Nile Society

1

Sudanese folktales are usually myths meant to entertain children and inspire them to explore their culture, they can also be a bedtime story from a grandmother that has been urging the children to drink their milk all night and the one thing that will do it is the dread that a ghoul will devour them otherwise. Not many of these stories have any parting moral, but for those which do they are an omen; a warning to take caution of the unseen in our surroundings and in those closest to us - mystical or not.

As is the case with the story of the beautiful Fatima. The tale goes that a ghoul terrorized a village until its elders came to an agreement with it that it may take the prettiest among them but then it must slumber for 100 years. And as a century passes the people of the village forget their deal with the ghoul and do not take any precautions to hide their daughters. As the looming threat draws nearer, Fatima's family try everything from locking her in the house to making her wear an enchanted to bracelet. They are even desperate enough to fit her into the flesh suit of an old man so that the ghouls' minions cannot recognize her. But in the end her fate is sealed. She is stolen away never to be heard from or seen again, as was her predecessor as will be her successor.

-

Inside a rumbling train carriage sat a girl carrying all her worldly possessions in a single suitcase which she held close to her legs, secretly fearing that these too would be taken from her.

A man in blue passed her collecting the dried cake wrappers everyone had been snacking on so they wouldn't litter the ground. The windows around her were all open, allowing the wind to whisper in and through the carriage, fluttering a little girls hair and scattering another's' papers all around her. The wind brought with it a feeling of change as the train whistled beside the winding river Nile, it felt the sorrow and uncertainty surrounding the lone girl as could the other passengers. None could bring themselves to ask her if she was okay and the wind was sure she rather preferred she not be bothered. She should be allowed all the peace could get now before she faced whatever she was dreading at the next stop.

As the train came to the end of its journey its passengers bustled out onto the platform and went to unload their luggage. The girl stepped out carefully taking in her surroundings. Miles of green fields before them without any civilization to speak of in sight, the Blue Nile screaming behind them and it was much louder now without the sounds of the train. The sky was bluer here if that were possible, where they had come from was only some hours away, but the scenery had changed drastically almost immediately outside the city limits. If it were not for the train and the small cafe at the platform, one could think that this was a place untouched by time. The platform itself seemed to blend into its surroundings with the grass growing wild where wood met green.

"Meena!" a gruff voice called out from the crowd around her. Nobody had called her that in ages she almost thought she misheard it before it called for her again. "Meena, hamdila ala

alsalama, how was your journey? You've grown so big since we last saw you..." the man rambled on answering his own questions as Yasmine tried to take it in. She hadn't seen her uncle in years, but he still looked the same. Deep eyes, wide set jaw, an untamed beard but almost no hair on his head. The familiarity was comforting. His mouth was moving but she couldn't hear the words, just as well she couldn't bring herself to talk anyway so she nodded to everything he was saying.

"Is this all of your luggage?" a nod.

"Alright then." another nod.

He seemed to get the hint and took her bag from her as they headed off his to his car.

The town was still a little way away from the station. Uncle Sami continued talking trying to fill the awkward silence between them.

"It's so wonderful that you are here, everyone is so excited to see you. Of course, it would have been a happier occasion under different circumstances but - "Yasmine didn't mean to tune him out, but she wanted her mind clear before they arrived. She knew she has been raised well with good manners, but her mother had warned her that the people she was about to meet again operated differently. Her mother made them sound like savages but that wasn't how she remembered them, from whatever little she could remember.

The last time she was here was almost twelve years ago. The memory was very fuzzy, but she knew she had liked them. Her uncle was a good example, an incredibly kind and generous man and she had never seen him without a smile on his face. Almost like a medical condition. The rest of her uncles were almost the same, but each had his own story.

The person she dreaded meeting the most was her grandmother, Al Sham. The headstrong matriarch of her father's family. She supposed she had to be raising so many sons alone. She had been the first female teacher in her district which had turned heads alone, then followed it by becoming the first driver in their town and the old car still stood proudly in the yard of her home. The doors of the house were never locked in the case that someone was in need, or another came for a favour or if someone just wanted to talk. The lights were always on, and the sounds of laughter could be heard a neighbourhood over always, even long after she had gone to bed, and it was only her children carrying on her legacy. They all knew she was difficult, but they also knew was kind and was a mother to all. She had unknowingly raised an entire town that was ready to stand at her beck and call whenever she needed. A woman to be reckoned with.

Yasmine also knew she would be walking into a house where everyone knew each other but didn't know her. She would be a stranger in her own family. She was determined to try to make it work even though she knew her mother secretly hoped she would fail and come running back to her.

Sami quieted down as they finally drove into the town. The houses were dispersed at first but eventually started packing together the further into the centre they went. The exteriors varied from smooth cement to exposed brick with vines creeping up the walls and trees hanging over doorways like canopies spraying flowers all over the ground giving the town a very homey feel to it. Every street they turned into, a small shop was nestled in between the houses with plastic chairs stacked out front although all their shutters were closed. They passed an open area with weathered goal posts on each end and an abandoned football in

the middle. The winds tried to start their own game, but the ball refused to roll. Sensing a disturbance in the air it followed the car to its destination.

Just smile and take it all in quietly.

Don't look anyone in the eye for too long.

You don't have to stay too long.

You can go come home whenever you want.

Yasmine's mother's words rang in her head repeatedly try to concrete themselves in her mind so she wouldn't forget. This is not a permanent arrangement; she was here for a purpose and would be returning soon. But she couldn't shake the feeling that that wasn't true.

She didn't know what to expect of her grandmother's house but what they came upon was nothing she was prepared for. The house looked exactly as she remembered it; red brick walls that were glossed every year, red sand on the ground that was sprayed and firmed every morning, blossom trees on both sides of the door. She used to play with her cousins under the shade of those flowers that were now all fallen and dried on the ground.

There was a spacious tent erected before the house that was filled almost to the brim with men. Some reading passages from holy pages and other conversing in low voices over round metal trays of food. Young men wove in and out carrying those same trays being handed to them by young women over the walls and covered with colourful straw discs. The colours did not match the tone of the environment they were in. Cries came from the house and a woman's voice wailed,

يحليلك يا راص البيت

قطعت راصنا

يحليلك يا نور البيت

طفيت ديارنا

يحليلك يا عمود البيت

هديت قلوبنا

Oh you who was the head of our house

You've cut off our own

Oh you who was the light of our house

you've dimmed our home

Oh you who was the pillar of our house

you've broken our hearts

It had only been a weekend, but her father's funeral had attracted rather a large crowd.