The Endless Golden Dunes

Chapter 1: Salman of Baghdad

‘Have patience, Father; Allah willing there might be an oasis here.’ Salman said.
  
Salman Ibn Al-Assad, (or just Salman for short), a fifteen-year-old, was riding a camel with his father, Musa Abdullah Qassim Al-Assad (or Abdullah for short), alongside on another camel.
  
The sand dunes were shifting rapidly and the Sun was beating their backs like cruel whips. The orange and golden Arabian sands weren’t to be taken lightly and even for natives were a difficult challenge to be a master of. Abdullah looked to be dying from the heat but he still reluctantly followed his son in hopes for rest later on.
  
But the march was worth it. They saw, in the distance, perched between two dunes, an oasis. Green grass grew around it and date trees stood high and tall. In the center was a large, blue lake. It was like a small part of Heaven in a world of Hell. Their camels rushed to the lakes in amazing speed.
  
After they had reached the lushness of the oasis, they dismounted their camels and made a beeline towards the waters. After saying their prayers and thanking Allah, the two drank the water with gratefulness and ate the dates merrily.
  
When they and the camels had refreshed themselves and quenched their thirsts, Abdullah got up. But as he left the weight to his legs, he fell. Luckily, Salman caught his father just in time. He put his father’s arm around his shoulders. When he had led Abdullah to his camel, his father looked at him lovingly.
  
‘You’re the greatest son any father could ask for.’ He said to Salman.
  
Salman smiled. But he was confused when his father’s face drained color and his colorful smile turned into a grey frown.
  
‘But I am getting old,’ he said. ‘And I worry that you are not ready to take my place as you are too young.’
  
Salman didn’t deny the fact. But he did try to comfort his father.
  
‘You are a great father,’ Salman told him. ‘Allah willing, this problem will be solved sooner or later.’
  
‘Allah willing,’ agreed Abdullah. ‘Now come, we are, I think, close to Baghdad.’
  
Salman helped his father on his camel and mounted his own. Now, they were off again.

*~*
  
The Sun had begun its whipping again and the two were again quite tired.
  
‘How long until Baghdad?’ asked Salman.
  
‘Over there,’ answered Abdullah. He pointed to a large rushing river. ‘That I am guessing is the River Tigris. Which means Baghdad is somewhere nearby. We might be quite close to it, actually.’
  
‘I think I am seeing some buildings in the distance.’ Informed Salman.
  
‘Then we are closer than I thought! Let us make haste now.’
  
With all the strength and will they had left, they rode forward.

*~*

Soon, they reached the outskirts of Baghdad. All around were towns and villages. On the River Tigris was a port and in the center was the Round City itself. Poking from the walls were different homes, towers, madrassas, the House of Wisdom and the Great Masjid. This was the capital of the Caliphate. This was the place where Abdullah and Salman left their small town for.
  
‘It is magnificent,’ said Abdullah. ‘Better than I had previously imagined.
  
‘Then come, Father! Let us enter the Great City now!’
  
‘Do not make haste now!’ Abdullah told him. ‘We have reached our destination, no doubt, but we are strangers to the folk of these lands. We can get the Tablet of Citizenship easily no doubt but we will still be just another migrant from another small town to them. Therefore, be respectful to the people of the Capital and not say any haughty words which may stain our records.’
  
With the restrictions of Abdullah being said, the two rode to the walls of Baghdad.

*~*

They reached the city gates where several spearmen stood. Abdullah went up to them.
  
‘For which purpose do you come with?’ one of them asked.
  
‘We come with the wish to migrate to Baghdad.’ Abdullah answered politely.
  
‘Then I am afraid you might need to fill some parchments before you can be a citizen here.’
  
‘No problem! I am ready to fill those parchments.’
  
‘And what about the little one?’
  
‘I think Salman would stay in the waiting house while I am filling the parchments,’ said Abdullah. ‘Salman! Please excuse yourself in that tent over there.’
  
Salman nodded and walked away. He turned around just in time to see Abdullah go with the guard.

*~*

He saw the tent his father was talking about. It only had a cloth roof and was supported by four long, wooden sticks. In it, a religious teacher was talking to a group of boys. Salman thought it would be some time before his father would fill the parchments, so he went towards the tent and joined the students.

*~*

He reached there and joined just in time for another lesson. The teacher was an old man, his beard was white like salt and his face was polished by old wisdom. He wore simple clothing of white robes and a head covering to protect his head from the cruel Sun.
  
By the information of the boys around him, the teacher had just finished the story of Prophet Adam and how he was tricked by Iblees and was now beginning the more famous story of the Prophet Muhammad.
  
The boys readied themselves and Salman did the same. Although how many times he heard the story of the great man, whether it be from his father, or from the imams from the masjids back at his village, the story never failed to fascinate him. The Prophet’s struggles, break-throughs and loyal companions somehow got more compelling every time he heard it.
  
The teacher started with the birth of Muhammad and the miracles that had happened like the sacred fire in Persia that had been burning for a thousand years being quenched and the idols in Kaaba and a light that gushed out from Amina’s room. Then the teacher told of him going into the custody of Halima, Jibril purifying his heart and being returned to Amina.
  
Then, he told of the death of Amina and Muhammad’s grandfather, Abdul and being given to the custody of his uncle, Abu Talib, him being told that Muhammad was a chosen one and should be kept away from the Jews and the sacrilegious wars.
  
He told of his marriage to Khadija, the reconstruction of the Kaaba and finally, the most exciting part, the event of the Cave of Hira.
  
He told of his early preaching, migration to Madinah and the Battle of Badr, Uhud and Trench and the Conquest of Makkah.
  
After a lot of time, the teacher finally reached the end of the prophet’s life and laid back to look at his listeners.
  
‘Our beloved prophet spent four years preaching and only gained forty followers. Did he give up?’ asked the teacher.
  
‘No O teacher!’ chirruped the young ones.
  
‘And then look at the case of Prophet Nuh. He spent nine hundred and fifty years preaching and gained but a few followers. Did he give up?’
  
‘No O teacher!’ the chirruped.
  
He smiled.
  
‘The lives of our prophets are not just stories of how our religion was founded, but there is a lesson in their lives. One of them being not to lose hope and find alternatives. When Muhammad had little success in Makkah, instead of giving up, he went to Taif as an alternative. Prophet Isa never laid a finger on a single soul even when he was persecuted, he didn’t give up. Prophet Nuh, Ibrahim, Ismael, Musa, Haroon, Isa, Muhammad and every other messenger of Allah faced difficulty in preaching the Truth and always faced persecutions. But they did not give up.
  
‘In all the prophets’ lives, there are lessons for us to implement in our own lives. Therefore, try and look at their stories in a way that speaks to you. Class dismissed; I will see you tomorrow.’ 
  
There were awes of disappointment as the old man picked up his copy of the Qur’an and book of Hadiths and went on his way as the children left their seats. Salman, meanwhile, was deep in thought.
  
‘All the prophets did never give up.’ He thought after gathering all his knowledge of the prophets and looking through their lives.
  
And then he thought about himself. How many times had he given up on something that he just couldn’t accomplish? And then there was Nuh who preached for nine hundred and fifty years with little to no luck and is regarded highly by Allah. If he could be that determined for that long, what excuse did Salman have?
  
He then turned his attention towards other people of history.
  
‘Despite losing more than half his men in the Alps, Hannibal moved on with courage and led his men to multiple victories. Despite the odds, Alexander crushed the Persian Empire. Despite being outnumbered four to one, Khalid-bin-Walid defeated the Byzantines at Yarmouk. So, why should I give up in something while people like them did not?’
  
‘Salman!’ shouted a voice.
  
Salman realized how long it had been. The Sun was close to setting and the call for Maghrib prayer was being called at the masjids of Baghdad and he saw his father running to him and reaching him.
  
‘You have been here for quite some while, my son!’ he exclaimed. ‘Come! The Sun has frowned on us and the azan has been called. We should now be going to our new home!’
  
‘We have a house, already?’ puzzled Salman.
  
‘I had bought one beforehand; now be not in the thoughts of your mind and come!’
  
Salman stood up and followed his father back to the Round City, the words of the sheikh and thoughts of his own making themselves comfortable in his mind.