Lines in the sand

Faraj was walking beside his camel when the wind started to blow stronger. He had been wandering in the desert's dunes for days since he heard the voice in his head, in his time of praying, in the moskee. He thought he had gone crazy, but the Imam told him to follow the voice. Allah talks to the purest hearts, so they can serve him on the earthly realm, he had said to him. Fearful and scared he left the town to "learn from the sands" as the voice had whispered to him.

"My fellow companion, a sandstorm is approaching." He said to the camel.

He moved the scarf from his mouth and took out his kufeja from his head. He put his right hand over his eyes and try to look further to see if there was a place to protect himself from the sandstorm approaching. The dunes projected themselves until the horizon, showing no hideout to go to. Faraj could not camp in that place because his very tiny tent would have been swiped away, and his poor camel Shambar would have died. He wore again his kufeja and his scarf covering every part of the face except for the eyes whose color was dark brown as coffee.

He leaned his hand on the camel side to pick his skin made satchel and drink the remaining water. He had no clue about what would have happened next. He raised his hands to the waist and stared the pink sky melting into the yellow white sands. Hopeless, he looked in his bag for his telescope and dug between the objects he had brought to survive in his journey: a little pot, a wooden spoon, different powders and some paper. Finally he grabbed the metallic tube, but extracting it, something fell off the bag. He leaned, kneeling, to collect the wooden spinning top the Imam gave to him for his quest. He united his hands as a cup and lifted the object as if it was a bird that had fell off the nest. He almost forgot about the precious gift he had received. The sand started hitting his face and getting inside his large clothes. Shambar became nervous and protested against the weather, changing so quickly.

"Shhh." Faraj whispered to the camel's ear to calm him down.

He opened his hand in front of its eyes, spinning the top on his palm.

"The Imam gave us this to have help from above." He said petting the neck of his trusted companion.

Shambar calmed down and Faraj concentrated on the top. His palms were very hard and dry like wood, so the tiny object had no difficulty spinning. Faraj had been a fisherman for a long time until the waters had become black and the people living among his tribe got a whiter and whiter skin.

When the top fell it showed a side. Three curly lines represented the air, the Imam had explained to him.

Faraj took the rein and lifted the index to feel the direction of the wind.

"West." He said to Shambar.

He hopped on the camel's back and with a gentle move he ordered him to move. The sands were raising lifted by the strong wind. Faraj was scared because he was going completely random, but he believed Allah would have taken care of him.

"The Imam would not have lied to me." He said to himself, holding strong the top in his left hand.

Shambar was not happy because of the sand all around, so it shook its head from left to right. Faraj started chanting a Surah from the Quran. The camel became calm and they proceeded without any deviation.

After an amount of time he couldn't calculate, Faraj saw a red tent in the distance. The sandstorm had almost reached him. He scratched his eyes to see better and not being a victim of a mirage. The red tent didn't move. He intimated his camel to go faster so they could ask for help. Once they got closer, he walked to the entrance of the hideout.