The Endless Golden Dunes

Chapter 13: The Camp

ABBAS

  
Hundred men were to be taken to a training place somewhere in the middle of the desert, or so Abbas heard. At first, he had refused to believe it. That was until Walid made the announcement himself.
  
‘I am aware that many of you are new recruits, more than half actually,’ he said walking in front of them, almost pacing. ‘Therefore, you have no training. I have observed many of the sparring practices, and must say that very few of you have managed to fit my criteria. If you cannot defend yourself against blunt swords, I can only imagine what the Mongols would do to you. Next dawn, a hundred of you will leave with me to engage yourselves in a training that will toughen you up. Is that clear?’
  
There were cries of agreement.
  
‘Good. I will issue out who will get to go. Wait until then.’

***

When Abbas was in his dormitory, he had pondered on how fate had worked that way. More journeys, more travels. It was as if the universe wanted him to travel.
  
‘Another sign.’ He thought.
  
And again, the mystery of it began to come to him like a thick cloud. Why was he so happy back then? Why was he joyful then? Why was he so interested in it? The same question took many forms and it kept attacking him. Abbas knocked on his skull, attempting to have the thoughts go away. He kept on thinking of them even as he lay on his bed.
  
Soon, his eyelids became too heavy and they veiled his eyes.

UMAR

The next dawn, all eight of them were chosen to go.
  
Adam had found the thing strange.
  
‘This is a strange coincidence,’ he said. ‘Strange indeed. Why us all?’
  
‘Maktub.’ Umar found himself saying.
  
‘Sorry?’
  
Umar shook his head.
  
‘Obviously that’s going to happen,’ he said with a sneer. ‘We’re all new recruits.’
  
There had been murmurs of agreement.
  
Now what was to happen? Was there a possibility he would be killed? He imagined himself being buried, there being no people to mourn for him, no one to wear black, no one to weep.
  
Umar grimaced. He did not like that thought, not one bit of him.
  
A hand was laid on his shoulder as he was thinking this. Suddenly, Umar became aware of his surroundings. He noticed the carts of the caravan, the camel riders, the men in turban, and the leather-cladded soldiers. He had his eyes on the dunes, and then at the blue sky. His head turned and he was now looking at Hamza who had a worrisome face on.
  
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
  
Great. He might have noticed Umar’s discomfort. He nodded.
  
‘Just fine.’ He replied.
  
‘Lying again?’
  
Right. There was also the incident last morning.
  
‘I just don’t want to talk about anything.’ He said truthfully.
  
‘That is a fair response.’
  
Hamza sat next to Umar with a satisfactory sigh.
  
‘What do you want to talk about?’ he asked.
  
‘Anything that doesn’t relate back to me.’
  
‘Uh huh. Well, shall I tell you some tales from Medina?’
  
At first, Umar wanted to reject the offer, but he didn’t for two reasons. He didn’t want to be impolite towards Hamza, someone who had been quite considerate towards him. Second, he was curious about how Medina was.
  
‘Tell me about that land.’ Umar requested.
  
‘Oh, where do I begin? It is a wonderful place. Unbelievable. The people are one of the most generous people you shall meet! Show up to a random house. There, they will let you in, feed you, treat you like a king just because you are their guests and–’
  
Hamza abruptly stopped. For a moment, he was deep in thought, then he smiled at Umar.
  
‘Did I ever tell you about my family?’ he asked.
  
‘I can’t remember when you did.’
  
He had answered casually, but he suddenly became curious. He pondered if any of the others would have wives let alone kids. Certainly not Salman, and it was a public fact that Abbas was unmarried. The others? Umar wasn’t sure.
  
‘Ah, where do I begin?’ Hamza said. ‘My son, Zaid, might just be the perfect child, a blessing from Allah Almighty. And my wife. Not only is she a piece of the moon, she is a phenomenal person. She is not only my life, she is my partner in life till death.’
  
Partner in life till death? Umar had begun to realize how much he had wished he had a wife. With her, he could have had a child. But then what? He would beat the child, he would make him know what it was like to be his father. No. Umar was afraid that would happen. But what if he was kind? What if he was the exact opposite of his father? Would his son turn out to be a great person?
  
Umar shook his head. It was, perhaps, better if he did not think about it.
  
‘I am still continuing to see distress in you.’ Hamza said.
  
‘Ignore it.’
  
‘I can’t.’
  
‘I just do not want to talk about it.’
  
‘If you don’t, then you’ll stay like this forever, till the end of your years.’
  
Umar paused.
  
‘How was your family?’ Umar asked.
  
‘Both are good people.’
  
‘No. I mean …’ for a moment, Umar hesitated. ‘I mean, what were your parents like?’
  
Hamza’s smile faded away and it was replaced by a sad frown. Then, Umar saw a different Hamza. This Hamza was someone who knew pain, someone who had experienced something bad. Umar expected that his face would change again. But to his surprise, Hamza simply smiled.
  
‘I see it now.’ He said.
  
‘See what?’ Umar puzzled.
  
‘I can now see why you are the way you are.’
  
Umar knitted his eyes.
  
‘You lie.’ He said.
  
‘I have no need to lie in this matter.’
  
Umar bit his thumb. Surely Hamza did not guess from the single question alone?
  
‘But I will answer your question first.’ Hamza mercifully continued.
  
Umar sighed internally. For a moment, he subconsciously looked at the dunes and his mind went black until Hamza spoke again.
  
‘Both my parents weren’t good people.’ He said.
  
Umar was yanked out of his blank thoughts. It was as if someone had wrapped a rope around his neck and tugged at him immediately. Umar’s head whipped around to look at Hamza who somehow was maintaining a smile. Strangely, that smile wasn’t of sadness, it was genuine joy.
  
‘You know the usual taboo things,’ he continued. ‘Fights, beatings, shoutings, no one knew about them. It was as if they were brewing their anger, it formed when they were around each other. It was like a bowl of milk. You would add spices, then weed, then bits of iron. That was the type of thing that was formed when they talked to each other. And who was the boy that received the milk of disgust?’
  
Umar had no reply. He simply wanted to know more.
  
‘But not everyone was like my parents,’ he continued. ‘My cousin, Zainab, who would be my soon-to-be wife, she was supportive. She comforted me. When I escaped my home, I went to stay at her parent’s house. I got work as a patroller, married her, and life was good after that. Now, here I am.’
  
He had said it so casually, as if he hadn’t uttered the greatest dream of Umar.
  
‘How did you achieve it?’ he asked.
  
‘Achieve what?’
  
‘Happiness.’
  
For a moment, Hamza looked at Umar with an arched eyebrow, and then he laughed.
  
‘W-what’s funny?’ Umar asked.
  
‘Nothing,’ Hamza replied. ‘It’s just that the question is wrong.’
  
‘What do you mean?’
  
‘Let me explain it to you,’ Hamza relaxed himself. ‘If one seeks happiness, he will not achieve it.’
  
‘I … don’t understand.’
  
‘Basically – and may Allah forgive my language – it is fool’s play to think that one can achieve eternal happiness. My wife always had a saying: “wherever thou wilt goeth, as long as thou wander in the direction of thy heart, happiness shall be by thou’s side.” I think about that all the time.’
  
‘Er – sorry,’ Umar said. ‘I’m afraid my Arabic is not as good as yours. Can you please explain it to me in simpler terms.’
  
Hamza smiled.
  
‘What I mean to say is that if you go to your heart’s desire, you will achieve happiness as a bonus, for happiness exists everywhere.’
  
‘If it exists everywhere, then why can’t I find it?’
  
‘It doesn’t just appear. The problem is, you are searching for it. Quit doing that. You will find happiness when you search for something else. That something else will bring happiness for you.’
  
‘And why does sadness exist?’
  
‘So that happiness can exist.’
  
‘So why can’t I have it no matter what?’
  
‘It depends on the soul. The soul of yours and the soul of others.’
  
‘I don’t understand.’
  
‘Souls can change. It may be shaped by how the world works and how it treats you, but it is up to you to decide how it molds you.’
  
‘How did life mold you?’
  
‘Life gave me things. Some that I mimicked, and some that I did the opposite of.’
  
‘How did you know how to do what?’
  
Hamza paused, and then he pointed up to the sky.
  
‘He helped me,’ he said. ‘The Lord of the Universe helped me.’
  
‘And will He help me?’
  
‘Why would He not? Remember Surah Ad-Dhuha. “And did He not find you wandering, and gave you shelter?” If He has said in His Holy Book that He will help you, then He will do it. All you need to do is wait, and then ask yourself a question: “what do you really want?”’
  
Umar was about to reply that he wants happiness, but then he stopped himself. What he really wanted was something else. The reason he had joined the army, the true reason, it was now beginning to reveal itself to him. It was first a thick fog that covered his surroundings, but then it began to give way. It revealed more of the path that Umar threaded on. Suddenly, the answer to Hamza’s question became as clear as sunlight on the desert, as smooth as an untouched lake.
  
‘I want to be a better person for my mother,’ Umar replied. ‘I want to fight back against my father.’
  
Hamza smiled.
  
‘You have an answer, now you shall ask yourself another question.’ He stated.
  
‘What shall that question be?’
  
‘How will you achieve your goal?’
  
Umar placed his clenched fist underneath his chin. His mind began walking, and it didn’t pick up any pace. Then, it began to skip, and then run, and then it galloped. Umar found his answer.
  
‘The army will toughen me up.’ He said.
  
‘But with toughness, there should be softness in your heart. Be not so bitter that people will spit you out, and be not so sweet that people will swallow you.’
  
‘How long will it take to see my perfect form?’
  
‘Only God knows.’
  
Umar sighed. It felt as if a weight of ten camels was put off him. Sure, there were some weights left on him, but at least some of them were gone, and that was relieving.
  
‘Also, you should talk to Abbas.’
  
Umar turned to him.
  
‘Do I need to?’
  
‘Of course you do. It is all part of the process of you becoming the best version of you.’
  
Umar breathed through his nose and he let all the air in his lungs let go.
  
‘I shall see to it,’ he said. ‘Either way, thank you … for everything. Jazakallah.’
  
‘Just act upon my words, and then I will take the thank you.’
  
Umar smiled, not a hysterical one, just a plain, genuine smile.