Night in Oman-5

Picking my steps down the dark back path to the mine, I lead the camels behind Siham. I can hardly see her because of the streams of tears filling my eyes and I barely keep quiet because of sobs heaving through my lonely body. The noiseless air is so still I frighten myself imagining that the sound of my misery can be heard for miles around.

Once we step down into the patch of tall alfalfa plants, I use their halters to hobble the two camels. The task requires both my attention and strength. Pushing the large animals into place and tightening the leather of the halters so the animals can walk but not gain speed, have a calming effect on me. My bout of crying and pitying myself is over and I vow this behaviour will never overtake me again as long as these struggles in my country continue.

“Watch them, Siham, “ I whisper as I pat my dear donkey’s neck and squeeze her in a long hug. Her warm body gives off that loving comfort animals provide us when we are in need of it.

I stare at the star-blanketed sky and sense an order, a universal order beyond the chaos of my little life in my little country. No matter what happens, the miraculous vastness seems to broadcast, survival is possible.

Back at the patio, I stand firmly in my sandals, reach my arms above my head and draw in deep breaths of cooling night air. Silently, I command myself to be strong in mind and spirit.

There are chores I must attend to before I may rest.

I fetch water to wash the supper dishes and stack them to dry on the tray.

I lay the bloodied clothing on the floor of the inner cave to dry and harden before I burn them. They must not be left outside where their odour may attract rodents or reptiles.

I double a mattress, half on the floor and half propped up against a wall. I cannot sleep deeply as Yahyah should awaken anytime soon, but by sitting comfortably I think I will be able to doze, with the patient in full view before me whenever my eyes are open.

I place a small lantern high on a corner of the long shelf. This illuminates him well.

There is room to spread my prayer mat for a last word of this day with my god. As I prostrate myself, I reflect upon all that has happened today. I give thanks, especially for the safety of this cave, but I also devoutly petition for the safety of my family and our beloved country.

Standing to idly refold my familiar little red patterned mat, I hear in memory the voice of Rashid telling me I am brave. I find it is more useful to retain these words in my mind than mull over my self doubts!

I check on my patient by holding my hand motionless an inch or two above his forehead. I close my eyes and concentrate upon assessing the temperature of the air between us.

When we dressed the wound, the last time I did this, the thin space radiated fierce heat, an indication of the powerful fever raging from the infected arrow wound. Now there is far less heat.

I conclude that the medicine and the sheer determination to be well, on the part of the patient, are successfully battling to restore his health.

I sit myself down on the mattress. For the soothing comfort of routine, I unclasp the pins in my hair, take my comb out of my tunic pocket and spend some time to comb out my hair. The leisurely strokes, from my scalp to the ends of my hair lying loose at my waist, pleasantly ease my senses. I feel so much better as I plait and twist my hair and pin it up so it is all covered by the folds of my scarf! I feel able to respectfully face any male patient that may come my way.

Leaning back, I pull a cloak around me and thankfully close my eyes. I will sleep lightly until I sense that Yahyah awakens.

Flashes of images of the attack on A’Theebti flare up before my dream eyes. Fires! Evilly glinting swords slashing through homes, animals and people! Darkness eventually erases these horrors. But the screams and cries do not diminish. They remain just as sharp as during the attack. I can bear no more and lurch into wakefulness.

Immediately I see that my patient has rolled to his right side. I carefully crawl closer to him.

With eyes closed, he is moaning, “Abdullah! Abdullah where are you? I cannot see you!”

”Shhh,Yahyah!” I call to him softly, but firmly; “You are safe. Open your eyes and take account of your surroundings.“

He groans as he rolls slowly unto his back again. His eyes flutter and close for a moment before they fly open completely.

I stare into two unbelievably beautiful dark eyes.

“Yahyah, I am Nasra. I am the sister of Rashid whom you were bringing to A’Theebti. I am a healer. I am here to help you recover from your injuries.“

“Yes, Rashid and his father. But Abdullah! That traitor Abu Guma attacked Abdullah!”

Yahyah’s eyes widen. He reaches his right hand out to me. I shift on my knees to avoid his touch, and swallow thinking how I can best deliver the terrible news about Abdullah. So as not to cause more anxiety, I lie. Well, I partially lie.

“Yahyah, Abdullah has remained in the desert. You are in a cave in the mountains near A’Theebti. Here you must stay for a time to recover your health before you will be able to go to him.”

At this, my patient closes his eyes and I believe he accepts my instruction because I see he has relaxed a little.

“Yahyah, you have a fever from an arrow wound in your left shoulder. Try to keep your left side as still as you possibly can.”

I stand over him, “I will prepare tea with healing herbs for you. Drink it slowly and peaceful sleep will follow.”

Blessedly, he is a compliant patient. He carefully uses his right arm to rise a little on his elbow so he can drink the tea from the pottery bowl I pass to him. As he swallows the bitter tea, I briefly describe our makeshift clinic to him.

Apparently, listening to my talk soothes him and he is soon asleep again on his back, thankfully breathing deeply.

Twice more he awakens and cries out. Each time I prepare more tea to administer and I speak softly until he drifts back to sleep.

I check as well on his fever. Satisfied it is diminishing, I close my tired eyes.

Suddenly, I am jerked to consciousness!

Shafts of gray daylight are sliding into the outer cave. However, it is not the light which has disturbed my rest, but a series of strange, muffled noises. Animals?

I creep to the connecting passageway. I peer into the outer cave.

Dark forms, resembling black, cloth-covered bundles, wriggle and flap vigorously on the floor. When their coverings are shed, the forms grow legs and stand upright.

I am flabbergasted!

“Sayeed? Teela?” I cry!