The Turtle of Oman (5 page)

Get Me Out of Here

A
ref placed the folded laundry straight into his suitcase without looking at it. He figured, if he had been wearing these clothes lately, he must like them enough. They must be the right size. He opened a drawer and pulled out his brown swimming trunks with yellow and green turtles printed on them. Boom! Into the suitcase!

He didn't own a coat, but his mom said they'd get one in Michigan. Oman never got very cold. His dad had told him that Michigan was sometimes called “the Mitten State” because of the way it was shaped, but Aref didn't own any gloves or mittens either. He didn't have a warm hat or a scarf or boots.

He packed his blue school sweatshirt with TAISM's—The American International School of Muscat—eagle mascot on it. Then he took it out again. He might need it before they left. Yes, it was true. He already knew a lot of Americans because he had been going to the American International School from the beginning. So, why was he so worried? They were all nice to know. Till now, he had been welcoming them to
his
country. And he had never had two extra thoughts about it. You met new people, you made new friends. What had changed?

He had been practicing drawing eagles in his notebook. He sat down and drew two more with a sharpened pencil, wings outstretched. One had fierce eyes and the other looked a little silly, like a comedy eagle. See, this was the problem with packing. You got distracted by the things you were trying to pack.

For lunch he ate a peanut butter and honey and banana sandwich, and drank a tall, cool lemonade, then took a nap the size of Montana. He hadn't really taken naps since he was about three, and he didn't plan on falling asleep now—it just happened.

His mother woke him up about an hour later. “What are you doing? Are you getting sick?”

“I just got bored.” Mish-Mish was curled on the bed beside him, tucked in the circle of his arm. She was purring loudly, as if she were snoring.

“Well, wash your face and wake up, Sidi is on his way.”

So Aref washed his face and grabbed his rain stick and went to stand in the driveway and wait for Sidi.

The temperature on the thermometer said one hundred and twelve degrees. This kind of heat made Aref feel strong. Heat was silent and huge. No one could control it. People might cool their rooms, but they couldn't banish heat outside. The mint leaves curled up in such intense heat—the metal on a car or bicycle would shimmer. Heat made Aref feel like a cookie baking—something inside his brain puffing up proudly and slowly.

He banged the rain stick against his leg. In music class they had made instruments using regular household items. It was a fun day. He made the rain stick from a paper towel roll with dried white beans inside. He had tightly taped both ends of the tube with yellow duct tape and drawn blue birds with wide wings on the outside.

And the power it had! Rattle, rattle, rattle against his leg and around the bend, magically appearing, the clackety green jeep that his Sidi called “Monsieur.” Aref could hear the jeep even before he saw it, since the engine was very loud with a distinctive grumbling sound. Sidi pulled into the driveway and stepped down from the high-up seat wearing his long white
dishdasha
and chunky brown sandals that he had made himself when he still ran his sandals shop. He was tall and he had a trimmed white beard and thick white hair combed back.

Sidi opened his arms and announced in Arabic, “
Ma-lish!
As you wish! At your command!” He hugged Aref a little harder than usual, the white fabric of his robe surrounding Aref like wings. “How is my boy?”

Aref usually spoke Arabic with Sidi. “
Ana mish mabsoot!
I'm not happy! Everything seems a little nasty right now, but—I am very happy to see you. So, I am a little happy.”

“How's your suitcase doing?” Sidi said. He looked around the front yard and raised his arms like an eagle. He loved stretching and bending.

“It's doing bad. I can't fit any good things into it. Just stupid things, like underpants.”

“Trust me, underpants are important,” said Sidi, looking serious. “What doesn't fit?”

“My friends, my school,” said Aref, even though at that moment he mostly wanted to say, “YOU.” “My blanket, the Mutrah Souq, the sea turtle beach, the caves.”

Sidi listened closely. He put his hand on Aref's head.

“What I really need to take,” Aref continued, “I wouldn't be able to close it.”

“I'm going inside to say hi to your mom,” said Sidi. “Then let's get out of here.
Yallah
.”

Peace to All Sardines

F
rom the top of the hill where they turned off Aref's street, they could view the sea gleaming, intensely turquoise-blue in the distance. The closer they got, the bigger it grew.

Aref and his grandfather drove down to the beach without speaking much. Traffic was heavy around the LuLu Hypermarket grocery parking lot. “The whole city of Muscat must be hungry today,” said Sidi.

They parked near some concrete benches and beds of orange flowers. Instantly, things felt better. From here the beach stretched to the right, speckled with white umbrellas and fancy hotels. To the left the sand was wide open and more empty. Some kids were pitching a red ball back and forth with their dad while their mom jiggled a baby. Sidi handed Aref a chilled bottle of water. Aref popped open the lid and took a huge drink. Sidi thought of everything.

Aref placed the water in the cup holder for a moment and slipped off his tennis shoes. He stuck his socks inside them. “May I leave these in the jeep?”

Sidi said, “Please do.” Aref decided to leave his rain stick in the jeep too.

They started walking and passed the family with the ball. Sidi said something to the dad, like “
Ahlein!”
or “Beautiful weather” or “Blessings on your family.” He always talked to everyone. The sand felt compact, easy to walk on. It felt cool on Aref's feet. Gulls were dipping and diving over the waves. Farther out, some bigger birds, maybe flesh-footed shearwaters, held their mighty wings aloft and coasted. Aref dashed ahead and jogged around Sidi, then came back to walk calmly beside him again.

“I'm sorry about your hard day,” said Sidi.

Aref didn't answer.

“We all have them. It will go away.”

Aref still didn't say anything. He was taking giant steps and gazing off to the water.

“Did you know that our coastline is as long as California?” asked Sidi.

“Where is California?”

“Come on, even I know that one!”

Breezes rolled onto the beach. They lifted Sidi's
dishdasha
, which swirled around his ankles.

“Hello!” Sidi talked to the air too. “Breezes of India, thanks for cooling us off over here!”

“I wish we were going to India instead,” Aref said. “Don't you? It's closer.” He waved both hands to the side, toward India, like he was dancing.

The sky loomed with a few delicate lines of wavery cloud, one under the other. It looked like another blue ocean over the watery blue sea. Aref took a deep breath and tried to hold all the blue inside his body, pretending for a moment he didn't have to move away or say good-bye to anything or share his room and cat, none of it. He leaped into the air as high as he could, then did it twice again and ran in another wide circle. A cluster of sandpipers scuttled away from him.

Fishermen waved at Sidi and Aref from small wooden boats. Some were paddling and others were pulling nets of shining sardines behind them. “Are those men your friends?” asked Aref, catching up with Sidi again. Sometimes he went with Sidi to the fish market farther down the beach and Sidi ended up talking
forever
with the men in the stalls. Aref wasn't sure if these were the same fishermen or not.

Sidi said what he always said: “Of course! Everyone is my friend!”

Now Sidi called out to each boat, “Salaam! Peace!” They probably couldn't even hear him from that far away. Aref laughed. He knew what Sidi would say next.

“Peace to all people!” It was what he always said.

Then Sidi turned to Aref. “Aren't you glad you aren't a sardine? The sardines have a scary time when those fishermen with their fancy nets get out there! Peace to all sardines!”

Tourists walking in the other direction with picnic baskets and umbrellas stared at them now because Sidi was speaking very loudly like an announcer and waving his arm. Some men with red skins and blue swimming shorts passed them and tenderly lifted up their fried hands to say hello.

Aref twirled in a circle, making a bird sound. It was not hard to impersonate a seagull, but gulls always knew the difference. He would try to sneak up to them but they would open their wings and fly away without even turning around.

“If everyone is your friend, can we visit Sultan Qaboos before I leave?” he asked.

“He would have to invite us.”

Last year, when the Royal Oman Symphony Orchestra musicians were playing outdoors at Amerat Park, Sidi had pointed out Sultan Qaboos in the distance, in a high viewing balcony above the other seats, wearing a beautiful, shiny golden cloak and turban. This was the closest Aref had ever come to him. Sulima had seen him from a distance at the grand opening of the Royal Opera House too.

“Promise me you will not go see him with my cousins when I am gone,” said Aref.

“Don't worry. They're too bossy. I won't take them,” said Sidi, laughing.

Looking

P
uffy cottonball clouds floated over the beach. An airplane tipped one wing high in the distance, headed to Yemen or maybe Nairobi. Sidi walked slowly because his legs were antique. He looked around at everything with great, hungry interest, which made him walk even slower. He looked up and down and out. “There are turtles way out there that we can't see,” said Aref.

“I'm sure there are,” said Sidi.

Then Sidi said, “I heard something very interesting. You know what happened long ago? When the sultan's grandfather's father was living, long before electricity? People attached thick candles to the backs of large turtles. I guess they stuck them on with melting wax, then they released the turtles to roam around in their gardens and patios. So at night the wandering turtles became roving lamps carrying little lights around. Wouldn't that be something?”

“Were the turtles scared when they did this?” said Aref. “Could we try it?”

“I don't think it would be allowed anymore. We are protecting turtles these days, remember?”

“But would it hurt them?”

“It seems a little risky.”

“I wish I could see it.”

“Close your eyes.”

Aref closed his eyes and pictured reading a book from the light cast by a giant flickering candle stuck on the back of a turtle. The patio would be filled with slow-moving shadows.

“It would be weird,” he said. “And dim.”

“But amazing.”

“Yes.”

Aref and Sidi passed a deflated pink floaty ring with a dragon's head. Sidi stared down at it. He picked it up and said he would throw it away. He veered off toward a big trash receptacle. Aref ran out into the shallow waves to cool off his feet. Far on the horizon, a sleek cruising ship with many windows lining its sides drifted silently. Who was in there? Where were they going?

Sidi looked back to see what they had already passed. Sidi had taught Aref to do this too, when he was little. Look at something ahead of you in the distance, then look at it when you get right up next to it, then turn around and look at it again when it is behind you. Sidi said it was important to get all the different views.

 

Possible Birds You Might See

1. You might see Little Ringed Plovers dipping.

2. Little Green Bee-eaters swooping.

3. Pipits pipitting.

4. Skylarks soaring.

5. Red-rumped Swallows flashing.

6. Flamingoes, geese, ducks, swans waddling around together looking for sardines.

7. Indian rollers with their turquoise wings and heads making everyone say, “Oh!”

8. Black-bellied storm petrels circling.

9. Storks, spoonbills, herons, egrets, pelicans, grebes, ostriches, saying, “Hi Everybody.”

 

It was really amazing how many different birds you might see.

You might also see trash, which was all made by humans, not birds. Not one bird left trash.

 

Possible trash left by humans

1. Water bottles, juice cans

2.
Torn tickets, an oar broken in half

3. The flat dragon

4. A purple plastic bracelet

5. A red striped baby tennis shoe

 

Sometimes Aref went on beach trash pickups with his class and they always collected bags of strange mixtures of objects. Once Aref had found a really ancient coin with the picture all crusted. Sulima found a small hammer with a loose head and they tried to smash the barnacles off the coin to see if it was valuable.

Aref held Sidi's hand the way he used to do when he was a very little boy. The sky softened from bright blue to dusky darker blue. It looked as if a rainstorm might be coming. “We didn't need my rain stick after all,” Aref said. “Good thing I left it in the jeep.”

“I don't think it's going to rain though,” said Sidi. “I listened to the radio. The radio weather report isn't always right, but you know how excited they get when there is going to be rain. I didn't hear them say anything.”

Two geese flew over, squawking loudly. Birds always knew if it was going to rain, or anything else. A man in bright red jogging shorts passed them huffing and puffing, his skin slicked up with sweat. Aref lifted a stick of driftwood with a sharp point and wrote
Sidi
in Arabic on the sand. He wrote
Aref
in English. Then he made a bright sun with a face next to both words. Two gulls flew down and seemed to be staring at his work.

Aref turned to see the long, crooked beach tracks stretching out behind them. Both gulls were still nosing around. Aref took a deep breath. “I just don't know why I can't stay here, Sidi.”

“I know. It's sad. Change is hard.” Sidi had a very serious look on his face. “But think of it this way—if you stayed here, your parents would miss you too much. They would not be able to function.”

One of the gulls ran up and stared at them as if it were listening.

“I think that isn't true,” Aref said softly. “All my parents like to do is study.”