He gave orders for his men to stand the matchsticks using
tongs, to put them in a neat line; then he looked at them, first
with his naked eye and then using the telescope. He shook his
head in wonderment.
"Anyway, we'll sec you, Your Excellency , " said Dabbasi as
he left. "When you come, we'll know how to look after you. "
Dabbasi continued to send messengers to give out invitations,
and when he sent one to Ibn Rashed, Daham said, after a long
silence, Ibn Rashed replied, "I don't think we'll be coming. " He
paused and added, in a slow, low voice, "Beware of your enemy
once, but of your friend beware a thousand times. " Not only
that; as he got up, saying that he had much to do, he added,
"Happy days are short. " When Daham told Dab basi about this
answer he laughed angrily and repeated a phrase then much in
usc among the people: " 'Ride the donkey and ignore his farting!'
If I don't ride this mule and make all Harran hear his farts, I'm
not Abu Saleh! "
O n Thursday morning Dabbasi asked the emir yet again, this
time in the form of an urgent request to honor him with his
presence. The emir, however, was raptly watching a newly ar­
rived ship, and he did not even hear Dabbasi arrive, much less
what he had said. Dabbasi slowly grew annoyed, since he had
a great deal to accomplish that day, and he turned to the deputy
emir, who gave him a wry look and shook his head.
''I'm depending on you, Abu Rashwan. "
The deputy nodded, which Dabbasi took to mean that he
would do his best.
Saleh in the meantime made a final visit to the workers' camp
and made a loud and openly boastful announcement: "You are
all our guests tonight-tell everyone to come. And no excuses! "
c e s 0 J s a

The emir was busy into the afternoon watching the ship and
counting the men who disembarked, though he could not be
sure of the exact number, because five or six of the men who
had come off went up and boarded again, and one man might
have gone on and off two or three times; the emir was not sure,
since the people were crowded together, and dressed and looked
alike; and one of the emir's men jostled the telescope when he
served tea. His patient, deliberate surveillance made the emir
very pensive, and he thought of many times long past and wished
he had had the telescope with him then. He told his deputy what
an important invention this was and said that someday the mind
of man would invent a device using many telescopes, making it
possible to see people in faraway places, in Egypt and Syria and
even farther away. He brooded over his imaginings and dreams
until he was told supper was ready.
After a short rest during which he slept fitfully because of the
intense heat and humidity, the emir looked at the western hills
as the sun sank in the west and saw throngs of people and
something out of the ordinary. He guessed that this was Saleh
al-Dabbasi's wedding, and when he took up the telescope, he
asked his deputy, who had j ust come in wearing fresh clothes
that smelled of incense, if this was the wedding day, and when
the deputy laughed loudly before answering he raised the tele­
scope to his eye and looked at him to see why he was laughing.
"The man is a wreck, Abu Misfer, " said the deputy with
measured sarcasm. "He says no one's getting married unless Abu
Misfer comes. "
The emir nodded as if remembering that he had seen Dab basi
that morning.
"Duty is duty," he said to himself.
Before arriving at the large main square of Arab Harran, the
emir said to his deputy, " I'll stay until sundown and then come
 .. 409

back . " He added a moment later, in a different tone of voice,

"You, Abu Rashwan, you stay longer, because Abu Saleh will
get mad otherwise. "

In spite of all his efforts, the senior Dabbasi's wedding was a

much grander and more important affair than his son's, and were
anyone to wonder why this was so he would not be able to give
a clear-cut answer, or the same answer that others might have
given. More sheep were slaughtered this time-three times as
many, to be exact, and several times as many people attended.
The many lights that were strung up all over the place turned
the night into day; at Dabbasi's wedding only one large lamp
had been hung in the middle, and it had hurt people's eyes more
than it had improved the visibility. And so it went with the
singing, dancing and other entertainments-this time they were
far more lavish, but the people felt that Dabbasi's wedding had
been different. Some of the workers pointed out that the Amer­
icans had not come this time, but they were told that had the
Americans come they would have turned the wedding into an
orgy of interviews and picture taking. Still others said that Su­
weyleh's presence would have made all the difference, but he
had departed a few weeks before; no doubt he had himself got
married and, being happy, decided to delay his return to Harran
or cancel it altogether. Hearing this, most of the guests nodded
but had no comment.
The wedding might have ended with the ribaldry of Saleh al­
Dabbasi's friends and enemies alike, with everyone then going
home, but the elder Dabbasi insisted that everyone stay as long
as possible, so that the wedding would be a memorable event.
He also wanted to underline the power and prestige he now
enjoy ed, so when it was suggested to him that the celebration
c e 5 0 f s a

conclude with a torchlight procession throughout Arab Harran,

he quickly gave his consent, and no one but a few old men
objected to the idea.
"Tonight doesn't belong to you, " said Ibn Naffeh in a tone
of mild reproof. "There are other people, too, my friends. "
No one listened to him, so he spoke up again, this time to
himself. "You hear a goblet ring and begin to dance and sing.
And all the devils come out. "
The wedding might have ended with a tour of the market, a
vigil outside the mosque, a visit to Abu As'ad's coffeehouse and
a fmal procession back to the western hills, during which Saleh
al-Dabbasi would have been thoroughly egged on to discharge
his duty successfuly that night, and that would have been that.
But a demon was at work, or perhaps it was only a coincidence,
for no sooner had the procession wound its way toward Ibn
Rashed's house than a shot rang out. No one knew who had
opened fire, but within minutes all Harran was ablaze: there was
shooting everywhere. At first there was a general feeling of fear
and wariness, but it gave way to joy, anger and excitement.
People stood around for a long time, and in the pauses between
the gunshots and the sound of bullets striking there were sharp
voices chanting, "The bedouin! The bedouin! The bedouin! "
Although there was not a sound from Ibn Rashed's house,
and no ray of light, everyone was sure that Ibn Rashed and his
men were inside, that they were listening to every word and
watching the procession, and that they were doubtless ready to
respond to and resist any aggression, but because nothing like
this had ever happened before or even occurred to anyone, and
since it was really only a matter of boys shouting, perhaps with
the help or at the instigation of some of the men, the procession
went on and moved away a little . D uring a lull, a strong voice
was heard behind the p rocession , as if it came from above, a
 .. 411

coarse but clear and drawn out voice: "The Donkey! Look at
the Donkey! Saleh the Donkey! Saleh the Donkey!"
Some of the men looked at each other and at Saleh al-Dabbasi
with questioning faces: Whose voice was it? Daham's? Ibn
Rashed's? Someone else's? Saleh's face turned yellow, then black,
then blue in the flickering torchlight and shadows. The dead
silence was broken again, as the men exchanged glances by the
drawn out voice, like that of a wounded dog: the Don­
key . . . Saleh the Donkey.
"Don't pay any attention to the crazy fool, " shouted a voice,
no one knew whose, from the midst of the crowd.
"Let's get going-the bridegroom is impatient, " said a second
man.
"If the bedouin comes tomorrow he'll cut his balls off, " said
the first man in the same powerful voice.
The procession started moving again, but slowly and heavily
this time, and bitterly. Even though the elder Dabbasi had heard
what happened, as well as the shots fired in the market, he tried
to inject some gaiety into the proceedings. He danced and asked
some of the old men to dance; he fired into the air and several
others opened fire as well. Some of the men sang and some
women came nearer to see the dancing men and could be heard
laughing. In spite of all this, and the fact that the festive mood
had returned to the party, when Dabbasi insisted that everyone
should stay all night, some of the men proposed to go home,
and they smiled and winked suggestively. Dabbasi answered
them th� same way he had at his own wedding. "Stay, my
friends, stay and be merry, for tomorrow we'll die. "
He said it laughingly, and winked at his son, whom he wanted
to agree with him.
Late that night, before the men left, Saleh al-Dabbasi was
wedded to his bride, and the next day the women told each other
c e s 0 f s a

a certain item of disappointing news, fearfully and in total se­

crecy, so the news did not travel far. Dabbasi's wife appeared
rough and angry when she came close to saying it outright.
"Those men wore him out. From the hills to the market, and
the market to the hills-it would exhaust a camel!"
No one alluded to it again.
One month after Saleh's wedding, Abdelaziz al-Rashed died.
It was a sudden death, particularly because no one had seen him
since the night in the coffeehouse, and everyone was sad. They
felt somehow responsible for his death. Even D abbasi groaned
and lamented loudly when he heard. "Oh, no! Oh, God, no!
There is no god but God! There is no god but God, and He
alone is eternal, He alone is everlasting. "
Harran mourned Ibn Rashed in sorrow and silence, and almost
everyone in the town attended the funeral.
 61

I
BN R ASHED ' S DEATH IN THE LATE SUMMER, AND THE
way it happened, aroused a great deal of bitterness
and soul searching. In spite of the hatred many peo-
ple felt toward him because of his coarseness and greed, and
despite the envy he inspired in the hearts of the men who talked
about him, they all felt that he had been unduly wronged, and
that this injustice had destroyed him.
Only a few days after his death, some of the workers could
be heard to say, "God rest his soul-he was better than a lot of
others. What's past is past. " Others said, "The dead deserve only
forgiveness. Poor Ibn Rashed thought he'd live forever, and his
ambition killed him. "
"My friends, now Ibn Rashed is gone. He's dead and buried, "
Abdullah al-Zamel loudly told a group of workers three days
c e s 0 f s a

after Ibn Rashed's decease. "You have to be fair, and say what's
in your heart. You have to tell the truth . "
He paused to look i n their faces before going on.
"Do you know who killed Ibn Rashed?"
Their eyes pressed him, and he nodded his head.
"The Americans. They killed Ibn Rashed. "
The workers stared at him. "The Americans killed Ibn Rashed?
How? Why?" It was unbelievable, or at least unclear and illogical.
"Yes, the A mericans. They're the ones who killed him . "
He smiled a t their incredulous faces.
"More than three years of him running around like a dog,
back and forth, here and there, whatever the Americans wanted.
'Yes, sir, whatever you say, sir! ' It didn't do any good. When
Mizban died, God rest his soul, they said, 'Ibn Rashed!' Who
drowned Mizban? It wasn't Ibn Rashed! He had nothing to do
with it. The Americans took Mizban and drowned him, and
'Ibn Rashed, you must pay, Ibn Rashed, do something!' They
talk about laws? Aren't there laws for people who drown? Don't
they have rights? 'We have nothing to do with Mizban, we don't
owe him a straw, we never saw him and we don't know him. '
Ibn Rashed, God rest his soul, was blinded by ambition, it drove
him mad. And you know the rest. "
The workers looked at each other and at Abdullah al-Zamel.
Now they understood his words, but they did not know exactly
what they meant.
"The Americans have no friends-like wolves and sheep, "
said one man, whom they called Locust because of his small
SlZC.

"No , " laughed another man, "they're not like wolves and
sheep, they're like locusts. "
"No, like wolves and sheep. Locusts cat only until they're
satisfied, but your wolf, he kills and mutilates, " said the short
man forcefully.
 .. 415

"The Americans are wolves-Ibn Rashed was a locust, " joked

Ibn Zamel. He guffawed and added, "And you know the story.
For the sake of a locust birds get themselves trapped. "
"What about you, Ibn Zamel?" asked one of the workers
sharply. "You killed Ibn Rashed. You kept at him until you
buried him. "
"Me?" His tone changed. " Shame on you. "
"No. You, yes, you killed him. "
Abdullah al-Zamel laughed loudly, but it was a dry and forced
laugh, and the workers' challenging and almost accusatory stare
did not leave his face.
"Listen, my good man . . . " He looked at all their faces, then
at the man. " You know, and so does everyone in this camp,
that Ibn Rashed and I were like grease and fire. He hated me, I
hated him, but facts are facts.
"Maybe I didn't do right by Ibn Rashed, " he went on, in a
different tone, ''I'm not saying I did, but, God rest his soul, he
wronged himself more than people wronged him. No one loved
him, and he did plenty of disgraceful things. He let the Americans
make fools of us. He was never satisfied. That was Ibn Rashed. "
"And you say 'God rest his soul'?"
"I said it and still say it. "
"By God, you're confusing us, Ibn Zamel!"
"Do you want the truth? Ibn Rashed was a dog, a son of a
bitch: greedy, selfish and tricky; but he was a Muslim and an
Arab. He knew right from wrong, and that was what ruined
him, that was what killed him. " Abdullah al-Zamel paused, took
a deep breath and went on in a clear and even sharp voice. "The
Americans are godless. They are infidels. They know nothing
but 'Work, work, work. Arabs are lazy, Arabs are liars, Arabs
don't understand. ' Ibn Rashed never stopped for a minute. It
was always 'Yes sir, yes sir, whatever you say, ' and they treated
him like a dog; they let him struggle and go mad and die. And
c e 5 0 f s a

not one of those sons of bitches, not even Sh'eira, Nusayis, who
came to his funeral, so much as said 'God rest his soul. ' "
He paused. He took a deep, sobbing breath.
"We know what honor is. We know the sacredness of death,
we know-"
He was unable to continue; the right word would not come.
"Death reforms all men, " said one of the workers, who had
been standing silently at a distance as if not paying attention.
When he realized that everyone heard what he said during Ibn
Zamel's pause, he stopped, then stepped forward and added,
"When Ibn Rashed died, when he became dust, suddenly God
had made no better man?"
Everyone looked at him in surprise, and he went on. "By
God, you have no consciences, 0 sons of Arabs. Every day you
have a new face and every hour a new opinion. "
He left the tent. And as Muflih al-Arja left, the workers'
opinion changed once again.
"It's as clear as day , " Ibn Zamel almost shouted at the end of
the discussion, which had turned into chaos. "The Americans
killed him, and tomorrow you'll know, and not only about
him!"
Several such debates went on in the camp, and although many
of the workers did not consider the question to be as tangled as
Ibn Zamel and Ibn Naffeh insisted it was, at least they agreed
that "had the Americans been more reasonable, or had more
honor or self-respect, they wouldn't have abandoned the man
after all he had done for them"-that was their responsibility.
As to the rest of what Ibn Zamcl and Ibn N affeh said, it was all
idle talk and exaggeration.
Such discussions also went on in the coffeehouse and market.
Even the women of Arab Harran, who hated and resented Ibn
Rashed because it was he who had brought all the catastrophes
upon them, had the houses demolished and forced the people to
 .. 417

move, began to feel sorry; some even felt anxious when they
remembered how they had prayed so fervently for revenge against
that "tyrant. "
Now that Ibn Rashed was gone forever, in a way completely
unlike his short, mysterious disappearances, every person in Har­
ran felt in some way responsible for his death, or at least re­
sponsible for leaving him to die like that without doing anything
to help him, not even fetching a drop of water for him in his
last hours, or giving a kind or encouraging look to help him die
more restfully or more at peace with himself or with less guilt.
This feeling haunted the people from the moment they heard of
his death-which at first, exchanging wondering looks, they
refused to believe-but when they were convinced, they moved
as one man, possessed by feelings of regret and depression, to
take part in his burial. His ghost hovered over their heads. They
did not know whether it was a kindly or malicious ghost, and
they did not know why things happened this way.
Dabbasi, who was baffied by this turn of events and seemed
deeply shocked and sorrowful, felt crushed by the passing of
days and wished he had been more generous and tolerant; even
more, he wished that their conflict had not reached such a pitch
of hatred and distrust. He remembered things he had said to the
emir and others and felt responsible for the man's end. When
his son Saleh came to him a few days after Ibn Rashed's decease
and said that "the gate of fortune is open; the obstacle is gone, "
referring to the now permanent removal of lbn Rashed, Dabbasi
replied with painfully clear bitterness that "fortune is from God,
my boy, and death is from God. Don't gloat over your enemy's
death. " But Saleh al-Dabbasi did not pay much attention to what
his father said and went away full of energetic plans for orga­
nizing his business now that Ibn Rashed was gone.
The elder Dabbasi's emotions were mixed for a long time. He
could not join any of the others when they talked about Ibn
c e s 0 f s a

Rashed; indeed he actively avoided anyone who talked about

him, and when he heard anyone allude to "the deceased, " as Ibn
Rashed had been called from the moment his death was made
known, he said, "Remember your good deeds against your deaths,
people of Harran, so that you will not be consumed by regret. "
So it remained in Dabbasi's heart, even until death came to
him many years later. Ibn Naffeh, on the other hand, needed
no convincing: he was absolutely positive that Ibn Rashed had
died the moment he placed his hand in those of the Americans,
that God had given him a brief respite and not neglected him,
but since he paid no heed he died an infidel.
Ibn Rashed's presence lingered for years afterward, until those
great and momentous events transpired in Harran and its sur­
rounding area. He was long remembered, and his memory took
on features new and vastly different from what it had had in the
past, going far beyond the events that had truly taken place.
 N
OT ONLY THE SUMMER, BUT THE AUTUMN AS WELL,
was harsh that year. With the last days of Sep­
tember, days far hotter than many that had
passed that summer, the Americans began to flood in again.
Those who had been away on vacation returned, or most of
them did, and new ones arrived as well. Most of them were
new. For the first time life in the American compound was hard,
as hard as it had been in the early days. Tents were erected all
over, several ships were anchored for days in front of the com­
pound, and a large number of the Americans ate and slept aboard
the ships. The emir was very active and energetic in this new
phase, and he was amazed to see a strange device on the deck
of one of the ships, which was unloaded and sat on the dock for
barely a minute before it swept into the compound fast as a
bullet. The emir saw it with his own eyes, and deftly raised his
c e s 0 f s a

telescope for a better look, and shouted and pointed with his
finger, but he cried out when he saw Hamilton, the deputy chief
of the compound, mount the thing and ride it. The emir's face
showed signs of rapture and confusion together. True, he had
seen the large machines that moved forward and backward and
turned this way and that, and Nairn and other Americans had
told him about smaller machines of the same type intended only
for people who steered and rode them at high speeds, and al­
though he had heard this and shown the greatest interest and
awe, he had been unable to imagine exactly what such machines
would look like. Now he saw one with his telescope, watching
its darting movements with bated breath, a little frightened, and
when it took the central road, as if headed for the northern hills,
he was so filled with surprise and fear that the telescope shook
in his hands; he was much less able to follow this than the landing
of passengers from the ship or any other stationary target.
This strange, swift machine engrossed the emir and made him
reflect uneasily, especially since these things, coming suddenly
and all at once, provoked quite as much fear as wonder and
curiosity.
When he saw the Americans' commotion on the deck of the
ship and focused them clearly in the telescope, he saw that they
were naked or nearly naked for most of the time. The emir's
shock reached the very limits of intense confusion and fear when
he spotted a number of women with them, all as naked or nearly
naked as the men. At first he could not believe his eyes, and
thought that this was an illusion, or that perhaps his vision was
distorted from using the telescope for too long-this had hap­
pened to him before-but after he rubbed his eyes several times
and closed them to relax for a few moments, and looked at the
ship again, and the people on the deck, he screamed. Some of
his men were nearby, and his words, slowly enunciated, were
clear to all of them. "Oh! You sons of bitches, y ou Ameri-
 . . 42 1

cans . . . naked, all of them are stark naked, my God, as You

created me. "
The men looked at the ship, in the direction the emir was
looking, but they could make out nothing at this distance. They
saw the ship but not the people on it; if one were to scrutinize
the view for a long while, at certain hours of the day, he might
distinguish some kind of movement at this distance, phantoms,
but whether male or female could not be told. Now, as the emir
said in complete confidence and lust that they were women,
naked women, and that he could see them clearly, the men's
lewd thoughts erupted and flew over this long distance to reach
the ship and touch the women's bodies clothed like a ball of fire.
Their hearts and eyes were shocked, and they felt an uncon­
trollable panic.
What the emir was saying could not be believed, a man could
not imagine such a thing: real naked women, wandering among
men on the deck of the ship? How could the men stand to have
them walking around and coming near without burning up,
without exploding like gunpowder, without sticking themselves
like tent pegs into every crevice of those warm, beautiful bodies?
Every man's imagination went wild. They wanted to go closer
to see, to sec and feel, or at least to look through the telescope,
even for a moment. Even a fleeting glimpse of the women at
this distance would be enough to cool their burning hearts, but
the emir grasped the telescope as a mother grasps a suckling
infant. None of them would ever have guessed that the emir
knew the kind of language he was using now; certain poses of
the bodies enchanted him and destroyed him, so he handed the
telescope to his deputy to look at the scene or at the women
who made him feel as if he were about to explode and dissolve
in space. He shouted like a wounded man and struck his head
with his right hand, not strong blows and not light ones, as if
mourning or lamenting .
c e s 0 J s a

"You missed it, Abu Rashwan, good heavens, Abu Rashwan,

come and look. Allah, Allah . . . she's as shapely as a filly, she
gleams and glistens, she shines, Abu Rashwan. I'm on fire; my
patience is gone. Come here, I swear to God, come and look.
She's sprawled out now, her leg is out, she's turning over, Abu
Rashwan, she's as radiant as lightning. She's killed me, Abu
Rashwan, come and look . . . "
When the deputy emir took the telescope and aimed it at the
ship, he could not see anything clearly, not even the ship.
"I can't see anything, Abu Misfer!' he said softly.
"On the left. Start from the west of the ship and keep moving
until you reach the middle and you'll see her sprawled out like
a mare. Do you see her? Are you sure?"
When the deputy emir shook his head no, he shouted sharply.
"Give it to me, give it to me, Abu Rashwan. "
The emir snatched the telescope from his deputy and turned
to speak to one of his men, but no one was there.
"I told them to leave us, Your Excellency, " said his deputy
a little fearfully.
The emir turned around again to look for a stirrup or some
cushions.
"If the people find out, if the Americans find out, we'll be
disgraced, Abu Misfer, " said his deputy in the same tone.
With a precise movement he often used, with his tongue and
left hand, the emir grabbed like a chameleon and made a half
circle with his hand to show that he was not afraid and did not
care. Then, like an old woman used to sitting all day, he stumbled
to his feet, and after pulling a stirrup out of the tent and carrying
it two or three steps he threw it at the entrance to the tent and
knelt like a camel. He steadied the stirrup on the ground and
mounted the telescope on top of it, and adj usted them several
times.
"Come here. Come here, Abu Rash wan, " he shouted.
 .. 42 3

H e grasped the telescope even more tightly and his voice

changed, becoming thick and a little crazed. " She's not by herself
now, now there are two of them-a mare and a foal, each lovelier
than the other, shining like the sun. They walk like cats. If the
first doesn't kill me the other one won't leave a breath of life in
me. Come on, Abu Rashwan, have a good look. "
Anyone who saw the emir and his deputy taking turns falling
prone on the ground and shouting, rubbing their hands and
exchanging comments and information would have thought that
they had lost their senses. Sparks flew from their eyes, which
glowed visibly red from lust and contact with the telescope; their
lips were limp and trembled nervously, and the occasional in­
voluntary shouts from one of them spurred on the other, who
pleaded, anxiously and pathetically, to let him have his turn
quickly so he would not miss this glorious moment.
At one point, after several frightened and tentative efforts, one
of the emir's men cleared his throat, before coming forward, to
announce his presence, but the two men were alarmed: some
stranger might be spying on them from behind. As soon as they
sat up, however, and the deputy emir put away the stirrup, one
of the emir's men stepped forward to tell them that lunch was
ready.
During the lunch break and their customary time of rest,
neither of the men could calm down or even close his eyes for
a moment. They were silent and their thoughts were far away.
Although the emir went to sit on a hilltop after washing him­
self, as was his custom at sundown each day, and stayed there
until after evening prayers, telling stories and chatting with his
visitors, today was completely different. He sat there until late,
strolling over the slope and watching the ships carefully with
his telescope, and in an attempt to hide what he was doing he
also surveyed the western hills of Arab Harran and the A merican
compound, but he looked longest on the ships. He saw many
c e s 0 f s a

bare-chested men but no women. In the early part of the evening

they talked mostly about the steel crate delivered to the chief of
the compound, and how that crate which was the yellow-green
color of a chameleon in early spring moved around quickly with
no one pushing or pulling it. Two or three of the Americans
had entered the crate with the chief of the compound and dis­
appeared completely. This subject had greatly aroused the men's
interest, exciting wonder and curiosity, and might have moved
the emir to discuss and explain the nature of that machine to the
others, how it traveled long distances without getting tired, but
his confused mental state prevented him from addressing this
matter. He did not recall what he had been told previously, when
the first machines arrived to begin construction on the emirate
building, because he had listened inattentively and forgotten most
of it, but he felt compelled to speak, to say something. He shook
his head; there were a great many things on his mind.
"The crate is like a lot of other things, you have to have a
good look at it, examine it closely, before you talk about what
it might be. "
" You should ride it, Abu Misfer!"said the deputy emir, who
grasped what the emir was saying.
"You said it, Abu Rashwan, yes-ride it and try it out!"
When the emir and his men went to dinner, the deputy ap­
proached him, laughing. ''I'm afraid, Abu Misfer, we're getting
like that Sumatran. "
The emir laughed. "It's already happened. "
That night the emir did not fall asleep until late. He felt deeply
troubled, but when he tried to figure out why, he could not,
not even in the days that followed. The women explained this
as being the result of exhaustion and the heat, and worries,
especially after the arrival of the ships.
The emir remembered that on the first night, and on subse­
quent nights, he had seen himself on the deck of the great white
 . . 42 5

ship, in a dream, turning the women over one b y one a s a man

turns over sheep to check their sex; as soon as he lay his hand
on any buttock or thigh and held it a moment, he heard profuse
muffied laughter, but when he drew his hand away quickly from
the buttock or let the thigh drop, he felt a trembling mass in his
soul and all his limbs shook. This happened times without num­
ber; he was mad with confusion, running back and forth to find
the fattest and most beautiful woman, but when he reclined on
one of them, she laughed continuously, as a cat purrs, and he
woke to find himself covered with sweat and other things, feeling
exhausted and feverish. His breath was short, and his pounding
heartbeats filled his chest and head.
The events of the first day were repeated again and again: there
was a rumor to the effect that the emir and his deputy had fallen
prey to a mysterious illness, that they spent all their time alone,
unable to speak to or receive anyone, but as soon as the white
ship left Harran, taking some travelers with it, leaving others
settled in the compound, and after certain other things happened
in Harran, the health of the emir and his deputy was restored,
though unlike his deputy, the emir seemed sunk in utter dis­
traction.
 6)

{I) HE N IBN NAFFEH HEARD THAT THE EMIR WAS

suffering from a mysterious illness, he found
that he did not have the right medicines, so
he went to the gate of the mosque as the men were filing out
after sundown prayers.
"Get ready, Mufaddi, " he said. "His Excellency needs the
irons. " His tone changed as he added, almost to himself, "If
cautery doesn't do him any good, he'll die-the underground
demons have got to him. "
Ibn Naffeh dared to say out loud what no one else, even those
who wondered among themselves in hushed tones, almost whis­
pers, about what was ailing the emir, dared say; they had no
satisfactory answ ers. Some said, with a hint of resignation, that
the emir's harsh treatment of lbn Rashed and Ibn Rashed 's tragic
death had brought on the illness.
 . . 427

Dabbasi, who heard that the emir was not receiving visitors
and did not wish to visit others, found in this a way out for
himself, for he was in a bad mental state, being very depressed,
and did not want the emir to see him this way. But within a
few days the deputy emir came and told him to prepare for
another hunting trip, as he had done last year, because nothing
else could cure the emir. Although it was still early in the year
for such a trip, Dabbasi liked the idea. He believed that a hunting
trip could cure both of them: in the depths of the desert, where
a man found himself surrounded by endless silence and nature
still in its primeval stages, there was no sense of events taking
place; the making of a new man was an arduous task that de­
manded calm and silence.
When Dabbasi asked about the emir's illness and whether or
not he might see him, the deputy shook his head sadly. "The
disease is spreading, Abu Saleh. " After a moment of silence he
added, "Today he said, 'I don't want to sec anyone, and if he
comes tomorrow or the next day, you see him. ' "
Dabbasi did not press him and asked no more questions. He
went away to prepare for the hunting trip, but with no sense of
urgency.
That day, as suddenly as the ship had left, the emir was seized
by a kind of agitation that turned into anger. He lost his temper
at the slightest word or action, and it took nothing for any man
to become, in his view, an enemy. He felt deceived; the departure
of the ship and its passengers was a plot against him. The Amer­
icans seemed to have heard what he was doing; no doubt some­
one had told them and he was doing nothing but watching the
ship, especially its female passengers; the informer must have
been one of his own men, he reasoned, and that was why he
made the sudden and unexpected decision to leave for a while.
The emir began to have doubts about everyone around him,
and every one of his men was a suspect. He looked at their
c e 5 0 f s a

faces, and especially at their eyes, with a curious and doubting

gaze, and if any of them seemed uneasy or afraid, he asked him,
between his teeth, " You . . . hah?" If the man tried to speak or
ask a question the emir flew into a rage and began to shout. "Get
out of my sight, get out! I don't want to see your face-I'll settle
with you later. "
The man hurried away not knowing what he had done or
why the emir had spoken to him in this way. So it went, day
after day, as the emir banished all of those who did nothing but
spy on him and report all of his deeds to others, and it was this
behavior that led to the rumors of his depression and illness.
It was considered something of a joke at first, but with the
passage of time the deputy emir began to perceive that the matter
was now so serious that something untoward might well happen,
so he sent the men away from the emir and kept his condition
quiet. When the ship put out to sea and the watching game ended,
he hoped that everything was back to normal, but what he had
seen of the emir's agitation and anger, and the suspicions and
shouted curses that marked his relations with almost all others,
made the deputy emir wary and on edge, so he contacted Dabbasi
to have him arrange the hunting trip and summoned Nairn to
have him ask the Americans to invite the emir for a demon­
stration of the steel crate. He tried several different tactics to
protect the men from the emir, and when he saw him cursing,
threatening and being cruel to Johar, who was the closest to him,
1.e waited for Johar to stumble out of the room before addressing
the emir. "Would you listen to a few words from me, Abu
Misfer?"
The emir looked at him and said nothing, so he went on.
"Please listen, Your Excellency. " He paused a moment and smiled.
"Truth is truth, Your Excellency, and a man has to speak the
truth. "
 .. 429

The emir's gaze did not waver, but his face showed signs of
displeasure.
"Our men are our men, Abu Misfer. You can take one of
them and cut his head off and he won't say a word . " He forced
himself to go on. "But they're people like us-you see them,
but they see you, too . . . Your Excellency. "
The deputy emir seized the telescope, shook it several times
and said sharply, "This is the trouble right here!"
For the first time the emir listened attentively, as if surprised
by what he heard. He nodded and opened his eyes wide.
The deputy emir continued. "As I hear it, Abu Misfer, the
women we saw on the ship were all whores-they're loose and
dissolute, and the red and white you sec on their faces is nothing
but dye and cosmetics. They arc nothing but trouble. "
The emir felt his strength ebbing. He did not like the way his
deputy was speaking to him, but he felt weak enough for any
man to crush him. Something inside him rebelled, but he was
nervous and unable to say what he was thinking, as if his thoughts
dissolved before they crystallized and settled.
"What you say is true, Abu Rash wan , " he said in a final
attempt to break the siege he felt enclosing him. "But I still want
them. "

This was the beginning of his recovery.

Two or three days later Hamilton and Nairn came to visit the
emir, and during this visit they discussed the many huge projects
the company would undertake between Wadi al-Uyoun and Har­
ran. Every effort would have to be made to find the large num­
bers of new workers that the work required; the company would
construct other new buildings and installations in Harran itself
as well.
c e s 0 J s a

At the end of the visit they invited the emir to come to Amer­
ican Harran and inspect the new projects and installations. They
made reference to the company director's private automobile,
saying they would all be delighted if the emir came to acquaint
himself with all these things firsthand.
The emir was silent during the visit, only listening and nod­
ding, though every so often he surprised his visitors by suddenly
staring at Hamilton, then j ust as suddenly shifting his gaze to
Nairn. He longed to find out what they knew about him, es­
pecially what they had heard recently. Although his behavior
somewhat frightened Nairn, who showed alarm more than once,
his thoughts drifted off to other subjects, perhaps to Hajem and
Mizban, or perhaps to Ibn Rashed. He accepted their invitation
to visit the compound but did not set a date.
"I told Abu Rashwan, when the ships were coming in front
of us, here-" said the emir, pointing and nodding his head,
" 'See to these people, ask them if there's anything we can do
for them . . . '
"

He paused a moment and looked straight at Hamilton and

added very seriously, "If any more ships come, I have to see
them for myself!"
His convalescent period might have lasted much longer, or
taken a different direction, had not Hassan Rezaie arrived about
this time. He explained to the emir why he had come back.
"Anyone who drinks of Harran's water is bound to return. "
His voice was so low that he might have been talking to
himself, but when he saw that everyone was listening to him he
went on. "Since the. day I left Harran I've been constantly on
the move, every day in a different town, but Harran was always
here-here. " He struck his chest with his fis t, then tapped his
forefinger and middle finger on his temple. He smiled and looked
at the emir.
 . . 431

"So you stopped everywhere?" asked the emir, who wanted

him to keep talking.
"The world is endless, Your Highness, " said Rezaie quickly,
"and no matter how far a man travels or how many places he
visits, there are still places he must go, that must be visited.
Even if everything in this world had an end and a limit, man's
yearning to know and discover would still be endless and lim­
itless. "
He paused and shook his head, remembering all the places and
things he had seen in his travels, and when he noticed the emir
listening closely to all that he said, he went on in a different
tone. "Your Highness, we should go somewhere together, travel
in this world and get to know it. "
The emir's laughter rang out, and he turned to his deputy.
"What do you say, Abu Rashwan?"
"Traveling by sea isn't very pleasant at first, " said Hassan
Rezaie, "but once you get used to it, there's nothing to compare
to it. "
"I prefer dry ground, " replied the emir. H e looked a t his
deputy and said ambiguously, "This seashore, here, in front of
us, is killing us. What do you say we see what's beyond it?"
"The high seas are very different from these shoals, Your
Excellency, " said Hassan Rezaie enthusiastically. "The open sea
is a different world! "
"The shallows are better. " The emir laughed. "The shallows
are safe and near home. "
While they were speaking, three of Hassan Rezaie's seamen
came into the tent, three of the employees who worked for him
on board ship. Sweat ran down their burned red faces, which
were the color of old copper. Two of them were carrying a
medium-sized sack, containing something very heavy and val­
uable to judge fro m the way they carried it and placed it on the
c e 5 0 J s a

ground. The third carried a square black object that look like
coal.
In silence, amid rapt attention, Hassan Rezaie got up confi­
dently, took a short knife from his pocket and opened the sack.
He asked one of his men to pull out what was inside. He did so
very carefully, and Rezaie looked at the emir as he placed the
gleaming box with one cloth side-it looked like wool-in front
ofhim, but he remained silent. The emir had never seen anything
like it before, and could not guess its purpose. When the ropes,
or what looked like ropes, growing from the rear side of the
box were connected to the black cube beside it, and Hassan
Rezaie announced that everything was in place, he rubbed his
hands, smiled broadly and sat beside the box, and looked at the
emir and the others before proceeding to the next step. They
were utterly silent and seemed a little afraid and curious. Rezaie
cleared his throat. "This is a gift I have brought you from far
away, Your Highness, and it will bring the whole world to you
and bring you to the farthest point of the world, as you sit there. "
The emir's eyes opened wide and he nodded continuously to
show that he understood and grasped perfectly everything Rezaie
was saying. He did not say a word but waited to see what would
happen next.
"This machine, Your Excellency, is very sensitive and pre­
cise, " said Rezaie in a different tone. "No one but yourself may
touch it. "
The emir looked even more surprised and somewhat afraid,
and his men looked at each other.
"Now, we begin, " said Rezaie, smiling confidently and rub­
bing his hands.
He moved his hand to one side of the box and waited a mo­
ment, his eyes trained on its middle, his face very close, as if
whispering to it. A green light went on in the machine's middle,
 . . 433

and the emir looked at the others, and though he tried t o be

calm his looks were looks of fear and alarm. Rezaie turned some
of the knobs on the box, and suddenly sharp voices burst from
no one knew where. Everyone present started violently, and a
number of the men retreated a few steps, and one man hid behind
some others. The emir shifted in his seated position and looked
at the others as if to ask them to be strong and prepared for
anything. Rezaie moved the knobs more energetically than be­
fore. The green light grew brighter, then almost faded away,
with a piercing squeak. He touched a knob again, and there was
a burst of music. The sound of the music was clear, as if it came
from within the tent. The men looked at each other, mildly
shocked, and the emir crept toward the box, smiling. Rezaie
adjusted the sound and turned it up until it filled the tent.
With pleasure mixed with terror the men listened to the music
in silence. After a few minutes, with a quick and crafty move­
ment no one saw, Hassan Rezaie stopped the music. A long,
profound silence fell, so palpable that a man could have stroked
it with his hands.
Rezaie spoke. "That was music, Your Highness, that was just
one station, and there are so many others ! "
With the same hidden deftness Hassan Rezaie moved his hand,
and there was a distant sound. It rose and fell, and the green
light on the box glowed and faded, and when the light glowed,
the men heard a voice clearly.
"-And when a king of the land of Serendip dies, he is tied
to the rear of a low cart, on his back, with the hair of his head
brushing the soil of the earth, as a woman with a broom sweeps
the dirt onto his head, crying, '0 people, yesterday this was
your king. He owned you and held you in his power, and now
he is as you see. He has left the world, and King of Death has
taken his soul. Do not be fooled by life, y e who come after, '
c e 5 0 f s a

and so on for three days. He is then bedecked in sandalwood,

camphor and saffron, and cremated. His ashes are scattered in
the wind. "*
This is what the men heard. They looked at each other, unable
to believe what they had heard. The voice intermingled with
other voices and the green light went out, and then they heard
nothing.
They look uncomprehendingly at one another: How could
this box speak and make music? Who was playing the instru­
ments? Where did he sit? How could he eat and sleep, and how
did that tiny space hold him? The speaker sounded like Ibn
Naffeh or an eloquent imam! Was he playing the music, too, or
was that someone else?
"One . . . two . . . and now three, " said Hassan Rezaie de­
lightedly.
Once more he moved his hand on the box, and it began to sing.

0 ship about to depart!

I have among your happy riders a dear friend
My eyes were bathed in tears when we said farewell
My heart wept as I heard the news
The sun has sunk beneath the horizon
My soul sighed, I drew my last breath
When my love embraced me and we said farewell
My fate fled with him when the sails unfurled . . .

When the song ended, a voice said, "This is the Near East
Broadcasting Service. " The emir moved closer to Hassan Rezaie
and spoke like a child who cannot hide his pleasure and delight.
"Now let me do it! Just show me how. "

*Ibn Sairafy, a geographer of the fourth centur y A . H. From Dr. Shakir Khasbak's
Radiant Writings of Arab Geograph y , p. 88. This passage is from Tl1e Book of India
and China.
 . . 435

"Let it rest. It has to rest! "

"Just once! Then it can rest. "
The emir crept nearer, a s a child who knows what fire is creeps
nearer to it. Patiently, carefully, he placed his hand where Hassan
Rezaie indicated and did as he was told. When the box emitted
loud music he started and drew his hand away, and when the
music rose to fill the tent he retreated slightly and looked into
the men's silent faces. They watched his every movement warily,
as if he were conveying to them that he knew more than they
did, as if he knew what they didn't. After a few minutes of
nodding happily, as if he had conjured up this music from an
unknown place, as no one else could do, and after a short silence,
Hassan Rezaie spoke uneasily. "Your Highness, it has to rest. "
Quietly, expertly, he moved his hands on the box, first on
one side, then on the other, then disconnected the ropes from
the black stone and put them back. When he was done he rubbed
his hands and looked at their faces, especially the emir's, asking
them wordlessly what they thought of what they'd seen and
heard. Their faces were impassive and uncomprehending, but
the emir's head was nodding as if jogged by a strong wind.
"The world around us is a strange one, full of secrets, " said
the emir. "Almighty God 'teacheth man that which he knew
not. ' The important thing is for him to keep his intentions holy
and open his heart so that Almighty God may inspire and teach
him. "
The emir's words seemed obscure and meaningless. He ad­
dressed his deputy. "The spyglass shows you a hair from a long
distance. The yellow steel crate runs like a gazelle and doesn't
get tired. This box talks, sings and prays! "
After a moment h e spoke i n a n awed tone. " 'Glory be to
God, who teacheth man that which he knew not. ' "
 64

N
EWS Of THE EMIR ' S WONDERfUL NEW GADGET
spread faster than any item of news ever had.
Even the "steel crate, " as they called it, though
some others called it "the jinn's steed" and talked about it for
days although very few of them had actually seen it, and even
then from a great distance-even the jinn's steed in American
Harran didn't excite nearly as much curiosity, wonder and fear
as the new machine did. No one could describe it or say anything
specific about it. When the emir sent some of his men to the
coffeehouse and the market to invite some of the people to visit
him, without giving any reason for the visit or saying what
would happen afterward, everyone began to talk about "the new
wonder, " and three or four of the men said that they had heard
a voice, during the day, which seemed to fall from the sky or
spring from the earth. One of them said that one da y he had
 . . 437

heard a voice calling him, b u t when h e turned around there was

no one there. Some of them talked to the emir's men, to un­
derstand from them anything about the device, but no matter
how the emir's men tried to describe it or give them some kind
of idea of what it was, they failed. Those who asked about it in
the coffeehouse and market did not really know what to ask,
and the answers they got only deepened the mystery. The an­
swers were very brief and cryptic: "Something people had never
heard of before. " "Seeing it is nothing to hearing it. " One of
the emir's men, named Shihab, whose duty it was to extend the
emir's invitation to Ibn Naffeh, Seif and Dabbasi, had to hurry
away to extricate himself from the crowd.
"Tomorrow, people of Harran, when you see it, " he told
them, "you'll go crazy!"
Everyone had been invited by about two hours before sun­
down, but some of those who had not been invited could not
stifle their curiosity or wait to hear what the others would report,
so they determined to go and stand nearby; when they got a
chance they would find some pretext to push their way in to sec
the wonderful device and then tell the rest of the Harranis what
they had seen before anyone else could.
The emir was profoundly agitated that whole afternoon. He
did not sleep and did not leave his tent, and his eyes never left
his new gadget. He stood and paced around it to look at it
contemplatively close up and from all sides, and he probed it
with his fingers to explore its solidity. For hour after hour he
devised ways of taking over the operation of the thing for him­
self, without any help from Hassan Rezaie, and planning the
right moment in which to ask him to teach him all the moves­
how to begin and where, the second and third steps, until he
knew all the operations-so he asked Rezaie to come with the
rest of his guests for the demonstration of the wonderful thing.
All the townsfolk of Harran would be amazed; they would feel
c e s 0 f s a

that this was the first day of their lives, or at least the most
important. They would shout like children, joyful, afraid and
awestruck-how could they not, when he, the emir, was still
full of wonder and astonishment at this device that no one had
ever seen or heard of?
At one point the emir gave orders for his majlis to be prepared
earlier than usual. He was a little afraid that it would not be
possible to move the device outdoors.
"I forgot to ask you, " he said to Hassan Rezaie nervously.
"Today, our maj lis in the desert, here, right nearby. Can we
take the thing out with us?"
Rezaie assured him that it would be easily accomplished, that
he could move it there or anywhere else he pleased, only it had
to be done very carefully: the thing must not be shaken or set
down too hard, and nothing must be placed on top of it. The
emir was delighted to hear this and imagined many places and
things.
"Now I want you to teach me to use it, " he said in a friendly,
confidential tone. "Tell me everything. "
"It is your right, Your Highness, to know everything, to try
out everything , " said Hassan, grinning broadly. "For today I'm
here to offer any help you need, and tomorrow I may not be. "
The emir could not have been more pleased. The man was
giving him all his secrets, strengthening his position among oth­
ers, setting him above them all. He spoke again in the same tone
offriendly confidentiality. "God bless you-may He make many
more like you. "
Hassan Rezaie began to explain to the emir the nature and
importance of the machine. He spoke long and copiously. He
said that other countries attached great significance to the radio
and spent a great deal of money on it. Like a mirror, it reflected
the power and standing of a country. It was found in the houses
of the rich, who used it to discover what was happenin g in the
 . . 439

world, t o learn all the news and events. When the news was
over the entertainment began: music, singing, useful lectures,
stories, poems and much else besides.
The emir could not understand or follow a great deal of what
Hassan Rezaie told him, but he remembered the word radio,
which kept recurring. He was burning for the man to finish
talking so that they could both get the machine working, so that
when the men arrived he would not need any assistance or in­
structions.
"Actions are better than words, " he told Rezaie jokingly.
"Now let's say, ' In the name of God' and begin. "
Without waiting any further he crept close to the radio and
sat by it, waiting for Rezaie. He caressed it with a loving hand,
as a man pets the face of a loved child, and tapped it gently with
his forefinger, as if this was a sign to begin.
Hassan Rezaie began with the same speed and light dexterity.
Perhaps he began too quickly for the emir, or perhaps the emir
could not grasp everything, for he spoke up almost immediately.
"Easy, easy! Take your time!"
"Just as you say, my lord!" Rezaie smiled. He had mastered
this form of address to a degree that was unusual in Harran, but
it pleased the emir and made him feel important. This way of
speaking had caught his attention from Rezaie's first visit, and
he realized that he liked it. When he heard him say "my lord"
this time, he thought to himself: "People in other places are far
more polite than we are; they know everything, especially how
to address a man as befits his station. "
"Once again, slowly, " said Hassan Rezaie.
"Yes, yes, once again, slowly! " replied the emir. "Take your
time! "
Before long the sound o f the radio filled the huge tent and the
surrounding desert; it could even be heard in the tent reserved
for the women. Rezaie lowered the volume.
c e s 0 f s a

"Now, Your Highness, " he said confidently, "you can do it

all yourself!"
The emir went to work, but he was anxious and afraid of
making a mistake. To make it as easy as possible for the emir,
Rezaie said, "The best way, Your Highness, is to count. " He
paused a moment and nodded as if he had hit upon the ideal
way to teach the process, and showed him how.
"One, two, three, and this is four. "
He put his hand on the battery, the first step, then on the
switch, which was step two, pointed to the dial, which was
three, and step four was the volume control. He did it somewhat
rapidly, which moved the emir to comment, "Counting is a
good way, but it's not how the bedouin pray!"
Rezaie laughed though he did not understand what the emir
meant, and when its meaning-"fast or incomplete"-was ex­
plained to him, he laughed harder. He spoke as if teaching a
child. "One . . . this is one. Good?"
When the emir nodded to show that he understood, he pointed
to the switch. "After one is two. This is two. "
The emir nodded vigorously, and Hassan asked, "Shall we go
on.;> "
"Trust in God, " said the emir regally.
"This is three, Your Highness, and it's the hardest step. "
The emir nodded to show that he understood and could handle
the difficulty.
"And this is four. It's easy. If you want it loud, so that all
Harran can hear it, turn it to the right, and if you want none
but yourself to hear it, turn it to the left. "
After several tries, during which Hassan Rezaie gave him ad­
ditional instructions, especially as regarded the battery and the
tuning dial, the emir looked pleased.
"This is the last time, " he said, "and then we'll let it rest, so
that the rest of them can be amazed when they come and hear
 .. 441

it. " He laughed loudly. " B y God, I'll let i t roar t o the stars until
morning!"

The majlis was prepared earlier than usual. The emir s men
moved the radio under his supervision, and he gave them sharp
orders before and as they moved it. When he was sure that
everything was ready, and in order to impart a sense of thrill
and importance to the operation, he draped his cloak over the
radio to cover it completely.
The emir tried to act and speak naturally, even simply, with
his men, and though it felt strange, because he was not used to
doing so, he adopted a friendly, fatherly tone, but his inner
tension drove him to unusual activity, rapid pacing and a mood
that bordered on fright. This was a new experience for him, and
although he felt confident and self-assured, there were lingering
doubts: "What if the thing just dies, or I make a mistake turning
it on or running it? What ifl make a mistake counting or confuse
the switches, as Hassan Rezaie called them?" He would feel
shame if he failed, and if Hassan Rezaie then came to move him
aside and take his place and did not fail, but did it easily, Rezaie
would look at him out of the corner of his eye, and the others
would watch and smile. If that happened, wouldn't he seem, at
least to himself, wanting or stupid? His anxiety mounted and
he grew more tense. He now wanted to have one last try: "We
should try it out once in its new location. " But what would
Hassan Rezaie say?
Shortly before sundown the men arrived. First came Dabbasi,
who was expected to come early, before any others, because he
had not seen the emir in several days, and because he felt a vague
sense of guilt. Perhaps this was because of Ibn Rashed's death,
or perhaps because it had been so long since he'd visited the
emir, or perhaps because of his general feeling of futility. In any
c e s 0 f s a

case he did feel guilty and had not been overly excited by what
all the people were saying in Abu As'ad's coffeehouse about the
emir's new gadget. He had said more than once, in the coffee­
house, "If you were to travel and see the whole world, people
of Harran, you would never believe it was the world you were
seeing." He said nothing more, and no one knew what he meant.
Abdullah al-Saad and Muhammad al-Seif arrived together, and
al-Zawawi and Ibn Naffeh arrived together, conversing volubly
as they hiked up the north hill-about the corruption that was
spreading in the world, and the evil that was now so common,
the terrible ruin that afflicted the world, and the approaching
day of judgment. They talked about what the emir was doing,
what was happening in Harran under his very nose, and his
contemptible silence in the face of all the trouble. They could
not explain his silence or his indulgence toward the Americans;
it was more than they could understand, and they could not
overlook or tolerate it. And the emir's surprising new gadget­
Ibn Naffeh spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. "We've
already seen enough and more, Abu Mohsen. He's like that black
man who saw his mother's cunt and went crazy-he wants to
drive everyone else crazy, but he won't succeed. "
When the sun sank behind the western hills, leaving nothing
behind but steadily darkening orange rays, all those the emir had
invited were at last present, including three workers, one of
whom was Ibn Zamel. Daham al-Muzil was the last to arrive;
he had been rushing and stumbled into the tent covered with
sweat. The emir looked aound to see that all those whom he
had invited were present, noticing two or three unin vited Har­
ranis-what did they want?-then rose to speak.
"It is much pleasanter outdoors, my friends . "
The men all stood. There was a certain rustling clamor a s they
stood, but no sound of spoken words. The emir w alked a step
or two ahead of the rest and s eemed confident, but he still had
 . . 443

some doubts. He signaled with his hand for Hassan Rezaie to

remain close to him, to come nearer, and the man replied with
a courtly but spontaneous gesture. Ibn Naffeh's eyes never left
Hassan Rezaie for a moment; he had ignored all others to con­
centrate on him from the moment he arrived. Hassan Rezaie
smiled whenever his eyes met Ibn Naffeh's, but Ibn Naffeh did
not return the courtesy and never averted his eyes. When he saw
the way the emir treated Rezaie he said to himself: "No one
knows whether God or Satan brought this man here, but like
they say, if a disease comes from the stomach, where does the
cure come from? This bastard, this devil, has got into the emir's
armpit, and must be the curse of his ancestors and ours . "
As soon a s the men were seated, all gazing with intense cu­
riosity at the marvel that sat to the emir's left, under his cloak,
the emir spoke in a slightly trembling voice. "The world has
changed, my friends; it is no longer as it was. It is smaller. It
came to the prophet Adam; he did not have to go to it. "
None of the men understood what the emir was saying; in
fact his speech made them feel even stranger. He went on more
confidently. "A man doesn't believe until he's seen with his own
eyes, until he has tried something for himself. " He turned to
Hassan Rezaie and smiled, as though they shared a secret, and
said, "When they have seen with their own eyes, they will be­
lieve. "
He pounced like a cat to pull the cloak aside.
"Do you all see this?" he asked theatrically, pointing.
The men nodded to show that they saw the device.
"It roams the whole world in the twinkling of an eye, and
tells you everything. "
The men sat silently. The emir rubbed his hands, exactly as
Hassan Rezaie had done when he'd worked the radio.
"What y ou see talks, then it weeps, then it prays!"
He paus ed to look at the radio, then at the men, and nodded.
c e s 0 J s a

"And now we place our trust in God, and begin. "

In a barely audible voice the emir began: "One. " He touched
the battery, waited a moment, and added, "Two. " He sat before
the radio, his back to the others, and when the green light ap­
peared he leaned over to work the tuning dial, and when he
found a station-he was sure, because he heard a few words,
and saw the green light flash brightly-he turned to the men.
"Listen-listen , " he said in a husky voice. He turned up the
volume.
"They were told that Ibn al-Khattab wept when the treasures
of Chosroes were revealed to him, " they heard, "and he said,
'This was never shown to any nation without bringing them to
despair. ' "
The sound faded away as soon as this was heard, and it was
followed by a loud, continuous buzz. The men looked at each
other and at the device that the emir was impatiently working
at; they stared and their j aws were slack. The buzzing died away.
"I do not fear poverty for you, rather I fear that you will
submit to the world as did they who came before you, that it
will make you dissent and fight one another as it did them. The
Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said, 'Be in this world
as a stranger or a traveler passing through. ' "
The emir watched every face to see their reactions, and when
he saw them looking at one another in silence, and then glancing
perplexedly at the radio, he rubbed his hands and laughed.
"That's one. " He turned the volume all the way down and
said, "You have seen with your own eyes and heard with your
own ears. Now listen again. "
He leaned over again until he was almost reclining and spun
the tuning dial with his ear glued to the radio. He heard a sound,
then turned up the volume and laughed.
"This is two. "
The sound of music surged out to fill the air. He looked at
 . . 445

them, nodded and laughed, and turned the sound even higher
so that it roared more loudly than before. The men trembled
and held their breath, and their hearts pounded. They did not
dare look into one another's faces but stole looks here and there
from the corners of their eyes. Each was terrified that men would
spring out of the box to kill them all. The emir was plainly
delighted, and he exchanged long looks with Hassan Rezaie, and
they winked at each other when they saw the powerful effect
the radio was having; the emir now wished that he had invited
all the townspeople of Harran instead of these few- "If all of
them had come, we would really be seeing a marvel"-but he
gave up this thought, "because secrets are for adults, only for
those who understand . " After the music there were a few garbled
words, and lightly, as Hassan Rczaie had done, the emir switched
off the sound.
"That was two, but there'rc a lot more. "
He reclined as he had done before, turning the knob and watch­
ing the green light, and when it emitted an even sound he sat
up agam.
"Now, three. "
"It is related that there was a certain seabird, said to be a tern,
who dwelt on the seashore with his wife, and when it was time
to hatch their young the female told him, 'Let us seek out an
inaccessible place in which to hatch, for I fear that the Lord of
the Sea will make the water rise to take our chicks. ' He told her,
'Hatch them where you arc, for we have water and flowers
nearby us. ' She said, '0 heedless one, think again, for I fear that
the Lord of the Sea will take our chicks. ' He told her, 'Hatch
them where you arc, for he will not do that. ' She said, 'How
sure you arc, do you not remember his threats against you? Do
you not know yourself and your power?' But he refused to obey
her, and when she insisted and he did not listen, she said to him,
'He who will not heed counsel will suffer the same fate as the
c e s 0 J s a

tortoise who heeded not the two ducks. ' And the male said,
'How did that come about?'
"The female said, 'It is related that there was a pond with
pasture, in which there dwelt two ducks, and in the pond was
a tortoise. Now the tortoise and the ducks loved one another.
It befell that the water in the pond diminished, and the ducks
came to the tortoise to bid her farewell. They said, "Peace upon
you, for we are leaving this place because of the want of water. "
She replied, "There is a want of water, and I know, for like a
ship I can live only in the water, but since you two can live
anywhere, take me with you. " They told her, "Yes, " and she
asked, "How can you carry me?" They said, "We will each
grasp one end of a stick; bite it in the middle, and we will fly
you through the air. Hold fast with your mouth, and beware!
If you hear the people talk, say nothing. " So they took her and
flew into the sky, and when the people saw, they said, "Won­
derful indeed, a tortoise flying between two ducks!" and when
she heard that she said, "May God blind you, 0 people!" And
when she opened her mouth to speak, she fell to the ground and
died. '
"The male said, 'I hear your fable, but fear not the Lord of
the Sea . ' When the water rose, they fled with their young, and
the female said, 'I knew this would befall. ' Said the male, 'I will
take my revenge, ' and he betook himself to the council of birds,
and told them, ' You are my brothers and my trusted friends­
help me. ' They said, 'What do you want us to do?' He said, 'Let
us go to the rest of the birds and tell them what we have suffered
from the Lord of the Sea. We shall say, "You are birds as we
are-help us. " ' The council of birds told him, 'The griffin is
our mistress and our queen, let us go and seek her counsel. She
will appear to us and we will recount to her what you suffered
from the Lord of the Sea, and we will petition her to avenge us
upon him with her power and authority. ' They then went with
 .. 447

the tern and sought her aid, and she appeared to hear their tale,
and they asked her to fly with them to combat the Lord of the
Sea, and she consented. When the Lord of the Sea learned that
the griffin was seeking him with the other birds, he was afraid
to fight, a powerless king; so the tern's young made peace with
him and the griffin flew away!"*
The emir was delighted and anxious at the same time. The
men were perfectly silent as they listened, their tongues tied,
awestruck. He found their rigid, silent aspect almost comic, but
when the story went on and on and the stories intermingled,
and he missed some of the words as he turned and watched
them, he became afraid that the device was tired. No sooner had
the men heard the last words of the tale, and their faces relaxed,
than the emir pounced like a cat on the radio, and some of them
heard him say, " Four, three, two, one!"
When the radio was switched off, he returned wearily to his
place and sat. He took a deep breath and looked at the sky, and
he spoke when he perceived the heavy silence that hung over
the group. "As you have seen, my friends, 'God teacheth man
that which he knew not. ' "
Each of the men had a great deal he might have said. Those
who had traveled and seen the world wanted to do nothing but
talk; true, Dabbasi had seen a radio before: he had seen one in
Egypt at the house of Ibn al-Barih, but it did not strike him as
particularly incredible, "because everything in Egypt is incred­
ible . " That was how he usually summed up his impressions of
Egypt, with no attempt to supply details. Abdullah al-Saad leaned
over to Muhammad al-Seif and whispered, "Our friend Ibn al­
Naqib in Basra has one, and I've seen it!" The others, who had
never been anywhere farther than Ujra, were deeply confused
and afraid, and most of them wished that the emir would cover

*Kalila and Dimna.

c e 5 0 f s a

the radio up again and put it away, because "anything can happen
in this world. " Most of them were not ready to hear any ex­
planation or comment, because the strange device could talk,
sing, tell stories and perhaps do many other things as well, in
spite of its tiny size. The people inside it might be strange en­
chanted creatures, probably badly deformed as well. The only
one to dare ask a question was Ibn Naffeh, though he was ap­
prehensive and a little afraid.
"Who made this calamity?" he asked Hassan Rezaie.
Rezaie was a little irritated at the hostile stares Ibn Naffeh had
directed at him the whole evening, and he answered him brusquely.
"Man invented it. "
"Tell me-tell me: the Germans or the Americans?"
"This radio was made in Holland. "
"Holland?"
"Yes. It was manufactured in Holland. "
"Do they know Arabic there? Do they pray and fast and say
'There is no god but God'?"
Dabbasi spoke up, feeling that Ibn Naffeh was becoming more
hostile toward Rezaie.
"If Abu Misfer agrees, let's ask our friend to buy one for us
and bring it to us on one of his visits to Harran, and if he likes
we'll pay for it right now ! "
Ibn Naffeh was horrified.
"And put it in our houses, Dabbasi?"
"Trust in God, man, be patient! " Dabbasi smiled.
"And put it in our houses, to attract wolves to our sheep?"
"By God, Ibn Naffch, " said the emir, "you don't like anything
not from the Nejd. You don't like anything at all-you say that
everything is sacrilegious. " He softened his tone and addressed
the whole gathering. "My friends, you all heard with your own
ears what it said about the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon
him, and what it said about Ibn al-Khattab, and others . "
 0 0 449

Ibn Naffeh got up angrily.

"My friends, be wary of the green of new manure. " He paused
a moment and added sarcastically, "It has one eye, like Satan, a
green eye, and that is what the Prophet repudiated and called
the green of new manure . "
He added, in a threatening tone, "Tomorrow i t will drag you
to Hell. "
 T
HE MEN WHO SAT IN ABU A s' Ao's COFFEEHOUSE
that night, watching and waiting, said they
had heard unusual noises coming from the
north hill; the noises, they said, could be heard, though indis­
tinctly, when night fell and the sea waves calmed. Abdu Mu­
hammad, who spent more time than usual in the coffeehouse
that evening, said that he heard the melodies of songs he knew,
and that the melodies flowed to him directly from the north hill.
Othman al-Asqi, who was deaf in one ear, decided to go to the
emir's gathering uninvited, because he could not stifle the cu­
riosity that gripped him when he heard everyone talking about
the wonderful device, though some of the men wittily suggested
that he had gone only to get a free meal.
Al-Asqi was the first to arrive at the coffeehouse after the visit
to the emir and the demonstration of the new marvel . For a long
 . . 45 1

time he was silent, shaking his head and hands in wonderment.

When they asked him to describe the radio, he waved his hand
to indicate that he could not, because what he had seen could
not be explained or described. When he tried, after a great deal
of patient insistence from the others, and much hesitation on his
part, he said that the emir possessed something truly marvelous:
a box, but not like any box. Like a tea chest, smaller or perhaps
a little bigger-he was not exactly sure-but when you hit it
on the head it shouted and began to talk. It had only one eye,
a green eye, the color of spring grass; and if you hit it again,
gently, it made pipe and drum music. If you hit it yet again, on
the side, it went mute and died.
Abu As'ad asked him loudly, and with hand gestures, if the
box had round black knobs, like the round loaves that Abdu
Muhammad baked, only smaller, and if it had a large funnel like
a fat funnel or larger, and if a tall, thin protuberance had to be
adjusted before it spoke. After Abu As'ad explained, with the
help of several of those present shouting into al-Asqi's ear, Oth­
man said it was nothing like that, that he had not seen the things
that Abu As'ad described since he had sat as far as possible from
the thing. Abu As'ad asked him if it had small switches and a
glass pane in the middle with a moving needle, and al-Asqi said
it did have something like that. Abu As' ad leaned forward in his
chair.
"Why didn't you say so before, old man!" he said patiently,
then shook his head, laughing, and shouted, "That's a radio, my
friends! " He turned to Othman. "A radio! Right?"
Othman curled his lip and shrugged to show that he did not
know.
"Al-Asqi was watching and listening with his stomach, " said
one man, who longed to know what a radio was. He was seated
at a distance and had been closely following the discussion and
gestures.
c e s 0 J s a

"If Harran had electricity we would all have had radios long
ago , " said Abu As'ad, who felt that he knew a great deal more
than the others.
He went on to explain to all of them everything he knew
about radios, and how they were found everywhere in Beirut,
Aleppo and Damascus, and many other places he had lived in
or visited. He said that the homes of the rich and eminent were
never without a radio, and pointed out that the Nadim Coffee­
house in Beirut's Sahet al-Bourj had both a radio and a gram­
ophone. Then he explained to the men what a gramophone was,
how records which resembled thin loaves of bread emitted songs,
never tiring of spinning around night and day. People came in
throngs from far-distant places to the Nadim Coffeehouse only
to hear the songs, and the coffeehouse manager, Wajih Halabi,
played songs at the listeners' requests. Abu As'ad kept repeating
the word listeners. He repeated that as soon as Harran got elec­
tricity, the first radio would be installed in the Friends Coffee­
house. He shook his finger in mock warning, however.
"Listen! When we get it, no one may touch it but me!" He
paused, then laughed. "And another thing: I can't have you all
saying, every minute, 'Abu As'ad, turn this on' and 'Abu As'ad,
shut that off. ' "
That night, they all said later, Harran did not sleep. The emir's
soiree lasted longer than anyone expected or wanted. The sound
of the radio, like the song of a distant camel driver in the early
evening, grew progressively louder and stronger and everyone
heard it. When Hassan Rezaie said with exaggerated politeness
that he would like to go home, but that he would be at the emir's
disposal at any hour of the morning His Highness desired, the
emir announced that the evening was concluded. When they all
left, the emir accompanied them for a good distance-longer
than he usually did for his guests-and bid them good night,
and they all said that the sound of the radio followed them as if
 . . 453

the thing were walking behind them, even after they got t o the
bottom of the hill and reached the market. The sound was clearly
audible, and they all laughed when al-Zawawi fell into a ditch
in the road.
"That thing opened our ears, Abu Mohsen, but it blinded our
eyes!"
The emir lingered after his guests left and turned up the volume
of the radio several times, nodding happily in time to the music.
He moved it from one place to another, first into his tent and
then to the area behind it where he slept; there he was heard
talking loudly about the wonderful gadget. He turned the radio
up even louder, and the delighted and frightened voices of the
women joined in-everyone in the coffeehouse heard. The sound
of the radio rose and fell. Abu As'ad was gathering up the chairs
in the coffeehouse and talking to his last two customers.
"God willing, within a month we'll have a radio, and we'll
hear the songs reaching the sky ! "
Ibn Naffeh, who left early and went straight home t o Arab
Harran, refused to say anything about the radio, and the sound
of his praying was heard until late that night, and because of
that, or the distance, no one in Arab Hassan could hear the radio.
When the others and those who lived in the western hills left
the emir's, they all talked about the radio but none of them could
describe or explain it.
Before dawn the next day, the emir was seen asking Massoud
and another man to move the radio. He went with them all the
way and lifted the tent flap himself so that they could move it
in easily. Some of the more malicious townspeople said that the
emir spent several sleepless days by the radio with his loaded
rifle, ready for any surprise that might come from the thing. Ibn
Seif said that on one of his visits to the emir he saw two men
lifting the radio high into the air while the emir examined the
bottom of it with his telescope. When he saw nothing, he moved
c e s 0 f s a

closer and struck it with the palm of his hand as if knocking on

a door. Hearing no sound from within, he crept around it in a
circle to look at it from all angles with the telescope, rapping it
with his knuckles and palms.
In the mosque, market and workers' camp there was talk of
nothing but the new wonder, and everyone longed to see or
hear it. The emir, who was completely preoccupied by the radio
and let none of his men touch it or go near it in his absence, had
entered a new phase of his life. It began by coincidence, when
he heard some songs which affected him deeply, and which he
and many others remembered for a long time to come.
 66

T
HE EMIR VISITED THE A MERICAN COMPOUND WITH
his deputy and Hassan Rezaie and inspected
the automobile carefully. He asked whether
Americans, like Arabs, gave names to the things they rode­
Arabs named their horses, for example. He was delighted when
Henderson told him that the automobile did indeed have a name,
Ford, and turned to his deputy to say, "I told you!" He asked
many other detailed questions: How long did Ford live? Did it
use gunpowder? Would it respond to different riders? Did it need
training, or was it naturally tame? After the emir asked these
and many other questions, nodding gravely as he heard the an­
swers, Henderson proposed that they all ride the automobile.
The emir seemed inclined to refuse and asked Hassan and his
deputy in a certain tone if they wished to try it out or not, but
c e s 0 J s a

in the face of Henderson's willingness and Rezaie's deference he

had no choice but to accept.
It was a festive ride, marked by surprises, shouts and expla­
nations. When the automobile suddenly took off at great speed,
the color drained from the frightened emir's face and he shouted
" God help us!" Afraid of falling, he reached out to grab Hen­
derson's leg beside him, to steady himself. When Henderson
roared with laughter the emir withdrew his hand, ashamed, and
gripped the side of his seat instead.
"My friends, we should have said our prayers fir st! " said the
emir to his deputy and Hassan Rezaie, without turning around.
When Henderson took a sharp turn the emir was overcome
with fright and grabbed the wheel, and there would have been
an accident had Henderson not acted quickly and pushed the
emir's hand away. Another accident was narrowly avoided when
Henderson stopped abruptly to keep from hitting a dog; the
comments and screams that issued from the automobile were
long remembered. Whenever Henderson reminisced about the
first automobile in the compound, he recalled the emir's face:
"He was absolutely terrified, and jabbering indistinctly, like he
was praying to God or begging. He almost caused a couple of
accidents, while we were moving and standing still. At one point
he almost jumped out! He grabbed the door handle while the
car was moving, and if it hadn't been for my quick thinking
they'd be saying that the Americans killed the emir. "
When the automobile sped past a group of workers, who
shouted and waved to the emir and his companions, the emir
did not budge but kept his grip on the side of his seat. He was
amazed to see Henderson put his arm outside the window to
give the men a carefree wave.
"The thing leaps like a locust, " said the emir afterward, when
they were going up the hill. "You have no way of knowing
when it's going to fly. "
 .. 457

"Our donkeys are better and safer, Your Excellency, " said his
deputy.
"It was faster, but dangerous. "
"The inventions of man are endless, " said Hassan Rezaie after
a short silence. "There are thousands of inventions and new
things every day, but the origin of all inventions is gunpowder. "
The emir nodded in agreement, but his thoughts were so
confused that he could not say anything clearly. He was surprised
to hear himself say, "If they used gunpowder to push it, it would
be better and stronger. "
They could not continue the discussion, and the emir could
find no clearer way to express the thoughts that suddenly filled
his head, while Hassan Rezaie perceived that the distance that
separated him from these people was so great that he could not
really be serious with them, or discuss any topic in earnest.
As soon as the emir reached home he looked first at the radio
and then at his men, to see if any of them had gone ncar the
radio or played with it while he was away, and when he decided
that they had not, since they seemed guiltless and calm, he spoke
to them to create a cheerful atmosphere. " Why should a man
race all around from place to place? It's much better to let the
world come to him! " He headed straight for the radio.
"Now it's easy for you!" said Hassan Rezaie even before the
emir got it working.
No sooner had the sound of music burst from the radio to fill
the tent than the emir began to sing.
"Our days are over and our fate has overtaken us/ The jour­
neys we've made are more than enough. " A moment later he
added in a sad voice, " When I hid my sorrow, my passion
awakened/ The sleep of my eyes was replaced by wakefulness/
I cry out, for my passion excites my thoughts/0 passion, flee
but do not leave me/ My soul languishes between heartache and
peril. "
c e s 0 f s a

Hassan Rezaie clapped rhythmically, surprised that the emir

could memorize and recite poetry; he had never known or guessed
at such a thing.
"You have to relax, " said the emir in an effort to justify his
exuberance. "When your heart gets weary you die!"
Coffee was served in a relaxed and very cheerful atmosphere.
Hassan Rezaie lowered the volume of the radio, and when the
emir did not object, he addressed him. "Your Highness, I must
ask your permission to travel. "
"Fear God, man, we've hardly seen you , " protested the emir.
"My business affairs require me to leave, Your Highness. "
He paused and then added, "Whenever Your Highness com­
mands me to return, I will do so. "
The emir looked at his deputy but directed his speech to Re­
zaie. "No. "
"Just as you say, Your Highness, " said Hassan with feigned
regret.
There was silence, then the emir spoke in a more decisive
tone. "We need you here these days. "
"I am at your service, Your Highness. "
The music had died away. The emir leaned over slightly and
asked Hassan and his deputy to move nearer.
"I asked the Americans to send us over the translator this
afternoon, " he whispered in their ears. "We want to see what
their needs are and how we can help them. "
"I don't think I should be present when you discuss private
matters, Your Highness! " said Rezaie with false modesty.
"I have told them that you are one of us, that there is much
you can do for them . "
S o Hassan Rezaie stayed for days that turned into weeks, until
he signed a three-year contract with the company, which re­
quired him to recruit manpower for the construction of the Wadi
al-Uyoun-Harran pipeline, to take over the import of supplies,
 .. 459

to subcontract the paving of the Ujra-Harran highway and to

procure all necessary supplies except for asphalt and machinery,
which the Americans would provide.
After the contract was signed, one evening when all the emir's
guests had departed, Hassan Rezaie spoke, apparently to himself,
but so that the emir could hear. " I really should listen to the
London broadcast. " He drew a watch on a gold chain from his
pocket and added, "Still forty-five minutes until the news . "
He stirred a s i f preparing t o leave for his boat, where h e might
listen to the news bulletin.
"This radio brings in London?" asked the emir.
"Most certainly, Your Highness!"
"So let's all listen to it. "
" I don't want to be a burden on you, Your Highness. " He
smiled. "You need your rest. "
''I'll rest later. " The emir laughed. "It's still early! "
" I want you to listen t o the news from London every night,
Your Highness, " said Rezaie in a completely different tone. He
lowered his voice to add, "Nothing in the world happens with­
out that station knowing it first, and knowing the most about
. ,,
lt.
He paused for a moment as if recalling some event.
"I first heard of Harran, Your Highness, on the London news
bulletin. British Broadcasting was the first to know all the news
of Harran: the petroleum port, the refineries, supply depots for
the whole region, for all the ships, and all the rest.
"I said to myself: 'You have to visit that place, to get to know
it. A man could be of some usc, he might help out. ' "
"All that is going to happen in our Harran?" asked the emir.
He could not hide his astonishment.
"Yes indeed, Your Highness, all that and more. "
"These damned Americans never told me! They never told
anyone!"
c e s 0 f s a

"They're bastards. They don't give away their secrets. "

"Even that little coward who came to us that day, the trans­
lator I saw, never told me a thing! " The emir shook his head in
disbelief. "So when are all these calamities going to happen?"
"It's already begun, Your Highness. Once the pipeline from
Wadi al-Uyoun to Harran is completed, it will all be finished. "
The emir laughed. "There are hard times ahead!"
Hassan Rezaie laughed along with him, and when they both
stopped laughing Hassan turned to him earnestly.
"I have a request, Your Highness. "
"Granted! "
"Next time, i n a month or two, i f w e live till then, I will need
your help, Your Highness, in choosing a piece of land. I want
to build a house, and the closer it is to you the happier I'll be. "
"Bless you-choose any land and it's yours. "
"I'll take the land you choose for me. "
"Bless you. "
For a moment they said nothing.
"A short time back I had never heard of Harran and never
thought of it, " said Hassan in a profoundly humble tone. "And
now, as you see, Your Highness . . . praise the Lord. "
They turned to the radio, and Hassan Rezaie managed to locate
the London station.
"Right here, at night, London will come in loud and clear, "
he sai.d confidently. "But in the daytime it's somewhere else. "
And they listened intently to the news bulletin.
 ]\_ YEAR AND A FEW MONTHS BEFORE THE PAVING
of the Ujra-Harran road was completed, two
large trucks appeared in Harran. The driver
of the first-its "boss"-was an Armenian, Akoub, and the
other one was Raji, "Abu Aqlein. " These were not their real
names, but most people knew them only by these titles. Even
in the official papers later drawn up for Raji, he wrote beside
his name: "Raji Suleiman al-Nunu, known as Abu Aqlein . "
There was n o consistent schedule for the trucks' departures
or arrivals; these depended on Akoub's and Raji's estimations of
how business was in Harran, or on their moods. In Ujra, on the
other hand, they were completely subservient to whatever Ab­
boud al-Salek wanted.
A single truck coming from Ujra carried between twenty and
twenty-five men with their own and others' cargoes. The trip
c e s 0 f s a

between the two towns, which were no more than 145 miles
apart, usually took about thirty hours, because the truck always
got a flat tire or broke down on the road, and in either case it
had to be emptied of cargo and men, all of whom had to help
unload, push the truck and load it up again. This generally took
several hours and often happened two or three times on each
trip. In addition to that the truck had to stop and cool down
once or twice-to be exact, at the 75-mile station, which had
long been a stopping place between the two towns. All the
caravans stopped there because there was a well, but there was
also a station at I 10 miles, set up during the road-paving project.
The stations were composed of small coffeehouses, which served
tea, .coffee and sometimes food, and since the two drivers often
changed shifts, no one was surprised when the journey lasted
two days. Even if a truck experienced no delays on the road, it
was certain to lose time at one of those stations. The passengers
also faced unpredictable waiting periods before the trip began ..
When Abboud al-Salek opened his "Desert Travel Office" in
Ujra, it was the sole agency for arranging travel and transport
between the two towns: anyone wishing to travel or seeking to
ship goods to or from Harran had only to see Abboud al-Salek
at the Desert Travel Office's small storefront in Ujra, which
took charge of all business and services.
Abboud lounged in the doorway of the Desert Travel Office
like an old fox waiting for prey to happen along. When he caught
sight of a bedouin, or men seeking work, his practiced instincts
told him that they wanted to go to Harran, and he instructed
his young assistant to shout, "Harran! One passenger needed for
Harran, one more rider for Harran!" Abboud himself slipped
like a fish into his shop to sit behind his old desk, on which a
set of scales stood, to hunch over his huge ledger and look
thoroughly absorbed in writing or reviewing his accounts. The
bedouin or stranger fell directly into Abboud's trap: he re-
 .. 463

sponded immediately to the boy's shouts, though naively pre­

tending that he had no desire to travel, and went into the shop,
where he could not help gawking. In any case Abboud never
showed interest or any sign of hurrying his work. Even when
the traveler gave in at once by coming out and saying that he
wanted to travel to Harran, that he was ready and impatient to
leave, Abboud waited a good while before raising his head,
looking tired and exasperated. Seeing the eager bedouin anxious
to settle his business, he said regretfully, "What a shame-if
only you had come an hour ago, my friend. The truck left an
hour ago . " After long negotiations, which were very laborious
on both their parts, Abboud stipulated that the bedouin pay the
fare immediately to reserve a seat, since "there's a truck leaving
for Harran tomorrow, God willing. " The bedouin was ex­
tremely wary and hesitant to pay, claiming that he had left his
money with his friends, but Abboud only waved him away
scornfully, telling him to get out and leave him to his work.
Then the bedouin agreed to pay half the fare, and to pay the rest
when he boarded the truck. Firmly but not impolitely Abboud
refused the offer, and after a long silence, during which Abboud
absorbed himself in his huge ledger, the bedouin found himself
forced to pay. The bedouin asked only that his seat be booked
until he came back with the money. Abboud got up from his
chair to gaze outdoors.
"Payment first, then booking. " He walked past the bedouin
seated on the floor and said, "Pay now and take your ticket, and
you're as good as on your way. "
The bedouin went out, leaving Abboud seated on a crate with
his back against the storefront.
"If you're late, my boy, you'll have to wait for the next one, "
Abboud called after him. "That's in a week, or two weeks, God
only knows. "
When the bedouin returned an hour later, Abboud held out
c e s 0 f s a

his hand wordlessly, rubbing his fingers briskly to indicate that

he wanted the money right away, no delays this time, and when
the bedouin tried to insist on paying only half the fare now and
the other half the next day, Abboud grew angry, or pretended
to be angry, and stood up to shout at him. "You're not going
anywhere with us, do you hear me? You're not getting ncar any
of our trucks. "
These words had no effect on the bedouin; he seemed not to
hear, though he was still confused and uncertain. Eventually he
reached into his shirt and drew out a carefully tied purse and sat
on the floor.
"Tomorrow we go?" he asked before untying it.
Abboud nodded and motioned for him to pay quickly, but
the bedouin was still deliberate, unhurried and afraid. Here Ab­
boud left him, for "better bend than break, " as he often said to
describe his shrewdness. He went to his desk, opened a drawer
and took out a round iron piece that looked like a smooth old
coin, though it was larger and thinner, and a slip of paper half
the size of his palm. He scribbled his complex, sloping signature
on the paper and waited while the bedouin drew out his money,
counted it two or three times and handed it over. Abboud's
trained eyes had counted it even before the bedouin was finished.
He pushed the metal piece and the paper toward the bedouin.
"Return the iron piece to the office before you leave, and give
the paper to the driver. "
The bedouin picked up the paper and the metal piece and stared
at them a long time but could make nothing of them.
"If you lose them you don't travel and you have no claim on
us, you hear me?"
The bedouin nodded, undid the purse he had just finished
tying and placed the metal and paper inside. He carefully bound
it up again.
"When do we go?"
 0 0 465

"Tomorrow o r the next day, i f w e live that long. " When he

saw the fear in the bedouin's eyes he added, "Tomorrow, after
the afternoon prayer, drop by here. God is great. "
"After afternoon prayers? Tomorrow?"
"Come at noon. "
"And when do we leave?"
"We still need a few more passengers. If we get them we'll
set off today. "
When he saw fear flare up in the eyes of the bedouin, who
felt cheated, having paid his money without knowing when he
might travel, he spoke to banish his worries.
"If you have any friends who want to go to Harran, bring
them to see me. Come by in the morning and we'll sec, " he
added to end their conversation.
When the bedouin showed even more fear and uncertainty,
Abboud ordered him some tea and asked him where he came
from, what tribe he belonged to and why he wanted to go to
Harran. Without waiting for all the answers he went on to ex­
plain how Harran had become a great city full of projects. He
concluded by saying, "When you get there tomorrow, God
willing, you'll be a big success and I don't think you'll ever
leave. "
This is what most of the Desert Travel Office's customers
were like. Abboud collected them, one by one, stalling them
day by day, sometimes for as long as a week or ten days, making
the excuse that "the Armenian has gotten depressed and refused
to work, and ifl force him to go he might kill all the passengers. "
When he reckoned that he had gathered enough passengers and
cargo, and one of the trucks had come in from Harran and had
a chan ce to rest for a day or two, preparations for the journey
began. It was an extraordinary day in Ujra, no less important
than the arrval of a hajj caravan. There was chaos and confusion
throughout the market: last-minute sales, gossip about the pas-
c e s 0 f s a

sengers, loading of merchandise and much else. When the trav­

elers were banded together, each of them trying to get in front
of the rest and secure a place better than the others', subjected
to Abboud's shouts and swearing as well as his threats to cancel
the trip, Akoub strolled silently around the truck to inspect all
its parts, often losing his temper at Abboud and the passengers,
and when they had all done as he commanded, putting the heavy
luggage in certain places to balance the whole load and to simplify
unloading in the event of a punctured tire, he gave his last clipped
orders and lent a hand in the final loading. If his orders were
not obeyed, or if Abboud took too long to collect the metal
pieces from the passengers, leaving them to do as they pleased,
then Akoub behaved differently and addressed Abboud angrily.
"Take your time, take your time, my dear friend, but now I
may have to unload everything! "
Akoub would turn away and walk toward the coffeehouse
until Abboud ran behind to appease him; then the truck was
ready to go. But if he made it to the coffeehouse and heard of
the total chaos ensuing at the truck, that Abboud was at the end
of his wits and everything was topsy-turvy, then his mood turned
sour and no one could appease him; his anger might last for a
day or two. All the cargo had to be unloaded and then put on
again according to his own instructions while Abboud fled to
his shop, furious. Sometimes Akoub refused to let a passenger
on board, claiming that he had lost his metal piece, or demanding
more money for baggage that he deemed excessive. Heated and
complicated discussions took turns that no one could have pre­
dicted.
When everything was settled and the old Ford was ready to
take to the road, with all the cargo trussed to the roof-it did
not seem possible that it had been organized and massed up
there-Akoub had a final look around the truck, an d when he
was satisfied that everything was right, he started it up. If he
 .. 467

and Abboud were on good terms, Abboud rode on the running

board as far as the crossroads, all the time shouting advice and
warnings as well as his farewells. At the crossroads Abboud left
the truck to its long, arduous journey toward Harran.
When the trucks arrived in Harran with their cargo of men
and goods, and Akoub alit by the mosque beside the livestock
market, the men who crowded out of the truck could not be
distinguished one from the other. They were completely covered
with dust; and even their eyelids, when they opened and closed,
looked as though they had been coated with flour or sand. The
unloading of all the cargo was accompanied by a great deal of
shouting, as well as warnings and questions, and Akoub, who
supervised it in silence, still had duties to perform: packages to
the emirate building, to Daham and the many others, which they
had ordered on the previous trip or which others had sent them
from Ujra, letters and sums of money all had to be delivered to
their owners.
This stout, middle-aged man was silent most of the time,
except when the curse of song afflicted him and he chanted from
his nostrils, whether from joy or grief no one could tell; the only
word that others understood from his song, because he con­
stantly repeated it, was "Peace, peace. "
No one knew exactly why he had come here or where he had
come from. Once he said he was from Aleppo, but another time
he said he was originally from a far more distant place. Once,
in a happy .and rather defiant mood, he told them that he was
from the most beautiful place on earth and would go back there
someday.
Akoub became part of Harran. When he was not actually in
Harran he was on his way there and was expected at any time.
Just as caravans had come in the past bringing provisions, cloth
and letters, "Noah's Ark"-as the emir called Akoub's truck­
arrived two or three times each month bringing everything
c e s 0 f s a

imaginable. People awaited it with longing. In addition to the

provisions, cloth and letters it carried were the new things Akoub
never failed to bring, and these were what caught the emir's
attention and made Akoub his friend; when the radio battery
wore out, for example, and Hassan Rezaie could not supply a
new one because he was abroad, and the sound of the radio was
too weak to hear except late at night-and even then only as a
garbled rattle-Akoub saved the day. He recharged the battery
and promised to do so again whenever necessary. He said, to
everyone's astonishment, that even a dead battery could be brought
back to life. The emir in particular was incredulous and did not
believe him at first, but when he heard the powerful voice burst
out of the radio, he praised the Armenian as "a very devil. " The
small gas stove Akoub used to prepare his food was at first
considered a wondrous thing, but when he offered to bring three
or four of them to Harran and sell them cheaply, everyone wanted
to buy one. Being honest, he said that he could not promise to
bring more than three on his next trip and that he would bring
more from Aleppo in two or three months' time. Another time
Akoub brought lamps that operated on dry-cell batteries. They
were small enough to be carried by hand and were very useful
for people who stayed up late or walked home at night, for the
streets of Harran were now full of deep holes, and there were
piles of rocks and sand everywhere. When Akoub brought a
small machine for grinding meat for Abu Kamel to use, everyone
watched raptly as Akoub installed it at the edge of a table and
then as Abu Kamel stuffed a big piece of meat in one end and
pulled the small pieces out the other.
The thermos Akoub drank from was an intricate mystery to
most of the people, since they could not explain the heat it
emitted, and he himself never discussed it because if the emir
heard about it he would surely try to get one or take Akoub's.
Akoub could not do without it, so he hid it from everyone. He
 0 0 469

kept it in a place no one could ever find, which led to rumors

that he drank " devil' s piss" -alcohol.
He brought dozens of other wonderful things: polished bone
combs, mirrors, small syringes, sandals made from automobile
tires, needles and strong thread. No sooner did the people first
see these things than there were clamorous demands for them.
Every Harrani wanted at least one thing, though Akoub only
rarely thought of doing business in them. He used dry-cell bat­
tery lamps to inspect the truck's engine or when he slid under­
neath the vehicle to examine certain mechanisms, and when they
saw him do so they turned the lamp on and off for fun and they
all came to want one. Although Akoub nodded his assent to
most of their requests, he was unable to fill all the orders. When
he agreed to try, he drew a pencil from behind his car and
scribbled on a piece of cardboard he kept in the door of the truck.
They watched closely to see that he was recording their orders
but were bewildered by the barbed, mysterious script he used­
it went in the wrong direction and they did not consider it
writing; it was more like comical drawing. When they asked
him about it he replied testily, "You ask more questions than
Turkish soldiers!" When they kept quiet and Akoub calmed
down, he told them in his barely comprehensible accent, "My
dear, you want something or you want something else?" When
the maker of the request nodded or said what he wanted, Akoub
laughed and added, "Let Akoub do it his way! "
S o i t went time after time, and Akoub's importance to Harran
increased daily as he constantly made new friends. The men he
transported to Harran said, in spite of all his delays and his
terrible swearing, and the exhaustion of the trip, especially when
they had to clamber out and lift the truck while a flat was fixed,
that they forgot all the hardship; all they remembered, and could
never forget, was that it was Akoub who had brought them to
Harran. They had become residents, with the feeling of power
c e 5 0 f s a

and distinction that set them off from mere visitors. Th ose who
had not come to Harran with Akoub had at least benefited by
some service-he had delivered a letter to them, sold off their
goods or done them some favor. Ibn Naffeh, for example, de­
spised "that infidel, " but when the stove he had surreptitiously
purchased broke down and he angrily went to confront Akoub
over the evil merchandise he supplied, Akoub was quick to repair
the little stove and install a new part. He gave it a good shake
and returned it to the old man in working order. When Ibn
Naffeh tried to pay him for his trouble, Akoub repeatedly refused
to accept anything.

Akoub worked the Line, as the Ujra-Harran road came to be

known. Raji Abu Aqlein was tall, skinny, and bald-what hair
he had formed a crescent around the back of his head. He was
quick to anger and full of curses, and very different from Akoub
in yet other ways, but he had a good heart and was quick to
forget, especially offenses or insults. Whenever he arrived in
Harran he headed straight for the coffeehouse, leaving his assis­
tants to unload the truck, since "a game of backgammon with
Abu As'ad is enough to make a man forget that he's in this shit
hole called Harran. " If he found Abu As'ad busy or not wanting
to play, he sat in the coffeehouse, called for a hookah and su­
pervised its preparation himself, which led to a stream of in­
vective, and within an hour he had picked a fight with everyone
in the place, forcing them to listen to his unreasonably harsh
opinions about everything. So he sat, refusing to be quiet or
calm down until Abu As'ad agreed to play with him. A mur­
muring crowd gathered as soon as the noisy match was under
way, with all the usual shouting and slamming down of playing
pieces, and the dice being thrown so hard that they flew off the
 .. 471

board, and the war o f nerves that Raji regarded as indispensable

to a tense and exciting game.
Raji was one of a kind; there would never be another Raji.
He gave the dice an interminable shake and looked at the faces
of the spectators, lifting his head as if searching for someone.
When he located the person who, he felt, had the luck, he shouted,
"Here's to you! " When the dice showed what he wanted, he
turned to the one he had been looking at to crow, "My luck and
yours together could break rocks! Come sit near me! " If this
individual accepted the offer to sit beside Raji and follow the
game like his partner, the winnings were always Raji's and the
losses the fault of this poor soul. Raji glanced at him between
throws and sometimes spoke as well. When he was winning he
said, "What hands you have, Raji-this isn't luck. It's all in
the throw, and Master Raji knows how to throw, " but when
he began to lose he shouted, "It's your turn, try your luck, " and
then he would be quiet until he muttered between his teeth:
"Don't look at me, brother, look at the board. " Not everyone
could make out what he said, but they guessed. Since Abu As' ad
had only two concerns, namely winning the game and seeing
to it that the customers never lost money, he did everything he
could to control the board and keep the wagers at a reasonable
level.
"Listen! " he once shouted at Raji in mock anger. "These peo­
ple have nothing to do with us-this is between me and you
and this thing!"
He pointed to himself, to Raj i and then to the backgammon
board. Raji, unconvinced, shook his head and raised his voice.
"Listen, Abu As'ad, don't put me in the middle like this. " He
pointed at all the spectators. "They're all your friends, they're
all with Abu As' ad. Poor Raji is a dog and a son of a dog-let
him lose a hundred times over!"
c e s 0 f s a

In their heated discussions, Abu As'ad swore that he was play­

ing a clean game and that no one was interfering in it; Raji's
complaints about the customers' so-called partiality were only
an attempt to cover up his poor showing, to end the game before
he was beaten. After this discussion Raji agreed to keep playing,
but on the condition that no one watch every game and every
throw of the dice. Abu As'ad blamed Raji for attracting the
spectators with his shouting and contentiousness, so the only
practical way to get rid of their audience was, he said, to refrain
from making any noise themselves, to play quietly, and soon
after they would find that no one was paying any attention to
them. Raji consented and they went back to playing, but as soon
as Raji's position improved or deteriorated the problem began
all over again. He could not enjoy victory alone and could not
savor his moves without an audience there to appreciate them.
Whenever he lost it was either a mistake or the dice were "dead­
dog's bones! " He said that an evil eye followed his every move
and perverted every throw of the dice.
Raji lost countless times, but he always forgot them quickly,
remembering only the times he had won. He always remem­
bered the final score, who had been there to watch, the weather,
time of day and what they'd done after the game.
Raji was just as important to Harran as Akoub was, but in a
different way. Raji was capricious and generous and loved to
interfere in everyone's business, to offer help or advice. Unasked,
he transported poor travelers to Harran for free, which led to
arguments when Abboud found out-arguments that were al­
ways settled when Raji agreed to forfeit from his pay an amount
equal to Abboud's lost commission on the ticket. Abboud always
went along with this concession hurriedly, since he had no desire
to see Raji lose his temper-there was no telling what might
happen then. "Raji Abu Aqlein is crazy-he'll punch you, or
hit you with anything he can get his hands on-a tire iron, the
 .. 473

big wrench, anything at all-he'd blind you ! " Everyone who

knew Raji was very careful not to anger or provoke him.
Akoub and Raji were rarely in the same place for more than
a very short time; sometimes they met on the road, but as a rule
one of them was in Harran and the other in Ujra, or one headed
in one direction on the Line and the other in the other. If they
happened to meet at the Mile 7 5 or Mile I ro stations, or any­
where else, they had little to say to one another after exchanging
the usual questions about the road conditions and how the busi­
ness was faring. When they parted, Raji always commented,
"He's a midget-he's one foot tall. The steering wheel is higher
than he is. Those poor passengers-they could be killed at any
time because he's so short he can't sec the road. Short and prac­
tically blind! If his eyesight gets any worse he won't be able to
sec two feet in front of his face. Those poor passengers! "
So Raji would begin, and i f his listener showed interest or
seemed to be listening with his eyes, he went on: "Granted,
height and sight are from God-everyone knows it. Almighty
God made one man tall and another man short, but Akoub's
problem is that he doesn't know how to drive. His driving is
just chaotic, and he thinks he's God's gift to driving and the lord
of mechanics. That's the problem. "
When his companion looked at him askance, which Raji took
to express doubt or disagreement, he lost his temper.
"Don't roll your eyes at me, " he shouted. "Go and ask him
how many flat tires he got the trip before this last one. Ask
everyone at Mile I IO how many times their tractor had to pull
him out of the sand. If there were more drivers around you'd
realize how bad he is, but among the blind, the one-eyed man
is king! "
When h e saw that his words had little effect, h e tried another
tactic.
"Let's forget the son of a bitch. He's the world's biggest miser.
c e s 0 1 s a

He eats alone, he drinks alone, he never says a word. He does

nothing but work, and even his work is a cheat. All day long
he's either carrying some tool around or lying underneath the
truck taking things apart. It's a lot of nonsense. He's just trying
to fool people, but he's as obvious as a baboon's ass! "
Akoub only smiled and said nothing when he eventually heard
about what Raji said. He was extremely self-confident and sure
of his abilities. He was quick to admit his inability to do certain
things, but he always tried and often succeeded. There was an
abandoned pump at Mile r ro, which an American engineer had
been unable to repair-he said it needed spare parts, without
which it could not budge an inch-but Akoub kept at it and
fixed it. So, too, with the water pump on the road, which he
repaired after everyone else had completely given up; so, too,
with the tractor.
But if Raj i went too far in talking about Akoub, especially
about his avarice, Akoub got profoundly angry, though he hid
his anger. He only said, " Never mind-we'll see tomorrow. "
He was not in a hurry. The people who watched this battle,
seeing in it no justification or reasonable motive, were sympa­
thetic to Akoub and regarded Raji as cruel and slightly crazed.
So it was for a long time. The paving of the road progressed
with each passing month, and the passengers who had come to
Harran on one of the two trucks settled there permanently after
finding work. Akoub still brought novelties along with the let­
ters and his services. At times Raji remembered Akoub and
started in on him. Akoub heard but said nothing.
This obscure battle might have ended violently in time had
Akoub been struck by one of his fits of temper, which were
rarely seen but which flared up now and then-he might have
killed people and laid waste to the land; his temper might just
as easily have subsided on its own; it might have ended either
way, but it did not.
 . . 47 5

One time Raji had been absent from Ujra for a particularly
long time, longer than he had ever been absent before, and there
was enough work available to require a truck journey every day,
unlike the moribund demand in Harran. Although their agree­
ment with Abboud provided that the trucks should complete
one trip and return again as soon as possible, on this journey,
Akoub, just setting out for Ujra, met Raji, who was bound for
Harran, at the Mile 1 10 station; and after Akoub loaded up and
returned again, he found Raji still stranded at Mile r ro. His truck
had broken down.
It would have been possible for Akoub to stop and offer his
assistance before continuing, or to gloat at the sight of Raji
reduced to a black blot from the oil and grease that covered him
after several fruitless days of trying to repair the truck, but as
soon as he took in the situation Akoub plunged in like a bull,
with a determination that knew no passivity or hesitation. Raji
hovered around him like a bee, showing Akoub all he had tried
to do and offering explanations. Akoub heard and did not hear,
looked at Raji and through him, and after narrowing his eyes
to two black slits he asked him for tool number six, and then
tool number five. After struggling for a good while, he asked
for another tool, and another. He assembled, took apart, wiped
the machinery and then asked Raji to start the engine. For an
hour or more they both tried to start the engine.
"That's it, " said Akoub confidently. " It's fixed. Start it up.
I'll drive behind you. "
After sitting at Mile r r o for days, the truck roared to life,
strong as a horse, and despite his weariness Raji was the most
anxious to continue the journey. A few hours later, the two
trucks arrived in Harran together.
This incident deeply wounded Raji but did little to change his
attitude toward Akoub. He never missed an opportunity to pro­
vok e him, though Akoub always listened in silence. He never
c e 5
0 f s a

referred to what had happened at Mile 1 ro; all he said was that
"if you see a friend in need and don't help him, you're no better
than a scorpion-and scorpions die when they sting themselves. "
Although Raji still treated Akoub with never-ending provo­
cations and curses, something new had happened: he got angry
at anyone who swore at Akoub or spoke a single word against
him. Only Raji had the right to do that. If any man made the
slightest remark about Akoub, even if he were only repeating
something he had heard Raji say, he became an enemy. "Who
are you, scabfacc?" Raji would ask. "Raji can say what he wants.
He knows what he's doing and so does Akoub. But you, who
are you to talk?" If anyone were audacious enough to say that
Akoub was a miser or drank devil's piss, Raji shouted, "Go on!
Now we're going to hear from one of the companions of the
Prophet! Ahmad bin Hanbal is about to deliver a pronounce­
ment! Speak, 0 infallible one ! " Then he turned to the speaker
to say, "Who are you! You lousy, flea-bitten idiot, you're noth­
ing but a louse yourself. If you don't leave decent people alone
I'll pave this road with your bones . "
This was the new Raji. N o one knew how to deal with him
anymore. Should they believe him when he cursed Akoub? Agree
with him? Disagree? It took nothing to "provoke this madman
and fill him with God's fire. " If anyone nodded agreement with
what he said, he shouted derisively, "Oh yes, by God, the flea
has become a horse! " He had been known to slap anyone who
looked skeptical as he cursed Akoub. "So now you open your
mouth, and your balls hang down! You're like a cat, happy that
his masters arc blind!" But if anyone openly contradicted the
curses he heaped on Akoub, he shouted, "Shut up! I'm an adult!
Children should be seen and not heard. "
Raji and Akoub came and went in the people's memories as
had other subjects and other cares in past days, depending on
whether they were there, on whether Raji's curses were heard,
 .. 477

o n what kind of incidents happened. One rainy day, they saw

Raji drive into Harran, towed by strong ropes behind Akoub's
truck. No one would ever have been able to imagine such a
thing. They were used to Raji bragging about his vehicle, which
he said was "worth ten of Akoub's broken-down heaps. " He
had adorned it with ornaments and lights, and it always seemed
bigger and shinier than Akoub's. No one ever guessed it would
be dragged behind Akoub's like a dead thing.
Ibn Naffeh laughed when he saw one truck towing the other.
"The rock you despise trips you up. " He shook his head, still
laughing. "The same way you see a donkey pulling camels, even
though the camels are bigger, now we see cats pulling rubbish!"
The townspeople of Harran talked about this incident for a
long time and almost got into fights with Raji only because they
had watched and laughed. When the two trucks parked by the
mosque to unload their goods and passengers, and only a few
men were present, Akoub looked at Raji uncertainly.
"Listen, Raji, it's your truck. What do you say we go back
to Ujra together and come to terms with Sami or-" He paused
a moment to look down and smile. "Or shake hands like friends,
and God-"
"No, my friend," said Raji quickly. "You're enough; forget
Sami and all the rest. "
Akoub laughed heartily and raised his hand so Raji could see.
"I am here. Akoub is ready. That's all . "
"That's all?"
"No. No gula, no galmedee. Agreed?"
"Don't worry-agreed. " Raji embraced him.
Those who watched the two men working together said that
they came close to having a fight. Akoub shook his fist, they
said, and almost walked away, but at the last minute he backed
off and returned to work. At one point he looked distinctly
annoyed, dropped his arms at his sides and s eemed ready to quit.
c e s 0 f s a

Raji addressed him in a loud voice before three or four other

men. " Give your bread to the baker for baking, even if he steals
half of it. " He patted Akoub on the back somewhat mockingly
and said, "Brother Akoub, this job is too big for you. "
He turned to the other men.
"You give a gentleman a chance and he thinks he's an expert. "
He laughed. "It was an accident, my man. "
Akoub heard and did not hear; he did not understand most
of what Raji was saying, so he kept working. A few hours
passed, and Raji saw that it was all in vain, so he decided to go
to the coffeehouse.
"Mr. Akoub! " he said sarcastically and bitterly. "Put all that
away, and come with me-l'll break your head in a game of
backgammon. "
"God go with you, dear man. Go. Never mind, " said Akoub.
Ako�b stayed on the j ob while Raji gathered information be­
tween games of backgammon. He had something to say about
every bit of news and every game, and his listeners alternately
laughed or were sad. As soon as Raji had won the first game he
turned to face all the spectators.
"Listen, go tell Akoub that the first head is broken. Tell him
I'm ready for his head now. "
Manawar al-Khodeiri went away but came back to tell Raji
that Akoub had pulled out all the insides of the truck and taken
them apart.
"By God, I'll pull out his insides. By God I'll strangle him
with a dog's insides. "
Raji folded up the board vigorously and shouted when he had
won his last game.
" 'Should we wish to destroy a village we will use ease and
luxury so that its people stray, that it may be said we have
destroyed it truly; how many villages before thee have we de­
stroyed!' And truly Ako ub is the worst corrupter in Harran, and
 0 0 479

after him or even before him is the miscreant Abu As'ad al­
Helwani!"
A second and then a third round of backgammon began by
the last light of day, then by the light of a lantern, while by the
light of the electric lamp that Akoub had rigged up near the
machine, his attempts to repair the truck continued. Akoub fin­
ished his task just as evening prayers were coming to an end.
He started the engine and drove over to Abu As' ad al-Helwani's
coffeehouse. Raji's heart pounded when he heard the roar of his
truck approaching, and nervously, ruining his throw of the dice,
even though he was ahead, he started up to hear the sound, and
when he saw the truck rumbling forward he knew it was his
because of the small colored lights twinkling at the sides. He
surged up involuntarily with the strength of a horse, and those
who saw the two men meet in the light of the headlights said
that tears streamed down Raji's face as he leaned over to embrace
Akoub and bury his face in his chest. Akoub then sat in the
coffeehouse and drank two glasses of tea as he watched the new
game between Raji and Abu As'ad, but he said nothing. He only
spoke to answer a few questions, mostly about his health and
well-being. He replied very briefly but with a smile, and before
the game was over he said that he was very tired and wanted to
sleep.
Once again, shortly after this incident, Harran sank back into
its own worries and people began to wonder what new events
would be caused by the paving of the Ujra-Harran road, what
new joys and sorrows, since every day brought new gossip and
expectations. Most of the news and expectations had begun to
come from a different direction in recent years-instead of com­
ing in from Ujra, from the caravan routes, they came from the
sea, from cities and lands none of the Harranis had ever heard
of before.
Now that the road was nearing completion, the two trucks
c e 5
0 f s a

competed for the record of the fastest trip between Ujra and
Harran. It was no longer a matter of thirty hours or two days:
a truck set off from Ujra in the morning, and before the end of
the afternoon it had been unloaded in Harran. It was also at
about this time that the trucks started carrying more goods than
people. Even Abboud, who derived great pleasure from handing
out the metal pieces to the passengers, and from the admiration
his complicated signature always aroused, for they all said it was
unique in the world, now stopped handing out the coins. One
day the boy who worked for him brought him ten of the coins
which had been thrown away near Sami's shop-Sami was the
only mechanic in Ujra. When Abboud compared them with his
own metal pieces and rubbed them with sacking, he found that
they were almost exact copies-mixed in with real ones, they
could fool anyone. That was why he decided to stop circulating
his own. He kept using his signature, albeit with a few modi­
fications, and after the Desert Travel Office expanded-Abboud
annexed the land behind and beside it for a warehouse with a
wide gate, where the truck could enter and be loaded up with
ease-he decided to take an important step forward, as befitted
the new era, by ordering special ledgers, receipt books and sig­
nets from Damascus. He put them to immediate use in spite of
the error in the town's name: the calligrapher had written
" Ghunjra" instead o f " Ujra. " Abboud had to correct every single
receipt. He did this at his leisure, to pass the time. His receipts
and signets became a new hobby-he loved to fill out each
passenger's name and the amount of payment, but he cackled as
he crossed out the spaces for indicating the departure time and
seat number, saying to himself, "Why don't they leave spaces
for the passenger's mother's maiden name and the arrival time
in Harran!"
Each receipt had to be signed and stamped with the round
signet. Abboud breathed hard on the face of the seal two or three
 .. 48 1

times to make sure that it was damp enough to leave a clear

impression. Although the trucks carried fewer and fewer pas­
sengers, so that it was virtually impossible to miscount them,
just as it was impossible for any of them to evade paying the
fare, Abboud always made a point of recounting the receipts at
the last minute.
"Present your tickets, brothers! " he said firmly after all the
passengers had climbed aboard the truck.
If any of them searched for the small slip of paper or forgot
where he had put it, Abboud shouted at them: "Don't hold us
up! Present your tickets! "
 68

T
HINGS WENT SMOOTHLY FOR ABBOUD, AKOUB,
Raj i and their trucks in the first month after
the completion of the road. Abboud, who had
decided to go to Harran and open a full branch office there,
postponed his journey time after time, because a hajj caravan
was due to return soon, and he felt sure he would be able to
persuade one or two of the caravan drivers to settle in Ujra and
work for him on the Ujra-Harran route. Two trucks were no
longer enough, and Akoub's truck was constantly breaking down
despite his efforts to repair it.
Akoub and Raji made peace at about this time; in fact, they
became fast friends. They spent a great deal of time whispering
together in the Mile 75 coffeehouse, exchanging news and con­
fiding in each other. Raji dealt with any passenger who insisted
on resuming the journey quickly, whether it was one of Akoub's
 .. 483

passengers o r one of his own. H e shook his finger and shouted

at them. "God damn these times we live in! Pimps! Sons of sixty
dogs!"
When the passenger's jaw dropped in amazement, because he
did not know whether Raji was referring to him or to someone
else, or what precisely was meant, Raji shouted even more threat­
eningly and brandished his fist. "It used to take a week or two
weeks to get from Ujra to Harran-and that was if you got
there!" Then he spoke in an entirely different tone. "Have some
tea on me, or pick your toes, just let people drink their tea in
peace. "
If the passenger persisted in protesting against this language
or about the delay, Raji lost his temper.
"Every word, every bit of your sermonizing will delay you
one hour. Keep it up, by God, and you'll be spending the night
here!"
Since most of them knew Raji or had heard about him, or
other passengers told them what he was like, most of these
incidents ended with the jokes or stories that al-Ghanem, the
owner of the Mile 7 5 coffeehouse, loved to tell.
Akoub became better known to them at Kilo 1 ro. He sang
often and ate and drank with the others, though he never drank
the bitter coffee that al-Ghanem was so proud of, often saying
that it was the best in the region. Al-Ghanem used to tell him,
in a tone of sincere apology, when he refused to drink it, "You
have no faults but your voice. And you talk about bitter!"
"God, in His wisdom did not give him a sweet voice, that's
all, " said Raji as Akoub nodded.
They learned that Akoub came from Aleppo, though he was
born in the mountains behind it, near the most beautiful lake
God had ever created-that was what he said. In the terrible first
part of the century, marked by great upheaval as a result of the
massacres of the Armenians, Akoub, who had lost his father,
c e s 0 f s a

mother and most other members of his family, was taken in by

his grandmother. She brought him to Aleppo and they settled
there. The truck represented his life's savings, and since he was
getting on in years-though he never told his age-he said that
in two or three years he would go back to Aleppo to marry,
and he and his wife would go to live by that lake. He wanted
his children to be born there. And so what if he was getting
old-he wouldn't have to worry about combing his hair!
Akoub's plan, if he was able to keep working for another year,
was to sell "the old heap" and add the money to what he had
saved, to buy a newer automobile. A year or so after that, or
two years at the most, he would bid Harran and the Line Kula
Gula and head home, first to Aleppo and then to Armenia.
Thus he thought and dreamed and planned, and when he saw
his thoughts clearly outlined in his head his features relaxed and
his face shone, and sometimes he laughed delightedly. When his
whole face laughed and his silver teeth gleamed in his mouth,
no one could guess his age, he looked so boyish and strong, and
yet at the same time whatever remained of his youth seemed to
fade away.
"You are Arabs , " he would tell Raji as the darkness began to
fall, to excuse himself from going on to give away more of his
secrets. "You have a thousand and one nights. I'm Armenian­
! have only three hundred and sixty-five days, and I have a lot
of work to do!"
He rose with the strength of a horse. He walked with his feet
apart. Perhaps his legs were bowed, or perhaps his powerful but
generous body made his thighs rub, so that he walked like a
duck. Watching him made Raji laugh hard, as if someone were
tickling him, and when Akoub had gone some distance, with
his distinctive walk still noticeable, Raji called out to him. "Akoub,
Akoub!"
 .. 48 5

When h e turned around, Raji began t o sing: "My love, my

sweetheart, she walks as a gazelle!"
Akoub shook his fist menacingly but tried unsuccessfully to
walk differently, and as he leaped lightly up on the running board
of the truck he could hear Raji singing: "My love, she leaps as
a partridge he leaps! "
Raji generally sat for another hour while al-Ghanem brewed
another pot of coffee-"If Raji didn't taste it there would be no
point, " as Raji said to explain his delay there, and al-Ghanem
quoted this saying back at him to make him stay yet another
hour, "because if Akoub goes, and you go, there'll be nothing
for me to do until one of you comes back again . "

It had been a little over two months since the completion of the
Ujra-Harran road. The hajj caravan had come through, the com­
pany trucks plied the Line beside those of Akoub and Raji, and
Abboud held long and difficult but apparently indecisive ne­
gotiations; his promises got him nowhere, so he decided to go
to Harran and see about opening an office there. Because he was
afraid of riding with Raji, for a variety of reasons, he tried to
make his journey appear sudden, a spontaneous venture. The
physician accompanying the hajj caravan had decided to stay
behind in Ujra, leaving the medical care of the returning pilgrims
and escorts in the hands of his assistant; after making thorough
inquiries about local job opportunities, he decided to go on to
Harran. As soon as he paid his fare and took his ticket from
Abboud, the two men fell into a deep conversation, and when
the doctor asked for a forward seat, beside the driver, Abboud
decided to go to Harran as well. The doctor agreed to postpone
his trip for one day, because he was told that "the Armenian
fears God and drives well, unlike that madman who races along
c e s 0 f s a

and screams so that you wonder if you'll ever get there alive. "
And so Abboud traveled to Harran in the company of Dr. Subhi
al-Mahmilji.
The two trucks met at Mile 7 5 , or rather Raji's truck was
parked there when Akoub's rolled in. Raji was astonished to see
Abboud there, and pointed at him as he turned to al-Ghanem.
"That's that thief Abboud those bedouin were telling you
about. "
Abboud tried to smile, so as not to show his annoyance, and
to face all of the eyes that looked at him with one stare.
"Watch out, Abboud, " Raji continued, "there's no iron or
paper in Harran. They take a man's word there. "
''I'll take care of that tomorrow!" Abboud laughed heartily as
a means of defense.
"Everyone who passes through here to Harran speaks well of
you, " said al-Ghanem to Abboud, to lighten the atmosphere.
To remove any lingering doubts Abboud might have had, he
added, "Everyone says, 'If it weren't for Abboud's trucks, we'd
never get to Harran. ' "
After this the people mingled and their conversations mingled
in the air. With his fair, pink-hued complexion, neat clothing
and eyeglasses, Dr. Subhi al-Mahmilji seemed otherworldly.
The Harran road, which had seen growing numbers of people
every day for years, had never seen anyone like him; even the
two teachers who had passed through three weeks before were
not nearly as elegant, clean or healthy. The American and other
engineers who had stayed at the coffeehouse seemed like mere
laborers by comparison; some had even eaten with their hands.
Raji leaned over toward Akoub to ask about this elegant gentle­
man. "This effendi. Do you think he'll make it to Harran or
melt on the road?"
Akoub laughed but di d not reply.
"That son of a bitch A bboud is like a saw. He gets it coming
 . . 48 7

and going-takes his money and then rides beside him! " He
turned to Abboud and asked innocently, "So, Abu Najm, you're
off to Harran? Who do we answer to there?"
"It's just for a few days and then I'll be back , " said Abboud.
He paused. "Don't worry. I've got a fellow there and he knows
what he's doing. "
Raji could not contain his laughter. He waved his hand in the
air and asked, "What about the signets and signatures?"
"You have a big mouth, by God, you bastard, " said Abboud
irritably.
"Everything about me is big!" exclaimed Raji, getting up from
his chair and pointing to several parts of his anatomy.

Harran shocked Abboud. This town that he had last visited four
years ago was completely different from what he remembered,
or rather it bore no resemblance whatsoever to it. Had it not
been for the people he saw in the street, the coffeehouse, every­
where he went, people he had dispatched to Harran himself, he
would not have believed he was in Harran.
Four days after his arrival he reached an agreement with Shihab
al-Dreihi for the opening of a travel office in Harran as a branch
of his Ujra operation. He showed him the receipt books and
signets, and explained the commissions he would collect on every
passenger and shipment he carried. They agreed on the details,
such as ordering new ticket books and seals from Damascus for
both offices. Shihab al-Dreihi would have a special stamp with
his name on it, for since he did not know how to read or write
he could not sign his name either. Abboud explained to Shihab
several times that a signature had nothing to do with reading or
writing: every man had to have a unique way of signing his
name, so that no one could copy it. When they had gone over
all the details and all the wonderful opportunities that lay in store
c e s
0 f s a

for the new office, they headed over to Abu As'ad al-Helwani's
coffeehouse.
As they sat sipping coffee several men came in to talk about
the cargo being unloaded from the ship that had come in the
day before, which included, among other things, eight huge new
trucks, bigger than any that had ever been seen in Harran. When
the eight trucks were set on the dock several drivers with other
men climbed into them to start the engines; they would begin
moving out at any moment.
Shihab looked at Abboud curiously, almost accusingly.
" You've come at the right time, Abu Najm. So much for the
Salek-Dreihi office. "
That afternoon, before sundown, the eight trucks, five of them
International and the rest Mack-Pickering, cruised from the sea
to Harran as far as the mosque, then set off toward the Ujra
road and were gone for an hour. Finally they parked in a row
on Rashedi Street near Rezaie's offices, almost blocking the street.
That evening, in the coffeehouse, the market, the mosque, in
Arab Harran and the workers' camp, everyone talked of how a
new era had begun, and of how no one could predict what joys
and sorrows it would bring. Would it bring benefits to Harran
and its people, or more of the same suffering that they had known
since the coming of Satan's ship more than four years ago?
Everyone was greatly bewildered. None of them knew what
to think about the new development.
"Poor Akoub, " said Ibn Zamel in the camp.
The workers looked at him with questioning eyes. Why was
Akoub, of all people, so unfortunate?
"These new trucks are going to devour everyone's business,
and first to be devoured are Akoub and his truck. "
Akoub watched the procession of trucks with the rest of them.
He had just come in from Ujra. There were signs of worry, fear
 . . 489

and happiness in his features, and n o one who looked at his face
could tell whether he was smiling, or dark and melancholy. He
walked toward the trucks when they parked by the mosque and
circled closely around them.
"Man is better than machines, " they heard him say. "Akoub
is stronger than International and Mack, but Akoub is poor. "

Akoub and Raji stayed on the Line. The new trucks flew down
the road like lightning, fast and huge. Akoub strained visibly to
keep control ofhis truck in the windy wake of these trucks when
they passed him. Sometimes these trucks seemed to be playing
with them, running so close as almost to force them off the
asphalted road, or speeding up from behind so fast that Akoub
was afraid of a collision. He would make a sharp turn to avoid
crashing, and when the new truck was almost close enough to
touch, its driver swerved at the last minute to follow the road
at the same speed, grinning at his power to frighten the old man.
Because all of those trucks were of almost identical size and color,
it was not easy to find out who was behind these "games . "
The games continued. One day, a t Mile 7 5 , Raji caught sight
of two of the drivers. He leaped out of his truck and hit the
ground running. He wanted to start a fight, to beat them to
death. He had often told al-Ghanem that he wanted to do this,
and it would have been easy except that al-Ghanem was there
and watching him. When he saw Raji running he ran after
him and grabbed him, and with the help of two or three other
men was able to restrain him. The two drivers looked terrified.
"By God, you fucking sons of whores, before I die I'll take
a bath in your blood!" he shouted at them.
He tried to break loose, but they held him tight. He was
frothing at the mouth. "You sons of bitches, you cowards, if
c e s
0 f s a

you think that because your trucks are new, you'll turn our trucks
over and kill us, you're wrong. Before I die, me or Akoub, we'll
have your blood running from Ujra to Harran. "
They all tried to calm Raji down. They said that those drivers
were not the ones, that they had done nothing. Perhaps the others
had done something or tried to.
"The biggest son of a whore is Rezaie, " shouted Raji. "If we
don't wreck his trucks, we'll let him see the blood of one of
those dogs . "
The two drivers slipped out o f the coffeehouse and were told
to continue their journey to prevent trouble. When they had
driven away Raji sat and fumed.
"Listen, me and Akoub, this road, before they tarred it, broke
our asses. We rode it a thousand times. We were on this road
for years. Our trucks are old, yes, but just because a man's truck
is old doesn't mean he has to die on the road like a dog. Rezaie
bought new trucks. We all saw them. We didn't say a word.
Maybe he stole them, or maybe God blessed him with them,
that's between him and the Lord, but Rezaie went looking for
the last drivers God made and told them, 'Get rid of Raji and
Akoub. Kill them, crash into them on the road, and they'll die
God's death or end up slaves. ' "
He rested a moment, sighed and smiled. "Never mind. I was
wrong. I have nothing to do with children. I'll go for the big
one. "
The games stopped. That same day, the story was told in
Harran by the two drivers and by a host of others, and as was
usual in Harran everyone in the city was discussing it by the end
of the day. Akoub, who had just left Ujra, no sooner noticed
one of Rezaie's trucks from afar than he stiffened, then slowed
down and moved as far as possible to the right. He was expect­
ing this truck to play with him as he was used to all of them
doing, but he was surprised to see that even at this distance the
 .. 49 1

other truck-in daylight, no less-flashed its directional lights,

slowed down and kept to the right. Akoub was frightened and
slowed almost to a stop, and when the other truck approached
he slowed down even more. When the truck pulled abreast it
seemed to Akoub that the other driver smiled at him. Then the
driver waved. Akoub laughed.
"So Raji's done it, " he said to the men sitting next to him.
That was the end of that means of warfare, but there were
others.
Rezaie's trucks began to transport goods and passengers to
and from Harran at no charge, or for a nominal fee. The truck
in Ujra which carried cement, lumber and some provisions also
took anyone who cared to go along; all that was needed was the
driver's consent. Many people in Harran rode Rezaie's trucks,
not because they were real travelers but because they had nothing
else to do, and since the trucks left empty it was possible to
spend a pleasant day or part of a day in Ujra before returning
to Harran with the last truck.
Akoub and Raji sat in the coffeehouse at Mile 75· Raji was
bringing two bedouin and three sacks of flour from Ujra, and
Akoub was returning alone with an empty truck, since his as­
sistant had decided to stay in Harran to find other work. Akoub
sighed in remembrance. "You say walks as a gazelle. Like a
rooster. Lis ten. "
Akoub almost stopped. There was a long silence as his mind
wandered far away, but after a while he continued. "Thirty years
ago, forty years ago, in Aleppo, I got ill. My grandmother said,
'Akoub is going to die. ' I had a dog. The dog got ill. The dog
didn't eat or sleep, and he slept at my feet. One week, two weeks
later I got medicine, I got better, but the foot didn't heal. You
say as a gazelle? Look. "
Ako ub lifted his trouser leg. His lower leg was pitifully thin,
and the calf was bowed.
c e s 0 f s a

"Hah! You see?" He laughed, as if at someone else's story,

and then went on. "The dog got like Akoub. His leg got crooked. "
H e roared with laughter, then patted Raji's leg. "No, not
crooked. The eye gets crooked, bent round like a wheel, like a
tire."
Akoub fell silent again. It seemed that he did not know why
he had said all he'd said, and when he remembered that he had
to drive to Ujra alone, his head filled with thoughts.
"A truck is like a dog, " he said quickly. "It can get sick and
die."
He could find nothing more to say, and after sitting for a little
more than an hour, they parted.
When Raji was on his way back from Harran the next day,
he came upon Akoub before reaching the Mile 75 coffeehouse,
trying his best to repair his broken-down truck. He was having
no success. He could not fix it. When Raji towed him to the
coffeehouse, a distance of less than four miles, Akoub seemed
sadder than he had ever been. They sat at a table, and Akoub
spoke up before either of them could start a conversation or ask
the other if he was hungry or wanted a glass of coffee or tea.
"A truck is like a dog. I got ill and it got ill!"
Both of them were ill. It was a mysterious disease and at times
seemed incurable. Akoub, who knew how it had started and
would develop, when and why it struck, had recently begun to
experience symptoms which he had never had before, and which
•.e could not explain. E �en the doctor he'd driven to Harran,
who had rented three shops side by side and opened a clinic for
treating the sick, which even had beds for him and for patients
requiring urgent surgery or overnight treatment, even Subhi al­
Mahmilji could not diagnose his disease or explain the pains he
complained of. The pain started at the base ofhis skull and spread
all over his body, causing weakness, loss of appetite and high
fevers, especially at night.
 .. 493

Akoub took aspirin, and sometimes various herbs which he

picked and prepared himself, but neither the herbs nor the aspirin
did much good.
He treated his truck the same way. When he felt it weaken,
seemingly unable to continue the journey, he spent long hours
inspecting every part of it, at times searching out the malady
and trying to figure out why until the day became night, but
most of the time he failed. After resting for a day or two, but
preoccupied with the hidden malady day and night, and not
finding any likely cause, he told himself: "Even if the truck
was fmc, Akoub is still sick. If the truck was shit but Akoub was
fine, that's no usc. Even if the truck was fine and Akoub was
fine, there's no business. The market is shit. "
Even Abboud, who had strutted around like a rooster and
taken such pride in his signature and metal pieces, in his receipts
and signets, felt weak and depressed because of Rezaie and the
competition, which was no less dire than he'd expected. He often
joined his young assistant in crying, "Harran, one rider for l-Iar­
ran. " They would then leave the store and cross the sidewalk,
sometimes going as far as the mosque or the beginning of the
Sultan's Road looking for a single passenger for Harran. Abboud
got angry at the stupid, penniless bedouin who did not respond
to his shouts or his efforts to fill a truck for Harran.
"Let them ride with Ibn Rezaie, but tomorrow when he takes
their last penny, they'll come looking for Ibn Salek with a lantern
and find nothing but ruins. "
With time, Abboud al-Salck's office in Ujra became a shop
like the others. He sold rice and flour and bought salt and dates.
He waited for the hajj caravans; he waited, as he put it, for a
blind coincidence-some unlookcd-for opportunity-to strike.
It was in this period that Mohieddin al-Naqib imported two
buses, much in the same way that Rezaie had brought in his
trucks. The yellow buses were Harran's latest prodigy-the peo-
c e s 0 f s a

pie spent long hours pondering these strange creatures that had
suddenly appeared on the Ujra road. Everyone stood for a long
time and looked inside them, while some of the children crawled
screaming underneath to see the "belly, " as they called it, and
others tried to scale the rear ladder to reach the roof, but the
driver and some of Naqib's men saw them and shouted for them
to stop. Later, the steps and ladders were wreathed with barbed
wire to keep anyone from using them, so the boys were content
to draw shapes and pictures on the buses' sides. This they did
with the greatest pleasure and total absorption, and the shapes
they drew did seem very strange and beautiful, especially when
the dust on the bus sides was very thick.
Harran was excited, as it had been so many times before. At
first the people did not know the purpose of these two strange
vehicles, but then a huge banner with large red lettering appeared
over the building Mohieddin al-Naqib used as his office: NAQIB­
SEif DESERT TRAVEL AGENCY. There were shouts of " Ujra! Ujra! "
and then a broadly smiling Muhammad al-Seif came along to
address them in his powerful voice. "All the people of Harran
desiring to travel to Ujra, or from Ujra to Harran, step right
up. Your journey is on us-none of you will pay a single piaster!"
The people stared at each other and at Ibn Seif, and their eyes
were full of questions: from Harran to Ujra, and Ujra to Harran,
free? Nothing to pay?
The buses came and went busily for three days, transporting
their "travelers" inside, with the luggage tied to the roof Every­
one rode the bus or at least tried; some of them made the journey
two or three times while many others went down, some of them
very early, and waited, but when they saw the seething crush
of people and the intense competition between the prospective
travelers, they gave up.
The buses rested on the fourth day, and the drivers gave them
a good cleaning as rumors circulated that from now on rides on
 .. 495

these fast, powerful, comfortable buses would be very expensive

indeed, more expensive than Akoub's and Raji's trucks, perhaps
even twice or three times as much; but the people were surprised
to learn that the fare would be the same: " the same as the heaps. "
Abdullah al-Seif tried to clarify the matter to a number of men
in his office on the second floor of the Naqib-Seif Desert Travel
Agency.
"We want the buses to cover expenses and the drivers' sal­
aries-God curse seekers after profit! "
So began the bus service between Ujra and Harran. One bus
left Harran in the morning and arrived in Ujra shortly before
noon, and left Ujra for Harran in midafternoon, with the other
keeping the same schedule in the opposite direction. Both buses
broke the journey at Mile 75 to give the passengers a rest.
Raji and Akoub sat at the Mile 75 coffeehouse watching the
passengers stream off the bus, jostling to be first in line to get
something to drink.
"You and me, Akoub, are like little fish-if we keep our
distance we'll survive. But how will the big fish survive?"
Akoub curled his lip and said nothing.
"You'll see. Naqib has shafted Rezaie from his ass to his eye­
balls. You'll hear the screams any time now. "
Akoub laughed. "We're the ones who got the shaft, effendi. "
"Right! We got shafted, but now along comes Naqib with ten
shafts. "
"Ten? For whom?"
"Rezaie, of course! Rezaie is eating shit. "
"Effendi, Rezaie eats meat, he doesn't eat shit. " Akoub paused
a moment before adding sarcastically, " You and me, effendi, we
are eating shit. "
"Wrong! "
"Wrong, not wrong. You'll see. "
"My friend, in him God truly has something to answer for. "
c e 5 0 f s a

Instead of getting up quickly, as he usually did, Akoub sat for

a while longer. Al-Ghanem prepared some coffee and brought
it to him, but he refused to taste it.
"I've told you a hundred times"-al-Ghanem laughcd-"in
this place, this stinking desert, you have no choice. Bitter is all
you get. " He offered him the cup again. "Drink. Listen to your
brother. Drink. "
"You drink. Leave me alone, " snapped Akoub.

Naqib stole Rezaie's passengers just as Rezaie had stolen the

passenger and cargo business from Raji and Akoub. Rezaie still
moved most of the cargo; his trucks linked Harran with far-off
places. All eight of them transported cement, lumber and many
other goods directly from Beirut. He bought more trucks, some
of which towed large trailers behind them. Ibn Naffeh had a
good laugh when he saw Akoub's truck pulling Raji's into Har­
ran, but he gaped in surprise when he saw the long trucks towing
the trailers. He shook his head in angry mockery.
"We'll live to see them tow Harran itself behind them. They'll
tie it on with a rope like hitching a donkey and say, 'Giddy-up,
boy, let's go. ' "
Things went from bad to worse for Raji and Akoub. Most
people felt sorry for them and said that they deserved better than
this, but no one could stand up to the two powerful new giants.
While many people still depended on Akoub if they needed
anything brought from Uj ra, and some still preferred to travel
there in his old open truck, these were comparatively few in
number and diminished every day; besides, they traveled rarely,
perhaps not even once a year, and many of the things they wanted
could now be found in Harran.
A month or two short of a year after the paving of the road,
 0 0 497

Raji came upon Akoub i n the Mile 75 coffeehouse, which had

become something of a place of refuge for both of them.
"Boss, it's all over. There's no work for us. "
Akoub nodded in agreement but said nothing.
"Hah . . . what do you think, boss? Do we stay here like this?"
Akoub shrugged his shoulders and hands in resignation.
"Listen, " said Raji. "A few days ago Rczaie sent one of his
people to sec me. "
Akoub opened one eye to show his interest, and nodded for
him to go on.
"To make a long story short, he said, 'Sell your truck to us
and we'll hire you as a driver. ' "
"Did you accept?"
"I asked them for a few days to think about it. " He paused a
moment, looking confused, then added, "I asked them ' What
about Akoub?' They said, 'If Akoub wants to sell his truck we'll
buy it. ' So I asked them, 'Would you hire him as a driver?' and
they said-"
Raji stopped. He could not go on. His face showed his grief,
and when Akoub smiled to make it easier for him, he swore.
"The sons ofbitchcs. " He sighed deeply and said, as if to himself,
"We have to make a shaft to usc on them, Akoub . "
There was a long silence a s they thought.
"The sons of whores, " said Raji between his teeth. "They
said, 'Forget it, Akoub's too old. ' " His features twitched and
his voice changed. "Akoub is stronger than their God. He'll
bury them all. "
He reverted to his calm, conspiring tone. "If we don't give
them the shaft, my name isn' t Raji!" He moved close to Akoub
and whispered, "This is my idea. We'll agree to sell our trucks,
yes, we'll sell them, but as soon as we hav e the money in our
hands we'll drive out of here. "
c e s 0 f s a

''I'm not selling, " said Akoub fiercely.

"Look, I wouldn't work for Rezaie if they cut my head off, "
explained Raji. "I might work in the company, or for Naqib,
but him? No. "
Akoub gestured toward his truck. "That's mine and I'm keep­
ing it. You, God keep you, my dear. "
Raji had left Harran only hours before on his way to Ujra,
but he felt the need to stay with Akoub, to talk with him, to sit
for a while until they agreed on something, so he decided to go
back to Harran.
''I'm going back to Harran with you , " he said to keep the
conversation going.
"Harran?"
"Yes, Harran. " He laughed. "As long as there's no business
in Harran or Ujra, what's the difference?"
So they went back to Harran.
No one in the world would have dreamed that these men had
been enemies, that such a thing would ever have been possible.
No one could have guessed that these apparently strong and
happy men hid in their hearts so much misery, disappointment
and confusion. As soon as they arrived in Harran, after unloading
the ten head of sheep, three bedouin and their cargoes of flour
and barley, they set out together. They strolled in the central
market, which was now known as the Rashedi Market, although
Hassan Rezaie had bought most of the land it stood on; the people
had named it. They stood in front of Rezaie's offices, under an
immense signboard that read HASSAN REZAIE & HIS BROTHER ABBAS/
GENERAL TRADE AND TRANSPORT. There were three new auto­
mobiles parked in front of the building, one of them black and
larger than the other two. After standing there awhile they headed
to the eastern market; here was Abu Kamel the butcher, and
Abdu Muhammad a short distance away, and, at the end of the
 .. 499

market street, facing the sea, Abu As'ad al-Helwani's coffee­

house.
They strolled and talked like two youths in the prime of life.
One of them would stop the other at times; what he had to say
was so subtle and important that he had to look his interlocutor
in the eye, or make sure that the gestures that accompanied his
words were clearly understood. They laughed and stood talking
with many of the friends they ran into, and responded kindly
to their warm invitations never to leave Harran and to visit more
often.
This was on their way to the coffeehouse. When they got there
it was crowded to bursting, and they were obliged to stand for
a while with Abu As'ad. He readied them a place at some dis­
tance, on the beach, and Raji himself helped to prepare the hoo­
kahs. Abu As'ad told Raji that as long as he was free for a few
minutes he would play him a game of backgammon to get even.
"Some other time, " said Raj i.
When Abu As'ad insisted on playing, this very night, Raji
said, "I've taken an oath not to play tonight. "
Had Raji, or any of the others who sat with the two, recalled
the night's conversations he would have been unable to remem­
ber anything remarkable, anything worth repeating. If any of
them cared to think back on how the evening had started and
ended, he would have been unable to recall anything that was
out of the ordinary or that stuck in the memory. Even so, it
was a great night and a highly unusual one. Akoub told Abdullah
al-Zamel, who had spent more nights with him and Raji than
anyone else, and tried to convince them to go with him to the
camp to spend the night, that he would drop by the camp the
next day, since some of the things the workers had ordered were
still in the truck and he could not go and get them at this late
hour.
c e s 0 f s a

People said they had never seen Raji as calm and smiling as
he was that night. Abu Kamel said that the meat for the pastries
they ate that night had been put aside; he had been planning to
take it home to grill and eat himself, but "everything in this
world is luck and chance, " so they all ate it. Abdu Muhammad,
who never touched flour or dough at that hour of the night,
readily agreed to Abu As'ad's proposal that he bake the pastries.
Ibn Naffeh, who passed by quickly, avoiding the door of the
coffeehouse, bumped into Akoub and Raji, who were sitting
facing the sea; he would have kept on to the mosque had it not
been for his sudden desire to chat with Akoub.
Many others besides them dropped in, and many other small
incidents took place, but no one remembered them because what
happened afterward made them forget, or at least made them
unable to remember.
After Akoub and Raji went back to the trucks, which were
parked near the mosque, and each of them prepared his bed in
the back of his truck, Raji went over to Akoub's truck.
"That son of a bitch Rezaie, if he buys my truck, he'll use it
for a urinal. "
Akoub laughed heartily in the still night. I t was a belly laugh,
a roar. He grasped the side of his truck to climb in and turned
to Raji, who was surprised by the guffaw. "Effendi, pissing does
as much to relieve a man as sleeping does. "
"By God, Akoub, I won't rest until I've pissed on Rezaie. "
Raji's words came from between his teeth, sharply.
"Effendi, enough talk about pissing, " said Akoub. "Let's get
some sleep. "
"I won't be able to sleep until I've pissed on Rezaie. "
"Very good, effendi. Go ahead. Good night. "
And so they slept.
Raji said, the next day, that after this conversation with Akoub,
silence fell; there was no sound save for the barking of the dogs
 0 0 50 1

who circled the camp and the market. He did not know how
long he slept, but he woke with the sound of mooing in his ears,
such as one hears when an animal is slaughtered. He looked
around his truck for a bull but found none, then heard an even
louder bellow. It was a heavy, trembling, insistent voice, and it
came from Akoub's truck, from the back. At first Raji thought
that Rezaie's men had come and had begun to kill Akoub. He
grabbed the club that he always kept beside him and leaped from
the truck.
"God damn you, Rezaie, you sons of bitches! "
When h e came upon Akoub but found n o one else, Akoub
was still moaning and covered with sweat, and his face was
dripping. Raji screamed and called to him, and shook him, but
Akoub was writhing, though his eyes were closed, as if he were
in another world.
Raji said, the following afternoon, "I was terrified. I didn't
know what to do. I opened the water bottle and poured it over
his face and chest. I slapped his cheek. I pulled up his head and
shouted, 'Akoub, Akoub, ' but he didn't respond or say anything,
and he was writhing like a butchered animal. He was in pain,
and moaning, only with his mouth shut. I wanted someone to
help me, to be by my side, but I shouted and no one came. I
left Akoub and ran to the doctor. The effendi woke up an hour
later, and he was very angry and irritable. He told me, ' You and
he come tomorrow morning. ' I told him, 'The man can't wait
that long, he's dying. ' He said not to worry. He had almost
gone in and shut the door, but I told him, 'Doctor, please come
quickly, ' and I brought out the club. He was terrified! He went
as yellow as a lemon. He asked me, 'Who is it anyway?' I told
him, 'It's your friend Akoub. ' He said, 'Who is Akoub?' I said,
'The same Akoub who brought you from Ujra, the driver. '
Any way, he came along all right. He was afraid and took his
assi stant with him. When we got to the truck he was even more
c e s
0 f s a

afraid-he didn't think anyone slept there. He said, 'God bless

you, please leave me alone. I have children. ' He was almost
crying. I told him, 'Don't be afraid, just see this sick man . ' He
said, 'Where is he?' When he heard Akoub moaning in the bed,
he gasped. He looked inside the truck and then went in with the
little lamp in his hand. He saw Akoub and gave him a shot with
a needle, but by the time the morning prayers came he was gone.
No . . . just as the call to morning prayer was sounded, he died
exactly then. The doctor told me, 'God rest his soul. ' "
That late spring day was a dreadful and sad day in Harran.
There had never been anything like it, and long years would
pass before a comparable sorrow broke the town's heart. Silence
filled the houses of Arab Harran, and at night the women wept.
For the first time in three years no one came to Abu As'ad's
coffeehouse; it was open but all the chairs were empty. Abdu
Muhammad did not attend the funeral, thus touching off a lively
rumor that he had left Harran, but he failed to take part because
he could not bear to, indeed he refused to believe that Akoub
could die. Abdullah al-Zamel and dozens, or rather hundreds of
workers marched out of the camp, fearlessly and without per­
mission. They simply informed the personnel office that one of
their colleagues had passed away, and they had to attend his
funeral. The personnel office neither consented nor refused, but
referred the matter to Administration. Beyond this measure of
solidarity, Ibn Zamel, Ibn Hathal and every one of the other
workers did what they could to express their love and respect
for Akoub.
Even so, Akoub's death generated a great deal of uneasiness
in Harran. It was not like any other death: shortly after word
of his death circulated they began to wonder how and where to
bury him, and who would take charge of the arrangements. The
imam of the mosque, Ibrahim al-Hmeidi, refused even to discuss
 .. 5 03

it, since "the deceased was a Christian and an infidel, " and would
not even touch him, but Ibn Naffeh's plan, and the testimonies
of some other citizens, solved the difficulties one by one, re­
sulting in a funeral that was attended by all, with the sole ex­
ception of Abdu, who was not seen or heard from all that day.
"Wash the body, " Ibn Naffeh told Abdullah al-Zamel, "and
afterwards, we'll see. "
This was Ibn Naffeh's own initiative. When Abdullah had
carried out his task he told Ibn Naffeh everything was fine, as
anyone could tell by looking at the index finger of the deceased's
injured right hand, fixed in a gesture of doctrinal witness. Raji
swore before the assembled populace that Akoub's soul had been
released to its eternal reward at the instant that the morning
prayer call was sounded, and the crowd murmured: "I testify
that there is no god but God, and Muhammad is His servant
and His prophet!"
Ibn Naffeh seemed ready to pray over Akoub and eulogize
him, but there was one last thing that bothered him: had the
man drunk devil's piss or not? He turned to Raji with uneasy
sorrow. "It is true that a man's reckoning is God's and no one
else's, but tell me: did your brother drink infamy? Did he drink
devil's piss?"
Raji swore by all he held sacred that Akoub had never touched
liquor and never drank it.
"What was the drink he put in his bottle?" Ibn Naffeh asked
him in a whisper.
In spite of his mourning, Raj i raced to the truck and snatched
the thermos from under the seat, and ran back shouting. "It's
coffee, sweet coffee. It's all he ever drank. "
Ibn Naffeh asked Abdullah al-Zamel and Manawar al-Khodeiri
to taste the coffee, and when they had done it and confirmed
that it was coffee, real coffee, like everybody drank, only sweet,
c e s 0 J s a

Ibn Naffeh spoke up so that he could be heard by all. "May God

curse the Devil! Everyone used to say that he filled that bottle
with devil's piss! "
The funeral procession set out from Abu As'ad's coffeehouse.
It was a sorrowful procession. There was no sound from the
silent marching men but the words "God give him peace; there
is no god but God. "
At the grave, Ibn Naffeh prayed over the body, but when the
time came for the eulogy, no one knew Akoub's full name or
his mother's name. Ibn Naffeh looked at the faces around him
and spoke without asking anyone and without hesitating. "0
Yaacoub son of Fatima, when you come to the abode of the
righteous and your Creator questions you, say 'God is my Lord
and my faith is Islam, Mecca is the focus of my prayers and the
Muslims are my brethren. ' Witness that there is no god but God,
and that Muhammad is His servant and His prophet. "
In silence Akoub was lowered into the grave, which was filled
with soil and topped with a rock as a headstone.
Harran slept that night and the following nights with a sorrow
it had never known before.
A few days later, Fawaz bin Miteb al-Hathal engraved a prayer
on the stone with a large nail, with the words HERE LIE THE
REMAINS OF Y AACOUB AL-HARRANI.
 T
HE CONSTRUCTION OF TI-lE PIPELINE FROM WADI
ai-Uyoun to Harran consumed a great deal of
toil and time; instead of taking twenty-two
months, as planned, the work lasted twenty-seven months. The
Americans were in the same nervous, quarrelsome frenzy that
had possessed them during the dredging of the harbor, with one
difference: this time they were in the desert, in the midst of Hell
itself. They were used to going back to their compound every
day, to its swimming pools and air-conditioned rooms, but here,
now, they were like animals surrounded by raging fire. They
ran around, shouting and fighting among themselves and with
others, seized with fear and a sense of impatience. When the
workday was over they returned to their tents but could do
nothing; sleep was impossible. They had vacations every month;
after a month of work, or twenty-five days to be precise, they
c e 5
0 f s a

went back to Harran for a whole month while another shift

reported for duty, but instead of relaxing or changing them, the
month of rest made them less willing to return to their onerous
tasks, which they could not do efficiently and confronted with
an almost murderous ill will.
The year the road construction began was marked by the
loveliest weather in years. Work began in early winter, and
despite the cold nights the intensely beautiful weather spurred
the workers on during the day, especially after the long months
and harsh years they'd spent in and around Harran. The plentiful
rains rushed through the desert trails and filled the brooks, green
vegetation bloomed and birds and animals appeared. Life was
easier and less oppressive, and the workers spent long hours
gathering flowers and herbs or chasing rabbits, even sometimes
gazelles. The early winter evenings were great fun, for in ad­
dition to the games the workers invented to stay warm after the
sun began to drop past the horizon, gusts of nostalgia filled their
chests and made them sing.
The workers knew how to adjust to the ocean of desert around
them, and knew even better how to infuriate the Americans and
make them lose their tempers. Besides the games they invented
spontaneously, they expertly wove strong slingshots from wool
with which to hunt kangaroo rats and lizards and hit targets with
stones. The clean, polished stones hissed and whistled as they
few through the air, and the Americans scattered in all directions
to flee these " missiles, " which they heard but could not see, and
cursed and shouted, asking the workers to stop.
Besides these there were a number of workers whose sole
pastime was collecting wood. After leaving it to dry in the sun
for days, they built fires and made tea and coffee, and no sooner
did the fire catch, filling the camp and surrounding area with
smoke, than a new problem arose, as if the dust thrown up by
the earthmovers, the winds that gusted up to blow the dust close
 .. 507

by and the storms afar off were not enough. The smoke caused
no end of bother to the Americans. Despite the heavy goggles
they wore, and the thin cloth they pulled over their noses and
mouths to screen out the dust, as soon as the flames rose and
the smoke meandered in the air and spread quickly, the Amer­
icans flew into a rage. Some of them tore off their masks and
goggles and threw them on the ground, like children or madmen,
while others were seized by fits of coughing and ran toward the
fire or their tents, to do something or merely flee.
When these annoyances had run their course, or if, in the eyes
of the workers, they had not gone far enough, there was always
someone particularly gifted or brilliant at devising practical jokes
to play on the Americans. One such was the short, thin, soft­
spoken Majalli al-Sirhan. He knew how to throw people into
panic every day, with no one aware that he was responsible.
No one could count the times Majalli al-Sirhan let loose rats
and lizards in the Americans' tents. He hunted these creatures
with tireless zeal, and when he had found a good number he tied
them by their legs or tails and pulled them along, and if the time
was not right to release them he kept them nearby, and when
evening came he dragged them to an American tent and released
them. The terrified lizards and kangaroo rats, which had been
tied up for long hours, ran for cover as soon as they were let
go. They darted into the tents or leaped into the trenches where
the workers labored, zigzagged between people's feet, and when
the workers heard the Americans' piercing screams, scuffles and
cries for help, they looked around for Majalli. He was usually
among them or nearby, and they looked at him closely to try
to discover if, once again, he was behind the incident. There he
was, silent, his features radiating innocence-sometimes he even
offered to help the Americans.
Sometimes Majalli gathered snakes to let loose in the tents.
He did this twice at least, during successive winters, the first
c e 5 0 f s a

time when the camp was being built around Station H2, halfway
along the new highway. He explained, at the time, that the area
was full of snake pits, and that the nearby wadi was the snakes'
breeding ground. He spread this story around, and soon the
Americans did not dare go near the wadi. They spent long hours
of the night searching out snakes, and the supplies they urgently
ordered to help combat these dreadful creatures, which speedily
arrived, helped their campaign but did nothing to allay the fear
that filled their hearts.
The second time was during Mr. Hamilton's visit, after much
progress had been made on the pipeline. This time Majalli did
two things the workers were to talk about for a long time to
come. One of the engineers asked Majalli to hand him his tool­
box, and Maj alli brought it to him while Mr. Hamilton was
inspecting the installation of some equipment. When the worker
opened the box, he screamed and ran away, because a lizard as
big as a cat was reclining on top of the tools, glaring at the
American with his gray eyes and drawing deep, crazed breaths.
Mr. Hamilton, whose face turned yellow and horror-struck,
could not budge forward or retreat. The engineer who had fled
in fright stumbled and fell. He was in a lamentable state: sweat
poured off him, his lips trembled, and the color of his face
changed from blue to yellow to waxy white. Majalli, who had
been standing silent and still amid the fear and horror, stepped
forward, snatched the lizard by the neck and pulled him from
the box, his arm stiff as a stick, heaved the lizard above his head
and struck him against the ground. The lizard got dizzy and ran
off, then changed direction. The Americans, who had been
standing, stunned with fright, now ran away, colliding with
each other to escape the perilous beast. They had no idea what
it was or where it had come from.
More to explain the lizard than to explain his fright, the en­
gineer said that it was his mistake; he had left the toolbox open,
 . . 5 09

and because it was deep and cool it attracted creatures that wanted
someplace to go.
That day Mr. Hamilton ordered that all toolboxes be kept
closed; everyone would be held responsible to see that they were.
The engineer put locks on the three boxes that were in his keep­
mg.
On the third day of Mr. Hamilton's visit the workers killed
a large snake that was as black as night; they put it in an open
place, near the tent where the Americans slept, and spread a
rumor that this was only one of three snakes that had been
together, but that they had been unable to catch the other two.
For two nights terror engulfed the entire camp, and Mr. Ham­
ilton left the second day-whether his sudden departure had
anything to do with the snakes, no one knew.
Such was life in the three stations that grew up in the course
of building the pipeline. The Americans gave these stations names
deriving from the name of Harran, since that city was the outlet,
with a different number for each-they were H I , H2 and H3-
but the workers used the old names for these places or gave
them names of their own. The first, Muteira, was about two
days' journey from Wadi al-Uyoun. They named the other two
stations Askar, "Soldiers, " and Quss'a, "Eats . " Askar was named
for Percy, the chief engineer at H2, who insisted on a head count
of workers twice each day, once when they reported for work
and again just before they left, always making them stand in a
long line; that was why they called it Askar. Quss'a got its name
from the Indian cook, who, when asked if the food was cooked
or not yet, always answered, "Eats are all finished" or "Eats are
not finished. ' '
The three stations started out as names only, with the excep­
tion of Muteira, which had a well and some tents, but new wells
were dug one after another, tents and equipment piled up, more
men arriv ed, and a new life began, one which the workers got
c e s 0 f s a

used to and carne to love, though the Americans grew unhappier,

more uncomfortable and more overcome by difficulties. They
ran into endless frustrations in their efforts to heat the tents in
winter and cool them in summer, because the generators they
set up by the tents, which roared day and night, created more
problems than they solved. The machines, which could not start
up or shut off properly because of the wind and dust, were soon
stopped altogether.
The workers' tents were cooled by the open air every day,
and the workers, who endured wordlessly as they huddled in a
circle of warmth around the fire and coffeepots during the winter
nights, or raised their tent flaps when the summer carne after
fixing the entrances to face the breezes, often sat and watched
the Americans fussing with the generators, which they repaired
time and time again. When their bare, burned bodies began to
run with sweat, like punctured waterskins, the workers felt a
mixture of wonder, joy and pity, because they enjoyed a dis­
tinction the Americans lacked.

Had the hardships consisted of nothing but the harsh weather

and the problems associated with work, they might have been
tolerated or overcome, but one strange night in the fourth month,
a night full of rain and thunder which seemed bent on annihi­
lating the desert's thousands of years of silence, a ghost burst
on the scene to destroy their tranquillity and fill the Americans'
nights and their lives with an almost maddening fear.
It happened unexpectedly. That night, a little before dawn,
there was a great commotion at H2. At first it was rnuffied and
confused, but as it grew louder gunshots were heard, the roars
of camels and whinnying horses. In the insufficient space of time
it took a man to open his eyes, to remember where he was and
distinguish the sound of men's voices from the thunder that filled
 .. 511

the night sky and the chugging of the machines that had rung
in his ears for weeks, in those few moments fire broke out in
several of the tents.
No one knew how they could catch fire on such a wet night,
and so quickly. As the workers came out to see what the noise
was about, the tongues of flame began to consume three tents,
among them Mr. Percy's tent and the one that served as an office.
The terrified Americans, who screamed and ran around in
every direction, not knowing what to do or where to go, finally
clustered around Mr. Percy, who appeared so feeble that a num­
ber of workers thought he had been struck by a bullet, and what
with fighting the fire and lending assistance to Mr. Percy, the
Americans were unable to be of any help. Three of them tried
to use fire extinguishers, but they were too late. The workers
had already begun heaping sand on the flames, and, having no
other options, the Americans threw down their equipment and
began to snatch at the sand themselves.
With the first light of dawn they all surveyed the scene, and
the questions began: Who did this? Why had he done it? All the
cryptic whispers and queries had but one answer: Miteb al-Hathal.
He was the only person conceivably willing or able to do such
a thing. No worker said it outright or pronounced his name out
loud, but his specter filled the whole desert. On the third day a
group of men, accompanied by two Americans, arrived from
the Central Province to conduct an investigation and fired hostile
questions at the workers about who might be behind the incident
and which of them were related to Miteb al-Hathal or how well
they knew him, and whether they had seen or heard anything
about him recently. After the investigation they were all sure
that Miteb al-Hathal, who had been gone for long years, no one
knew where, was back, and that he would make the desert a
hell for the Americans. They were delighted, but their delight
was tempered with a certain wariness and anticipation. What
c e s 0 f s a

they could not explain was that Fawaz bin Miteb al-Hathal and
Suweyleh were brought to H2. Some of them said that if Miteb
al-Hathal knew that his son was in the camp he would not attack
it again; others said that Fawaz was a hostage, and that the
Americans would take their revenge on him if anything hap­
pened, but Maj alli al-Sirhan said that nothing and no one could
stand in the way of Miteb al-Hathal.
A guard unit of six men was dispatched from Ujra and was
joined by reinforcements wthin a few days, and before long there
were as many soldiers as there were Americans in the camp. The
workers secretly gave them the same titles and nicknames they
had bestowed upon the Americans. Despite the fact that Miteb
al-Hathal had vanished once again, it was said that several patrols
had set out in pursuit of him-according to one rumor, one such
patrol actually met up with him and his gang and killed a number
of them, including Miteb al-Hathal himself. The workers heard
these stories, circulated by Ghattas, the translator at H2, uneasily
at first, but when they saw the head of the guard detachment,
Nimr al-Suheil, passing out extra ammunition to his soldiers
and barking orders, saying that "Miteb al-Hathal can come on
such a black night as this, as dark as the grave with the soil
heaped over it, and take you all by surprise! " they were all sure
that Ghattas's stories were mere inventions. Miteb al-Hathal,
who had taken refuge in the dark and the desert, would be back.
Once again Miteb al-Hathal filled the camp with anxiety, com­
bined with the silent but growing antagonism between the work­
ers and the Americans. The intense surveillance, especially during
break periods, and orders to report any strangers or passing
travelers to the guard detachment, at first silently ignored by
the workers, later provoked curses and arguments. Many of the
workers let it be known that they wanted to leave and quit the
company, and others insisted on preparing their own meals,
which compelled the Americans to ease up on the measures they
 .. 513

had imposed and use other means: in addition to bringing in a

large number offoreign workers, they began to transfer the Arab
workers frequently. The number of observers increased. Ghat­
tas, who'd been far warier and harsher after that night and had
clashed with the workers several times during the interrogations,
soon left all contact with the workers to Nimr al-Suheil-"He's
the only one who can deal with them. " Nimr, who was a very
rough man and had seemed stern in the first months, now changed
completely, and it was said that this was on the orders of the
emirate of the Central Province, because force would only create
a thousand more Miteb ai-Hathals.
The workers slowly returned to their normal routine, and all
began to forget Miteb al-Hathal, or pretended to forget him,
though rumors resurfaced time and again, circulated by shep­
herds and passing travelers, which assured them that something
was going to happen soon, and that it would be Miteb al-Hathal's
doing. N imr al-Suheil created an atmosphere of provocation and
terror by staging frequent search raids, acting on instinct or
muddled information, late at night when the workers were in
their beds or when they were away from the tents, and while
no one ever mentioned weapons or said that they were the obj ect
of the searches, they all understood this to be the case, especially
after the confiscation of their large knives and other objects that
were considered potentially lethal.
The atmosphere of watchfulness and expectation lasted for
several tense and uneasy days. The workers' every action was
invested with a new meaning; every whisper and every move­
ment was cautiously and fearfully watched. When one of the
shepherds tied a tin can to a dog's tail and sent the animal running
into the camp, the incident provided the Arabs with hours and
hours of sarcastic and pitying smiles, but even the Americans
could find no excuse or explanation for the blow the shepherd
received from Nimr al-Suheil.
c e s 0 f s a

Another time, the guard detachment arrested a man passing

by the encampment after dark, and when they found that his
name was Miteb, the soldiers and the Americans were delighted,
if visibly nervous. The guard unit's movements were cautious
and expectant, full of grave anticipation, and so it remained until
the following afternoon. That first night, Nimr al-Suheil sum­
moned four workers who were natives of Wadi al-Uyoun and
asked them if the detainee was Miteb al-Hathal, but he did not
believe them when they said he was not; he regarded their denial
as an act of collusion, an attempt to cover up for Miteb, and
suddenly he grew very rough and angry with them, shaking his
fist in their faces. The next day he summoned Suweyleh to
identify the man in the presence of an American; he wanted
others to see Suweyleh's reaction if he tried to deny knowing
him. When he subsequently had Fawaz brought the man seemed
bewildered, not understanding what was happening around him
or what was expected of him. Not until the afternoon did things
clear up, when two men Nimr knew came from Muteira in
search of their father, who had left home four days earlier. They
did not know why he'd left or what had become of him-he
had lost his grip on reality after the death of his wife.
Miteb al-Hathal remained a phantom, appearing and disap­
pearing for the whole period of the pipeline construction. The
Americans resorted to an endless variety of schemes, threats and
inducements to get the project finished. They were very wary
and worried, never more than when the pipeline was on the
verge of completion, at which time they became different people:
the slightest word angered them, and any action, especially by
Nimr al-Suheil, threw them into fits. One morning, when the
third phase was completed with the last weld in Muteira, they
were almost insanely happy, more than they had ever been, and
began rapturous preparations for a party.
There had been celebrations before, first when the work was
 .. 515

initiated and again when the pipeline reached the station at Quss'a,
but this time the Americans were much louder and more excited,
as if they wanted to do something completely different.
The exhausted workers, who finished the last of their work
in the morning, were much more tired than hungry, so some
of the food offered them went uneaten. They needed an hour
of rest to relax their mental state and get reaely for the party that
night.
Shortly after noontime, small waves of workers began heading
over to the big encampment set up near the station. Many of
them felt something brewing-something would happen that
night.
The men felt, in that desolate place, a mixture of triumph and
fright: after twenty-seven months of continuous work, of co­
existence in the desert with every inch of progress, of daily fights,
the work was finished at last. Each of them felt personally re­
sponsible for this achievement: had it not been for their efforts,
under constant surveillance and in the face of threats, it would
never have happened.
Majalli al-Sirhan, who'd been completely absent the night
before-many of the workers assumed that he had left for good­
was the subject of rumors in the morning when they discovered
he was still nowhere to be found. Even Nimr al-Suheil was
worried and posted his men all around, and forbade the bedouin
to come near. At first Nimr even barred the shepherds who
arrived in the morning to get water, but later he rescinded this
order on condition they tell all they knew about Miteb al-Hathal
and any strange occurrences they had noticed in the recent past.
They had nothing to say, and when his warnings and threats
got nothing out of them, he let them fetch the water and go.
When Majalli al-Sirhan showed up in torn clothes at sundown
with a small jackal he'd caught and minor wounds on his body,
they were more sympathetic than surprised. They told him to
c e s 0 J s a

take pity and set the wretched animal free, and to wash his hands
and accompany them to Muteira.
"My friends"-he laughed mockingly-"the Americans have
sinned, too. "
The men were silent; they did not know what he was getting
at. He looked at the j ackal.
"This son of a bitch almost killed me!" He changed his tone.
"I said to myself, 'As long as the Satan's pipe project is ended,
the Americans' lives should end now. ' I want them to die from
fright, but as you see, after all the trouble I went to this beast
nearly killed me before I could kill the Americans!"
Ghazi al-Sultan, the odd old man who had filled the men's
heads with his weird stories and been the cause of countless
problems in the weeks past, asking the Americans to pay him
and set him free, as he put it (the Americans said they would
give him nothing unless he stayed on the job until the end, at
which time he would collect all his pay and be left alone), even
Ghazi al-Sultan, Abu Ayesha, seemed unhurried toward the end,
as ifhe no longer wanted to leave the job. The men congratulated
him and said that he was a free man at last.
"By God, you sons of bitches, you bedouin, " he told them
roughly, "you have no souls! "
They were shocked.
"I thought you'd have some respect for an old man, " he went
on crossly, "and I said to myself, 'These brothers won't desert
Abu Ayesha. ' Was I wrong!"
In this atmosphere of confused and contradictory emotions,
the men began to whisper to each other, at about sundown, that
they were late, but that they should delay longer yet. When
Ghazi al-Sultan and two or three others told the rest to get
moving-it had the tone of an order-they began to move,
group by group. Maj alli finally consented to let the jackal free,
though not before spitting in its face twice and cursing it out
 .. 517

roundly for wounding him, but he took along to the party a

box of three lizards. He sang as he carried the box containing
the wretched, hissing, struggling creatures:

"0 blue-eyed Americans, wherever you go

Wherever you try to flee,
The sun is above and the scorpions below.
The lizards mangle your balls
And the foxes feast on your asses,
0 blue-eyed Americans, wherever you go
Where will you flee, 0 eyes of blue?''

In this fresh atmosphere of turbulent gaiety the men began

marching to Muteira, about two miles away. Any conversation
would have changed their mood, but as they marched on and
the tent and men came into view, with the smoke twisting up
into the sunset sky like a light misty cyclone, they felt that their
mission was accomplished, and that they were now more relaxed
and emptier than ever.
When Mr. Middleton finished his speech marking the com­
pletion of the oil pipeline, and Ghattas declaimed his incompetent
translation of it, of which the workers understood very little,
everyone clapped, some for a long time, until it was clear that
they were expressing only sarcasm. Then Ghazi al-Sultan strug­
gled to his feet like a senile camel. He shuffled toward Middleton
with everyone's eyes upon him. Middleton recognized the old
troublemaker, and usually ignored him, because when he decided
to work even the young men envied his strength, so everyone
was expecting a surprise. Middleton looked around, aware that
something was going to happen. When Ghazi came near him he
reached inside his cloak and drew out a handful of coins, then
grasped Middleton's hand, placed the money on his palm and
cl osed the hand.
c e s
0 f s a

"As long as those who have the money don't give, the poor
should give, so this is from me-it's yours, free and clear!"
Middleton was completely taken by surprise. He did not un­
derstand why Ghazi al-Sultan was putting the money in his hand
or what it was supposed to mean, and for a few moments he
was so astounded that he could not catch his breath. He looked
embarrassed when the workers roared with laughter, but when
Ghattas translated what Ghazi had said, he burst into peals of
loud laughter and patted Ghazi's shoulders and began talking,
though Ghattas did not translate all of what he said. He an­
nounced a pay raise for the workers, effective from that day,
and said that all the money the workers had earned would be
distributed during the three-day vacation.
Amid the general mood of happy approval, Majalli al-Sirhan
stood and carried his box to Middleton. The workers caught
their breath, all positive that there was no way the Americans
would like this surprise, but Middleton, who thought that this
surprise would be like the previous one, was for a moment
assailed by doubts that the workers were presenting him with a
gift on the occasion of the pipeline's completion; he tried to
guess what was happening, but couldn't.
There was total silence as Maj alli placed the box in Middleton's
hands and retreated a few steps. It seemed as if this skinny bed­
ouin, who had never smiled in his life, was up to something.
Majalli moved farther back.
"Is this a present for the project or for me personally?" asked
Middleton with feigned innocence as he placed the box on the
ground.
His words were translated, and Ghazi, who still stood nearby,
spoke up. " Like the money tribute the workers gave the Amer­
icans-only this is tribute from the whole town!"
Middleton did not understand a word of what Ghazi was
saying, so he asked Maj alli again whether the gift was for him
 .. 5 19

o r for all those who had worked o n the pipeline, and when
Majalli told him, by pointing, that it was meant for him per­
sonally, he opened the box cautiously. With unexpected energy,
one of the lizards leaped out. Middleton looked frightened and
stepped back, but when the workers roared with laughter he
laughed too, pretending that he had not been taken by surprise
and that such joking was tolerable, not to say perfectly accept­
able, on this day, and to show his leniency he went closer to the
box, which one of the Americans had carefully closed up, and
put both his hands on it. He picked it up skillfully and shook
it, and when the lizards flew into a commotion inside, he shouted,
in a strong but cheerful voice, for Maj alli to take his present
back.

The workers were called to dinner in this atmosphere of disorder

and merriment, and the Americans were so friendly that the
Arabs wondered if these were the same people they knew-what
had happened to them?
When Middleton and his two guests left, the party was offi­
cially over, and Ghattas rose to his feet.
"Attention-attention please! "
They all looked at him, and when there was silence he spoke.
"You are all instucted to report to Administration in the morn­
ing, and to be ready to leave by noon!"
The workers looked at one another but said nothing.
 70

T
HERE WAS NO END TO THE PROBLEMS DR. SUBHI
al-Mahmilji faced during his first three months
in Harran, and more than once he thought of
leaving for good, to go back from whence he had come, but
every time he reached this point he put off the final decision
until the next day, because his philosophy in life was "Never
make a decision in anger or excitement. " So with the passing
of his "condition" -as he called the source of his anger or ir­
ritation-he began to calm down and think "with a cool head, "
because "Life is nothing but difficulties, and the proof is that a
child leaves the womb crying and shouting. " The doctor laughed
and added, "The difficulties mount with every passing day, from
the moment of birth until the moment of death, made bearable
only by divine grace, and only death puts an end to all the
 0 0 521

trouble, and the proof is that the dead feel no pain; they stop
crying and complaining, leaving that to those around them­
the living. "
It was this cool head, then, that guided the doctor's steps and
made him think differently from other men, and since he was
this way he had no real friends-"Friends are a burden to a man.
A wise man depends only upon himself and does not need others. "
He had no friends even in his hometown. He had many ac­
quaintances, "but friends are like ghouls and griffins. " He did
not like small talk and hated people knowing his personal busi­
ness. His wife, who had at first had a very different personality
from his, changed with time. She used to discuss him with her
women friends, and often talked about what the doctor liked
and disliked, what time he went to bed and what time he got
up in the morning, but when he learned of this he scolded her
angrily. That was in the early years of their marriage, and it
taught her to keep quiet, so after that she was content to listen
to the stories of the others. When she gave birth to her third
son, she stopped attending their receptions altogether and spent
all her time raising her boys and looking after the house. This
she did with no fuss or formality, but with his piercing intelli­
gence her husband realized it before she ever said a word, and
told her later on, "People's talk brings only blindness and
deafness!"
The doctor had spent several years in Aleppo before coming
to Harran, and before that he'd lived in Tripoli, but details about
his family were sketchy and largely contradictory. When he was
asked about it he gave vague answers. He said that his grand­
father had served as treasurer to theTurkish governor of Anatolia
and had often accompanied the governor on the hajj to Mecca
in his royal camel-borne litter, the mahmil, but had spent the rest
of his life nearby in Medina. His father was the private secretary
c e s 0 f s a

of the governor of the vilayet of Greater Beirut. The doctor said

this quickly and indistinctly and added, smiling, to forestall any
questions or discussion, "That was long ago . . . "
As to why Dr. Mahmilji had left the hajj caravan to come to
Harran, he ascribed his motives to humanitarian concerns and
his desire to help the people of this isolated region. When Emir
Khaled asked him about it, after the two men had become friends,
he laughed. "Stagnant water putrifies, Your Excellency, and man
is an ambitious animal. You know that riders tire out a good
horse, but when it's time to race she wins . "
The emir, who wanted the best possible relations with the
physician, as well as the frankest, agreed and nodded. "A man
has nothing to say about where he'll be born or where he'll die. "
The doctor sometimes alluded, secretly or ambiguously, to
the truth about the motives that had drawn him to Harran. There
were two: first, his grandfather the treasurer had bequeathed to
him title deeds for land in Arabia, on the Sultan's Road, which
he wanted to research and make inquiries about-it might come
to something, he said. The second motive was his passion for
new places, which he'd acquired in his many travels and from
the stories he'd read when he was a student in Berlin about the
travelers and explorers who had reached the New World, how
they had become rich in a short time and left their influence
wherever they went.
He only seldom made reference to these motives; indeed, he
usually pretended, even to himself, that the inheritance his grand­
mother had told him about was irretrievably lost: after all, his
father had come here before him and spent three years uselessly
running from place to place, returning with a sheaf of torn,
shabby documents, full of bitterness and disappointment. He'd
left the matter to his son, who took the documents eagerly and
tried tirelessly to mend and restore them, because he still dreamed
that something might come of them. He always told himself,
 0 0 523

"Anything is possible in this country, if a man applies himself

and stays patient. "
The doctor's arrival was one of the most momentous events
in Harran in that period. He wore clean, neat clothes into the
coffeehouse just hours after his arrival and asked detailed ques­
tions of those seated around him there-about the population
of Harran, whether or not any doctor had come there before
him, the going rents for shops and houses, and the medical
services, if any, that the company offered the workers and cit­
izens. Then he asked about the emir-what kind of a man he
was, how old he was and what his interests were. These questions
called attention to the doctor, and the people wondered about
him and watched him carefully. When he had all the information
he wanted, he debated with himself whether to go and visit the
emir directly or to ask for an appointment. He decided that the
best thing was to go and see him as soon as possible, without
anyone else's good offices, so that evening he headed for the
emirate building with his black medical bag. The emir had heard
of the doctor's arrival and was expecting him to visit, but he
was not expecting him to come so soon, or at night.
" 'I seek refuge in God from the accursed Satan, ' " the emir
whispered. Then he turned to those around him and asked,
"What will we do for our health, since these devils make their
money from sickness and death?"
Then, with exaggerated hospitality, as if the two men had
long been friends, the doctor came forward and greeted the emir
with warmth and courtesy, and said that he was delighted to be
in Harran, and that with the emir's gracious permission he would
offer his services to whomever in Harran needed them.
"God willing, " he concluded, "I will do my utmost to ease
the pain of those suffering from illness, and to offer modern
cures. "
The emir listened in silence and watched this broad-shouldered
c e s 0 f s a

white man, wondering· to himself what kind of a man he was,

and whether or not Harran needed any doctor other than Mu­
faddi al-Jeddan. He peered at him. "And how do we know that
you can cure people?"
The physician smiled confidently and looked into the faces
that stared at him.
"The lives and health of the pilgrims to God's holy mosque
in Mecca were my own responsibility, Your Excellency. " He
smiled before continuing. "Anyone can tell lies or make wild
claims-except where the practice of medicine is concerned. "
He deftly opened up his medical bag as the emir watched.
"With these medicines and instruments, I can cure any sick
man. A degree to practice medicine isn't awarded until you take
the oath. "
He said these last words with a little embarrassment. The emir
gazed at the opened bag and felt the urge to examine the contents.
Sensing this, the doctor pushed the bag forward so that some
of the medicines and instruments showed.
"Do you know how to cure all diseases?" asked the emir.
"With God's help, Your Excellency. "
"Where did you work before coming to Harran?"
"I was the doctor for the hajj caravan, Your Excellency, and
when I heard that Harran needed a doctor I put my faith in God
and came. "
The emir nodded and said he had no objection to his staying
�.-n to practice medicine in Harran, and the conversation and
questions turned to other areas.
This kind of welcome and interrogation was enough for the
doctor to close his bag and think of leaving Harran at once, but
his weariness after the journey from Ujra, and his intention to
rethink his decision the following day, made him stay where he
was.
What followed, later that night and in the days that came after,
 .. 525

left him even more confused and eager to leave. He had difficulty
finding a house, food and a place to get his clothes laundered,
and since the people of Harran were unused to having a doctor
among them, no one ventured to visit him at first. Most of them
predicted an early departure for this man who had come at the
wrong time to a place that needed no doctor other than Mufaddi
al-Jeddan, but subsequent events made many of them change
their minds. The emir's son caught a fever that no one could
cure, so Mahmilji took over his treatment and did splendidly.
The emir himself watched the doctor's every move attentively,
as if trying to learn or understand every detail. The doctor fol­
lowed all the emir's movements and reactions out of the corner
of his eye and showed as much brilliance as he could, exagger­
ating every move and explaining the condition with as much
precision as possible. The emir stared at the medical instruments,
so Mahmilji showed him the stethoscope, thermometer and blood
pressure gauge. The emir held the stethoscope gingerly, then
put it to his ears with the doctor's help, and looked amazed when
he heard the strong, regular heartbeats. He could not find the
indicator on the thermometer, although Mahmilji did his best
to point it out. He regarded the blood pressure kit as too com­
plicated and potentially dangerous, and did not understand what
it was for.
When the boy's temperature went down and he was back to
normal on the third day, the doctor began to enjoy a great deal
of respect and inarticulate awe. This incident was the beginning
of a close relationship and the point at which Dr. Subhi al­
Mahmilji's star began to rise.
The doctor's brilliance was proven and everyone was already
talking about him when Johar, one of the emir's bodyguards,
was seriously injured in an accident. He had a wound in his leg
and a high temperature, and Mufaddi al-Jeddan, who oversaw
his treatment before the doctor arrived, nearly killed him-so
c e s 0 f s a

Dr. Mahmilji repeatedly claimed-by insisting that the leg be

amputated. The doctor arrived in time to show his artistry. The
emir watched carefully as he anesthetized Johar, opened and
cleaned the wound, then stitched it up again, all this in the tent
beside the emir's own. Had it not been for the doctor's inter­
vention, things would have gone very differently. Within a week
of treatment, Johar was able to leave his bed, though he had to
lean on a cane when he walked. With time he became proud of
the cane and put it to other uses!
These two incidents sealed the doctor's reputation, and estab­
lished his social standing, since they occurred early in his stay,
in spite of the many rumors and reports that Mufaddi al-Jeddan
circulated. Dr. Subhi al-Mahmilji was a person of note in Harran.
When he rented three adj acent shops from Dabbasi and ordered
extensive remodeling to create a surgery and night wards, every­
one knew that he had come to stay, and would long remain.
Mufaddi al-Jeddan chose a spot near the clinic where he sat for
long periods, muttering provocations and curses. He thought
nothing of snatching the medicines from the hands of patients
on their way to visit the doctor and throwing them away. He
said that they were full of small demons which caused irritation
to the chest, because they were manufactured by people who
did not fear Satan and had not blessed them in the name of God.
The doctor, whose doorman and assistant told him everything
that Mufaddi was doing, pretended not to know what was going
on outside the clinic; he was waiting for his chance to answer
"that quack, " as he called Mufaddi, for once and for all. Until
that opportunity presented itself, he concentrated on building a
special relationship with the emir, the officials and the rich cit­
izens of Harran .
The doctor felt alone and defenseless, especially since it was
his nature to keep others at a distance; he could not, as yet, send
for his wife and children, since Harran was still, in spite of its
 0 0 527

many residents and more plentiful markets, a n unfinished town,

or at least one unable to accommodate too many people or cater
to their needs. The recently opened elementary school was con­
fined to the first four grades; there were only five boys in the
fourth grade, and they were the children of the school's principal
and three teachers. There were also two al-Rashed children.
Mahmilji's children were too young to go away to school in
Beirut and live with their grandmother there while his wife
joined him in Harran. He had also not found suitable housing
yet-had not, actually, looked around seriously, for he had not
yet made a final decision about staying.
The other thing that made him feel so lonesome was the fact
that his assistant, Muhammad Eid, who had worked with him
for the past seven years and accompanied him on the hajj car­
avans, had promised to show up within a month, or two months
at the outside. Now three whole months had passed, and he had
not arrived or sent word. Muhammad Eid was not any ordinary
assistant, whom the doctor could easily replace or manage to do
without, for in addition to carrying out the usual duties of a
doctor's assistant, he was highly intelligent and a quick learner,
and he often executed important tasks that the doctor himself
neglected or forgot about. Besides, there was the congenial in­
timacy bred of their long years of work together, and Muham­
mad's willingness to do chores completely unconnected with his
formal duties-he cooked meals, cleaned the clinic and wards,
and did other things as well.
Only Muhammad Eid could do all this, and the doctor could
not train anyone else and expect him to be like Muhammad­
if for no other reason, his age and this place in which he found
himself made it less possible.
The doctor's head was full of these reasons, and he reviewed
them every day during the long wait for Muhammad Eid's ar­
rival, but in fact there were other, far more important reasons
c e s 0 J s a

that made him truly miserable and gave him the compelling
feeling that he was alone and friendless amid all these strangers.
Muhammad Eid was the only person who could make and keep
friendships between the doctor and other people. Such relations
meant a great deal to the doctor. Muhammad Eid knew how to
talk about him and represent him to others. He talked about a
living legend, a man possessed of supernatural powers, who
wrested the sick from the grasp of Azrael, the Angel of Death,
and told him to get lost! This was when others doctors had given
up and admitted their total inability to prevail, and "only Dr.
Subhi told Death, 'I'm stronger than you, ' and saved the man's
life!" Muhammad Eid spoke not only of the many times the
doctor surpassed all others, but of the instances in which he
outdid himself, because "he's passionate about his profession­
he was born for it and nothing else . " He had an extraordinary
ability to tell the simplest stories in a magical and deeply affecting
way, and even after he had told them dozens of times they always
seemed new, as if they had happened only yesterday. He knew
when to tell the stories and to whom. Sometimes even the doctor
was struck when people asked him about the stories; as a rule
he could not recall all the details his assistant described!
Another factor that strengthened the relationship between the
two men was that Muhammad Eid was a good judge of people
and knew how to deal with them-"The doctor is very busy, "
he would say when relatives or friends dropped by. "The doctor
is in the middle of an operation, " when the police came to
question an accident victim. "The doctor is out, " when poor
people came in. True, he sometimes made mistakes in certain
instances or toward certain people, but these were small mistakes
that he could always explain later; the people concerned even­
tually forgot about them, and he himself forgot them the same
day.
The doctor, who was fond of his assistant, spoke highly of
 .. 529

his services and praised his diligence, often warned him, " I didn't
see or hear anything . . . you understand?" Muhammad Eid would
smile and nod and step back after delivering his report, and add,
"Don't worry, Doctor, leave it to me. I'm in charge. "
There were other reasons the doctor never mentioned. He'd
say, "Give him the good needle, " and Muhammad Eid would
take charge of the first or final touches with most of the patients.
After registering the patient in large but indistinct letters, his
condition and early symptons, always in the illegible scribble
doctors use, he wrote "stomach pains, " "rash" or "irregular
pains in the extremities. " After this he began to prepare the
patient mentally, telling him that his ailment was minor, or that
he had come in time, or that God Almighty had shown him
mercy by sending him to Dr. Subhi. After a long pause, to let
his words sink in, he smiled confidently. "After the doctor ex­
amines you and prescribes medication the needle will be ready,
and it will take effect in five minutes-God willing, it will do
the trick . "
There were very few patients whose posteriors were not pierced
by Muhammad Eid's needle, and even fewer were those who
failed to ask if the doctor would prescribe them a needle, and if
it would be of the same type and potency as the one Muhammad
Eid would administer. Dr. Subhi gave very short answers, leav­
ing the patient confused until being turned over to the assistant.
After asking, or rather ordering, the patient to hurry up and get
ready, because " the needle is waiting, " Muhammad Eid took
the prescription and read it appraisingly, nodding to show that
he recognized the condition and considered this the appropriate
treatment. In that tiny cubicle, which had once been, perhaps,
a hideout or lavatory for a single person and was now the smallest
room in the world, barely big enough for one man to stand up
in, the p atient prepared himself behind a drawn curtain as Mu­
hammad Eid asked, "Are you ready?" On hearing the reply he
c e s 0 f s a

deftly lifted the curtain to reveal the lower half of the patient's
body. He finished his task quickly, always repeating, "This is
what you needed, " or "The good needle! " It was worth the cost
of the whole visit, which was all-inclusive and not broken down
by services, so that no one was told, "The cost of the needle is
this much and administering so much more . " No patient was
allowed to request that anyone other than Muhammad Eid ad­
minister the needle, though this never happened. When the doc­
tor raised his examination fees, the cost of "the good needle"
went up as well. Dr. Subhi had embarked on his medical career
charging less than other doctors, especially the well-known ones
who were established in Tripoli and Aleppo before him, who
often scoffed at his competence and integrity when his name
came up. They cited the supplementary fees he got from here
and there, referring to "the good needle, " as it was widely known,
and his practice of selling the medicines he had obtained as
samples.
So the reasons for the doctor's loneliness and isolation were
real enough, and when Muhammad Eid finally arrived early in
the fourth month, the doctor's appearance and behavior changed
drastically-he was a new man. The silence he so often used as
a barrier, and his brusque conversation, gave way to a new
smoothness . . . Muhammed Eid's. The assistant obeyed the
doctor in everything and asked no questions. The food Dr. Subhi
complained of so bitterly, fearing even to touch it sometimes,
"because no one here knows how to cook, or wants to help
me, " was no more, now that meals were prepared by his as­
sistant. The doctor's worries faded away and his strength re­
turned; much could be said about his cleanliness, new clothes
and the way he watched and bargained with the market crafts­
men. A number of things came together within the first few
days of Muhammad Eid's arrival, and the clinic, which was now
 .. 53 1

finished and organized, looked just like the clinic Dr. Subhi had
had in Tripoli twenty years earlier. He was a little unhappy with
his residence, which was in the shop next door to the clinic, after
hearing of some of the remarks people made about it, but he
had a side door built and painted light blue, over which he placed
a sign made by one of the schoolteachers who had been sent out
to Harran. It read, in magnificent calligraphy, DR. SUBHI AL-MAH­
MILJI-RESIDENCE. Another sign painstakingly designed in Ujra
for the front entrance of the clinic, in the main street, read, DR.
SUBHI AL-MAHMILJI, PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON. SPECIALIST IN IN­
TERNAL AND VENEREAL DISEASES, UNIVERSITIES OF BERLIN AND
VIENNA.
The "venereal diseases" specialty, which was one of his many
special fields, and which he always referred to only fleetingly,
was important and impressive. He knew its importance, since
it provided him with intimate though complex ties with many
people.
He had not been in Harran long before establishing a close
relationship with the emir-so close that many people were
convinced that they had met before. They were led to think so
by the way Dr. Subhi had gone to see the emir on his first night,
and by their long private meetings. In the beginning, and in all
cases when others were present, the emir was very fond of dis­
cussing diseases and their causes, symptoms and remedies. He
paid rapt attention to Dr. Subhi's explanations, although most
of the others present rarely understood anything. They got so
confused that they could not understand how even the doctor
could retain all this information. The doctor was always listening
and nodding. The emir usually expressed his desire to use the
stethoscope on one of his men so he could hear his heartbeats.
The instrument never failed to amaze him, and he would have
given anything to own one. Whenever the two met, the con-
c e s
0 f s a

versation inevitably turned to that sensitive but exciting topic

"the sexual question. " The doctor gave out information only
sparingly, but his responses to their questions aroused even more
powerful curiosity, leaving each of his listeners deep in thought
and determined to make an appointment with him.
With the passage of time and the consolidation of the friend­
ship between the doctor and the emir, the questions became more
direct and far less naive.
Dab basi, who had eagerly rented the three shops to the doctor,
consented quickly to his proposals for remodeling them to suit
his needs for a clinic, ward and doctor's residence. He was proud
that Mahmilji had chosen these shops, since he coveted his friend­
ship, and he agreed to make any subsequent modifications. This
led to indirect and inconclusive discussions about the possibility
of adding a second story and even a third, to provide for an even
larger hospital and more fitting residence for the doctor and his
family.
Dabbasi gave more time than was his custom to the super­
vision of the remodeling. He spent a great deal of time with the
doctor, and although he had decided, after much thought, to
work the conversation around to the subject of the medicines
and restoratives that he now felt in need of for the first time, he
could never summon the courage. He felt embarrassed and un­
comfortable. When he got close to the topic he always found
obstacles to bringing it up and had to leave it until another time.
As the doctor's friendship with the emir and Dabbasi grew
stronger, so did his relations with the "Shahbunder of Mer­
chants" Mohieddin al-Naqib, Hassan Rezaie and others. Even
Ibn Naffeh, who had been very wary and watchful at first,
listening to what Mufaddi al-Jeddan and others had to say, often
saw the doctor in the mosque and was impressed by his piety.
He also knew that he had been the headman of the hajj caravan,
 0 0 533

and so came to tolerate and even approve of him. After Mu­

hammad Eid came to Harran and told his repertoire of hajj
stories, of how the doctor had saved dozens of pilgrims from
certain death and spent long days and nights caring for the sick,
and had answered many of Ibn Naffeh's questions, the old man
made up his mind. He told many people that Ibn Jeddan was
wrong and did not know what was best for the Muslims because
he was slandering an upright man. He went further than that,
saying that if Harran could cope with its large population of
merchants, which grew every day, then it would surely not be
harmed by having two doctors-the sick, after all, could seek
treatment from whomever the y chose, from Ibn Jeddan or the
new doctor; there was no difference. Ibn Naffeh quoted several
instances from the life of the Prophet which extolled cleanliness
and the care of the sick.
Mufaddi al-Jeddan would have been the last person to suspect
that Ibn Naffeh would give his support to the new doctor. When
he found out, he rolled up his right sleeve and shook his fist in
the faces of a group of men. " Ibn Naffeh must be dreaming!
Docs he think that man can save a life that God has decided to
end?" He shook his fist and laughed. "Tell him to put that idea
out of his head. He must be blind. "
Ibn Naffeh flew into a rage when he was told what Mufaddi
al-Jeddan said; he frothed at the mouth. "Tell him, 'Ibn Naffeh
docs it every day and every night, and if he doubts it, let him
bring me his mother, and he can wait by the door to look and
listen for himself. ' "
The feud between the two men deepened and grew more
complex, but the doctor did not intervene directly. He heard all
of what was said-his guard, Hadib, told him everything that
went on, and Muhammad Eid supplied many of the details.
"If Ibn Naffeh wanted, " Dr. Subhi told the emir confidently
c e s 0 J s a

one evening, "I could turn him into a youth of twenty so that
he could make up for everything he missed. "
The doctor's fleeting remark, which he intended as a joke,
rang for a long time in the ears of his listeners, and those who
had never thought to broach this subject with him, because they
felt no need to, felt that they might someday require these new
and amazing powers. Those whose potency had already dimin­
ished, who urgently needed some kind of help, felt as though
they had finally found what they had prayed for; they hung on
the doctor's every word, and their eyes never left him. Without
having wished it, unknowingly, Dr. Subhi al-Mahmilji became
the ideal and the hope of many.
Dr. Subhi knew that Harran needed a doctor, but he had not
given sufficient attention to the medicine or pharmacy problem.
He had kept most of the medicines from the haij caravan and
asked his assistant to bring certain other drugs with him when
he came, but Eid had found only enough to last a month, and
the supply would surely be depleted the following month, so
the doctor began to think, among other things, of making friends
with the Pakistani doctor who worked for the company. He
spoke to Muhammad Eid one night as they prepared prescrip­
tions. "To get the medicines we need, we have to establish direct
contact with the source, and right now the source is the com­
pany, at least until our friend Sidqi al-Mufti or someone like
him comes along. "
Dr. Subhi used all of his brilliance and cunning to cultivate
Dr. Muhammad Jinnah and exchange visits with him. At first
they were only courtesy calls, which were a little awkward be­
cause Dr. Jinnah could speak only English and a few words of
Arabic, and Dr. Subhi's English was "a reading knowledge, not
give-and-take English, " as he said, so at their first meeting they
had to use other methods-writing, gestures, the dicti onary and
a few common Arabic words-to communicate. It was easier
 .. 535

on subsequent occasions because the Pakistani doctor learned

more Arabic words and Dr. Subhi more English, though his
pronunciation was so strange that Dr. Jinnah could hardly un­
derstand him. As time went by his heavy accent became the
object of good-natured amusement, and the two men's relations
developed almost into friendship as they came to understand one
another in their special way.
 71

H
ARRAN APPEARED-TO ITSELF, IF NOT TO OUT­
siders-to be a dangerous city during the in­
auguration of the oil pipeline. For a week or
ten days before the ceremony there was a constant stream of
arriving policemen, government employees, guards and ser­
vants, in addition to huge quantities of foodstuffs and sheep.
The emir received an uninterrupted series of sometimes contra­
dictory instructions.
The people did not know quite what to think. They felt a little
uneasy. There was unusual bustle at the emirate building and in
the daily messages between the emirate and the American com­
pound, and the emir summoned many of the town notables for
long colloquies whose topics were the subject of much gossip
in Harran. Three senior Americans paid an unexpected visit to
the emirate, and the next day the emir went to the American
 . . 537

compound for a tour of the shoreline area and the three tents
the Americans had set up within their compound, in a spacious
garden near the swimming pool. It was said that these were for
guests, because the sultan's deputy-the crown prince-would
stay at the emir's residence or in the emirate building.
The unceasing movement, memorable for its chaos, confu­
sion, the emir's sporadic fits of anger, and those of the deputy
emir and even their subordinates, went on for days, as did the
questions of the people who never paused in the activity for a
single moment, which almost no one seemed able to answer,
whether they dealt with the number of guests due in Harran or
how long they would stay, or the last-minute instructions to
shopkeepers, especially in the three main streets which the
procession would pass down. These shopkeepers were instructed
to decorate their premises with colored flags, banners and other
ornaments to demonstrate their joy, but they did not know
exactly how to go about the decorating since they had never
done anything like it before. They watched Muhammad Eid
putting up wooden planks in front of Dr. Subhi al-Mahmilji's
clinic with the help of the carpenter who had remodeled it; within
a few hours there was a great arch that almost completely covered
the clinic, and several carpets that the doctor had recently pur­
chased from a merchant ship were draped over it. All of his
carpets, with the exception of three which he'd laid out in his
clinic and bedroom, were spread over the arch and surmounted
with colore� paper that he usually kept in his large medicine
cabinet. The noted calligrapher from Ujra, Raouf al-Saqqa, who
had recently relocated in Harran, decorated one long banner with
slogans the doctor himself had spent most of the night thinking
up and writing down, refining and polishing until he found the
right ones. Dr. Subhi could not have been more delighted with
the final result, and it was strung across the street, right in front
of the m arketplace, under his direct supervision. Several times
c e s 0 f s a

he asked that the ropes be pulled tighter so that the banner would
hang higher, and when it was done he went to the end of the
street to look, then walked back with his eyes never leaving the
arch and the banner. He was delighted.
"Great men and great achievements deserve this and more! "
he shouted.
The doctor's initiative showed the way to many others, and
even the emir himself wasted no time in going to Harran to visit
the doctor in his clinic the very afternoon the arch was erected.
Although he explained that his visit was spontaneous, Muham­
mad Eid remarked confidently that "the emir's visit to the doctor
pertains to much bigger and more momentous questions. " He
paused and looked at the faces of those who had asked him about
it. "You know how close they are-they're not just friends,
they're brothers. "
No one in Harran really understood what the visit was about,
but they all talked about it.
Everyone in the city was agitated and impatient, but the emir­
ate was in even greater turmoil; no one had ever imagined that
such important people would visit Harran, let alone in such
numbers, and now that they were coming everyone wondered
how they would be impressed by what they saw and heard.
Although the townspeople were awed almost to the point of
terror, their feelings of pride, which bordered on haughtiness,
prevailed and grew stronger, and many of those who had not
been instructed to do any decoration went ahead and displayed
what ornamentation they could fin d, even if it was only some
flags or colored rags.
The only person who refused, to the point of utter scorn, was
Ibn Naffeh. When he walked into Rashedi Street and saw Dr.
Subhi's triumphal arch, he was so deeply shocked tha t he began
to screech. "Oh . . . you son of a bitch! You Alb anian! We
thought you were an honest man, and you turned ou t to be one
 .. 539

of them!" He paused and went o n i n a tone o f withering sarcasm.

"Like they say! The greyhound is brother to the cur!"
Ibn Naffeh would not stop shouting and cursing in spite of
Muhammad Eid's efforts to calm him down and explain things.
The group of men standing underneath the arch in front of the
clinic, looking alternately at Ibn Naffeh and the decorations,
which they thought magnificent, did not take his shouting se­
riously at all; they said that he did not mean a word of it-such
behavior on the old man's part had been taken for granted since
the coming of the Americans, and he could not abandon it now.
One of the men spoke up with the intention of creating new
discord. "My friends, the whole problem is that the doctor won't
give Ibn Naffeh the needle he craves!"
The men winked and roared with laughter, and the laughter
had scarcely died away when Muhammad Eid addressed them
jokingly. "If that's the only problem, listen, maybe I can talk
the Haji into it!"
"And who are you to say that-you Albanian?" asked Ibn
Naffeh angrily. He was enraged. Muhammad Eid, surprised,
only shrugged and said nothing.
"Listen . . . listen, " said one man from a distance, to escape
Ibn Naffeh's wrath and possibly a blow.
When everyone looked toward the voice, the man turned as
if to leave.
"When you get old, your gets shorter and your tongue
gets longer. That's what old age is all about!"
Ibn Naffeh could not believe that anyone would talk to him
that way, or say what the man had said. For a few moments he
was stunned, and when all the men laughed and their eyes scalded
him to see his reaction, he turned his back on them and strode
toward the nearby shank of the arch, pulled his clothes aside and
shook his member at them, then squatted down to piss. Silence
fell as the men's faces showed their surprise and shock. He stood
c e s 0 f s a

up again and laughed in anger and mockery. "You Albanian,

tell your master that Ibn Naffeh is as strong as an ox and wants
nothing from him, and I've paid a fitting tribute to his mon­
strosity here!"
Ibn Naffeh walked away with his head held high, paying no
attention to the stares and whispers that followed him. When
he was gone, the doctor's voice was heard from his office, shout­
ing for Muhammad Eid to come at once.
Ibn Naffeh was the only person in Harran to show any sign
of dissatisfaction, but his actions, though they made the men
laugh and frightened Muhammad Eid, were soon forgotten in
the preparations and general commotion. Even Johar, who had
been promoted to chief of the guard units, responsible for the
security of the guests, shook his baton and laughed when he
passed by the arch and laughing men and was told what Ibn
Naffeh had said.
"Let the old man rave, " he said. "He's crazy-his balls are
bothering him . "
The preparations continued and were speeded up i n the final
three days. On the fourth day the sultan's deputy, Crown Prince
Khazael, arrived.
The motorcade was preceded by a dark green pickup truck
carrying eight guards armed with long rifles, swords, bullet­
packed bandoliers across their chests and curved daggers of var­
ious shapes and sizes. Johar sat in the front seat of the vehicle,
beside the driver, with his baton-wielding hand outside the win­
dow. There had been eight cars following the pickup when it
left Ujra, but only six entered Harran because two of them broke
down on the road; had Crown Prince Khazael not been paying
attention, the riders of those two cars would have been left
stranded on the road between Ujra and Harran. As it was, they
piled into the other cars, so that all except Prince Khazael's car
were bursting with soldiers of indistinguishable rank. The prince's
 . . 54 1

car was a blood-red Cadillac; the others were gray or beige except
for one black car. They were all Fords and Chevrolets.
Prince Khazael's car rode in the middle. Its size and shape,
even its color and its fluttering fla g, made it look like a slaugh­
tered sacrifice in the middle of a moderate feast, or a white sheep
surrounded by a herd of goats.
Beside Prince Khazael, like a wary cat, sat Emir Khaled al­
Mishari. People who saw the motorcade enter Harran, and who
ran beside the red car, said that Emir Khaled was silent and
dripping with sweat and did not wave to the boys who rapped
on the car windows. In the other cars, the prince's retinue, in­
cluding the guards and drivers, were all smiles and showed a
great deal of good-natured tolerance as the motorcade wound
through the streets of Harran. The procession stopped twice
because the men and boys blocked the street while others held
sticks aloft and danced, and it paused a third time when Dr.
Subhi's arch caught Prince Khazael's eye and he asked the driver
to slow down while his secretary read him the message written
on the banner. When the motorcade pulled up to the emirate
building, the deputy emir, Dr. Subhi al-Mahmilji and other
Harran notables were waiting.
The emirate was in a state of chaos. The movement of the
men inside, especially the guards and attendants, was too much
and disrupted many of the carefully planned arrangements, so
that many of those waiting were unable to get near Prince Kha­
zael or greet him. This was the case with Daham, Ibn Jeddan
and two schoolteachers, but Mohieddin al-Naqib was shoved
forward as he was being presented to the emir, and had he not
regained his footing at the last minute he would have fallen on
his face. Prince Khazael greeted him warmly and smiled as Emir
Khaled whispered in his car who Naqib was.
Dr. Subhi stood out prominently in the crowd because of his
elegant though not extravagant clothing, his eager look, his white
c e s 0 J s a

complexion and the smile that never left his lips. He rarely looked
directly into anyone's eyes, so that he would not feel embar­
rassed; as soon as his eyes met anyone else's, especially those of
Prince Khazael's attendants, he looked away as if in apology or
in greeting from afar. Even so, he did not miss a single one of
the men. When he went to bed that night and recalled the day's
events, he was able to summon up almost every face and detail
he had seen. He remembered everything that had been said,
reviewed it all carefully and thought it over at his leisure.
Dr. Subhi had a special presentation to the emir. True, he was
presented after Hassan Rezaie, Dabbasi and Naqib, but this did
not diminish his importance, for the emir had mentioned early
on, even before presenting him to Prince Khazael, that it was
he who had erected the arch that had caught the prince's atten­
tion, at least so the doctor deduced from the prince's effusive
handshake. He did not actually hear what the two officials had
said to each other.
The doctor's high standing, not to say his total supremacy in
the community, became clear after the cups of coffee were drunk.
The school principal longed to deliver Harran's official speech
of welcome to Prince Khazael, and had done his utmost to induce
the deputy emir to choose him, but after long discussions in the
emirate, and on the instructions of Emir Khaled himself, it was
decided that the principal would read an introduction and answer
questions that carne up during the visit, but the speech would
be delivered by Dr. Subhi. No explanation was made and no
reason given. The principal, who submitted disgustedly to the
decision, talked longer than a master of ceremonies ever should,
which made the doctor visibly restless, not least because the
schoolmaster was saying many of the things that he himself
wished to say in his welcoming address to Prince Khazael. He
did not stay angry for long, though, for before he knew it his
 .. 5 43

own voice rang out in the large tent erected inside the emirate
building.
Dr. Sub hi was different from other men. He was, among other
things, the greatest physician in the Near East and the Middle
East, as Muhammad Eid loved to point out. Eid loved these
cryptic geographic designations, though he often wondered to
himself, and intended to ask the doctor or others, exactly what
regions they referred to and which countries they encompassed.
He never actually discovered the answers, but he insisted on
using these expressions, especially when he was boasting.
No one disputed that description of the doctor, but no one
knew or even suspected that he was also an eloquent speaker
who had memorized numberless poems and proverbs, stories
and anecdotes, which he always recounted in a strong, clear
voice. Even the principal, who had introduced Dr. Subhi al­
Mahmilji very briefly, as if to belittle his importance, shook his
head in astonishment, and many people saw that, when the
doctor rose up before the gathering as if he were the only person
there. Even Prince Khazael, who was not used to such speeches,
preferring stories and poems to what he called, among his close
friends, "dervishes' sermons"-even he was bewitched and paid
close attention to what the doctor said, especially since his pro­
nunciation was never more beautiful than when proclaiming the
titles "deputy to the sultan, and crown prince. "
The speech was not long enough to be boring or so short as
to seem an onerous duty. The doctor had chosen a specific length
and included three verses of poetry and one proverb.
"Harran will remember, " he said in closing, "for scores of
years, for hundreds of years, this singular day of her history,
the day she was visited by the son of the greatest sultan of all
time, our beloved Prince Khazael, the day his hands graciously
opened the pipeline of blessings and prosperity for this people,
c e s 0 f s a

that love might flow for all people, near and far, and that all of
us might enjoy a more comfortable life.
"On behalf of Harran, in the name of its men and women,
old and young, in the name of the city and the desert, in the
name of Emir Khaled, who has toiled day and night; on behalf
of all those present, and in my own name, we offer you, Your
Royal Highness, the most solemn assurances of our appreciation,
love and loyalty. 'And say, Strive, for God and His messenger
will guide your acts . ' May the peace and blessings of Almighty
God be upon you all. "
Afterward, that same afternoon, a feast given in the American
compound to celebrate the completion of the pipeline, and fol­
lowed there by a dinner party in honor of the prince, which was
limited to a number of guests, including Dr. Subhi, boasted the
same pomp, splendor and grace. Unnoticed by all but a few, a
strong and trusting friendship and even affection was built up
between Prince Khazael and Dr. Subhi al-Mahmilji by way of
small details of conversation, stories, proverbs and poetic verses
at lunch in the emirate, in the tent at the compound, and that
night at the emir's residence. When the next day came and Prince
Khazael was preparing to leave, Dr. Subhi approached the prince's
closest adviser, Zaid al-Heraidi, in a state of visible agitation and
whispered in his ear. Zaid laughed and spoke loudly enough for
the prince to hear. " It's his affair . . . he will accept the gift. "
When the prince turned to them questioningly, Dr. Subhi took
a small carpet from the hands of Muhammad Eid, who stood
behind him, and presented it humbly to the prince, who took
it and looked at Zaid al-Heraidi, then at the doctor.
"A humble gift, Your Royal Highness, " said the doctor. "Its
only value is in your accepting it, and I shall remember this
honor for the rest of my life. "
The prince laughed delightedly and unrolled the carpet. He
asked how old it was and where the doctor had bought it.
 0 0 545

" A gift from m y grandfather to m y father, " said the doctor

humbly, "and from my father to me, Your Royal Highness, and
from me to the greatest of men!"
That evening, when the doctor and his assistant were recalling
the events of these two days, so that they would forget nothing,
Muhammad Eid suddenly shifted around to face the comer where
the doctor had piled the carpets he'd recently purchased, asking
the question with his eyes before he finished his sentence: "I
think, doctor, that we had bought a carpet just like the one
that-"
The doctor answered quickly, averting his eyes to avoid his
assistant's gaze. "No, that was another one. There was a certain
resemblance, but they were as different as day from night! "
 7Z

f\ UFADDI AL-JEDDAN WAS NOT ONLY THE

"
PHY­
sician" for all Harran before the coming of
Dr. Subhi al-Mahmilji; he was also its "odd
job man, " as they called him. When no one needed his medicines
or remedies he fetched water to homes; when he got tired of
doing that he did small chores, helping the fishermen or making
short boat trips, earning his bread by helping the seamen with
the rowing. On shore he helped the construction workers and
stonecutters, kept an eye on roaming camels or went to the desert
to gather herbs. When he got tired of all these jobs, as he often
did, he hunted rabbits and mountain goats and came back with
an impressive number of them, which he generously gave away,
often keeping none for himself.
His appearance had changed very little, and impercep tibly, in
the many years since he first came to Harran. His face was like
 .. 547

that o f a child, with its bold eyes, loud, innocent laugh and large,
gleaming white teeth, and his slim, lanky body seemed carved
from smooth stone or wood. He was as solid and permanent as
Harran's well or hills. Even the women of Harran, who had
known him for as long as he'd been there, said when they saw
him now that "it was like his mother weaned him yesterday­
the years don't touch him. "
Despite the long years he had lived in Harran, becoming one
of its sons, or even more than that, he had never married, did
not own a house and had only enough possessions to fill a me­
dium-sized saddlebag. Most of these were his medical items­
irons, instruments for bloodletting, and the herbs and remedies
which he kept in small, tightly sealed bags. He knew each by
its feel, without having to open it, and when similarities in the
size or shape of a bag mixed him up, one sniff was enough to
tell him what it was.
A long time afterward, after Harran underwent the changes
and the floods of people moved in, men would sometimes pull
money out of their pockets and tell Mufaddi, "If you can tell
me how much this is worth, it's yours . " Mufaddi would turn
the coin or bill over and examine the lines and marks upon it,
then return it, saying, "Do you want the truth? By God, I don't
know!" The men would laugh a little and then try again with
another piece of money, with the same results.
Mufaddi had never worked for money and did not hide his
contempt for it, nor did he trade his services for favors. He got
extremely angry when anyone offered to pay him, no matter
how much or how little.
"I swear to you, people of Harran, the day will come when
they try to sell water!" he muttered, shaking his head in distress
and looking at the ground. "Fear God. Keep the faith, my friends!"
Because he was like that, the people viewed him more tol­
erantly than they did others and treated him kindly. He freely
c e s 0 f s a

entered any house in Harran as if it were his own, and he never

hesitated to ask for food or drink. When his clothes or sandals
wore out, he thought nothing of demanding new ones. While
it was true that he did not do this often, since he always mended
his clothes and replaced his sandal straps several times over,
sooner or later they would be beyond repair and he would ap­
proach some of the more prosperous folk to ask some for sandals
and others for clothing. Others frequently spared him the trou­
ble-Khazna often did this for him. She too was a village doctor,
treating mainly women and children. In spite ofher poor, blurry
eyesight, she was always the first to know that Mufaddi's robe
was torn or his sandals worn out, and she went about ingeniously
getting him new ones in such a way that no one knew about it.
Once, one of Harran's rich told Mufaddi that he needed to meet
with him about an important matter that very day and then gave
him new clothes and sandals. That was how it went, despite
Mufaddi's protests.
This was Mufaddi, who had lived so many long years in
Harran that people had forgotten that he had moved here, just
as so many others had. They had even forgotten why he had
come. As to why he had never married or acquired a house, no
one knew but himself, although Khazna once said, in a moment
of absentmindedness or confusion, that there was a woman wait­
ing for Mufaddi, and that was why he had left his hometown
and family, though he would surely return someday.
Khazna said this to Ibn Naffeh's wife and Abdullah al-Saad's
mother, and when the two women asked for more details she
tried to avoid answering, then changed the subject; she subse­
quently denied that she had said anything of the kind, but had
instead only been guessing or speculating on her own. When
Ibn Naffeh asked Mufaddi if there had been a woman involved
in his coming to Harran, he paled and appeared deeply disturbed,
 0 0 549

and denied that any person, man or woman, had caused him to
move; then, as was his habit, he changed the subject.
Could that have been the real reason behind the two men's
silent feud? Were they really enemies or only estranged friends,
or were their stars wrong, as Mufaddi said? Ibn Naffeh said that
Mufaddi did not know the Lord because he did not fast and
avoided prayers whenever possible. When the fasting month of
Ramadan came around, he went to sea or into the desert, and
when asked why he was not fasting he said it was because he
was traveling. When it was prayer time, he pretended to be busy
to escape that duty, or if he had no excuse he prayed only very
briefly and was the first to leave the mosque, hurriedly, lest
someone stop him.
Harran changed every day, but Mufaddi never changed. The
bedouin who came from the desert by way o f Ujra always went
straight to him if they were ailing. They went to him or sent
for him whenever they were sick or in pain. They knew the
symptoms from the first, and if they did not know the cure or
did not have the necessary remedies, they rushed to Mufaddi
before the aches and pains overtook or incapacitated them. Town
dwellers came from the same direction but from more distant
places, though they did not expect his kind of treatments and
hesitated to consult him or put themselves under his care. Some
of them made fun of him, but as their pains worsened by the
day and then the hour they had no choice but to go to him and
do as he told them. These were the two groups of people that
were bound to Mufaddi and he to them. While the bedouin did
not complain or hesitate to go to him, some of the town dwellers
still had their reservations about his prescriptions and were quick
to forget all the times he had cured them. They heaped abuse
and slander upon him and said he was senile and a quack, but
they considered themselves even more foolish than he for be-
c e s 0 J s a

lieving him and actually taking the bitter potions he prepared.

Those who came from the sea did not know Mufaddi at first
and so were indifferent to him; they had brought their own
doctors and medicines. Some of the poor who had never seen
doctors kept their own remedies in small colored-glass bottles
or wrapped in rags. The few times they saw Mufaddi in the
market, outside the mosque or in Abdu Muhammad's bakery,
as he applied hot irons to the ailing, they turned away and felt
afraid of him, and they avoided him. Some claimed to have
terrible black nightmares after seeing him at work in the mar­
ketplace-nightmares in which they were his victims.
Khazna al-Hassan, Mufaddi's partner in this demanding
profession, was a proficient healer, though years after Mufaddi's
arrival in Harran it was said that he was more capable than she.
She looked after the women and children, healing them as best
she could, and serving as a midwife, especially after life changed
in Harran. She also kept vigil with sick and dying men and
women to pray with them, help them to drink water and recite
what short Koranic verses she knew. She had a very low, sub­
dued voice, and Ibn Naffeh often said that this was because she
knew nothing of the Koran but the Sura of Praise-she recited
in a low and indistinct voice so that no one would hear her
mistakes. All the same, everyone forgave her mistakes and was
quick to forget them; the mere mention of God's name over the
heads of the dying soothed them and helped them enter the
hereafter more comfortably, their souls at peace, and perhaps
without sin as well.
Khazna often borrowed medicines from Mufaddi, consulted
him in certain cases and referred her patients to him when there
was nothing she could do to cure them. She often claimed that
only her "famous brother"-Mufaddi-could deal with such a
case, and he always accepted the challenge. When the patients
who came to her were female, whether townswomen or bedouin
 . . 55 1

women, she could not refer them, and so Mufaddi worked in­
directly, giving her advice and instructions so that she could treat
them. She did all this because of a vow she had made after her
son left; he had gone to sea for a few days which stretched into
months and then years, and there was no word of him. Khazna
al-Hassan vowed that she would treat the sick and do all that
was in her power to do for them until her son came back, and
this she still did, awaiting his return.

It was easy, or at least possible, for Harran to provide a living

for both doctors, Mufaddi al-Jeddan and Subhi al-Mahmilji, be­
cause the population grew every day, and most of Mufaddi's
customers would not have dreamed of visiting the new doctor
or having anything to do with him. Others, those who wel­
comed Subhi al-Mahmilji as if they had been waiting for him,
had grown tired of Mufaddi months before the new doctor even
came. Most of those who earlier had never hesitated to give him
new clothes or sandals had stopped doing so, because Mufaddi,
who knew nothing about money and refused to deal with it,
who scorned it, drew no distinction between his own money
and that of others. Now that Harran was flush with money for
the first time, now that it flowed into everyone's hands, Mufaddi
underwent a strange change, and his change grew more notice­
able as wc:alth proliferated. Mufaddi, who had been a nearly
silent man for long years, was silent no longer. Khazna al-Hassan
felt the change more strongly than anyone else, and she was the
first to notice that Mufaddi al-:Jeddan was on a dangerous course,
and she was positive that this course could have only one out­
come: his downfall. The people he was cursing and threatening
were more powerful than he was! She could not begin to un­
derstand Mufaddi's new madness. She guessed somewhat ob­
scurely that he was at the end of his tether, that whatever inner
c e s
0 f s a

force he had been stifling was stronger than she had ever imag­
ined, that this was at the bottom of the change that now possessed
him.
One day she saw him with his head bandaged from a wound.
"That son of a bitch Daham would strike his own father, "
she told him. "He killed Ibn Rashed and then said 'He died God's
own death , ' but there you go making trouble for Daham and
anyone else you don't like. Let them be, old man . "
He wagged his head. She did not know whether h e was agree­
ing with her or getting ready for the next round.
"You need some time to recuperate. Turn your thoughts to
God, you lucky man. "
Mufaddi laughed mockingly but said nothing.
This happened after Daham sent one of his men to beat up
Mufaddi and bloody him because he had dared to say that Daham
was robbing people, Arabs and Americans, the living and the
dead. Mufaddi was beaten again after that incident, this time in
the market, though no one knew whether Saleh al-Dabbasi or
Mohieddin al-Naqib was behind it; he had cursed and slandered
both of them. There was a third time, as well. One day the
saddlebag in which Mufaddi kept everything he owned was
stolen, and two days later he found it thrown on the ground
near the mosque, with all the medicines and remedies it contained
spoiled and mixed with dirt.
That was not all. Some men had recently arrived from Ujra
to work for Daham, and though they did not know Mufaddi
yet, they said that he had been responsible for the death ofTurki
al-Muflih.
When Mufaddi heard what people were saying, his eyes opened
wide in fright, shock and amazement at the baseness of the rich,
who would spread such a false, trumped-up story. Instead of
laying low or staying on his guard, he raged like a bull.
"People of Harran!" he shouted in the street. "Let those pres-
 .. 553

ent convey this to those who are absent: Ibn Jed dan is the same
man he was, he has not deceived or betrayed anybody. He owns
nothing in this world and fears no one but Almighty God. People
of Harran, money has corrupted many before you. It has cor­
rupted nations and kingdoms. Money enslaves, it subjugates,
but it never brings happiness. You can see that with your own
eyes! Look at Daham and Ibn Dueij and Ibn Farhan, look at al­
Naqib and Ibn Seif and al-Salaami, any one of them would kill
his father and mother and brothers, and nothing they have will
last. You will see that tomorrow. By God, by God, I'll keep at
them until I curse their parents. God is my witness. "
The people who heard Mufaddi al-Jeddan did not understand
the mania that had taken hold of him and could think of no
explanation for his behavior.
This was Mufaddi before the coming of Dr. Subhi al-Mah­
milji: embittered, angry and confused. He could not understand
how houses were built, land bought and pockets filled so quickly.
He felt, for no very clear reason, that most of those making
money were doing nothing but stealing, stealing both when they
bought and when they sold, and when he saw the doctor, sur­
rounded by those rich thieves, and heard that this man would
stay in Harran always, to demand payment for illness and death,
he could not believe it. When Dr. Subhi opened his clinic to
receive the sick, sending them away with those small colored
boxes, charging undreamed-of sums, he knew that a new kind
of stealing had been added to all the other kinds. He set up his
post near the doctor's clinic, to help prevent this stealing, to do
something. The doctor, who wanted to make a strong begin­
ning, wanted to clear all obstacles from his path, to eliminate
all those who presented a threat. When Mufaddi al-Jeddan ap­
peared, the doctor did not hesitate to call him a quack and,
secretly, to stir people up against him. He slyly derided those
who killed people on the pretext of curing them, though he
c e s 0 f s a

never mentioned M ufaddi by name. He talked a great deal about

microbes and inflammation and other things that his listeners
could not begin to understand, but as long as he was talking
about Mufaddi they agreed with him and added defamations of
their own.
Dr. Subhi never took part in the war himself. He only egged
on the others, and even that was subtle because one of his basic
principles was that "war should be between equals-a war be­
tween equal rivals is the only kind that does honor to the an­
tagonists, even the loser. In an unequal war, even the winner
loses. " He said this to himself and smiled when he saw Mufaddi's
face. "If you have a servant, you shouldn't dirty your hands. "
He saw in his mind's eye the images of those madmen who
wanted to get rid of Mufaddi that very day and smiled, and
continued his provocation.
The days passed, however, and Dr. Subhi forgot, or made
himself forget Mufaddi al-Jeddan, so when he saw him at the
reception for Prince Khazael he completely ignored him, al­
though they stood face to face. At first they were beside one
another, but then Abdullah al-Seif spoke up. "If you get any
closer, Doctor, Mufaddi will bleed you or get his irons out!"
The doctor then glanced at Mufaddi and moved away. After
that, when Mufaddi tried unsuccessfully, because of the crowds,
to greet the prince, the doctor felt even more important. He felt
prouder yet when, two or three months after the dedication of
the pipeline, he received a gift from the prince: a green auto­
mobile. This was as good as killing Mufaddi al-Jeddan.
For Dr. Subhi, who was on his guard against Mufaddi, even
though he did not say so, and continued to provoke him, forgot
the old man as he became absorbed in more important matters.
A strange building began to rise on the large site that al-Salaami
owned on the north side of the road to the American com pound.
At first people said it belonged to the company, but when they
 .. 555

saw Dr. Subhi there several times, giving orders, they knew
that it was his. They were sure it was his when a signpost
appeared on the compound-emirate road, reading SHIFA HOSPITAL
with an arrow pointing north; there could be no more doubt
that the building belonged to Dr. Subhi al-Mahmilji. At about
this time the doctor left town two or three times, to go no one
knew where, but he returned with a whole group of people after
one trip, and everyone assumed they were his family, because
of the resemblance. Within a few more weeks, the Shifa Phar­
macy opened its doors, and not far from it Dr. Wasfi Agha
opened a dentistry clinic. The principal of the school said that
Wasfi was only a dentist's assistant from Aleppo, because he had
known him there; it was out of the question, he said, that this
man would have got a medical degree in his fifties! But in spite
of all that the principal said, "Doctor" Wasfi began seeing pa­
tients in the early winter, and one of his first patients was Emir
Khaled, for whom he made a set of gold teeth that caught every­
one's eye.
At about this time several of Harran's rich citizens married.
They all married in the same time period, or at least during the
same winter, as if they had planned to do so among themselves,
since it was the custom in Harran to plan these things well in
advance, and there was always a great deal of talk and rumor
about them. This time it was different; as soon as winter came
these notable citizens began to have their weddings. Most of
them were friends of Dr. Subhi, and one of them was Emir
Khaled himself. What was noticeable was that the weddings took
place with very little public show or celebration-that had never
happened before-though everyone talked about it privately,
and concluded that Dr. Subhi had something to do with it.
Also that winter Johar began to wear a military uniform. It
looked bizarre, and at first everyone thought it was some sort
ofjoke. A diminutive man had shown up two or three months
c e s 0 f s a

after Prince Khazael's visit, in a green automobile accompanied

by two soldiers in a pickup truck, and asked with timid courtesy
how to find the emirate building; those who saw him expected
something unusual, but they found out the next day that the
small car was the crown prince's gift to Dr. Subhi. The pickup
contained a load of military uniforms, cords, braid, colored rib­
bons, medals and a large assortment of other things. The three
men's mission was to set up a military unit; the short man's job
was to administrate and supervise as the other two men delivered
the "requisites" to the emirate in accordance with their official
instructions, then carried them back out to distribute them to
the Emirate Detachment, as they called the emir's men. After
three days of hard and continuous labor, which went on until
long after dark, the Emirate Detachment was formed.
The men drilled presentably enough, but the sight of them in
their full dress uniforms reduced everyone to incredulous laugh­
ter. Their movements were hampered by the heavy boots and
the multicolored cloth, braid and medals, so that they looked
like small children who did not know what they were doing­
never more so than when, on the third day, the "assignment
ceremony, " as they called it, took place with the emir in at­
tendance.
The ceremony was talked about for a long time afterward.
The soldiers had drilled since morning and wore their colored
and beribboned full dress uniforms. Johar led the detachment in
· gaudy embroidered uniform with several colored sashes across
his chest and rammed in his armpit a baton-whether it had
been entrusted to him from the "requisites" or whether he had
found it somewhere, no one knew. When the climax of the
ceremony came, in total silence, with every eye on the emir as
he stood at the gate of the emirate waiting for the detachment
to present itself, Johar dropped his baton and lost his composure.
He did not know whether to pick it up or to leave it and continue
 .. 557

marching toward the emir. He doubled over suddenly to pick

it up, but as he did so he tripped over his clothes and fell. It was
a tense moment that excited both sympathy and some laughter,
and when he stood up again his clothes were dusty and showed
sweaty patches. He turned around to face the detachment, still
deeply embarrassed, and shouted almost angrily. "Company,
march! "
The soldiers tried to shuffle into neat ranks to proceed to the
emir in orderly fashion, and, somewhat pacified, Johar shouted
like a muezzin. "Company, halt! At ease. Present arms! Forward
march! "
The men did as they were told and then moved forward once
more until they were just two or three steps away from the emir.
Johar shouted more loudly than ever. "Salute!"
They raised their hands in salute to the emir, who promptly
smiled delightedly, showing his gleaming gold teeth. Contrary
to his instructions, Johar stepped forward and shook hands with
the emir. When the emir embraced him and Johar buried his face
in the emir's chest, the baton could be seen behind the emir's
back as ifJohar were stabbing him. WhenJohar straightened up,
a number of those standing near the two men heard the emir
say, "Your staff, Johar, is like Moses's staff! " They all smiled,
including Johar, and as he retreated, still facing the emir, he
replaced the baton under his arm, clasping it tightly there until
he was four or five paces away.
"Company, right face! "
They turned a s one man and everyone, even the emir, burst
into applause. That was the first day of the Desert Army.
A year or more later, Mufaddi ai-Jeddan said to himself in the
dark cubicle under the stairs, " Glory to God, it is a strange world,
stranger than any man knows. Everything in it changes, and
nothing changes more than man himself. " He shook his head as
he remembered, and put his hand to his chest to feel the wound.
c e s 0 f s a

When the pain throbbed more than usual, he said, "Nothing

changes a man more than money and a uniform . . . " He almost
said something more, but shame prevented him.
Mufaddi was remembering Johar and the day he arrived with
Emir Khaled, the day he fell ill and Mufaddi healed him with
irons, and another time when he cured him by bleeding him.
He remembered the time when he treated the wound in his leg
and the Albanian came hurrying in, shouting and cursing, and
drove out all those present. When Dr. Subhi saw the wound,
he shouted, "Where's the quack that touched this? I'll break his
hand-he should spend the rest of his life in prison. He's killed
the man! Even if he lives, his whole leg may have to be am­
putated . " He remembered this, and then thought back on the
first time he saw Johar wearing his military uniform and carrying
his baton. In the beginning, Johar had always sat in the coffee­
house and talked to people and socialized in the shops. He used
to smile at the boys who gawked at his uniform, and he didn't
object when some of the men reached out to touch the heavy
medals and colored ribbons. He threw out his chest proudly so
that everyone might see the medals and the braid, and passed
around his baton so that they might heft it in their hands and
see whether it was wooden or metal. That was Johar in the
beginning, but he changed. "The goddamned uniform changed
him , " said Mufaddi al-Jeddan to himself. As time pass�d Johar
began to frown and spoke only rarely, and when he went in the
coffeehouse, which he did only occasionally, he entered arro­
gantly, looking at its patrons with an almost hateful disdain. He
sat only with a selected few, mainly the rich and prominent of
the town. "The uniform has ruined him, ruined him completely;
it's like a saddle on his soul. " When he walked through the
market he did not look anyone in the face and returned greetings
curtly. He shouted and often struck people. What made things
much worse was the conversion of one wing of the emirate
 0 0 559

building into an office for Johar and headquarters o f the Desert

Army: even the youngest soldiers, who had only put on their
uniforms yesterday, began to behave like Johar. The soldiers
swaggered through the market carrying sticks, hitting people
for the most trifling reasons. Johar himself was now rarely seen.
He spent most of his time at Headquarters, as the Desert Army's
wing was called; when the Desert Army's own building was
completed, beside the emirate, it was called the Command Cen­
ter. The Command Center was composed of two stories and a
storeroom underneath reached by a dark staircase. Mufaddi al­
Jeddan had been there twice before, and this was the third time.
Mufaddi al-Jeddan was Harran's first prisoner. True, the emir's
deputy had tried to imprison Hajem and his uncle some years
before, but at the time there had been no place they could really
call a prison. Now, in the storeroom that held piles of supplies,
automobile tires, barrels and firewood, they sectioned off a room,
all the way at the end, on the right, which was the prison.
Johar was embarrassed the first time they brought Mufaddi
in. He sat behind his desk, bareheaded, and only looked at Mu­
faddi once or twice. He gazed at the floor and told Mufaddi he
had orders to detain him, and that he had no choice but to carry
out the orders. Mufaddi stared at Johar, trying to meet his eyes,
and smiled when he heard these words. Johar stood and ad­
dressed him as two soldiers stepped forward to lead him to the
cell. "God willing, this matter will be cleared up within a few
days . "
Mufaddi smiled but said nothing. The matter thatJohar hoped
would be cleared up within a few days took forty days. The
charge was suspicion of theft; the accused, Mufaddi al-Jeddan.
After Hassan Rezaie's store was robbed, two of Hassan's em­
ployees alleged that they had seen Mufaddi al-Jeddan lurking
around the premises for two days running; that had been one
day before the robbery.
c e 5 0 J s a

The second time, Mufaddi was locked up after a quarrel with

Saleh al-Dabbasi; they arrested him but not Saleh. They said
that Mufaddi was the aggressor, in spite of the wounds and bites
on his body, and the cut under his eye that was swollen for
weeks. Saleh finally agreed to have Mufaddi released into Ibn
Naffeh's care three weeks later. When he was released, Johar
scolded him angrily. "You're nothing but a troublemaker, Ibn
Jeddan. You have a new problem every day. We've decided to
let you go this time, in Abu Othman's custody, but next time
we'll see that you rot down there . "
Mufaddi could hardly believe that these words were being
addressed to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Johar cut
him off, shaking his finger at him. "That's it. Shut up-one
more word and you're going back downstairs. " He turned to
Ibn Naffeh, who was following everything, and told him, "If
we didn't trust and respect you, Abu Othman, we would not
let this old fool free. "
Now, Mufaddi had been imprisoned for the third time, in the
last cell on the right, on the charge of being a "vagabond. " This
was how Dr. Subhi al-Mahmilji had described him in his con­
versation with the emir when the emir presided over the dedi­
cation of a new wing of the Shifa Hospital. It was a casual
conversation; the doctor had been reminiscing with the emir
about his first days in Harran. "There was no doctor here then
except for that quack-! forget his name. He was killing people
with his so-called medicines, and ranted and raved when we
began to practice modern medicine, but now Harran is free of
those vagabonds, and this hospital is the proof. " He stressed the
word vagabonds. Three days later, someone reported that Mu­
faddi was sitting in Abu As'ad al-Helwani's coffeehouse and
saying that the Albanian, meaning the doctor, had made all his
money by illicit means, and that the price of such illicit living
was eternal damnation. When word of these statements reached
 .. 561

the emirate, Johar was ordered t o arrest this "vagabond" who

did nothing but curse and defame people. Although Johar did
not understand what a vagabond was-the word brought no
picture to his mind-he carried out the order in under an hour,
and in worthy style. He ordered the soldiers who went to arrest
Mufaddi al-Jeddan to " teach him a lesson" before bringing him
to the Command Center. The soldiers carried out their instruc­
tions perfectly, because Mufaddi was brought in more dead than
alive. Even a youth in the prime oflife could not have withstood
the beating, kicking and insults he endured. He was silent the
whole time, for he understood even better than those who beat
him what orders had been given. One month later, when he was
brought up to see Johar with one arm tied behind his back, he
was forced to listen to language he never imagined Johar knew
or would address to him. A fter this he was again locked in his
cell, without being allowed to speak a word; when he tried to
speak, he was struck so hard across the shoulders and back with
a bamboo cane that he cried aloud. When he was being led back
down the stairs he was pushed, and he fell down and shrieked
like a wounded animal, " Ruin comes to all oppressors-take
heed, you bastards, ruin will come after you, by God, God damn
your fathers and Johar's father and the one who dressed him in
the saddle. " He continued to scream and curse for a long time
after they shut the door on him.
Six months and some days in prison, then he was free. Once
again Ibn Naffeh assumed responsibility for him. This time he
did not meet Johar; he was met by one of his aides, a young
town Arab with a clean-shaven, almost girlish face.
"You have one week in which to report to work in the stone
quarry, or leave Harran for good, " Mufaddi was told.
The aide uttered this one simple sentence and stopped. He
looked at Mufaddi contemptuously, as if goading him to leave
the roo m immediately. Mufaddi, whose eyes hurt so badly that
c e s 0 f s a

he could hardly see, did not know what to say. He was utterly
confused and weary to the point of collapse. Ibn Naffeh, who
stood beside him, looked now at the young officer whom he
did not know and had never seen, now at Mufaddi, who looked
old-ancient. The long months in the tenebrous cell had de­
stroyed him. He did not know what to do.
After a silence that seemed long to all three of them, the young
man spoke again. " What do you say-the quarry, or will you
leave Harran?"
Mufaddi did not speak, but Ibn Naffeh spoke to end this
gloomy game. "Never mind. I'm responsible for him. Trust in
God, my boy, and let us hope for the best. "
Mufaddi shuffied out. Ibn Naffeh grasped his arm to keep him
from falling.
 7J

f\
UFADDI AL-JEDDAN DID NOT REPORT TO THE
quarry, nor did he ever leave Harran-he
never intended to, and everyone knew it.
Even Johar, who had told his assistant to give him that choice,
the quarry or exile, was certain that Mufaddi would not obey
the order. Nevertheless, Abu Othman was summoned to the
Command Center on the third day, and the same young officer
asked him whether Mufaddi would obey the order or not.
"My friends, you are believers, " Ibn Naffeh replied somewhat
angrily. "You said one week, and the third day isn't up yet. "
"You are responsible for him, " said the slender, dean-shaven
young man, smiling menacingly. "If the week runs out and the
order has not been carried out, you '11 both b e our guests here. "
"Don't act so important, my boy-we a re all guests in this
world. "
c e s 0 J s a

"Orders are orders. "

"Trust in God, boy-orders are God's alone. "
"Fine. Let the week go by, then we'll see. "
During that week many things happened that could never have
happened in any other week. After one day in bed, Mufaddi rose
a new man. He bathed and put on the new clothes that Abu
Othman had given him and sat in the small courtyard to receive
visitors. Those who had not heard of his release and were unable
to visit him the first day did so in the days that followed. It
seemed to them in the first three days that Mufaddi was ex­
hausted and emaciated, but the sunlight that troubled his eyes
soon spread new strength through his body and eyes. His voice
grew firmer, and a new smile, one that threw out a challenge,
never left his lips.
After the first three days there were visits of another kind. Ibn
Ajil, for example, had sold all his land west of the emirate to
pay the doctor's bills he had incurred at Dr. Subhi's clinic and
hospital, although his condition only worsened, so his children
carried him to Ibn Naffeh's house and set him in front ofMufaddi
al-Jeddan. Mufaddi administered his irons and gave Ibn Ajil
remedies, and within a few hours he was able to move and almost
stood up. Two days later he was able to walk again, holding the
wall for support.
Dabbasi had a pain in his right leg, from the hip to his foot,
and all the medicines that Dr. Subhi gave him did no good at
all; he was so frightened that he had begun to stutter, and his
right arm was in pain, so he went to Ibn Naffeh's house. He
went on the pretext of visiting Abu Othman and pretended to
be surprised when he saw Mufaddi, but within a few hours he
was lying in an inner room where Mufaddi bled and massaged
him. He kneaded the flesh between his hip and testicles, and in
spite of his discomfort and moans, Dab basi swore, when he left
 0 0 5 65

Ibn Naffeh's house leaning on his cane that evening, that the
pain he had come in with had disappeared. Within a few days
he was walking like a young man again, though he kept his staff.
Hamdan al-Rai visited Mufaddi every day. He seemed de­
lighted though he could not speak, perhaps from joy, or perhaps
he had got out of the habit of speaking, but something seemed
to be preventing him from being completely happy. Mufaddi
found out that the problem was his dog, which had fallen very
ill, and told him to bring the dog. Abu Othman had a horror
of dogs, never letting them come near his house or touch any­
thing of his, but he gave his permission for the dog to be brought
in for treatment. Mufaddi treated the dog, then opened his j aws
and spat into his throat. The dog sneezed, struggled up and
tottered a few steps, then trotted away, cured.
The three workers whom Dr. Subhi al-Mahmilji had refused
to admit to his hospital-at that time the company did not 'pay
for the workers' medical care at the hospital, since it was still in
its training and trial stage-could not afford to pay his fees
themselves and so had no one but Mufaddi al-Jeddan to turn to.
He treated one of them with irons and gave the other two some
of Khazna al-Hassan's medicines. Two of them seemed better,
but it was too early to tell whether the condition of the third
would improve or remain unchanged.
Everything that happened in Ibn Naffeh's courtyard, no matter
how trivial, became public knowledge in no time. Everyone in
Harran talked of nothing but what Mufaddi al- Jeddan had done
that day. Even the patients in the Shifa Hospital, some of whom
had lain there for weeks, with no inch of their backsides safe
from Muhammad Eid's needles, would have given anything to
escape and turn themselves over to Mufaddi al-Jeddan in spite
of the pain they knew well enough to expect from his irons and
special massages. An hour of pain was better than the pain they
c e s
0 f s a

endured here for weeks on end, lying on their backs day and
night, moving only when Muhammad Eid came to turn them
over.
Mufaddi went about his practice happily and grew prouder
with every patient he treated, and with every curse he heaped
on Johar and whoever had given him his uniform. Everyone
talked about these curses, and they grew more elaborate with
every retelling, though no one told Johar or the emir anything
very damning. Those whom Johar and the emir questioned said
as little as possible and tried not to laugh, but when they were
alone or among themselves they smiled or roared with laughter.
Khazna al-Hassan had not left Ibn Naffeh's house since the
moment of Mufaddi's arrival. She seemed more senile than ever
before and older, twenty years older, and cried so much over
her missing son that her eyesight suffered, but she changed for
the better when Mufaddi moved in; she seemed stronger, and
some people even said that they had seen her laugh. �he did
everything she could to assist Mufaddi and gave him all of her
herbs and remedies. She took charge of some of the patients and
spoke roughly to them when they showed fear or doubt. Ibn
Naffeh's daughter Amna, who was only ten years old, was her
assistant. The girl ran to fetch hot water, cloth and firewood
and watched Mufaddi with fascination as he applied his irons to
the sick. Her mother, Sabha al-Abdullah, kept her distance and
moved like an old cat, unaware of all that went on around her.
She had only one concern: how many mouths she had to feed,
how many loaves to bake that day. When the little girl asked
her for something Mufaddi or Khazna needed, she looked ex­
asperated and pointed to the small room where the supplies were
kept.
The northern and western hills kept a close watch on every­
thing that went on in Ibn Naffeh's courtyard. Johar h eard the
 .. 5 67

stories going around and shook his head. He was waiting for
the end of the warning period he had decreed, "And, by God,
if this week passes and Ibn Jeddan is still here, I'll really give
them something to talk about! " He smiled and said to himself,
"By God, I'll chop his nose off. I'll cut out his tongue. This
stick will go up his behind and out his mouth, and God help
him after that. " The more Johar heard about what Ibn Jeddan
was doing, the angrier he got.
Even Dr. Subhi had completely forgotten Mufaddi al-Jeddan,
remembering him only in the way one remembers an old tale,
but when he heard that he had been released from prison, and
that he was treating the sick, Dabbasi among them, he said
somewhat despairingly to Dr. Wasfi, who was visiting him in
the hospital, ''I'm in trouble, and so are you. "
Dr. Wasfi looked at him with questioning eyes, for he did not
know what Subhi was talking about, and Dr. Subhi went on as
if talking to himself. "These people are bedouin, Wasfi-jack­
asses. If you tell them you have a bull, they'll want to milk it. "
He went on in his former tone. "Even the rich are jackasses, and
Dabbasi is the biggest jackass of all. You know Dab basi. He has
given us nothing but problems, but we've treated him here.
Every day he was examined and given a shot, and you know
the rest. It was all useless. After all our trouble he took himself
and went to see a quack, a bedouin worth a franc who used irons
on him, and God only knows what else. "
Dr. Wasfi laughed and shook his head in disbelief. "The gov­
ernment-how does the government let this kind of nonsense
continue?"
"We've told them a hundred times, we've gone all through
it, but they're all j ackasses, fro m the top to the bottom. "
Nothing was known of what Dr. Subhi discussed with the
emir after this, but when Ibn Naffeh was summoned by the
c e 5 0 f s a

young officer a second time, on the fifth day, it was clearly only
to make threats and to demonstrate that there would be no
postponement.
"There is no good left in this world, " Ibn Naffeh told Mufaddi
and Khazna when he returned from the emirate. When they
looked at him he bowed his head and said nothing for a long
time, then went on. "They think they own our lives. The next
thing you know they'll tell a man to divorce his wife. "
He spat.
"Tell us more, " said Khazna quickly. "Abu Othman, tell us
what happened. "
"The whole story is this. They want Mufaddi to leave, forever,
either to go work in the quarries or just to get out of Harran. "
"By God, they don't like it, " said Mufaddi, laughing. "What
you throw to the sky falls to the ground. They're trash. After
prison what's left but death? We've seen their hostelry, Johar
and his uncle Khaled al-Mishari, and now we'll see what kind
of hostelry our Lord will provide me with. "
"Listen, cousin, " said Ibn Naffeh testily. "This house is your
house, and you know me. I am not afraid of them, and they
won't dare touch me, but I'm afraid for your sake. "
"God help us, " said Khazna. "Those strangers rule us and
make their plans, they say what will be and what not. By God,
the depths of the earth are better than its face. "
"Trust in God, woman, the world is still young, " said Mu­
faddi. He seemed as happy as a child. His whole face laughed
and he felt like dancing or going straight to the emirate to curse
and scream, to spit in the faces of Johar and ten more of them.
"They said one week, " said Ibn Naffeh sadly. "That leaves
only tomorrow and the next day. "
"Too long for them, Abu Othman. "
"And too short for us, cousin. "
"Don't worry about it, man. "
 . . 5 69

"Whatever you decide, I'm with you. "

"What do you say I leave your house, Abu Othman?"
"Leave my house? Leave your house? God forbid!"
"Go see the emir, " said Khazna angrily. "Go talk to the men.
There's still time to settle this. "
Just then Amna ran into the room behind the little fawn given
them a month before. She was very attached to the fawn; she
fed him and played with him and was constantly trying to carry
him, but as soon as she picked him up he felt cramped and began
to kick and wail, and usually broke free.
"Leave him alone now, like a good girl, " said her father as
he watched her chasing the animal. "Stop it now, my dear. It's
not enough he's a prisoner, you have to strangle him too?"
The little girl looked at her father and then at the fawn. She
wanted to catch him, to cuddle him, but did not dare. She stood
waiting, and when he trotted out into the courtyard she ran after
him.
The three were silent, as if they had nothing to say, or as if
their minds had wandered far afield among their endless thoughts
and memories. Ibn Naffeh and Khazna were sad and pensive,
but Mufaddi looked like a child, smiling happily, his eyes shining
with menace and pugnacity. After some time they drifted back
from their thoughts and memories, or at least Mufaddi did.
"Don't worry, friends, " he said mockingly. "They're like
everybody else, tomorrow they'll be history. "
"Today is what matters, dear man, " said Khazna in the same
tone. She turned away and said, more to herself than to either
man, "Live, old cart horse, until the spring. "
Their conversation might have continued or moved on to
another subject, or another dejected silence might have fallen,
had Naama Dakhlallah not come in. She was sobbing and weep­
ing and leading a small boy by the hand. She said, between sobs,
that she had brought the boy to everyone in the region of Ujra
c e s
0 f s a

and Harran, to the Syrian doctor and his friend the Albanian,
who gave him shots and some green and red medicines, but to
no avail. She spoke at first without noticing Khazna, but when
she saw her she smiled and greeted her by laying a hand on her
shoulder.
"Khazna knows the whole story. God bless her, she did all
she could. "
Khazna explained to Mufaddi that the boy had been afflicted
by an evil eye and had not been able to speak since then.
The boy stared at them and seemed about to burst into tears
or run away. Mufaddi nodded several times to show that he
understood the condition.
"If not today, tomorrow, " he said softly.
Nothing happened that day, but the next morning, when a
sick worker came and Mufaddi decided to treat him with irons,
he asked that the child be present as well. Contrary to his usual
custom, he lit a big fire and put all his iron instruments in it.
When they were red hot he tested them on hardwood and then
in water, all the time watching the boy's reactions out of the
corner of his eye. When he was ready to treat the worker he
asked him to cry out in pain, and the worker was so confused
and frightened that he almost ran out, but he briefly explained
why, and the worker obeyed. As soon as the hot iron touched
the man's leg, at the ankle, the man cried out. It was a genuine
cry of pain and ended in a wail. When Mufaddi was finished
with the man he turned to the boy, replaced his irons in the
heart of the blazing fire with the tongs and other tools, and
shouted, his eyes glittering. "Grab him! Bring him here. "
He caught the terrified child, who writhed like a fish in his
hands. The boy kicked and pushed, but when he saw that Mu­
faddi's hold was too tight and felt the heat of the flames on his
face, he began to bellow. With that, Mufaddi pushed him onto
the bed and moved away.
 .. 571

"There you go. I hope he doesn't have a relapse. "

That was on the sixth morning; Ibn Naffeh was at his wit's
end. He did not know what to do or how to face Johar if the
time ran out and Mufaddi was still in Harran or had not gone
to the quarry. This was the cruelest experience he had ever
known in his life. He had never imagined that the day would
come when people would be forced to abide by rules they did
not understand or approve of. What did Johar and these others
want? What did it matter to them that Mufaddi was here or
anywhere else? Did the emir know what was happening to the
people, and if he knew, why was he silent? Ibn Naffeh strode
out of the house and said, to keep from choking, "If you never
get depressed you never cheer up. "
No one knew what Mufaddi did between morning and after­
noon that day, where he went or who might have seen him. He
left the house shortly after Ibn Naffeh went out and told Amna
only that he would be back before nightfall. The little girl said
nothing but watched him walk down the hill toward the market
and disappear.
Why did Mufaddi go down to the market? Was he intending
to go to the coffeehouse or the emirate, or was he leaving Harran?
Had he stopped in the market and spoken to anyone?
Mufaddi's every step and every movement, and every minute
he spent out of the sight of the little girl after walking down the
western hill, were shrouded in mystery. In spite of the mystery,
every person in Harran claimed to have seen Mufaddi, albeit
from afar, heard his voice or felt him near. That was for certain.
The workers in the stone quarry, questioned that night, said that
they had seen him; he had been walking ever so slowly up the
hill toward them. They had stopped working to wave their arms
and shovels, and two or three of them had called out to him.
Three fishermen returning from their long night at sea said
that they had seen him in a white rowboat. He was far away,
c e s 0 f s a

and alone in his boat. When he glided by them he raised the oar,
smiled and greeted them, then kept rowing. He turned when
they called out to him but kept moving. The workers in the
camp, or at least those who were near the beach, and others at
Station 4, saw Mufaddi with their own eyes. He passed by them
and paused, chatted awhile and then smiled and left quickly. He
woke some of them suddenly from a deep sleep, but they were
not angry at his visit; they were glad to see him and greeted him
and shook his hand, but when he asked them to go back to sleep,
saying that they would meet again after they woke up, they told
him that they could not go back to sleep.
In the market, the main street and the small, narrow avenues,
many Harranis said that they had seen Mufaddi pass by and stop
in a number of shops. He had smiled and talked, and joked with
some of the boys. Everyone sitting in the coffeehouse that morn­
ing said with absolute certainty that they had seen Mufaddi when
he walked past. He stopped for a few minutes to taik to Abu
As'ad. They said that Daham came by in those few minutes,
and that Mufaddi joked with him.
The women at home, even those in the distant houses in the
western hills, said that they had seen Mufaddi al-Jeddan hurrying
by, and though he did not stop to talk with any of them he did
smile and wa_ve.
The Command Center was, at this same time, in a state of
tireless and tormented alert. Johar could not stop shouting and
cursing all morning, and his assistant and the others were the
same way. Two soldiers told friends of theirs that they had seen
Mufaddi walking, that he had smiled at them when they met
near the water tanks, even though one of them had beaten him
up the last time he was in prison.
Ibn Naffeh could not bear to stay in the house, and so he went
out, but since he could not stroll in the market or sit in the
 0 0 573

coffeehouse, and it was still too early t o g o t o the mosque, he

decided to go back home, and in doing so passed by the water
tanks. Whether out of weariness or because he heard something,
he paused there, and when he looked over to the north side he
saw Mufaddi, lying on his face and moaning softly, his fingers
dug into the soil. There was a trickle of blood on the ground,
running from his hip. At first Ibn Naffeh could not believe his
eyes; he thought he was dreaming, or his eyes were deceiving
him. When he moved closer he recognized Mufaddi's back, hands
and clothing. He turned him over on his back. He was smiling.
Mufaddi tried to make himself light as he was being carried,
and he moved his feet. When he reached the house, carried by
Ibn Naffeh and three others, he looked around as if trying to
remember the place, then closed his eyes. Two of the men went
to fetch Dr. Subhi.
There was nothing Khazna could do. She wept copiously and
her hands trembled. The little girl cradled her fawn off by the
low room, crying without realizing it. Ibn Naffeh went up to
the roof three or four times to watch the road and see if the
doctor was on his way yet. He was nervous and lightheaded,
and repeated vile curses. Sabha al-Abdullah had been baking in
a corner when they brought Mufaddi, and she left it when she
saw them, so the dough burned in the oven.
The two men who had gone for the doctor returned and said,
"The doctor is in the middle of an operation. " One of them
added, "Muhammad Needle said to bring him to the hospital. "
When Abu Othman heard that, tears began to run down his
face, and Khazna said, "Let the man sleep. " One of the men
said, "We should get him to the hospital before it's too late. "
The little girl wiped her tears on the fawn's back. When Sabha
al-Abdullah could not stand it any longer and began to scream,
the fawn started with fright and escaped, going over to Mufaddi
c e s 0 f s a

to smell him. Ibn Naffeh leaned over Mufaddi, his tears falling
fast. "If we don't take him to the hospital now, he'll die, " said
one of the men. "Let him sleep, " said Khazna.
At noon, great numbers of people in the market and the work­
ers' camp, in addition to one of the fishermen, said they felt a
trembling come over them. Two of the workers in the quarry
said that they shivered so badly that they dropped their pickaxes,
and in his coffeehouse Abu As'ad al-Helwani dropped a tray
filled with tea glasses, and all the glasses broke; both events
happened at the stroke of noon. Naama Dakhlallah wept with
joy when her boy told her he was hungry and wanted something
to eat, but it was a sorrowful joy. Hamdan's dog, which had
been sleeping, woke suddenly at noon and began to howl. "Shut
up-shut up!" said Hamdan, and when the dog kept howling
he threw a rock at him and hit his left foreleg.
The men decided to carry Mufaddi to the hospital, and Ibn
Naffeh stepped out of the way, but when they touched him and
found him cold to the touch, they hesitated. Khazna screamed
through her tears for the men to leave him alone, the sleep would
do him good. When Salman al-Zamel and two others arrived,
having heard the shouting in the market, and saw Mufaddi,
Salman leaned over and put his ear to Mufaddi's chest, then
grasped his hand. He let the cold hand fall, and shuddered, and
did not say a word.
Ibn Naffeh came forward to have a closer look at Mufaddi,
and when he saw his staring eyes he gently closed them. He did
not move until Salman al-Zamel helped him up and said, indis­
tinctly because his voice was choked with tears, "God bless you
and reward you, Abu Othman. "
Mufaddi al-J eddan was buried that afternoon, and all Harran
turned out to bid him farewell. Even the emirate was represented
by one of the emir's men. The funeral procession started out
from Ibn Naffeh's house and wound its way to the graveyard
 .. 575

by way o f the mosque. Several o f the mourners reported that

as the procession crossed Rashedi Street near Dr. Subhi al-Mah­
milji's clinic, there was a momentary disturbance, as if the corpse
had stirred, and some of the men carrying the bier said that they
felt a sudden strong tremor, so strong that the bier nearly fell
from their hands. They also said that Ibn Naffeh separated him­
self from the others at the clinic and went to piss in front of it.
Others denied that Ibn Naffeh had pissed at all, saying that he
had vomited.
Harran slept that night with the feeling that a harsh black
future awaited them.
That same day, Amna's fawn died, and the little girl was
inconsolable, crying so much that her mother began to worry
about her and slapped her to make her stop.
Khazna cried more than ever, and people heard her say that
now she awaited the return of two men: A wad and Mufaddi.
Within a few months she went completely blind, but a strong
milk-white light had been kindled within her, so she said with
no sign of regret, and she continued to run her house as she had
done for twenty years.
Life went on for Ibn Naffeh, but he maintained a grave silence.
The people of Harran were to remember Mufaddi al-Jeddan,
and this particular day, for many, many years to come.
 f\ UFADDI DIED AT NOON ON THURSDAY AND
was buried that afternoon. As darkness fell
in Harran, a strong, overwhelming grief
stormed the quiet houses, leaving no home or heart unpene­
trated. It spread as the darkness spread, like no sorrow they had
ever known, moving as quickly and disruptively as water rush­
ing downhill. People suddenly realized that they were more grief
stricken than they had imagined, and they enumerated the many,
many reasons why. When they met in Ibn Naffeh's house and
said their evening prayers together, then went to dinner, they
found that they had no appetite for food or drink. Their hands
moved slowly toward the food; they tasted tears with the rice
and the water seemed bitter, and when they had finished eating
they stayed in their places and said nothing. None of them no­
ticed Khazna al-Hassan enter.
 .. 577

"Mufaddi's blood i s o n you-on every one o f you , " she said

hoars ely.
They looked at her, then at the mounds of uneaten food. The
men dared not look at each other or speak. At last Dab basi spoke.
"We will strive for our reward-rest in peace, Mufaddi. "
The men stirred, and stood up in unison. The dishes were
cleared, and as the coffee was passed around they immersed
themselves in conversation, discussing, in groups of two or three,
how Mufaddi had been killed, where he had been found and
who the killer might be. Their words were brief, whispered and
anxious, and although they did not name the killer, the specter
ofJohar filled the room; while he had not killed Mufaddi himself,
he was the likeliest murderer. They remembered how Johar had
been only two or three years ago, and how he had changed, and
they remembered Mufaddi.
Later that night most of the men left, including those from
the emirate and two from the Desert Army, leaving only Salman
al-Zamel, Fawaz al-Hathal, Abdu Muhammad, Ibn Naffeh and
two ofhis relatives. Abdu Muhammad sighed deeply. "If I don't
avenge you, Mufaddi, my name isn't Abdu. "
"There was more than one killer, " said Salman slowly.
Ibn Naffeh was listening, his eyes half closed. He turned to
look at Ibn Zamel questioningly.
"Yes, there are more than one. Mufaddi died twice. "
Everyone twisted around to look at Salman.
"There was one killer, " said Ibn Naffeh. "It's as plain as day,
and everyone knows who it was. "
"I don't care who he is, he won't escape from Abdu, " said
Abdu angrily.
Salman went on as if he had not heard a word Ibn Naffeh
s aid. "The first time, Emir Golden Teeth's gang killed him, and
then the Albanian killed him. Johar and his gang are soaked in
his blood. They dragged him to the water tanks and thought
c e s 0 f s a

that was that, and the Albanian finished the job, that bastard of
an Albanian who has no business in Harran but stealin g people's
money and kissing the emir's ass. When the men went to see
him he said, 'I'm busy, I'm in the middle of an operation, ' as if
Mufaddi weren't a human being, as if he were a dog. "
"That's true, by God, " said one of lbn Naffeh's relatives. "If
the doctor had come to help him, he might be alive now. "
"Don't talk nonsense, " snapped Ibn Naffeh. "It was the Amer­
icans who killed Mufaddi-they're the whole reason, they're the
root of the problem. "
"By God, tht's the truth, uncle, Abu Othman , " said Abdu
Muhammad despairingly. He added sharply, between his teeth,
"By God, if I were alone, with no one helping me, that son of
a whore Johar wouldn't escape. "
"From the first day they came and set their stinking feet in
Harran, we've been no better than camel piss. Every day it's
gotten worse, " said Ibn Naffeh, pointing to the American com­
pound. "I told you, I told every one of you, the Americans are
the disease, they're the root of the problem, and what's happened
now is nothing compared to what they have in store for us.
Someday you'll say, 'God rest your soul, Abu Othman, every­
thing you said was true. ' "
This same conversation, or different versions of it, took place
throughout the workers' camp and in every house that night.
While the men raised their voices and swore, the women listened
silently and wept. The young men, afraid at first, forgot their
fear and talked a great deal about Mufaddi, how he used to run
races with the gazelles and beat them, how he remained in the
desert for days without food, afraid of nothing and no one ; how,
when he rolled up his sleeves to treat a patient with his irons,
he could hold down the biggest and strongest men by himself;
how he had restored life to many patients who had died, only
moments before they were nearly buried. They said that he
 0 0 579

himself might return; n o one could kill him. They recalled the
many mysterious occurrences in the coffeehouse and the quarry
at twelve noon exactly, the instant of Mufaddi's death, and told
of how at the same moment the children on the beach had seen
a gazelle leap into the sea. Children returning from school to
the western hill had seen men running toward Ibn Naffeh's house,
and when they stopped to watch, they heard a piercing scream
followed by flocks of white birds flying out of the windows and
door. They were the largest birds they had ever seen. The birds
sitting on the wall of the courtyard all fell off at the same moment
and were eaten by the circling dogs, who had been barking eerily.
Everyone in Harran had something to say about Mufaddi that
night; even Dr. Subhi, who heard of the death, gave Muhammad
Eid a story, since he was planning to go on a trip the next day.
"Say, 'The doctor was in the operating room; it was a major
operation, but even so he told the men to bring Mufaddi im­
mediately. He would have gone with the� , but the opera­
tion . . . the poor man on the table was dying. In the afternoon,
when the operation was finished, he changed his clothes and got
his bag ready to leave, but . . . ' "
Muhammad Eid smirked. "We have to decide who the poor
patient was, Doctor. "
"Anybody. " The doctor laughed. "Who's going to check?
Forge� it, and forget that dog. He isn't worth telling lies for. "
Harran's sleep that night was intermittent and fraught with
nightmares. Mothers were surprised that their children woke
constantly, while adults felt thirsty and asked for water, though
on other occasions they usually fetched it themselves. Babies
cried all night, as though afraid or in pain.
The next day, Friday, Abdu Muhammad baked more bread
than he ever had and distributed it all free, always refusing the
money offered him with the same short words: "Today's bread
is for the memory of the deceased. "
c e s 0 f s a

He could not bring himself to mention Mufaddi's name, and

no one .needed to ask him. They all understood, and this secret
understanding was a way of expressing their feelings.
Abu As'ad al-Helwani did the same as Abdu Muhammad,
though neither man knew what the other was doing.
Men who were not used to going to the coffeehouse found
time hanging heavy on their hands, with long hours remaining
until prayers, so they went, and some of them went back in the
afternoon, so the coffeehouse was full all day. When noon prayers
were called, however, they all got up and left. That had never
happened before, but their feet and actions were guided by mys­
terious feelings and desires they themselves did not understand.
Some of them, who usually hid or slipped away when it was
prayer time, were among the first to head for the mosque, and
some of them were zealous enough to ask the others whether it
was preferable to go immediately or wait a little, although they
were generally annoyed by the call to Friday prayers.
Although it had never been a habit in Harran to visit ceme­
teries, Khazna did so involuntarily. She found the burial site
without having to ask, perhaps from the freshness of the soil or
some other indication, and when she sat there she saw two other
women, Naama Dakhlallah and Sabha, Umm Othman, Ibn Naf­
feh's wife. They did not ask her why she had come, and she did
not ask them; there was no need for words. Khazna began to
recite in her own special way, saying things that could not pos­
sibly have been from the Koran, though the other women were
not certain of that. When Sabha told her husband that night that
Khazna had been reciting the Koran over Mufaddi's grave, she
paused and then asked him if there were any verses in the Koran
that cursed kings and princes, saying that they brought only
corruption. Abu Othman told her that there were indeed such
verses in the holy scripture, but Sabha was not convinced. Surely
the Koran could not contain curses such as those Khazna had
 .. 581

pronounced, which Sabha could scarcely bear t o remember. Abu

Othman was surprised that his wife would visit a graveyard,
but he did not get angry, though he was often angered by much
more trivial things.
Although the townspeople had all sat up late the night before,
tonight found them less able and less willing to stay up, so most
of them went to bed shortly after evening prayers. While some
of them found rest in their beds, however, most of them re­
gretted the long night's sleep, which brought nightmares that
weighed on their chests like boulders and lasted until morning.
Some men left their beds while the night was still black and
went to the mosque, but they found it still and silent. They sat
there to wait for the sheikh to wake up and call them to prayer,
but that would not happen for many hours. Abdu Muhammad
was surprised by the numbers of Harranis who came to him
before dawn, and much the same thing happened to Abu As'ad
al-Helwani.
Saturday was a strange day. At noon, or shortly before, the
emirate issued a statement: "In the investigation conducted by
the emirate with regard to the murder of the bedouin Mufaddi
al-Jeddan, profession retailer, it has come to light that the above
mentioned had several enemies outside Harran. The investiga­
tion has not proven the charge against any person or persons,
and His Highness the Emir has therefore ordered the case closed
and the killer deemed unknown. "
That same Saturday, the company informed twenty-three
workers that they were no longer needed and requested them
to report to the personnel office to collect their severance pay.
The announcement, which was posted in several locations, said
that in the event of vacancies occurring in the future, those
currently leaving employment would be given hiring priority.
Ibn Hathal read the notice aloud at the request of the workers.
He read it twice, in two different places. Before he had finished
c e 5 0 f s a

reading it a third time, one of the workers stepped forward and

tore it up. Some of the workers whose names were listed did
not believe it. They followed Ibn Hathal from one place to
another and insisted that he check again, and some of them were
not even satisfied with that, asking him to point out each name
with his finger, and to read more clearly. This was in the late
morning, contrary to usual practice, whereby notices were al­
ways posted in the early morning; some were even posted before
the morning shift came on. This time they were posted late in
the first break period, and even though the ten-thirty whistle
blew, marking the end of the break, not all the men reported
back to their jobs. Some officials from the personnel office in­
tervened to pressure and threaten the workers, saying that those
who did not report back to work immediately would suffer the
same fate as those who had been laid off, but no one paid them
any attention. Shortly thereafter five of the emir's men stepped
in and shouted at all of the workers indiscriminately, using any
means possible to convince them to return to work.
When word reached Johar, he was busy dictating a memo­
randum to one of his assistants, one that made it compulsory
for all those seeking work in the company to report first to the
Command Center for clearance. He was planning to post the
announcement in the mosque, the Desert Travel garage and Abu
As'ad al-Helwani's coffeehouse. When he heard the news he was
frightened, or rather shocked, but he did not let his emotions
show. He smiled broadly at his assistant.
"If you laugh with a bedouin, if you tell him 'Welcome, ' he
thinks you're afraid of him. Those bedouin sons of bitches are
like children; you just have to break their heads. "
He immediately orderd that an armored vehicle be brought,
with seven men to accompany him, and turned to his as sistant.
"It looks like our friends either don't know Johar or never saw
him in action. " He adjusted his uniform and struck the win-
 . . 583

dowsill with his baton. " We'll see i f they have any real men
among them. "
He peevishly asked if his troops were ready, though they
already stood waiting in front of the armored vehicle. He strode
past them and looked at them with a quick and appraising, almost
hostile glance, and when he was satisfied he spoke sharply. " I
want you t o teach them what red death is. Break their bones.
Curse their grandfathers and have no mercy. "
His words were arousing but mysterious to the men. They
did not know what their commander was talking about, but they
sensed that their mission was important and even momentous,
that he was depending on them and had placed all his trust in
them, so when they jumped into the two cars-six of them
in the armored car andJohar and his assistant in the other, though
he presently asked a third soldier, who was immensely tall and
black, to join him-they were like hungry wolves. They were
filled with hatred and the desire to fight and destroy. When the
vehicles began to move, the soldiers looked at those left behind
and shook their fists to show that they had already begun to
follow Johar's orders.
Johar gave his mission an innocent pretext: a routine inspection
tour. First, they headed for the market, driving up Harithy Street
to the Rashediya district and the workers' camp. They did not
stop there, but Johar ordered his driver to drive as slowly as
possible, and when he saw three groups of workers on their way
back from the American compound, he stared at them with a
mixture of scorn and hatred; he said nothing, though, and did
not stop them. When he reached the American compound he
saw a small crowd at the workers' entrance, and though the
vehicle passed near them, it did not stop there either. He headed
for the main gate of the compound and drove in. He had not
yet decided what to do. He wanted to choose the right moment,
and identify their weak point. He was not in a hurry or under
c e s 0 f s a

compulsion to act. He was sure that he would crush the heads

of those who were intent on making trouble in the compound,
and sure of his power. He knew the bedouin, he knew how to
come at them and from which direction. He said to himself, "A
loud voice is not always a sign of power, and the man leading
them is not always the strongest or bravest of them. The bed­
ouin, sons ofbitches, are impossible to understand. One of them
might be an inch tall, but if he's wronged, or thinks he is, he
turns into a snake, into the worst devil. The thing is to know
when to strike and who to strike!" This is what he was saying
to himself as he entered the main gate of the compound after
surveying the crowd of workers at the other gate.
"What do you say the men get off here and give them a hand,
Abu Sultan?" his assistant asked.
"Don't worry, " said Johar. He turned his profile and smiled.
"They'll get what's coming to them and more. They'll bleed . "
H e paused. ''I'll find the snake among them. When I strike a
blow, even Antar bin Shaddad rubs his head and says, 'Intercede,
0 Prophet, 0 messenger of God!' "
The Americans told them that the dismissal of the workers
was a strictly "routine" measure, and that they had often taken
such steps in the past-there was no special significance to it.
The workers' failure to report back to work was a result of their
inability to read or write-they did not understand who had
been laid off and who was still employed. The Americans said
that to avoid this problem in the future, such notices would be
posted earlier and read aloud before they were put on the bulletin
boards. The workers who had been laid off were to report to
the personnel office to settle their accounts and take what was
due them.
Johar was perplexed as he made his way out. Should he go
back to the Command Center without doing anything? Should
he tell the emir that he could not describe the Americans' decision
 .. 585

to lay off the workers, that it was like other decisions they had
made, and that the bedouin, who had previously not owned so
much as a crust of bread, and did not even know where they
came from, had become so used to playing with money after
working in the company that they would start trouble if they
were put at liberty again?
He passed near the workers' gate. The workers were still there.
He stopped the car a short distance away and motioned for the
workers to come to him. It was an easily understood gesture,
but the workers hesitated.
"Come here, boy ! " shouted Johar roughly. "And you, and
you!"
The workers looked around and then at each other, wondering
which of them he was addressing.
"You, come here-you, boy. "
Salman al-Zamel and two others approached. Two soldiers of
the emirate approached from the guard's post.
"Hah! Don't you have work to do?" asked Johar angrily.
"Why are you standing here?"
At this point a large group of workers drifted over and sur­
rounded the vehicle, and the soldiers j umped out and pushed
them away. Johar looked closely at their faces and saw a men­
acing anger. He changed his tone to sarcasm. "Don't be afraid,
my boy, speak. Say something. "
"They threw out the workers. "
"They threw out the workers?"
"They told them, you have no work here, go find work some­
where else. "
"You-they threw you out?"
"No, they didn't throw me out, but they threw my brothers
out. "
"So what's your problem?"
"My brothers, sir. "
c e s
0 f s a

"You just look after yourself and don't bother with others. "
"God is great! I shouldn't bother with my brothers?"
There was a babble of voices, and the soldiers pushed away
the workers who had gathered and surrounded the riders. Johar
laughed. "My friends, be reasonable, and stay out of affairs that
can mean only trouble for you. " He paused and then added, in
a fatherly tone, " Come on now. Back to work, all of you . "
There was a shout from one o f the workers in the rear o f the
crowd, invisible to Johar. " What about the ones thrown out of
work? The ones who don't have work?"
"There is no lack of work here. "
"They just threw us out without giving a reason, as if we had
no rights. "
"Don't raise your voice, you bedouin! Thank God that you
have enough to eat. " Johar had begun to tremble. He changed
his tone. "We told you to be reasonable, and we've heard enough
of this stupid talk. If you don't understand me, there are other
ways of making you understand. "
He paused again and sighed as he looked at the men encircling
the vehicle.
"From now until the afternoon, we have no quarrel with any
of you who understand, but those who want to oppose us or
be stubborn, God help them! "
Even before Johar's car and the armored vehicle were out of
sight the workers smashed the gate, tore up the notices and
destroyed the bulletin board. They brought some empty barrels
and blocked the main gate and the other gate, then filled the
barrels with sand. Juma tried to escape from them. He protested
and shouted and tried to use his whip, but they tied him to the
cement gatepost and left him there after taking away the whip.
The other guards had already begun to move away whenjohar's
car drove off, but when the workers smashed the gate they
withdrew hurriedly and ran away, though no one noticed .
 .. 587

At noon the workers headed from the compound to Harran.

No one knew who had proposed that course of action or why
they followed it. As they neared Harran they were joined by
others, all of those who had been living in the tents near the
beach, who had come long weeks and months ago, and many
more recent arrivals. A large number of the townspeople of
Harran joined them as well. Small delighted boys ran in all
directions, and some of them ran as far as Arab Harran, on the
western hills, to spread the news that all of the workers had
come to Harran. Soon all the townspeople and everyone who
had been in the markets came out. The coffeehouse emptied
when the marchers came by, and the air rang with the cheers
and applause of all of those who stood up and joined them.
Within minutes they were all inside the mosque.

Nairn Sh'eira, Nusayis, who was translating for Hamilton,

trembled slightly as he told the emir, "The important thing now
is that the strikers keep away from the oil installations. "
The emir nodded to show that he understood, and Nairn went
on in a different tone. " We've instructed our people to try to
convince the workers to head to Harran instead of going back
to their camp and attacking installations or starting fires . "
Hamilton paused a moment, looking worried, then went on.
"We're convinced that the matter goes beyond the firing of the
twenty-three workers. The company has laid off workers in the
past and there was no reaction at all. Not only that, the company
subsequently rehired them, or some of them. But this time our
preliminary assessments indicate the existence of other reasons,
of acts of incitement that did not obtain in previous instances.
We believe that these causes, these acts have nothing to do with
the company. "
The emir listened silently and nodded but had no clear un-
c e s 0 f s a

derstanding of what Hamilton was saying. True, the translator

was speaking to him in Arabic, and had interpreted for the men
many times in the past, and his words had been intelligible then,
but now the meaning was unclear. There was a pause.
"You say you told them to go to Harran?" asked the emir.
"When the commotion got out of control, and they smashed
the gates and windows, some of them wanted to get to the
company installations and start fires, so our men began to im­
plement a contingency plan, a plan formulated some time ago
in the event of any disturbances facing the company. Our men
suggested that the workers head for Harran rather than the camp. "
Echoing shouts could b e heard from the direction of Harran
as they spoke. The emir picked up his telescope and saw an
astonishing sight: the workers were in a state of total anarchy.
Sweat poured from their faces and their fists were high in the
air. Some workers rode on the shoulders of others, but they
were all waving their arms and shouting or perhaps cursing, he
guessed, but he could not be sure.
The emir would have watched the demonstration for a long
time had Hamilton's voice not intruded. "What is your opinion,
Your Highness? Do you think there could be reasons unknown
to the company?"
"Reasons? What reasons?"
"The company wants to know: does the palace of the emirate
have any idea, any assessment of what might be causing the
�isturbances? Do you think the strike came as the result of the
layoffs, or that there might perhaps be other reasons?"
The emir was confused, not knowing how to answer such a
complicated question. He shrugged to show that he did not know
and said, staring at a point in space behind the two men, "Who
knows? God knows. "
Hamilton looked straight into the emir's eyes. "Do you think
Miteb al-Hathal has had anything to do with the disturbances?
 . . 589

Do you think there's any connection between these incidents

and last year's troubles?"
"Miteb al-Hathal? My friends, Mitch no longer exists. "
"The man who was killed two days ago, do you think there
is any connection between him and these disturbances?"
"What has the company got to do with Mufaddi al-Jeddan?"
"The company has nothing whatever to do with the man, as
he had never been employed by us. "
"That bedouin was just a complainer. Every day he had a new
problem. No one knows who killed him ! "
"Might his killer have anything t o d o with the workers?"
"With the workers?"
"The company means, did his killer influence the workers or
incite them?"
"Nobody knows!"
They moved on to other matters. Hamilton asked the emir
to provide guard units for the installations, at least twenty men,
adding that the company would give them food and living quar­
ters. Their mission would be to protect the installations and bar
all approaches to them, in coordination with the American emer­
gency forces in the compound. Hamilton also asked the emir
not to resort to force to settle the strike. He emphasized that if
that day passed without clashes, things would gradually cool
off, and everything would return to normal. Lastly, Hamilton
proposed that an operations group be set up to monitor the crisis,
a group made up of five people: two Americans, two of the
emir's men and a representative of the merchants of Harran.
They would meet twice daily, and would if necessary remain in
constant open session, especially in the early stages of the crisis.
"Our men are at full readiness at all times, Your Highness, "
said Hamilton as he rose to leave. "Nairn will visit you two
hours from now to receive your instructions with regard to when
the operations group will meet, and any othe r matters. "
c e s 0 f s a

The emir liked the idea; in fact he took to it immediately and

told himself that the Americans thought of everything, that they
were ready for anything.
"I believe we have reached agreement on all points, Your
Highness, am I right?" asked Hamilton, who was now standing.
The emir's thoughts were unsettled and confused. "Trust in
God, " he said. "God willing, everything will turn out fine. "

The emir asked for Johar, but he could not be found, He was
told that the officer had gone down to the market with three of
his men before the workers had arrived at the mosque, and that
he was expected back at any moment. After conferring with his
deputy, the emir decided to postpone all decisions until Johar
returned, and he occupied himself with surveying the market
and the crowds of people, not forgetting to inspect the sea and
the Americans' compound.
Johar had gone down to the market early, but after hearing
that the strikers had set out for Harran, he felt uneasy about
confronting them there, so he went instead to Hassan Rezaie's
offices.
At first he was sure of himself and clearly angry, cursing and
complaining. He promised that the disturbances would not go
unpunished-there would be severe retaliation.
"When I find out who's behind all this, I'll leave his bones
spread over every hill in Harran , " he told Hassan. "And God
help him who gives me the bad news of who it is. "
Hassan tried to soothe Johar's anger by telling him that the
incident was only a freak occurrence, and that it would die down
as quickly as it had started, but his efforts did no good. Johar's
anger turned to fear when the crowds came nearer. Their voices
were becoming louder and clearer, and it occurred to Johar that
the mob might discover where he was, and might attack and
 0 0 59 1

kill him. He turned nervously and angrily to his men and asked
them repeatedly where his car was parked, and if anyone had
seen them park and go up to Rezaie's office. He looked down
from the window and saw the car parked directly in front of the
office. He would surely be discovered.
"Where should we put the car, men, so that those madmen
don't burn it?" he asked sarcastically.
One of Rezaie's men hurried out to move one of the company
cars out of the garage and put Johar's inside. Suddenly th.is seemed
to Johar to be a serious mistake. The approaching mob had surely
noticed this reckless movement and might misunderstand it.
"Did anyone see you put the car in?" he asked the driver when
he reentered.
The driver said nothing.
"Well, did you see anyone?"
"No . . . sir. "
Although Johar had watched everything closely, he was still
not reassured. He felt more frightened with every step the mob
took toward him. Hassan Rezaie was deeply afraid, and paced
the room like a caged beast.
"I think, Abu Sultan, we should go into the other room, "
said Hassan in a moment of weakness.
Without waiting for any discussion or comment from Johar­
who had already stood up to follow him-he went into the small
room.
It was a storeroom, full of crates and metal filing cabinets.
With its steel door and strong walls, and despite its small size,
this room filled Hassan Rezaie with relief.
The two men entered the room and locked the door from the
inside, but from the tall narrow window, scarcely wider than a
fissure in the wall, and from behind the crude drapery, they
could hear the shouts, at first, and then the arrival of the first
strikers. Their fear mounted with every step, and Johar, who
c e 0 f s a

was doing his best to appear strong and firm, could hear his
heart pound. His breath was short.
"We should have locked the downstairs door, " he said rest­
lessly.
"All the doors are locked, Abu Sultan, " said Hassan Rezaie
with a tentative smile.
When the crowd of workers passed under the window, all
their faces seemed identical to Johar, like one face marching past
hundreds of times over, and the tramping of their feet was like
the regular blows of skilled hands on soft dough. Their chanting,
led by Salman al-Zamel, was loud and rhythmical:

"Johar, tell your rulers

The pipeline was built by beasts of prey.
We will safeguard our rights.
The Americans do not own it.
This land is our land. "

"They're crazy, Abu Misfer, " said Johar uneasily to the emir
after sundown. "Any one of them would kill his own father.
They're out of their minds, running around like dogs. What do
they want? If God hadn't saved us, they'd have killed us. "
The emir laughed and turned to Hassan Rezaie, who had driven
Johar to the emirate in his own car.
"Bedouin have volatile moods, like a downpour that stops
and moves on. If you left them to themselves, they'd start killing
each other. "
"If we leave them to themselves, Your Excellency, they'll kill
everyone and everything, " said Johar, still afraid.
"You know the bedouin, J ohar. "
"I know them, the sons of bitches, Your Excellency. Unless
you break their noses they'll run mad . "
"The Americans say to leave them alone. "
 .. 593

"And what d o the Americans know?" Johar shook his head

sadly and said bitterly, "We know our people better than they
do, Abu Misfer. "
"What do you say, Abu Sadeq?" the emir asked Hassan Rezaie.
"They were like animals, down in the market, " said Hassan
worriedly. "They wanted to burn down Harran, to destroy
everything. If they hadn't been prevented, God only knows what
would have happened. "
"Trust in God, my friends. " The emir laughed. "We know
the bedouin well enough. Let a day or two pass, and it will all
be over, as if nothing ever happened. "
"Abu Misfer, Your Excellency, they're not only bedouin­
they are bedouin and townspeople together. All of Harran is
with them, and our informers among them tell us that Miteb
al-Hathal is closely involved. If we leave them alone, this is not
going to come to a good end, " said Johar.
When the deputy emir suggested that they leave the matter
until the next day, to see whether things stayed at the same pitch
or ended as they had begun, everyone agreed with him. When
Nairn Sh'eira showed up for the third time that evening, he was
told that " the emir is meeting in constant session with officials . "
Hassan Rezaie had proposed that this message be passed o n to
the Americans, with the recommendation that Nairn come again
the next morning at eleven o'clock to be informed of whatever
measures were deemed necessary and proper.
Harran fell silent shortly after sundown, pausing to unbend
and then, by degrees, to relax. The crowds that had filled the
streets had disappeared like salt in water: every house, in the
market quarter and on the western hills, opened its doors to
the workers. Every citizen of Harran went home that evening
with two or three "guests of God, " as the workers were known
that day. Food and water were brought to those who insisted
on spending the night in the mosque or the coffeehouse. Water
c e s 0 f s a

was plentiful in Harran, and there was no need to fetch it from

Arab Harran or anywhere else, but some of the poor insisted on
fetching it, without being asked to, "for the soul of Mufaddi,
who gave all Harran to drink. "
The night was as long as the one in which Mufaddi had been
mourned. The people were overwhelmed with pity and fear;
these were obscure but powerful emotions. Perhaps they re­
flected upon the fact that if Mufaddi had died now, as he had,
any one of them might die in the same way, for no reason, by
an unknown hand; and like the workers expelled today, who
now had nothing to do and nowhere to turn, any one of the
workers might suffer the same fate at any time. Johar had told
them to be thankful to God that they were alive and had food
to eat, but no one knew for how much longer they would be
alive or able to eat. True, the company was paying them now,
but the next day workers paid out again what they had received.
Prices went up every day, and their savings declined. The prom­
ises Ibn Rashed had made years before, as he herded them in
from Ujra and elsewhere, about the houses they would find in
Harran and the life they would enjoy, had predeceased even Ibn
Rashed. The personnel office had promised that the company
would build houses for the workers so that each man might
bring his family and return from work every night to his own
house and children-that had been years ago, and the promise
had been repeated for years on end, but not a single house was
built, and the workers remained huddled and cramped in the
accursed barracks, which grew hotter and filthier with every
p assing day.
When the workers remembered this, and remembered their
families, they felt a crushing depression. The people of Harran
looked at their faces and then at each other, thinking how un­
happy and oppressed they were, and grew sad when they re­
flected that there must be terrible reasons for the depression.
 .. 595

They felt afraid, b u t still dared t o s a y things they would never

have said had they not been so consumed with sorrow and anger.
Why did they have to live like this, while the Americans lived
so differently? Why were they barred from going near an Amer­
ican house, even from looking at the swimming pool or standing
for a moment in the shade of one of their trees? Why did the
Americans shout at them, telling them to move, to leave the
place immediately, expelling them like dogs? Juma never hesi­
tated to lash out with his whip when he found the workers in
"restricted areas. " The Americans had erected signposts warning
them against loitering or going near most of the places, and they
had even put barbed wire in the sea to keep them at a distance.
Why did the Americans make them perform tasks that they
themselves would never dream of doing? Although the workers
held their peace and showed nothing but contentment, the Amer­
icans were never satisfied by anything but constant work.
And the emir, was he their emir, there to defend and protect
them, or was he the Americans' emir? He had been a different
man when he first came to Harran. He used to stroll through
the market and invite townsfolk to his house to drink coffee,
but he changed abruptly when Hassan Rezaie and others started
bringing him gifts-he was enthralled by those gadgets and left
all of his responsibilities to Johar. And who was Johar? With the
Americans he was a lamb: he kept silent and listened politely,
nodding at every word they said to him. With Nairn Sh'eira,
Nusayis, he talked and laughed as if they were brothers or best
friends. But if he turned around and saw Arabs, he loved to
curse them, especially in front of the Americans; sometimes he
even struck at them with his baton for no reason. And they
remembered even stranger things: once, when he was making
his rounds, Johar stopped to talk with a number of workers.
This was a few months after he had begun wearing his military
uniform, but he was very friendly. He asked them their names,
c e s
0 f s a

where they came from and how long they had been with the
company. The workers had gathered around him and were chat­
ting eagerly when one of the Americans passed by; perhaps he
wanted something from Johar, or perhaps he was only curious,
but as soon as he came near andjohar saw him, he began cursing
the workers and hitting them with his baton, telling them to get
back to work before he threw them all into prison!
The workers were astonished, and could think of no excuse
or explanation for his behavior. Another time, he asked a group
of workers to come to the emirate on their day off to help him
build a wall. He was genial and pleasant as they talked, and told
them that the job would only take half a day. The workers agreed
to come and help, but as soon as Nairn joined themjohar under­
went a complete change. He began to shout at them, and told
the soldiers with him to arrest three of the workers and to take
them directly to prison. They spent a week in the prison, and
were released only when Nairn intervened in their behalf!
There was no end to the stories about Johar, and every week
brought still more. The people were inclined to forgive and
forget, but they could not do so forever. When the news of
Mufaddi's murder spread, their resentment rose to the surface;
they felt unnecessarily, intolerably oppressed. They applauded
when Salman al-Zamel stood on the wall of the mosque and said
that the workers and citizens of Harran were against no one and
had only two demands: the reinstatement of the workers who'd
been fired and an inquiry to find Mufaddi's murderer. They
shouted, "Allahu akbar! Allahu akbar!" The chants they instantly
devised centered on these two demands:

"Your blood, 0 Mufaddi, is not forgotten.

All Harran is with you.
Ruler of the northern hill,
 . . 597

Listen and give us an answer.

Your blood, 0 Mufaddi, is not forgotten! "

And

"Stone b y stone, w e constructed,

Inch by inch, we built the pipe.
Now that we have built and raised,
What do you say, 0 company, 0 God!
God is our witness, you have no rights.
Our rights are everlasting, they are ours.
With our blood and sweat w e will achieve them!"

Just as Johar had been unable to distinguish one face from

another from the window in the small room, their chants were
confused and intermingled in his ears, like rolling thunder. He
could not understand them. When some ofhis men came to him
late that night to say that the whole population of Harran had
joined in the demonstration, and that they had demanded ven­
geance for Mufaddi's death and the reinstatement of the workers,
Johar got so angry that he cursed them for bringing bad news,
called them cowards and said that he would make them pay.
The emir, who deemed postponing any decision the wisest
course, was delighted when Hassan Rezaie visited him that night.
This man filled him with a world of repose, for in addition to
the wonderful inventions he brought, he had an inexhaustible
fund of stories about his travels and experiences. The emir took
his telescope and gazed unhurriedly at Harran after sundown,
found it calm and quiet, then turned on the radio to listen to the
BBC. After he, Hassan Rezaie and his deputy had listened to
the news, he felt newly confident, even exhilarated, since he had
a whole evening to spend with Hassan.
The convers ation turned to the day's events. The emir said
c e s 0 J s a

with absolute certainty that the Americans thought of every­

thing, and that they had told him of their conviction that the
troubles would pass as suddenly as they had come; he was in
complete agreement with them.
He smiled broadly and confidently, then asked Hassan to come
near so that he could tell him a secret that no one knew. Hassan
came over, and he beckoned to his deputy to approach too, and
when all their heads were together he whispered, "In a few days
we're going to get a marvelous thing. It will solve all our prob­
lems! "
Hassan Rezaie seemed surprised and a little puzzled; h e did
not entirely understand the emir, but he did not want to look
as if he did not understand. When the emir nodded his head
encouragingly, since it seemed to him that the new invention
the Americans had shown him a few days before was too great
and significant for Hassan Rezaie to grasp easily, he was delighted
that he knew more about something than Hassan did. He rose
quickly and from underneath a pile of cushions drew the mar­
velous thing. He carried it as a father would his infant son and
placed it gently in Hassan's hands.
"Oh, yes, yes. " Hassan laughed. "A telephone. "
Surprised, the emir asked Hassan if he had ever seen such a
device before, and if so where. He was even more suprised to
hear that Hassan had seen it in many different places, and he
asked him to tell him about it. How did it work? Did it work
at night as well as during the day? Did it get tired and need to
rest? Was it possible to use it to contact all manner of absent
people-even the dead?
Hassan tried to explain, and said many incomprehensible things,
but the emir understood the value of the device, how it could
shorten distances and be helpful to men, so he had to reveal his
secret.
"The American boss, the chief of their camp, told me that in
 . . 599

two weeks o r a month a t most, there will b e permanent contact

between the emirate building and their compound, and that we
can talk day and night on this instrument. "
The emir tried the device. "Hello. Hello, trunk. Hello, switch. "
He used all the expressions he had heard on his visit to the
American compound a week before. When Hamilton told him
that steps had been taken to install a line between the compound
and the emirate he became excited and rapturously happy. He
dreamed of waking some night to the sound of the telephone's
bell. The bell was no less important or mysterious to him than
the instrument itself, even though there was something Christian
about it, he noted a little regretfully, but it impressed him, the
way it rang by itself. Could Muslims adj ust it to say "Al/ahu
akbar" instead of making that sound?
The emir talked about the wonderful device all evening and
speculated on the numberless things that the great invention
could accomplish. He told his deputy that the line to Harran
could render undreamed-of services, even more than the tele­
scope.
"The voice-yes, the voice, Abu Rashwan, is the most im­
portant thing. It's what people say, what they're thinking, not
how they look, that's important. "
The emir began to relax, saying that he had fallen in love with
several women on the radio. Stretching out to recline peacefully
on the cushions, he told them, "Sometimes the ears fall in love
before the eyes!"
While the emir grew more excited about the telephone, Johar's
agitation mounted over other matters: How could he crush the
strike? How could he arrest those who had started the trouble?
He had been told that Salman al-Zamel was the one who had
stood on the mosque's courtyard wall and shouted those slogans,
and he tried as hard as he could to remember what the man
looked like. He remembered him, he certainly remembered him,
c e s 0 f s a

but the face blended in with the faces of the others and dwindled
away to nothing. He called out to the men he had summoned.
"So! Are we supposed to wait until the bastards start something?
We'll start something, and curse their grandparents! Better that
than they should take us by surprise. We'll move in on them
and grab them. Don't kill that Ibn Zamel. Tell him, 'Come with
us and everything will be fine. ' And when I get my hands on
him, he's a dead man . "
The men listened but did not know what t o d o o r what was
expected of them. They looked at Johar's face and threw ques­
tioning glances at one another.
"At noon you'll be at the mosque, before the call to prayer.
Before anyone speaks, before anyone says a word, say, 'They
burned the company and cursed them who built it, that's the
reason. ' And don't worry about a thing. "
Johar repeated his instructions several times, and when the
men understood he said firmly, "No sleep tonight. Stay up and
don't worry. "
He went to instruct the units that would take up positions at
the fence by the main gate and the workers' gate. For those
assignments he would use all of the Desert Army except for the
emir's guards.
No one slept that night, and Johar, who had asked his black
assistant to wake him before dawn, could hardly close his eyes.
He tossed in his bed, imagining the workers and people of Har­
ran marching toward the compound. He saw the men he'd sent
at night, clashin g with the demonstrators, their blood flowing,
and he imagined the Americans, the emir and all the people of
Harran begging, pleading with him to put a stop to the terrible
events. He knew everything and enjoyed boundless self-confi­
dence, and he longed to arrest a few of the people to make an
example of them.
It was too great an opportunity to let slip. He had agreed to
 .. 601

stay in this small room and listen t o the curses and threats, and
endure the sight of the men he had shouted at and beaten as they
scattered, but he could stand it no longer. The Americans did
not know the bedouin as he did, and the emir was immersed in
affairs he did not understand, and did not know what he was
talking about. He could not let this opportunity slip. He was
the man responsible for security, and the only man capable of
action. If he did not act, no one else would be able to. If he
managed to arrest those who were behind this anarchy, everyone
would thank him. Harran did not need men like those, and it
could not be expected to tolerate them anymore. Had things
gone so far that they demanded vengeance for Mufaddi? If they
were not punished, then tomorrow or the next day they would
demand everything. The bedouin were greedier than wolves.
He would not let them get away; they were cowards; if one head
got broken the rest of them would be quiet as lambs. None of
them would dare speak or even open his mouth.
The workers and citizens of Harran slept soundly. Even those
who loved to play tricks and practical jokes at the last moment
hardly indulged their passions. The workers slept in homes and
in the mosque, and the ones who preferred to go back to their
camp did not insist, because it was far off, and now they were
more cautious.

Salman al-Zamel, who was, with Ibn Hathal and two others,
staying with Ibn Naffeh, appeared anxious and upset as they all
drank their coffee after supper, in contrast to the feeling of self­
confidence that had filled him all day as he chanted and shouted.
When he had stood on the wall of the mosque, however, an
uneasy doubt had displaced his confidence: Where was Johar?
Why was he not confronting the demonstrators? Would the days
to come be as easy as this one? Would the company respond to
c e s 0 f s a

them and reinstate the workers, or remain deaf and distant behind
the barbed wire?
He was beset by doubt, or rather by bewilderment. He needed
the company of others, to listen to them and ask questions, in
order to examine his own convictions before taking the next
step. Ibn Naffeh read his mind and spoke to him. "Listen, my
boy, listen and understand. If a camel goes astray or a bedouin
stumbles, anywhere from al-Miyasem to Juweyreed, or from
this sea to Egypt, those bastards will know about it. "
Salman laughed, understanding that Ibn Naffeh meant the
Americans.
"And Johar, Abu Othman?"
"That dog? He's worse than they are, a tramp, not worth a
bean. "
"And Mufaddi's killer?"
"God Almighty, are you asking me, nephew?"
"Didn't Johar kill him?"
"Yes, he did it, but what is Johar without them?"
"So where is our revenge, Abu Othman?"
"There are many to whom we owe revenge. "
"What is your advice for tomorrow and the day after?"
"Just what you said in the mosque today: the reinstatement
of the workers, and they have to say who killed Mufaddi . "
"And i f they don't listen?"
"They'll listen, my boy, yes, they'll listen. Even stones can
be worn down, only unite-don't allow your ranks to be broken,
and don't let them outsmart you, the bastards, because all the
people are with you. "
 75

5
UNDA Y WAS A STRANGE DAY IN HARRAN. THE OLD
men, who were used to solitude when they
said their morning prayers, found themselves
a minority among the crowd that filled the mosque at dawn;
they found that a great number of the worshipers had preceded
them here. The workers who stayed overnight in the mosque
had slept only a few hours and spent the rest of the time telling
stories and jokes, and some of them prayed. A number of them
gave their places to the latecomers. Ibn Naffeh, who led the
prayers because the imam was ill, or had stayed away on the
pretense of illness, did not hesitate to speechify before and after
the prayers. In the midst of the crowd that grew around him
before prayers, he said that this was Harran's day, as the Arabs
had had days both before and after the revelation of Islam. He
said that if prayer was a Muslim duty, then resisting oppression
c e s 0 f s a

was a duty as well; a Muslim's protection ofhis brother Muslims

was a duty, as was the defense of truth and his land. He said
that there was strength in unity, and that a loyal, fraternal group
would never be defeated, whereas if they differed among them­
selves, if their aims and desires were in conflict, they were fin­
ished. Ibn Naffeh said all this and a great deal more besides. He
chose his texts from the Koran carefully and recited them in clear
and melodious tones so that they took root in the hearts of the
congregation and affected them deeply. His listeners felt like a
new breed of men, made of some new substance.
After the service, many of them said that they had sensed
angels hovering over their heads. Others said that a powerful
white light, brilliant as lightning, had filled the mosque when
Ibn Naffeh concluded the prayers, saying, "The peace and bless­
ings of God be upon you, the peace and blessings of God be
upon you all. " When the men poured out of the mosque, de­
scending on the market to stroll around or rest a little in Abu
As' ad al-Helwani's coffeehouse, they decided among themselves
to meet again late in the morning, in the mosque.
With the exception of the bakeries and a few shops, all of
Harran was silent and closed down. There was not a single rider
for the Ujra bus, which departed daily at six in the morning;
even the passengers who had bought their tickets days before,
and made their plans with the intention of traveling this very
day, did not show up. Some of the workers passed by in the
late morning, on their way to the mosque, and asked the driver,
who was busy repairing the bus, if it would leave for Ujra that
day.
"The bus has broken down, " he replied without raising his
head. "It will take two or three days to fix. "
Abu As'ad al-Helwani decided to join the strike and told the
workers who filed in that he was happy to receive them but
 .. 605

would not be serving anything today. Just as quickly, though,

he changed his mind.
"I've spent five-no, six years serving the people of Harran, "
he said gaily. "Well, if you want to drink today, everything is
here: tea, sugar, coffee-but roll up your sleeves, because today
Abu As'ad is off duty. In plain Arabic, on strike. "
The workers delightedly took Abu As'ad's place, but the nu­
merous mistakes they made, and the anarchy that filled the cof­
feehouse, forced him to abandon his strike and go back to serving
his customers.

All efforts to persuade or provoke the Harranis to violence and

confrontation failed. Everything remained in the context of their
demands that the fired workers be rehired and Mufaddi's murder
be investigated. There was an attempt to burn one of Rezaie's
cars, but they prevented it, saying, "One burned car will burn
all of Harran. Johar is waiting for mischief so that he can start
the big fire!" Some people proposed that they all go and attack
the gates of the company and then smash everything they could
lay their hands on, but Salman al-Zamcl looked squarely into
the eyes of the shouting bedouin who was trying to organize the
march to the company, and answered him. "Listen. There's
the gate to the company, go by yourself and tell them that the
workers of Harran are waiting for them. "
When the bedouin kept shouting, Fawaz al-Hathal seized him
by the neck. "We told you, " he said angrily. "This time we
wan t the company to come to us, and it will have to come. "
As had been the case the day before, nothing developed until
the afternoon, when the crowds set off for the mosque. They
ma rched through the town's three main streets and came back
again, chanting the slogans they'd made up the day before, with
c e s 0 f s a

some additions and revisions to make them clearer and stronger.

Dabbasi, who was acting as a mediator between the people and
the emirate ofHarran, conveyed the emir's statement: the work­
ers who had been laid off would surely be rehired sooner or
later, so the workers should end their strike and go back to work;
as to Mufaddi, he was dead and that was it-no one knew who
had killed him.
Dabbasi reported what the emir had said or what he'd heard
from others with some pain and a great deal of bitterness. It had
become clear to him, after two visits to the emirate, one in the
morning and one in the afternoon, that by the time he made a
third attempt one of the two sides would surely become his
enemy.
"My wife, the emir, and my son are all expecting the worst, "
he said almost to himself when he told the workers what the
emir had said in their second meeting.
The workers looked at him. They had no idea what he was
saying or getting at. He smiled. "The long and short of it is,
it's all in your hands. You know the situation better than I do.
I am, as you see, very much concerned but completely pow­
erless. "
He wanted to tell the workers to be steadfast, to persevere.
His eyes shone with rage when one of the workers shouted,
"And Mufaddi's blood, Abu Saleh?" but there was nothing he
could say-anything he said would surely find its way to the
emirate and he would be expelled from Harran. He could not
trust the emir or confront him. He was confused and distracted;
he prided himself on his ties with the north hill and his friendship
with the emir, but he also felt that the murder of Mufaddi was
inexcusable and must not go unpunished.
Silence fell. It was a heavy, rude silence, and Dabbasi had
nothing else to say-he felt, furthermore, that words were use­
less now. It was clear even to the most optimistic and expectant
 .. 607

citizens who had awaited Dabbasi's return from the emirate that
the situation was too complicated to be resolved quickly, or to
their satisfaction, and they could think of nothing to say to him.
Dabbasi stood, leaning on his cane and eager to leave, but he
asked Salman and Fawaz to come closer. As they approached
and he stepped forward, he lost his balance and nearly fell down,
but Salman caught him. Dab basi supported himself against their
bodies and whispered to them softly. "This is all I could do. "
He pointed his finger and added kindly, "If you need anything,
come to me. Do you hear? Come to Abu Saleh before you go
to anyone else. God willing, we may be able to do something. "
He looked at the ground. "God curse Satan and protect us from
him. "
Nairn showed up at the emirate before eleven o'clock to in­
quire about Hamilton's proposal for setting up an operations
group. When the emir was told, he grew a little uneasy, as if he
had not been expecting Nairn, and wished at that moment that
the telephone, that marvelous invention, were working between
himself and the compound. Had it been, he would have been
able to solve everything; he could have had a long conversation
with Hamilton or Hassan Rezaie or Johar or any number of
others before responding to any question or request. He dwelled
for a moment on this wish. His secretary was still there, looking
at him and wondering what to tell Nairn.
'Johar, where is Johar?" the emir said at last.
Johar was summoned, and the emir addressed him with a
resoluteness he did not feel. "Go, you and the translator, and
take Naj m and Abu Sadeq. Go talk to the people and see what
you can do. "
Nairn read out from a written text prepared by Philip, one of
the company representatives in the operations group, translating
as he went along. "The company will not comply with the
workers' demands and will not reinstate under pressure or threats
c e s 0 f s a

those who have been terminated. Such a precedent would only

cost the company prestige and encourage the workers to make
other demands, number one. Number two, the company does
not wish to resort to force at the present time, because the current
situation does not call for it. We are ready to promise to study
the matter on condition the striking workers return to work
immediately, and we reiterate that, in the event of new vacancies,
the company will give hiring priority to previously terminated
workers. Third and lastly, the management of the company
emphasizes that the causes of the strike that began recently go
far beyond the termination of a handful of workers. We wonder,
but we cannot be certain. "
Although Johar pretended to pay close attention, his mind
kept wandering. He did not understand several of the phrases
Nairn used. All eyes drifted to Johar, as if beseeching him to
speak, to say something. He felt besieged and uncomfortable,
but he gripped his baton and gave the table a sudden loud whack.
"If we don't break their heads, if we don't smash their bones,
they'll make fools of us. "
Arnold laughed when Nairn translatedJohar's remark, though
the translator had to ask Johar to explain his slang word for
smash . Johar felt confident, inferring that the Americans were
with him. He went on. "They're our people and we know them
well. Slap their noses and they'll cry, but beat them, break their
bones, and everything will return to normal. "
"Is there any connection between the strike and the killing of
that bedouin?" asked Philip.
Johar flinched when Philip's question was translated, and the
color drained from his face, but when he spoke it was in a very
sharp if somewhat unsteady voice. "That's one story and this is
another. "
This was translated, but the Americans did not understand.
Their eyes did not leave his.
 .. 609

"My friends, " h e said, "Mufaddi was killed b y his own com­
plaints. He's dead and gone, and the bedouin who work in the
company have nothing to do with it. "
"Why have we never seen strikes like this before? Why didn't
they strike two months ago, or after the pipeline was completed,
when we laid off a lot more workers?"
" 'You clink one goblet on another, and a thousand dancers
come running, ' " suggestedJohar. "They needed an excuse, and
they found one!"
"The phenomenon facing us today must be examined and
treated on two levels, " said Philip, reading from a sheet of paper.
"The first level is the immediate one-the strike. It must end
without the company giving in, and without acts of violence.
The second concerns the workers' conditions, which must be
studied carefully to reveal their deep-seated causes: Are there
political implications? Are there organizations or instigators at
work? Are there factors outside the company and the work­
place?"
"Yes, yes, it's all completely abnormal, that's for sure, " said
Hassan Rezaie. "Yes, something is wrong. We have to look at
it closely and think of the future. "
Johar had not been listening to them, but he was furious. "You
don't know anything about the bedouin. You don't know how
vile they are. They're worse than devils. "
Hassan Rezaie nodded vigorously. " You arc right, they're vile,
yes, really wicked. They laugh at you and try to cheat you, and
if they succeed they'll kill you without batting an eyelash. "
Johar's eyes darted between Rezaie and the Americans. He did
not want to miss a word Hassan said, or its effect on the Amer­
I cans.
Philip returned to their discussion. "You know these people
better than we do, but what concerns us now is ending the
strike. "
c e s 0 f s a

"Leave it to me, " said Johar.

"That's fine with us, as long as it does not get violent, not
yet at least. "
The meeting ended with no final decisions being made. Rezaie
asked that the situation be monitored all day and that they meet
again in the evening or at a time to be determined later.
Johar was convinced that no one knew how to handle the
situation as he did. The Americans talked about complicated
notions that had nothing to do with what was happening. They
said this was fine and that was not, but they did not know what
they were talking about. They knew nothing about the bedouin;
they supposed them to be simple, peaceable people. They knew
nothing!
Johar decided to act quickly. It was clear to him that the units
sent to the mosque that morning had accomplished nothing, and
even clearer that the workers wanted to avoid clashing with him.
 G
UNSHOTS WERE HEARD BETWEEN MIDAFTER­
noon and sundown, as the men lay in the shade
of the mosque and the nearby shops. They
were napping after having marched twice through Harran as far
as Harithy Street, waiting for the intensity of the sun to abate
before starting the third and last phase of the day's action, waiting
for the end of their second long, strenuous day, and for the
return of the men who had gone back to the camp to fetch
supplies. The gunfire was distant and sporadic, from the direc­
tion of the camp.
"That bastard Johar, it's him, " said Salman al-Zamel.
"God help us, " said Ibn Naffeh, who was in the midst of a
discussion with a group of men.
Some of the men ran off to see what was happening, and a
tense silence settled. They saw a group of workers racing toward
c e s 0 J s a

Harran and heard another burst of gunfire. It was now clear that
something terrible was happening.
The people of Harran, who until this time had been laughing
and joking, and inclined to be indulgent, felt something changing
inside them. They felt heartache; they felt that they could no
longer bear to stay in this place. They no longer heard what Ibn
Naffeh or anyone else was saying. Even the strength and dis­
cipline in the face of adversity that some of them possessed now
failed. Within minutes three workers arrived, pale, wild-eyed
and out of breath. From the few brief words they gasped the
men understood that two workers had been wounded or killed
and that others were trapped between the electric station and
warehouses and needed help; left alone, they would be massacred
by the soldiers.
These words sounded in their ears like drumbeats and roared
like a tempest, driving the men to a mounting anger that made
the blood pound and throb in their temples. They gazed at the
panting men before them and at the electric station and ware­
houses where the men were besieged.
"Today is our day, men, " said one of them, hefting an iron
pipe.
He ran, and the rest ran behind him, grabbing whatever came
to their hands: iron pipes, sticks, rocks and wooden poles. They
ran like camels, and a song they knew from long ago sprang to
their lips, from the need they felt to inflame their thoughts and
emotions.
How had these human waves come together? Where had they
come from? How did the people of Harran arrive so quickly­
how did the women get there before the men?
Something like magic was at work in this hour. Ibn Zamel,
who shouted to slow the people down, and cursed as he grabbed
some of the men, realized that his voice was lost. The men he
grabbed gave him a certain look; his hands fell and he stood,
 0 0 613

confused, not knowing what to do, then suddenly found himself

running along with the rest of them, even pulling ahead of them.
Ibn Naffeh, who grasped his staff and shook it in the air, found
himself chanting along with the others. Although he did not
move as the younger men did-he could not run, or even walk
very fast-a sudden piercing strength surged through him, and
he was amazed at how quickly he arrived at the compound.
Khazna was on her way to Arab Harran with a loaf of bread
under her arm after having spent the whole day by the mosque
or strolling through the market, repeating one phrase over and
over again every time she saw a group of people: "God give you
strength; God give you victory. " When she set foot on the slope
of the hill, the water tank loomed over her like a boulder, and
a black cloud seemed to envelop her as she heard the shooting.
She turned for a brief moment, then began running back toward
the mosque. Many said that she was singing and shouting, and
that tears flowed from her eyes, whether from joy or fear they
did not know, but everyone who saw her running toward the
camp was struck by her peculiar exhilaration and vigor, and
though she was one of the last to arrive, her chant was clear and
loud, and deeply affecting.
The masses of people moved as one man, and their voices rose
to reach the farthest places, even drowning out the sound of the
gunshots and the screams that came from the other direction.
It had all started whenjohar went to the American compound.
Two of the soldiers at the gate told him that a group of workers
had come to the compound, and they had been allowed to enter
after being searched. When he heard this Johar began to howl
like a wolf. " You let them in, you sons of bitches?"
The soldiers said nothing but hung their heads and looked at
th e ground.
Johar shouted more loudly than before. " You stupid bastards!
I swear to God I'll break your heads before I break theirs! " He
c e s 0 J s a

grabbed one of the soldiers nearest him and beat him with his
baton.
"Where are they? Where did they go?"
When Johar reached the American compound, he gave orders
to open fire, and to forestall any hesitancy or delay in doing so
he drew his pistol and began firing himself. Within moments
the air was filled with a hail of bullets. The three workers who
crossed the barbed wire to reach the mosque were able to report
only the first events. When (he citizens of Harran arrived, es­
corted by crowds of workers, one cry filled the air: Allahu akbar!
Allahu akbar! Allahu akbar!
Where was Johar? What was he planning? Where were the
trapped workers?
In a moment of silence, Khaled al-Issa addressed the soldiers
who stood behind the barrels, their rifles pointed at the gathering
of people. "Leave the workers alone, " he said. "You may shoot
at us. "
"One step closer and we'll open fire, " said one of the soldiers
uneasily.
"Gunpowder doesn't frighten us, my boy, gunpowder is a
man's perfume. You had better leave them alone and shoot at
,
us.
"One step . . . one step and we'll open fire. "
"Listen, boy ! " shouted Ibn Naffeh, coming forward. "Fear
God, and leave the men you are holding. Shoot at us! "
The order came from afar, in a harsh but muffied voice, like
a cry from a cave. "Fire!"
They said later that the sound of the shots intermingled with
the shrill, drawn-out trilling of Khazna al-Hassan, as if she were
at a wedding. They said that most of the men turned to Khazna
instead of toward the sound of the shots, but when they saw
Ibn Naffeh bow over his cane, then slip and fall to the ground,
they were struck motionless for an instant. His cane rose into
 0 0
615

the air, as if he were playing with it. "He's killed me, the Amer­
icans' servant . . .
"

He gasped and tried to smile. "But don't worry. "

When they saw him and heard this they knew he had been
hit. He made a heavy, difficult movement, and his face plainly
showed the pain. When he rolled over, they saw the stream of
blood beneath his back, and Khazna began to chant.

"Death will die, but not you, Abu Othman!

Pride of men, above us all, Abu Othman!
Death will die, but not you, Abu Othman!"

What fury comes over men in a moment like this? What pow­
ers does it detonate?
As the wind sweeps through a tree, or as waves collide with
rocks, gusts of anger flooded their faces and hearts, smashing
the timorous prudence that had ruled them in the mosque and
the marketplace. Within moments the people became like a flame,
or a tempestuous wind. They feared nothing and cared for no
consequences. Johar, who was still shouting "Fire . . . fire!" could
not believe his eyes. The people were charging, a human flood,
swarming forward like locusts; he could not believe that his
armed soldiers were retreating and beginning to flee.
The concrete posts shook like empty branches and were up­
rooted like dead trees. In moments the barbed wire was buried
under the sand, and the human waves plunged forth. The people
later said that Fawaz al-Hathal and his brother Mugbel, who had
arrived in Harran a few weeks before, were seen flying through
the air like birds, crying, "We have come, here we are, Father! "
and that Fawaz was the first to reach the side of the wounded.
They said that they saw him carrying Ibrahim al-Dosari all by
himself, even though Ibrahim was much heavier than he. He
was the first, or one of the first two, to locate all the wounded,
c e s 0 f s a

to find where the four workers were hidden, and to free them.
Johar saw the crowd charging and attacking, and his men re­
treating, and he did not delay long in fleeing himself. He headed
for the American compound, but before he reached the gate
Fawaz al-Hathal noticed him and dove to grab his leg, and Johar
fell. Had he not bared his teeth and bitten Fawaz's hand, so hard
that the teeth marks did not disappear for weeks, he would not
have escaped.
Those who arrived at the compound late said that they had
seen from afar a man on a white camel pursuing the soldiers and
firing at them and attacking the main gate of the compound,
and many of them said that the man was Miteb al- Hathal. Still
others swore with absolute certainty that they saw a phantom
shaped like a man flying above their heads, and it looked exactly
like Mufaddi al-Jeddan. They said that the soldiers who fired
their rifles were frightened to the point of utter terror and that
most of their bullets were fired at the phantom, at Mufaddi al­
Jeddan. They reported that the man's clothing was full of holes
made by the bullets.
After freeing the detained workers, the people would have
pressed on with their attack had not Khaled al-Issa climbed to
the top of the water tank and addressed them, panting and out
of breath. "Enough, my friends, now we have to care for the
wounded. "
They hesitated, but not for long, then turned their attention
to the wounded. Those among them who had seen Mufaddi al­
Jeddan as they attacked the compound and Johar and his men
fled, also saw him as they transported the wounded. They even
felt his presence, for the wounded tried to break loose, and some
of them flew from between their hands. They were as light as
feathers or even lighter. Numberless unseen hands helped the
men carry the wounded.
"The doctor is out of town, " Muhammad Eid told a small
 .. 617

group of them when they came to fetch Dr. Subhi. "He'll be

back in a week. "
Dabbasi sent his son Saleh to the American compound to
explore the possibility of getting treatment for the wounded
there and received an unambiguous response: "The company
may provide on-site first aid to the wounded, with the express
approval of the Emir Khaled, and after that the wounded may
be taken to Ujra or elsewhere. "
Saleh al-Dabbasi told Nairn and one of the Americans, whom
he had never seen before, that two of the wounded were in
serious condition and needed attention immediately, and he got
a firm answer: "No action can be taken on this request until Mr.
Hamilton and his deputy return. They have been out at sea since
early morning and are not expected back before midnight. "
The people were not awaiting word from Dr. Mahmilji or
Muhammad Eid the Needle, because they had not even thought
of approaching them. They deemed Saleh al-Dabbasi's initiative
at the American compound an unforgivable affront.
Ibn Naffeh was treated in the mosque. Khazna helped two of
the workers clean the bullet wound in his thigh, then they carried
him to his house. Dabbasi visited him that evening and told him
about his son's visits to the American compound and what he
had been told there.
"I don't think you really want that for us, Abu Saleh, " said
Ibn Naffeh. "If God wills us to die, it is better to die in our own
houses, among our own people than to die among them, like
dogs . "
The two men who had been wounded in the beginning o f the
battle had not received dangerous or fatal injuries, but they were
weakened by loss of blood, so that Khazna dared not touch them.
She bit her lower lip worriedly until it bled.
"Where are you now, father of orphans, brother of widows?"
she asked.
c e s 0 f s a

"I'm taking them to Ujra, " said Raji, who was tightly ban­
daging the shoulder of one of the men to stop the bleeding.
"We'll get them to a doctor within an hour or two, and they'll
be fine. "
They dressed the second man's wound. When Salman al-Zamel
went to Dabbasi to borrow his truck to transport the two men
to Ujra, Dabbasi sighed. "God curse the day the first stones of
Harran were built up, and the day I came here. Nothing has
come of it but misery. " He paused and added despairingly, "Even
the money here is black and worthless. "
The truck soon sped off on its way. It did not stop at Mile
r ro or at Mile 7 5 · Al-Ghanem stood by the side of the road and
waved at the oncoming truck, and for a moment he thought
that Raji was playing a trick on him when it rushed past-surely
it would stop and back up-but it flew past the coffeehouse and
vanished.
"Has he become a thief in his old age?" mused al-Ghanem
aloud. He stopped to think for a moment and shook his head in
surprise. "Absence and travel are both alibis. "
In under two hours the truck rolled into Ujra, as the evening
calls to prayer were sounded, and headed straight for the Na­
tional Hospital.
"We died over and over again, " the two men who accom­
panied Raji and the patients later said. "The truck was flying­
floating through the air, but Abu Yaacoub rode it like a
champion, and here we are . "
Khazna finished dressing the wounds o f the remaining three
with the help of others, even little Amna, who moved around
the mosque as if she had lived there all her life. She fetched
Khazna whatever she needed: hot water, bandages and woolen
blankets-no one knew where she found them.
When Khazna had finished bandaging the men, she smiled,
 .. 619

showing her teeth in delight. "Thanks to God, and to the man

you all know, they have been given new life. "
Everyone understood that she meant Mufaddi. That night,
Mufaddi appeared to countless people. He went back and forth
from Arab Harran to the mosque, and every one of them ex­
amined his bullet-riddled robe. Three of them, one worker and
two Harranis, said that they had felt the robe and seen that the
edges of the bullet holes were singed. When Mufaddi saw them
palpating the robe in a shocked manner, he laughed and said that
someone should buy him some new clothes.
Raji, who slept with the wounded workers in the ward of the
hospital after a great deal of protestation and argument when his
request was initially refused, said good night to the two men
who had accompanied him to the prison, where they answered
questions about how the men had been wounded and who was
responsible. He said that he saw Mufaddi twice that night: the
first time when he covered one of the wounded men with a
blanket, and the second time when he came in shortly after dawn
bringing water to a patient at the far end of the ward.
Everyone in Harran saw Mufaddi at least once late that night.
At first he seemed tired, perhaps from the long day's events, but
after drinking tea at Ibn Naffeh's, where Abu Othman was su­
pine on the floor, he vigorously helped him to rise, undid his
bandage and moved the light closer to inspect the wound, then
tied the bandage up again and said that Khazna had done better
than he could have done. Then he excused himself to go and
visit some of the other wounded, who were spending the night
in various houses in Harran. He asked about them, and when
he was asked whether he would come back the next day, he
nodded and laughed but said nothing . . . then vanished.
When Emir Khaled heard the gunshots in the late afternoon
as he was experimenting with the telephone, something came
c e s 0 f s a

over him. He assured himself that it was not fear by any means,
because when he looked into the face of his deputy, who was
playing with his black cat-which he regarded as a good omen­
the sound of gunfire intermixed with the meowing of the cat,
and the emir said that at that very moment, a flash of light like
a ray of sunshine glittered from his eyes, followed by a puff of
blue smoke. This is how he explained his condition to the Pa­
kistani doctor who was summoned urgently between sundown
and night to examine him.
Hassan Rezaie and Dabbasi heard of the emir's sudden illness
and came to visit him.
"Abu Misfer hasn't looked well these past two days, " the
emir's deputy told them. He shook his head sadly as he remem­
bered. "He was fine the day before yesterday. He was talking
and laughing; you saw him. Yesterday, after Abu Sadeq left, he
said, 'It hurts here and here, ' and pointed to his neck and the
base of his skull. I told him, 'It's only tiredness, Abu Misfer, '
and he said, 'It isn't tiredness, something's writhing; it doesn't
go up or down, it's like a fiery skewer. ' I told him, 'Trust in
God. You'll be fine if you get some rest. You must sleep. ' He
said, '1 won't live to see tomorrow. ' 'Trust in God, man, ' I said,
and I stayed with him until he fell asleep.
"Today he looked terrible; Abu Saleh saw him. You saw him,
Abu Saleh. He looks into the air like he's lost, and won't eat or
drink anything.
"When the shooting started, he said, 'It's all over, ' and started
in with the telephone. 'Hello, hello, reply, switch. ' He said, 'The
Americans aren't safe, they have no friends. ' He looked around
at me. 'Smoke! There's smoke coming out of your eyes and
nose, Abu Rashwan. Black smoke, blue smoke, smoke every­
where.' It was the fever. I said to myself, fever makes a man
rave. So we sent for the Indian doctor, but he didn't tell him
where the pain was, he just kept talking about the smoke. Smoke
 .. 621

here, smoke there. The doctor wanted to examine him but he

wouldn't let him. He wouldn't let him lay a hand on him. The
Indian said, 'Give him this medicine. It will make him sleep,
and he'll feel better. ' But, God help him, he wouldn't touch it.
He sent for the Syrian doctor's assistant, and told him to bring
his stethoscope. So he came. "
As the deputy made this explanation to the two men, confused
sounds came from the neighboring room. They could make out
the emir's voice, as he raved and gave orders: "Hello. Hello!
Switch . " Then: "No, higher . . . a little higher. No, lower. To
the right. More to the right. "
Hassan Rezaie asked Dabbasi, with his eyes, whether it would
be decorous for them to go in and visit the emir while he was
in this state, or whether it would be better to tell his deputy that
they wished him a speedy recovery, then to leave. But the deputy
needed them and wanted their help in this difficult situation. He
wanted them to stay by his side, but he was afraid that the emir
would react badly if he learned that they had come but did not
go in to see him.
Dabbasi tapped his cane on the floor and spoke wearily. "There
is no power and no strength save in God. "
He paused a moment before going on. "When troubles come,
they come in a deluge, like a flood, and leave nothing behind
but ruin. "
"If only we get through these few days and the emir gets
better, everything will be fine, " replied Hassan Rezaie.
Dab basi spoke slowly, as if to himself "I don't think so, Abu
Sadeq. "
Shouts again sounded from the next room, and with the shouts
curses, and the deputy looked at the two men, bewildered and
helpless.
The door opened suddenly, and the emir peeked out. His robe
was open, exposing his bare chest, and the stethoscope was hung
c e s 0 f s a

around his neck. His eyes were red, and there was froth at the
corners of his mouth. When he saw the seated men, their heads
close as if whispering together, he struggled toward them with
slow, uncertain steps, a small, malicious smile on his lips.
"This is an unsafe world!" he said as he drew close to them.
The three looked up at him with fear and pity.
"Are you feeling better, Abu Misfer?" his deputy asked uneas­
ily.
The emir kept talking, ignoring what his deputy had said.
"The Americans sent the Indian over here and told him: Kill
him. Don't let him live another day. So here all of you are,
saying: If the Americans don't kill him, we will. Right?"
"Trust in God, Abu Misfer, " said Dab basi in genuine despair.
"Our hearts are with you. We want you to be cured as soon as
possible. "
"Nothing's wrong with me. You can see that I'm stronger
than a camel. "
He stepped closer until he stood directly above his deputy's
head. His deputy started and drew away in fright.
"You are ill, Abu Rash wan, " said the emir. "Tell me, where
does it hurt?" He leaned over him more steeply and grasped the
stethoscope. "Hah. Where is the pain? Don't be afraid, tell me
where. Don't worry. Leave it to me. "
With difficulty the three men escorted the emir back to the
room he had come out of. They found Muhammad Eid in one
corner, pale with fright and trembling; in the other corner they
saw two of the emir's men. When the four had entered the room,
urging the emir to lie down and rest, to sleep, he threw a hateful
glance at Muhammad Eid and spoke to him slowly. "Out of
town, eh? And when might we expect him?"
Muhammad Eid began to mumble indistinctly in reply, but
the emir laughed and cut him off. "That stupid son of a bitch
thinks I'm crazy. Does he think I swallow the poisons he gives
 .. 623

me? No, no, he's wrong. I buried them all i n the sand and pissed
on them!"
"Abu Misfer, if you rest for an hour or two-" said Hassan
Rezaie.
The emir turned to one of his men. "Come here. You. "
The man came forward, frightened. The emir pointed to Mu­
hammad Eid. "This one is just like his master, his boss; he
doesn't tell the truth. And he doesn't know anything. I want
you to tell me what this says . "
He removed the stethoscope from his neck and placed it in
the ears of the terrified man, who looked beseechingly at the
other bewildered men, then at the emir.
The emir stretched out on his bed and motioned for the man
to come closer and put the stethoscope on his chest, near the
neck. The man did not know what to do; he was in a lamentable
state, and the other men were utterly at a loss.
After several efforts and a great deal of pleading, cajoling and
even firmness, they finally made the emir agree to lie on his bed
and rest after Muhammad Eid and the other men had left the
room; he may have obeyed out of exhaustion.
The emir slipped into a deep sleep before midnight. His deputy
and Hassan Rezaie were able to remove the stethoscope he always
insisted on putting in his ears and on his chest, and they laid it
at the side of his bed. Dabbasi had left early, and he went to
visit Ibn Naffeh before going home.
 77

T
H U RSDAY. S HORTLY AFTER SUNRISE, WORSHIP­
ers leaving the mosque said that they saw six
of the emirate's automobiles, including the
emir's own, stop briefly in Rashedi Street, in front of Hassan
Rezaie's offices, and take off again in the direction of the Ujra
road. They said they saw the emir in one of the automobiles,
toying with the stethoscope around his neck and holding a piece
of black iron, whose nature and use they did not know. It looked
like a long pestle or a ladle. The emir put it to his mouth, shouting
and cursing, and Hassan Rezaie, who was sitting beside him,
kept trying to hold on to him and calm him down. Johar was
lying down in another automobile. He raised his head when they
passed the cemetery; they were sure of this, because his black
assistant was sitting to the right of the driver and turned around
 .. 625

every now and then t o look i n the backseat. The other auto­
mobiles were filled with bodyguards, emirate staff and some
members of the emir's family.
Abdu Muhammad said that one of the emirate automobiles
had come to his shop three hours earlier than usual, and the two
soldiers sent to buy the bread had to wait quite awhile for their
order to be filled. He understood from their conversation that
a group from the emirate was preparing for a journey, but he
could not discern exactly how many were leaving or who they
were.
Travelers arriving from Ujra early that morning said that they
saw the emirate's automobiles at Mile I ro. The vehicles paused
for a few moments ncar the coffeehouse, perhaps because the
passengers wanted to take a rest, but at the last minute they
turned away and resumed their journey. Most of the bus pas­
sengers saw the emir putting the stethoscope around his neck
and waving back at them, and they all said that they saw Johar's
black assistant alone in the second car.
Khazna, who had kept vigil by Mufaddi's grave since dawn,
said on Thursday afternoon that she had had a dream during a
short nap she took by the graveside. She saw Mufaddi or some­
one else-she could not make out his features clearly-who
pushed her away and tried to run away from her. She was fright­
ened and cried. In the afternoon, she interpreted the dream as
signifying "the departure and flight of the bastards, " as she called
the emir, Johar and soldiers who had opened fire.
Thursday was a sad and unsettling day, unlike the preceding
days, and full of rumors. In the late morning, a number of
visitors to Ibn Naffeh told him what the worshipers and the bus
passengers in Ujra had reported, but he answered without look­
ing at them. "They may have left, but we don't know whether
they'll be back. " He changed his tone of voice and went on,
c e s 0 f s a

"We've seen so many come and go before them, but the ones
who take their place aren't always better. We may yet ask for
God's blessing on those who left today! "
"The important thing i s that we're rid o f them, Abu Othman, "
said Abu Assaf, not hiding his joy. "They made our lives mis­
erable, and we were sure they would be the death of us before
they died. "
"You know quite well what the problem was that made us
miserable. "
''Johar and all the Johars were the problem, Abu Othman, "
said Abu Assaf. He laughed. "God! The Ujra road-how much
it has given and taken away ! "
"What about the sea road?" asked Salman al-Zamel.
Ibn Naffeh shifted around in his bed and cleared his throat.
"It isn't the Ujra road, or the sea road. The only road, my
friends, is the one that all our people follow and never diverge
from. " When they said nothing, he went on. "I told you all
before. The Americans are the source of the illness and the root
of the problem. "
At noon the emirate issued a short statement:
"His Highness E mir Khaled departed Harran this morning for
medical treatment. Before leaving, His Highness ordered the
reinstatement of all workers to the company, and the company
has acceded to his wishes. His Highness also ordered the for­
mation of a committee to study and identify the responsibility
for the recent events.
"The emirate therefore appeals to one and all to cooperate and
do their utmost to see that reason and wisdom may prevail for
the good of the country and the service of all citizens. 'Say:
work, for God and His Prophet and the faithful witness your
deeds. ' "
"You said, Abu Othman, that Mufaddi's blood would not be
lost, " Khazna told Ibn Naffeh as she rebandaged his wound.
 . . 627

"Khazna"-he laughed-"Mufaddi's blood is lost . . . lost. "

"Lost!"
"Woman, you should ask whose blood is next. "
"Ours is a long story, Abu Othman. "
"Long. How much longer?"
"Trust in God, man. All is well with the world. "
"God only knows. " He laughed sadly. "Hope for the best.
No one can read the future. "
 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dr. Abdelrahman Munif was born in Jordan circa 1 933 into a

trading family of Saudi Arabian origin. He was stripped of his
Saudi citizenship for political reasons. He earned a license in law
from Baghdad and Cairo Universities, and his Ph. D . in oil eco­
nomics from the University of Belgrade. During his career in
the field of oil, he served as Director of Planning in the Syrian
Oil Company and later as Director of Crude Oil Marketing. In
Baghdad he was editor-in-chief of Al-Naft wal Tanmiya {Oil &
Development), a monthly periodical. He now devotes his time
solely to the writing of novels. Cities of Salt, the first novel of
a trilogy, was written during his stay in France.
Among his other novels are Sharq AI Mutawasit (East of the
Mediterranean), Heen Tarakna Al-]isr (When We Left the Bridge),
and A/am Bila Kharait (A World Without Maps), written with
Jabra Ibrahim Jabra.

ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR

Peter Theroux was born in Boston in 1 9 56, and was educated

at Harvard and the American University of Cairo. He has lived
and traveled in Iraq, Syria and Saudi Arabia, and is the author
of The Strange Disappearance of Imam Moussa Sadr (Weidcnfeld &
Nicolson, London) . He lives in Long Beach, California.