The caravan moved along slowly, in single file, orienting with the sun. As if a ship, it proceeded among the dunes, which were raised on the two sides as waves. The afternoon sun cast the shadows of more than a hundred camels on the sand. Even in the shade, the light from the red hot sun burned the eye. The sand, raised by the animal hooves, fell back noiselessly in light golden grains; men wrapped their cloaks,their heads swathed in turbans, and walked, silently, in the shade of their camels. Only their eyes could be seen: their glance was like a fissure.
The camels were overloaded. In the pack-saddles made of mutton skin, long-fringed and with brass studs, they carried fresh pistachios and dark-red dates, made sweeter than tamarind by the desert scorching heat, while the leather bottles were full of pumpkin wine. The caravan was bound for the oasis of Uhazim, two walking days afar, where it was to arrive before sun setting, to spend the night, and then resume the journey at daybreak. It was not advisable, in fact, to travel across the desert at night. Unknown animals wondered through the dark, and no cloak could protect you from the cold of the stars.
The sound was barely audible, but unmistakable, and in fact men immediately recognized it. Quite soon it would turn into a roar, at first stifled, then louder and closer. It was the desert wind which arrived from the mountains, so far away that nobody ever saw them. The desert wind was being sent by the Lord of the Winds , who ruled over that region, to make sure that all dunes - the very high but also those which would not exceed in height a camel’s hump - would have a side turned towards the sea. Dunes, sometimes, liked to change their position, and if the desert wind would not have been there to keep them in order, the big flights of birds which used to flow over that desert at great height, would not know how to hold their course.
When the desert wind came, it might be in a great hurry, and then he would arrive as a fury, and Heaven help the caravan which would not have taken shelter. That’s why men hurried to get the animals crouched one close to the other, at the feet of a dune. They wrapped themselves tighter in their cloaks and then they lay down, each one nearby his camel, their faces well covered, waiting. Only Abdul lingered, since he knew that his camel needed his help to crouch due to a bad wound at one hoof which was late in healing , in spite of his lavish treatments with tobacco leaves and pomegranate honey. It was a matter of seconds. The wind cought him and carried him away making him roll far, among the dunes. He tried to hold out, but the wind dipped his face into the sand and he lost consciousness. When he recovered his senses he looked around: there was no trace of the caravan, nor of his camel. With difficulty, fighting against the sand, he clambered up a dune which looked to him as one of the tallest, and from up there he looked around. But he only saw more dunes in every direction, which the sun, now low, turned into an endless series of tops, one after the other, with some of their sides already in the shade. He took shelter in that shade, thinking. If he would not meet with another caravan, he had no chance of surviving , he knew it.
If it would be in the evening, notwithstanding the fear that darkness aroused into him, at least he would have the comfort of the star of whom he was in love. She was not one of the biggest, nor of the brightest stars. It was a star with a faint light, maybe because she was a tiny one or maybe because she was so far away. Abdul did not know. Since long , before getting into his tent to spend the night sheltered from the cold, he used to linger on, watching the sky. In the moonless nights, clear as crystal, the stars looked to him like twinkling lights in a dark lake. He had learnt, looking at them, that they changed their position according to the year’s seasons: as his caravan, on the other hand, which visited different oasis in summer and in winter. And, eventually, he had learnt to comprehend their complicated patterns, and he delighted in his knowledge, as if it were a secret disclosed to him only. Outside, when darkness fell, the desert, usually noiseless, filled with voices. Sometimes he heard the camels in their pen as they moved restless: maybe they had smelled the jackal, roaming in the neighbourhood, or maybe it was the wind, which inspired strange thoughts into men’s heart. Then he would look at the star for comfort: he would squint at her so that her beam would become brighter and illuminate his soul. One night, in which he got the impression that the sky was getting closer, he tried to keep inside himself - he would not know how - that beam, although so faint. That’s how his conversations with the star started. To her he would tell his thoughts, would confide his anxieties and his worries, or he would talk about that feeling of loneliness which sometimes overcame him. The star used to answer - of that he was sure - and tell him about the iced chill around her over there, and of the great distance between her and the other stars, so that she could not have even another star - a single one - as a friend. 4 The star would tell him of the comets - or were they falling stars? - which would come into sight all of a sudden and would rush from the high passing so close to her, in the dark, that they always gave her a start. Abdul was certain that his star was pale, with long, blonde hair: it was evident from her light. Who knows, he used to think to himself, may be one day I’ll be able to reach her. And while dreaming about it, he would fall asleep.
A strip of wind had not realized that his mountain-wind friends had already left, since he had lingered on the other side of the mountain to chase the swallows, which darted describing subtle designs in the sky. That’s why now he was running after his friends, when all of a sudden he saw something, a tiny dark dot which, in his opinion, could have nothing to do with the desert. He circuled for a while to get a better view, and then he stopped near by. “ How come you are here, all by yourself? Hereabout nobody passes by, ever. Only Death.” Abdul explained what had happened. “ Don’t be afraid”. Said the strip, moved to pity. “ Now I cannot change my course to take you to the oasis where, for sure, your travelling companions are waiting for you. I am in a rush to get to Zeriade, where I am bound for. If I will be able to find it” . He told him to wrap himself up tightly in his cloak and to stand on the top of a dune. “ Close your cloak well”, he recommended. Abdul followed the instructions, and, suddenly, he became aware that he was being lifted by two powerful arms. He half-closed his eyes and realized that the wind was carrying him up. He did not feel any longer the scorching heat of the sun, but only the breeze caressing his face, in gusts, and seeping into the folds of his cloak. 5 Underneath, dunes flew at a speed that he could never have immagined, and they seemed to flatten and become smaller as he flew over them. He would not say for how long he had been carried by the wind. At a certain point, giddy by the wind, he grew drowsy. The strip of wind slowed down. “ We have arrived. You are in Zeriade’s square. I must leave because my friends are already running up the coast, to reach the mountains from there. Good luck”. Abdul looked around, but he could only see now and then what was going on. He noticed, near by, a jet of coloured water which he thought was gushing out of a stone fountain where, it was said, at night nymphs used to play. Zeriade was an important harbour, where the goods which caravans carried through the Great Desert arrived. This was special about Zeriade: it was always shrouded in mists that used to flow and run getting different hues, so that it was not easy to find the city. Furthermore, it seemed that Zeriade never remained in the same place. After a few months you might find it far away, sometimes up to a five days journey eastwards, on the coast. Whether this was due to an error in calculation about its location, or whether Zeriade really changed its place, this nobody could tell. May be it changed from year to year, or its location was up to the moon.
Abdul took a few steps and immediately found himself in a quite busy crowd. Everybody was bustling around, coming or going in a rush, as if they were afraid of not getting on 6 time. There were groups - of at least six or seven men - pulling carts made with big bamboo canes, full of overflowing sacks. And these carts were so heavy that, while some men were pulling them, some others, from the back, were pushing forcing the wheels spokes, and arching their naked backs in effort. You could catch a glimpse of men with large turbans, with fringes falling down on their shoulders. Others, wearing odd headgears, high and narrow, as a frustum of cone, suddenly disappeared in the mist that was blowing in gusts, colouring everything. When men passed near him, Abdul could make out what was being transported. Baskets full of yellow and brown dates, big rolls of tobacco leaves, leather bags of pumpkin wine, boxes of muscatel grapes, small baskets of snow-white cotton wool, sacks filled with fresh pistachios. And also rose and turquoise candy floss, so sweet. Nutmegs in large round, red wicker baskets.
Thick nets of cloves which exhaled a dazzling scent. And, as well, big jars painted in dark blue and beige, filled with ginger and cinammon; rolls of fabrics with golden and crimson embroidered edges; stacks of cordage; tiger-fish skins. Abdul watched fascinated, unable to understand. Never, in his life, he had imagined that such an abundance of goods could exist in the entire world. All goods seemingly important, since they were transported with the utmost care. Where to, he could not say. In his life he had enjoyed just a few things: goat milk with its unmistakable taste; the camel’s one, sour and sweeter. And also dates, which he used to eat with warm bread, just sprinkled with salt. Who could need all those other goods? In the meanwhile he did not dare to move, afraid to be carried away by the crowd, if only he would take a step. But somebody bumped into him and, against his will, he found himself drugged in the middle of the crowd. Unespectedly the road ended in a wide stretch. In front, in parallel lines, extended some wooden wharfs, which time had darkened, disappearing into the harbour fog. On the two sides of each wharf, lined up as soldiers on parade, an endless number of vessels and ships which swashed slowly, tied up by big hemp ropes each one of a different colour so that, if one looked at them - as Abdul was now doing - they reminded of a carpet with countless hues. The vessels masts faded away in the mist, so that one would imagine they were very tall, and their reflection shattered in thousands of twinklings into the dark water. Abdul had never seen before a ship, nor a harbour. The sight of so many vessels, big and small, their bows dark in the shadow, astonished him. Now he understood where all those goods he had seen ended up. And he wondered, incredulous, how those ships, although very big, could carry so many goods: hundreds of camels would not be enough.
The throng, the clamour, and now that sight had stunned him. He was missing the solitude and the quiet of the desert. He made his way along the water and after a while the ships, the crowd, the noise, disappeared in the mist, bluish . He went on walking and found himself, to his joy, on the sand. He had never seen the sea and yet that expanse of water, that now and then the mist allowed him to see up to horizon, did not intimidate him. It reminded him, in a way, of the desert, although the waves were not as high as the dunes. 8 He remembered that he had not eaten a thing since long: unfortunately he had nothing. He sat down on the sand, his feet into the water thinking that, in any case, he had been lucky, since he was still alive. Just then a moon-fish stopped and looked at him. His eyes, strangely, were not round as those of almost all fishes, but long, dark: they reminded him of camels’ eyes. A flank of the fish appeared wounded. Abdul had never thought that fishes too could hurt themselves. He stretched his hand and the fish, instead of running away, let Abdul touch him. It was then that the fish spoke with a thin voice: his tone seemed to rise and fall as a wave. “ If you cure me, I’ll not forget you. I hit a rock, I can’t understand how. It’s the first time it happens to me. I know that time will heal me, but may be you know a fast cure”. Abdul took from the sash around his waist a small vessel, containing an ointment made of crumbled tobacco and pomegranate honey. He applied it on the wound. “ To-morrow you will be healed” he said to the fish. The fish moved his tail and his fins a few times, to express his thanks, then added: “Over there, beyond those rocks, there is a cave. Inside you will find lots of dates and a pure water spring. The ground is covered with shells. Choose one, an iridescent one. If you ever would need me, throw the shell into the water, and I’ll come”. He turned with a wriggle and disappeared.
Dates gave him his strength back. Abdul thought that the only sensible thing for him to do was to go back to the city: maybe, if he was lucky, he could find a caravan bound for his oasis. When he got to the harbour, he stopped again to look at the ships. One ship had a gangway, hold together by big ropes, on which, in that moment, nobody was going 9 up or down. He thought that he would never again get the opportunity to catch a glimpse of a ship interior, but he could not make up his mind. It was destiny, or maybe it was written in the stars. He saw a big bag of pistachios left on the wharf. He looked around: nobody was paying attention to him. He put the sack on his back, and got inside the ship. He immediately noticed that there were no other sacks, nor bags, not baskets, nor jars around. Apparently no goods. He was trying to understand the reason, when he heard shouting, a noise of chains and, after a short while, the vessel started moving. He glanced outside: the ship was leaving the harbour. He decided to hide behind a tall roll of ropes and wait. He stayed there, motionless, for a period of time that seemed never to end. He was wondering whether it was better to let them see him and tell the truth when, from the way two sailors, who were standing close to him, were talking, he realized he had ended up on a pirates ship. Now he understood : that was why it did not carry any goods: they would attack other vessels and robe them. As desert brigants, he thought. He should escape as soon as possible, but where to? Moving with caution, he got near the railing. The sea down there, although it was pitch dark, appeared calm, and the ship was gliding away quietly. It was then that he remembered the fish words. He got out of his sash the iridescent shell and, keeping it in his hand, he let himself slide into the water. He floundered about, as he got in touch with the cold water, while the vessel was already far. He opened his hand and let the shell go. 10 Nothing seemed to happen. But he felt full of energy and started swimming in the direction the ship had come from. After a few strokes he felt that he was almost lifted and he recognized, in the dark, an endless number of silver scales. Lots of fishes were propping him up and pushing him, so that in a short time he set foot on shore. He was close to the place where he had met the moon-fish. And the fish was still there, as if to wellcome him, staring at him with his odd eyes, while his friends had already vanished. Abdul thanked him. The fish moved his tail and his fins, then disappeared into the crest of a wave.
Abdul thought he had better go back to the cave to get some dates. The cold water but, most of all, the past experiences had worn him out. He laid down in front of the cave looking at the sky. It was getting dark, but he did not feel any fear, as it happened in the desert. He did not know why, but he felt calm, safe, as if the cave, and the sea - which he could not discern, but of which he could perceive the ample and powerful breathing - were soothing him. He looked for his star and he recognized her immediately, among all the others. He thought that her light was less dim, her glimmering more lively. He half-closed his eyes, as he used to do, and as usual the twinkling turned into a beam which, more than ever, gave him a start. He felt invaded by a sudden tenderness, by so great a longing that the entire vault of heaven could not contain. He could not take his eyes off the star, and he thought that the star was reciprocating, winking in silence. In silence? 11 As if coming from remote distances, unknown to him, he was hearing the voice of the star, faint, just audible. She was calling him, and her voice was getting clearer and clearer. Sure, she was calling him. “Come!” She was saying. “Come!”. With his heart burning in his chest, he drew himself up, and started walking on that beam, hesitantly at the beginning, and then steadier and steadier. He would reach her at last.
Paolo Altamura