Chapter XIV

Thalam was awake long before he was. Alnilam sat upright, and watched as the dawn began it’s slow, sure defeat of the darkness. He looked over to his friend, and stroked the back of the falcon’s head, who was staring out onto the open desert plains, enviably calm and unworried – this was his home, and he understood his purpose in life, and so nothing ever concerned him. The fire was already out; Alnilam collected the remainder of the firewood, picked up the flask of water, and perched Thalam on his arm.

Alnilam did not know, nor care, in which direction the village existed – he was determined to find it, and that was all that mattered. No matter what distance, or how long it would take, he would return to Esma – that was his resolve. That was the place, where he knew that he belonged in the world. With a great deal of patience and hope, Alnilam began his slow, uncertain journey towards the Place which he believed belonged to him.

The sun drenched the desert in such a rich, honey-coloured gold, that he could almost taste its warm sweetness at the edge of his lips. He had not seen the desert this way before, nor had he witnessed such a beautiful sunrise in his life. This time was different, because for the first time, he truly believed that as long as he kept moving in the large, empty desert, eventually something extraordinary would be discovered. The promise of life’s interruptions is dangerously fantastic.

He walked all through the day, never stopping once to rest. No weariness could exhaust his hope of returning to that village he so desperately wanted to call home. He felt undefeated - defiantly optimistic that somewhere, in a desert that refused to end, there was some thin slice of heaven waiting for him. No – not heaven, there would be suffering, as always, just as the nomad had taught him. But he would at least find love. That was for certain – he hoped.

He imagined the nomad walking beside him, not leading him in any direction as he usually did, but rather only observing. The nomad smiled, proud of his companion, the lost wanderer who now finally understood.

“The desert has a way of changing things, wanderer. It is the natural way. If you walk long enough in the desert, you will eventually learn its lessons”, he said.

They finally stopped to rest at sunset. Alnilam sat down on the soft sand that was now beginning to cool with the pleasant winter breeze. He perched Thalam, stroked the back of his head and looked out onto the horizon – to the hopeful sunset that promised him what he wanted. First, he thought of Sara.

Would he one day forget her? As if a bucket of cold water had suddenly been poured over his heart, all at once, every fibre of his being shuddered. An abandoned heart always leaves behind an emptiness where someone once belonged. Given enough time, that emptiness begins to disappear, until eventually there is no longer enough room for even their memory to return – at least never fully.

Next, he thought of Prince Waleed and his family.

“I wonder why they try so hard to hide their suffering”, he thought. “If suffering is an inevitable consequence of life, why hide it?”

The nomad turned to face Alnilam.

“Perhaps it is because they think that others would not understand their suffering, so that is why they hide it. Perhaps, we are all hiding”, said the nomad.

The first stars were now beginning to take their places in the darkening evening sky, as the sun dipped below the horizon. Alnilam lay on his back and decided to watch them. The stars, he thought. The wonderful dreams of the desert. Esma.

He took a deep, satisfied breath and smiled. It was then that he realised the profound, simple beauty of life. The blind belief that one day he would find his Place; that he would eventually find the one who would call his name, now inspired him to be as ridiculous as to wander the Arabian desert. With no guarantee of success, or certainty, he still hoped, believed and even knew, that this was something worth enduring the agony of life for. Suddenly, the dull ache in his heart, the longing and torment all became beautiful things, and for which he was grateful. The fabric of inspiration exists not in the experience of beauty, but in the imagination of it.

He smiled, took another deep breath, closed his eyes and began to imagine what he might feel, when he would finally find Esma.

He walked alongside the nomad for almost two days without the sun ever rising, until they finally found what they had been supposed to find all along. Old and weary, but still determined to fulfil its purpose, there it stood. The nomad had finally found his lost camel.

They tried to direct the camel towards the three stars of Orion’s belt, but this camel had always been stubborn, and only moved wherever it wanted to go. After a while, he learned not to fight it, and, like the desert and life itself, to let it lead him where it may. The camel kept on moving slowly through the desert, sometimes changing direction only slightly, and at other times turning around and moving in completely the opposite direction, though it never stopped moving. This eventually caused Alnilam a great deal of frustration.

“Patience”, reassured the nomad.

Eventually, the camel became thirsty.

As is the natural way of things, the camel found its way to the large body of water that existed beside the village. The camel moved in its direction, slowly, unconcerned and indifferent to the excitement and lack of patience that Alnilam felt, now that he could see the village. He dismounted, and began to sprint towards the nomad’s house. Esma was already standing outside the door.

“Alnilam!” she cried.

The calm that settled within him, when he saw her again, had washed away all of the pain, and the suffering, and the long and arduous journey, to get to where he was now, to finally look upon her face. He needed no more flowers, nor escape, nor wealth. He knew, that no matter what road he had taken, or however long it may have taken him, he would have always, eventually reached this place – for this, was his Place.

He married her, and soon after they had a child together. They named him Zayed, after the nomad.

Zayed had many people throughout his life, to call his name.

He also took Esma to see Cairo, and she had insisted on walking throughout the entire city, barefoot. He took her and the nomad to meet Ismail and Mr. Salama, and they all had tea together. Finally, he took Esma to Lyla’s house – to the apricot orchard, and it was the horses that she loved the most.

Inside the house, they found a deflated football, and a storybook – it was a story about the stars, just like he had always wanted, when he had asked Lyla for one as a child. He decided to title it after that which he had learned to love: The Desert.

The sun was rising now, and he was once again awake. The sunrise was just as beautiful as the sunset he had witnessed the evening before. The familiar, cool winter chill was in the air. He looked over to Thalam and smiled.

“This winter will bring good things, dear friend. I’m sure of it”.

THE END