Aliya of Bahariya

Mahmoud

I finish tying up Jairo, circling knot after knot and yanking them tight so that I could never be implicated if she disappears. In the distance I see Musa sitting on the ground, with a group of Fulani men. The tribe leaders that came with us are there too, but talking amongst themselves.

That would not be my area of entertainment. I see women cooking, some making things, some are sitting also and chatting. I figure playing with the other kids is my best bet. I spy the tents where they took Othman, and consider how interesting it would be to see them working, however nauseating.

I notice one child sitting by himself, immersed in a book, and head straight in his direction.

"Hello." I say gently, not wanting to startle him.

"Hello." He says politely, looking up. I figured he might speak Arabic, from what Musa told me.

"You don't get hot, sitting in the sun like this?" I look towards the sun, shading my eyes, feeling it beat down on me.

"No. Do you get hot, standing in the sun like that?"

"Yes."

"Maybe you should sit, then."

"Hmm... a logical point of view." I squat so I'm at his level. "Are you a philosopher?"

"A phil... philsopho..."

"Phil-oso-pher." I enunciate strongly.

He shakes his head. "I don't even know what that is. That means I cannot be among them."

"I suppose I don't really know what a philosopher is either. What are you reading?"

"The Qur'an."

The book Musa spoke of. "Are you among the kids who were sent to the desert to learn Arabic?"

He frowns. "I've always been in the desert."

"Right," I smile. "I meant farther into the desert, away from your family, to study."

"My brother taught me!" He suddenly exclaims, grinning. "Sit beside me." He pats one tiny hand on the sand next to him.

Sweetness wells inside me at the invitation. "Alright."

"I'm still reading the second surah. It's very long." He nods his head. "What are you reading?"

"Currently, nothing." I muse that I should be reading something.

"You should be reading something." His big brown eyes stare up at me, and I'm convinced that I will get Musa to give me a book, any book, to read when we go back to the caravan.

"I agree. What's your name?"

"Mahmoud. What's your name?"

"Aliya."

"That's pretty."

I smile a little. "You are a very polite young man."

"Than-" He stands up, so I follow. "Thanks." He smiles. "Want to see the goats?"

"Ah-"

"Where are you from?" He squints at me. "I don't recognize you even a little."

"I came with Musa to bring Othman so that your tribe might heal him."

"Oh," his mouth turns into a big "O". His voice becomes hushed. "Othman was bitten by a snake, is that right?"

I nod my head. "Snakes are scary."

"They are. I've seen one!"

"Was it a big one? A poisonous one?"

"He was a big, very poisonous one, but he's my friend so he didn't bite me. The goats are over here. One of the mothers just had a baby." He holds the Qur'an tucked under his arm, keeping it pressed against his body. He looks back at me while he talks; his pace is quick, so I lag behind a little. "Sometimes I milk them."

"That's nice." I murmur, looking around as we walk through the camp. People glance up but I can tell they try not to stare. "What's it like living here?"

"I don't know."

I push him on the shoulder. "You do, too. You live here."

He giggles and pushes me on the leg. "You do, too." He repeats.

"The goats?" I prompt.

"Over here." He leads me to the goat pen, and climbs the wooden rails using one hand. "Have you ever eaten goat cheese, or goat meat?"

"Ahm..." I get distracted looking at the babies- they're very cute. "I don't know, maybe."

"What do you mean maybe? You have, or you haven't."

"Yes, well, I'm currently having a small problem with my brain that's inhibiting me from remembering whether or not I've eaten goat before."

"A problem... with your brain?" He repeats, sounding astonished. "A problem with the brain can never be a small one."

"Well..." I ponder this. "That's true, I suppose."

"I know." He pats one of the goats. "This one is mine."

"How nice."

"Want me to look at it for you?"

"Look at what?"

"Your brain."

"Pardon me?" I frown. "How might you go about doing that?"

"Don't worry about it." He waves his palm at me, and looks back at his goat.

I look at him for a moment then begin laughing.

He giggles. "Why are you laughing so much?" He jumps down from the pen rails and tilts his head to look up at me. "Why are you laughing?" His tone becomes serious.

I finish laughing with a sigh. "No reason."

"I'm certified."

"To look at my brain?"

"Yes."

"I feel quite reassured."

I notice that everyone in the camp is gathering.

Mahmoud sees them, too. "Everyone is going to pray." He looks up at me expectantly.

I ignore him for a bit and look at the babies, but when he doesn't let up I look right back at him. "What?"

"You have to go pray."

"Well..." I hedge. "Don't you have to go?"

He shrugs. "My mom might come looking for me. But I'm still small so I don't have to, she says."

"Yeah... me too."

"No you're not." He says a little indignantly.

"Well, you see, it's that same problem with my brain. I don't pray."

"Wow." The information shocks him so greatly that he falls back against the pen rails. "This is a serious problem."

"A problem with the brain will always be a serious one." I imitate him.

He giggles. A woman in the distance, probably his mother, calls to him and he turns his head her way. "I have to go! Bye, Aliya!" He takes off.

"Bye."