The Endless Golden Dunes

Chapter 21: Acceptance

HAMZA

 
Hamza stole glances at his comrades. They all suddenly seemed so in need of leadership, and Hamza knew the exact reason why he was thinking such.
  
Walid’s choice shouldn’t be this hard, should it? It shouldn’t be.
  
‘I should not be bouncing around what I want to say. In short, I wish to make you a captain.’
  
Hamza might have recoiled.
  
‘W-what? Where did that come from?’
  
‘I know, it sounds sudden, but I have a good reason for it. We are running short of leaders.’
  
‘And what, with all due respect, did you see in me that might have suggested I would be a good leader?’
  
His voice was shaking. The responsibility was like a mountain descending on him. Eventually, he would be experiencing a heavy weight on his shoulder.
  
He even considered that the choice had come far too quick. What was Hamza but a patroller from Madinah? Nothing more than that, surely?
  
‘It’s just simply that I have an important decision to make, and it concerns you.’
  
‘Me? What is the matter?’
  
‘It simply concerns your abilities in … swordplay.’
  
‘Is there something wrong with it?’
  
‘Quite the opposite, actually. You are … hauntingly good at it.’
  
‘Hauntingly good at it.’ That was how Walid had described it. Haunting. What was so frightening? Hamza knew. He knew because he feared too.
  
What could the hands of a man do? They have done many things. Adam’s hands were the first. They made farms, tendered cattle, and made tools that shaped humanity? But what else did man’s hands do? There was Kabil. He, with his hands, committed the first murder in the world, the one of his brother, Habil.
  
That proved it, then, did it not? The hand of a man can heal, but it can also plague. The same hand that can write poetry may take up a sword and drive it through a man.
  
Did that mean the hand of Hamza was able to kill?
  
Violently, Hamza shook his head. No thoughts like this. There shouldn’t be thoughts like this that were filling his mind. Why was he thinking that? He shouldn’t be even accepting these thoughts into his head.
  
Who warned him of such things?
  
‘Do not cry,’ he said. ‘You are worrying me.’
  
‘You should not go.’ Zainab said between two sobs.
 
‘But I have to; it is an order by the caliphate.’
  
‘But why you?’ Zainab looked at Hamza with anger, though it was directed at someone else. ‘Why does it have to be? Couldn’t they have picked anyone else?’
  
‘Other patrollers are coming as well.’
  
‘But it is stupid! Gabion! Why do they enlist those who have no experience in war? My father was but a stone carver, and he died because of what the caliph thought was “right”. This is outright a massacre! Can’t you just – just tell them you can’t go?’
  
She was speaking with ferocity, but inside all the hate, buried deep inside the layers of the show, there was a desperation, a desire to not let go. Hamza sensed that desire. He kissed Zainab on the brow.
  
‘If Allah has willed that I live, then even if the universe came together, they cannot kill me,’ he said. ‘But if He wills that I die, then the universe cannot save me. Have faith in Allah, pray to Him. You will not be disappointed.’
  
‘But … but–’
  
‘I will survive, that is my promise. By Allah, the One Who has created me, I will be careful, and every opportunity I can get, I will try to live.’
  
Hamza was happy to see that Zainab smiled. If the situation had not been so grim, she might have even laughed. They hugged each other.
  
‘Promise you will come back?’ she asked.
  
‘I promise, I swear.’ Hamza replied.
  
She was the one who warned. She was the one who knew. But did she really? Was she the one seeing war? No. She only knew how to–
  
Hamza wanted to punch himself. Why, why, why were these thoughts coming? They didn’t stop, just kept on coming and coming like demons, like jinns. Hamza wouldn’t be surprised if that was the direct source for the thoughts.
  
But the thoughts weren’t done swiftly making their way into Hamza’s brain.
  
The same thoughts over and over again.
   
‘Father, w-why?’
  
‘Hell was made for people like you!’
  
‘I am dying, Father.’
  
‘Why do you not ever listen?’
  
‘All I wanted was to see you one last time.’
  
‘You left us!’
  
‘I love you …’
  
‘I hate you!’
  
They made him nearly scream.
  
‘Hamza! Why? Why do you do this? Zaid has died because of you! How many times had I told you not to go? Now look! Bastard! Just like your parents.’
  
And just as such, memories that were meant to be buried underneath the soil of the mind, came back to haunt.
  
What were those memories, exactly? They were something that Hamza didn’t want to see, but fate worked in strange ways.
  
There were shouts while Hamza was sitting in his room, crying, asking himself why his parents were fighting.
  
‘They are talking, just … really loudly.’ Said the voice in his head.
  
That voice. It always appeared when Hamza needed it.
  
‘But why so loudly?’ Hamza asked.
  
‘So that you can hear them as well.’
  
The shouts were horrifyingly loud and continued to be as if a hammer was hitting iron. Then, it began to fizzle out and a disturbing silence followed before Hamza could say that the fight had ended.
  
Fights like that always went on. When Hamza once asked of it, his father was quick to respond that it was all just them talking about something. Hamza doubted that. There was a feeling of anger that came out of their voice, surely that wasn’t ‘talking’, was it?
  
Just talking. Does talking require one to hit the other on the face? That was what Father did, that is what Mother did. And that talking wou;d spiral into hitting more and more. Wasn’t talking the way of the tongue and not the hand?
  
Hamza grabbed his hair and hung his head. Everything was too confusing.
  
‘Worry not. It will pass, it will pass. You will meet people who will love you as much as you love them.’
  
‘When will that time come?’
  
‘Pray to Allah, pray to Him, for He will accept your prayers. Read the verses that your Lord has sent to you. Seek comfort in them.’
  
‘Why must humans be like this? Why do we fight? Can’t we just shake hands, say sorry if there is a mistake and move to do better things?’
 
‘That is the tragedy of all things. The world does not work as such. But if you wish to see that kind of world, you must be one of the people who live in it. Clever people dream to change the world, wise people try to change themselves.’
  
‘How can that be when I know nothing of what kindness is?’
  
‘You know what it is. It is how Zainab treats you, how the stranger treated you when he gave you a sweet. There are many ways to show kindness, for that is how the world functions; on kindness and love. Either you shall mimic what has happened to you, or you will do the opposite of it. The choice is yours. We humans are strange creatures, Hamza. We may be capable of doing things that may end the world, but we also have the ability to heal it, to nurture it, to make it worth living on.’
  
‘So should I show kindness to everyone?’
  
‘Precisely, Hamza. You give kindness, that kindness will come back. It is the simple rule of the universe. If you lead by kindness, you can lead in anything. What the people need is a leader, one who can motivate them to do kind things. You will be that leader, inshallah.’
  
Hamza was silent, but he agreed. He told himself over and over again one thing.
  
‘Everyone deserves a bit of kindness.’
  
What did Hamza think of that conversation? As far as he knew, it was the first time that he could remember when he first heard that little voice in his head. Other people experienced such things as well; they had told so to Hamza during his days of patrolling. Strangely, they said that instead of telling them to do good deeds or give kindness, they told them of transgressions and sins. They tempted them.
  
Hamza cherished that memory. It was filled with so much wisdom, so much motivation. It was as if his thoughts received knowledge directly from Allah.
  
Now, there was one piece of wisdom that caught Hamza’s attention.
 
‘What the people need is a leader, one who can motivate them to do kind things. You will be that leader, inshallah.’
  
Leader.
  
Hamza turned to his comrades again. Yes, perhaps they did need one.
  
With a heavy air leaving his lungs, Hamza finally decided what he must do.

***

He entered Walid’s tent.
  
‘Peace be upon you.’ Hamza said.
  
‘And may it be upon you as well.’ Walid replied.
  
‘I want to be a captain. I accept your offer.’
  
Walid raised an eyebrow.
  
‘Straight to the point, then?’ he said. ‘Well, that didn’t take you much time at all, did it? What motivated you.’
  
‘It was … just a realization.’
  
‘Is that so? Nonetheless, you are now a captain. Congratulations.’
  
‘That quick?’
  
‘You were quick to decide; I was quick to promote.’
  
‘Oh. Well, I suppose then I should leave?’
  
The difference in Hamza’s wasn’t ignored by Walid.
  
‘Hamza, are you all right?’ he asked.
  
‘I think that I am.’
  
‘Does not seem so; I will tell you that much. In fact, I can tell you what is bothering you.’
  
‘I … wouldn’t like to hear that, sayed.’
  
‘It’s your family, Hamza. Admit it. You want to be in there with them, in your wife’s arms, carrying your son, all of that. You have seen their faces and you do not want to accept the fact that you might never see them again. You are afraid, Hamza. You are scared of what can happen.’
  
‘Sir Walid, with all due respect, I do not think that any of my matters will be a concern to you.’
  
Walid sighed.
  
‘I am simply stating what is true. You miss them, do you not? You yearn from them.’
  
‘There is no need for you to get into what is considered my business.’
  
Walid looked as if he wanted to argue, but he then decided to let it go.
  
‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘But I will tell you this: you are lucky. It is not often that I reveal much of my life, but I will say that you and I are similar in many ways.’
  
The two stared at each other for a moment before Walid spoke again.
  
‘You are excused.’