The Turtle of Oman (8 page)

No Roof

I
t was strange to arrive anywhere new. You felt awkward for about ten minutes, then felt yourself sinking into the new scene, becoming part of it very quickly.

Aref sat down on a green wooden stool that turned out to have one leg shorter than the others, so it rocked. He switched to a small blue chair and adjusted it on the hard earth patio decked with small metal tables. Sidi chose a larger red chair with yellow flowers painted across its back rung. The chairs had flat cloth pillows on them. Some people from England were eating and drinking at another table. Three older Omani men in
dishdashas
and hats sat smoking a hubble-bubble in the corner, speaking softly in Arabic. One was rocking in a rocking chair. Sidi raised his hand and nodded to both groups.

An Indian man named Naveed greeted them. “Welcome! How was your trip?” He complimented Aref's starry shirt. “In a few minutes you will see even more stars in the sky—keep looking up!”

Sidi held out the watermelon to him. “My friend, we brought you a present.”

Naveed bowed and looked happy. “My favorite!” he said.

Naveed was wearing a yellow turban. He brought them lemonade in clay cups on a tray. “I will be back momentarily with the rest of your food.” Then he served them curried vegetables and mounds of very fragrant rice and hot bread on large clay plates. Aref was extremely hungry. A fire blazed in a pit lined with stones. The desert became chilly the moment the sun went down. Aref stared at the sinking sun with a softly hypnotized feeling.

“Oh my!” said Sidi. “This is delicious! My stomach is happy! And my legs are cheering in relief, to be out of the jeep!”

Aref wondered, where had this food come from? Was there a cave in the earth filled with secret refrigerators? Did a helicopter fly low overhead and drop food supplies down in a basket attached to a parachute? It was very mysterious. When Naveed returned to ask if they would like second helpings, Aref hadn't even finished his giant pile of rice yet.

Sidi put his hand over his stomach and said, “I am grateful, kind sir, but no. How long have you been out here, cooking all these tasty dinners for wanderers?”

Naveed laughed and shook his head. “Time runs together. One month, one year . . . I think I have been here almost two years. Or maybe since the beginning of time! My brother used to work here and I took his job when he returned to India for his marriage.”

“Were you scared when you came?” Aref asked.

Naveed smiled kindly. “No. The desert is a friendly place.”

Far in the distance, at that exact moment, they heard a weird scream. It didn't sound friendly at all.

“What's that?” Aref asked.

“The hyena, ” said Naveed. “Big teeth.” He opened his mouth hyena-style to show them his own teeth.

Aref shuddered and asked, “Does it come close to this camp?”

“We hope not,” said Naveed. “No, I think not. I think you will not be seeing it, no.” He was shaking his head to make Aref feel better.

“Don't worry, Aref,” said Sidi. He was smiling and didn't look nervous at all. “Their voices are much scarier from a distance than close up. If you meet one, they act scared of you.”

“Is it like a wolf or a fox?”

“A little bit, yes,” said Naveed.

Sidi sat comfortably in his red chair moving his prayer beads quietly through his fingertips. He looked peaceful. “We came here once before,” he said, “when this boy was younger . . . your brother must have been here then, but we didn't get to spend the night because a sandstorm was whirling up.”

“No sandstorms tonight,” said Naveed. “Very quiet!”

Right then, the hyena howled again and everyone laughed.

Sidi and Aref washed up in the camp bathroom, a little square building made of brown cement painted with a single dark blue frill around the top of the wall. It had no roof on it. They could look right up at the twinkling stars with no trouble. Amazingly, a single silver faucet offered a stream of cool running water.

They brushed their teeth standing side by side. Then they stepped out of the bathroom and stared up at the sky some more. The Milky Way stretched and glittered like a massive white sparkling ribbon. It cast a softened glow across a great canopy of sky.

“Oh . . . I see some beautiful planets that I haven't seen since before we had lights,” said Sidi. “We slept on the roof all summer long when I was a boy and the Milky Way poured its stories down on our heads and into our dreams. . . .”

“I want to do that, Sidi,” Aref said. “You always talk about it. Can't we still do it?”

Sidi pointed out a distant planet with a reddish-orange tint and said, “I think that's the one we used to wish on. Yes, we could still do it. We could put two cots or mats up on your roof or mine. You could spend the night at my house before you go. Why not? Why haven't we been doing that? We forgot! Air conditioning makes people forget.”

They walked slowly back toward the patio. One of the English men was playing a guitar near the fire pit and singing softly. Sidi and Aref stood for a minute and listened. Aref had heard this song before, at school. “Turn, turn, turn.” Aref mouthed the words.

Naveed guided them to a black-and-brown striped camel hair tent on a raised wooden platform. They would sleep on cozy narrow beds covered with dark purple and blue stitched quilts. An old red rug covered the floor, and some large maroon satin pillows sat stacked in the corner. Aref raced around investigating. He pointed at the bed farthest from the door. “That's my bed!” he said, thinking of the hyena. “This one's yours.” He patted Sidi's quilt.

Sidi sat down on his bed, smiling.

Aref opened a drawer in the small wooden table between the beds and pulled out a flashlight, clicking it on and off. A kerosene lantern on the table flickered softly. Their huge shadows danced on the tent walls.

“I like a bed inside a tent,” said Aref. “It seems better than a bed in a house. Why don't we live in tents all the time?”

“Good idea,” Sidi said. “When you come back from the United States, we'll both turn into Bedouins.”

“We'll change our names.”

“We'll change everything.”

“We'll cook soup in a big pot over a fire.”

“We'll learn how to play the guitar.”

“When I get old enough to drive the jeep, we'll travel back here and ride camels instead. You can sit on the suitcase.”

They climbed into their beds. Aref blew out the lamp.

Sidi snored.

Sidi the Sphinx

I
n the morning, very loud desert birds were chattering wildly in the skinny tree branches right outside the tent. Birds did not talk that loudly in Muscat.

Aref wanted to take a shower in the bathroom without a roof. The water was so cold, he screamed like a hyena. His shower was extremely short. He ran back to the tent wrapped in a towel to get dressed.

“Why were those birds so noisy?” he asked Sidi as he shivered inside the towel.

“They were cheering for morning.”

“Why?”

“They like it.”

Aref pulled on his sweatshirt from school—thank goodness he had brought it. They stepped out of the tent onto the small platform, then the sand. The desert air was surprisingly cold. “Give me your hand!” Sidi said. “My legs are so stiff! I am becoming a Pyramid. No, more like a Sphinx. Or let me lean on your shoulder—here—ow—I think I got a leg cramp from standing up crookedly this morning.”

It was harder to walk on drifty sand than on pavement, if you weren't used to it. Desert sand wasn't packed hard, like sand at the beach.

“What are we going to do now?” Aref asked. He felt like running or doing a cartwheel.

Sidi raised both his arms high in the air. “Here, please join me in exercise,” he said. “I am doing my morning stretches. They are keeping me flexible and young.”

Aref copied him. Sidi began moving his arms in high circles like a windmill and Aref did the same. They tipped their heads from side to side, stretching their necks. “Ahh, doesn't that feel better?” Sidi asked.

They walked back over to the green metal tables and chairs in the camp's dining area and Naveed greeted them. “Uncle! Good morning! Would you prefer coffee or tea?”

Aref thought it was funny how he called Sidi “uncle.”

“Can I run for a minute?” he asked.

“You can run for ten!” So Aref took off, making a big looping circle out into the pliant sand and looking back on the camp. He saw Sidi pointing to another line of camels crossing the top of a distant brown sand dune. Aref counted them—seven. The camels looked straight ahead when they walked. This group had only one shepherd, not two. Where were they going? They weren't headed to Muscat, that was for sure. They were headed in the other direction. To Yemen, maybe.

They sat back down at the same round metal table and ate the scrambled eggs, which tasted delicious even to Aref, and flat bread and watermelon chunks that Naveed served them.

“You are a magician, brother!” Sidi said to Naveed.

“I like eggs now,” said Aref.

They pitched little breadcrumbs to a hopping bird with black-and-white polka-dotted wings. Naveed was making coffee for Sidi in an old-fashioned fancy metal pot over the fire. The English people had disappeared.

“They went looking for birds very early,” Naveed said. “I sent them to the stone ridge at the second dune.” He pointed beyond the high point where camels walked.

“Bird-watching?” asked Sidi. “Well, we are bird-watching right from our chairs. Or maybe the birds are watching us.” A smaller, speckled-wing bird landed right on Aref's foot, peered up at him, and flew away again.

“Look at him,” said Aref. “He's so curious. He doesn't seem frightened at all.”

“Why would he be frightened?” Sidi asked. “We never hurt him. We only feed him.”

“So he likes us,” said Aref. “I like him too. He could be my pet. But he wouldn't enjoy Mish-Mish. Let's stay here forever, Sidi. Let's live at this camp.”

Sidi put his hand over Aref's. “I love it too. But this camp isn't going anywhere. It will be here when you return. First, you have to go on your journey. Your parents are so proud to attend a famous graduate school and you will enjoy your new school . . . it will be fun. Everyone in your family will be going to school at once.”

“I would rather stay here!”

“Don't worry, you will come back. In three years, you will be back.”

Aref was blinking hard to keep the tears inside his eyes. How many were in there, anyway? Were eyes little factories that made as many tears as you needed?

“I want to be with you,” said Aref. “Every single day.”

Sidi shook his head as if he were going to say “no” but instead he said, “Of course! You will still be with me. Always. Study hard and tell me what you learn. Find me some rare American rocks. Make your father mail them to me. We'll send messages all kinds of ways.”

There was a long silence in which a desert wind as huge as a highway blew right past them. Sidi closed his eyes. “Listen to that,” he said. Aref put his head down on his folded arms on the table.

“You can tell me about American policemen and basketball and muffins,” said Sidi. “I heard they have a lot of muffins over there.” Aref didn't say anything. So Sidi went on. “Or maybe, you could tell me about the lakes and . . . maybe you will meet some fishermen. I wonder if they use nets or not. I will practice my e-mail techniques and turn into an expert for you.”

This made Aref laugh. “No, Sidi, I don't believe you!”

Sidi shook his head. “Trust me, it will not be easy, but I will do it. I will even go to a computer class at the library if I have to. Then every single one of us will be going to school.”

Aref turned his face away, wiped his eyes, and felt a tiny bit better. Sidi gave him hope, anyway. They could still stay connected.

“Why don't you take another little run before it gets too hot?” Sidi suggested. “I'll just sit here and watch you. I'll do Aref-watching instead of bird-watching. Run in a big circle around the camp—see what it looks like from the camels' point of view.”

So Aref took off again, jogging. He headed up toward the dune. Since the soft sand absorbed each foot deeply, he felt as if he were running in slow motion, sinking a little with each footfall. A circle of birds flapped up from the brushy spot where they were nibbling, leaving little puffs of dust. A speckled brown lizard family stood in a circle with their heads together, having a morning conversation.

Aref looked back at Sidi sitting in the chair, watching him. He waved. Sidi, his white beard gleaming, his shining damp hair combed back, raised one hand and held it in the air. Aref blinked. Right then he knew that moment was clearly written in his brain forever.