Ali Genav finally put a hand into his pocket and freed himself of his obligation. He tugged on the bridle of the donkey, exiting the crowd with the blessings and prayers of Hajj Salem. Now it was the turn of the young travelers to follow tradition and to give something to Hajj Salem and his son before setting off. Hajj Salem stood in the midst of the youth and began reciting a prayer for them. The travelers all became silent.
The Salar’s donkeys entered the crowd and mixed with the youth, while Abbas stood to one side. Morad approached him, and they said goodbye with an embrace. One or two of the others also came over to say goodbye. Hajj Salem was praying out loud, intoning a prayer for travelers. The mothers and sisters stood beside their sons or brothers and fought back their tears. Moslem approached Morad, who took off his hat so as to take up a collection of small change for Hajj Salem.
“Just give something, guys! Give a coin or two so we can get rid of him!”
Just then, Ghodrat arrived. The group was complete — twenty-one people. Morad started in on Ghodrat. “Do you think this is a trip to your auntie’s house? The sun’s been up forever! And you want to find work in a strange land with useless shoes like those?”
Ghodrat carried a bag over one shoulder and his father was following him, wiping his runny nose every so often.
“It’s coming. It’s coming!”
Abrau suddenly shouted and threw himself into the path.
“What’s coming?”
“The tractor!”
First, a cloud of dust was visible in the distance. Then something came into view. Then that sound, a sound entrancing to everyone. But the group was about to leave. They were all holding their sacks and satchels on their backs, and the mothers had just finished embracing their sons, the daughters standing to one side with their lips trembling.
Abrau had his hat in his hand and waved to the tractor’s driver from a distance. The tractor approached with an increasing roar. The camels started to buck with fear. Abbas raised his walking stick over his head and swearing in a continuous stream at the tractor and its driver as he tried to gather the scattering camels.
The tractor stopped beside the crowd, bringing with it a cloud of dust from along its way. As soon as those gathered extricated themselves from the dust, the young men began walking away in a line along the side of the tractor. The women gathered at a point on the path to watch their loved ones leaving. Some of the young men could be seen to be looking over their shoulders as they went, glancing back at their mothers and sisters. But as they grew distant, their eyes met less and less. The men kept walking, and the women stayed in place.
Ghodrat’s father was sitting on a rock. The tractor-driver half-glanced over at the women from beneath his lowered cap. Abrau leapt up to the tractor and put a solid foot on the running board. The driver asked about Salar Abdullah, and Abrau told him they’d need to look for him at his farmland. The driver started up the tractor once again, and on the far side of the machine, Abbas spit at the deep, dusty tracks it left behind.
* * *
The commotion settled. The women each went their own way. Only Ghodrat’s father remained, sitting on the rock holding his head in his hands. Abbas turned and began walking toward the camels, which were following their habitual path to the outlying fields. Abbas was still in the middle of the settling dust, lost in his thoughts. All of his peers were leaving or had already left. Zaminej was emptying out. While they had been there, Abbas had rarely shared a feeling of camaraderie with them; indeed, usually he was at odds with most of them. But now that they had gone or were about to leave, he sensed their absence. Empty places, gaping holes, opened up in Abbas’ mind. Like anthills in soft soil, spaces cut into the dirt.
Abbas crushed an anthill with his foot and marched on. He looked again at his feet and saw grass. The open fields. Fields streaked with green glistening beneath the soft warmth of the morning sun. Wide-open lands, tended fields alongside wild lands stretching out into the distance. To reach the distant wild lands where the camels would graze, one had to carefully direct them between farmed fields. He began to gather the camels … “Hey, ho, hey!”
The wheat had just begun to sprout, a green carpet over the fields. The camels were not to enter the wheat fields, as even if they didn’t graze on it, they would crush and kill the plants beneath their hooves. The camels were still somewhat full from their morning provisions and so were not much tempted by the wheat stalks. They walked softly and calmly, free of their saddles, bridles, and gear. Camels are quick to sense this freedom, as is easy to see in their gait as they walk. Free of their saddles, they stride freely. They can choose to step lightly or heavily, in long or short steps, either trotting or walking. A camel can choose to stop in its tracks, turn its head over its shoulder, and look around; it can look anywhere and not just straight ahead. It can raise its tail and drop dung, unmuzzled and with nothing around its neck. When the camel’s tethered in a train, with one camel’s bridle tied closely to the next camel’s behind, it loses its individuality. It acts as if it’s bearing a load, even if there is none. That’s what the bridle and caravan leader tell it: don’t step out of line. Unless it is the lead camel, whose tether is handled by the caravan leader. Don’t wander. Walk, walk. The leader will lead the way …
But they were free. The Sardar’s camels were free in front of Abbas, untethered and without bridles, without anything, not even the bells or chimes that camels often wear. It was spring, and spring breaks the work habit of a camel. It may gallop or trot if it likes. It froths at the lips and there is a wild abandon in its eyes. Spring fever intoxicates.
Abbas had noticed spring fever in the camels over the past few days.
The black male was walking ahead of the others. It was not far to the grazing lands. By the time the sun was up three ticks, the camels would be in the wild lands. The sun was rising, and with it the daybreak’s first heat was dissipating. The air felt milder and milder. Abbas began to feel that his shoulder was sweating beneath the sack he was carrying. The sunlight on the red earth reflected against the woolly coats of the camels. Abbas waved his walking stick over his head and called out, “Hey hey hey … you bastard!”
The black male had turned on a mare camel. Abbas ran forward and brought a blow down on the temple of the male, who had grabbed the female’s throat in his teeth. Abbas brought down a second blow, and then another. The male let go of the mare and stared at Abbas. Froth was pouring from the edges of his mouth. With a shouted threat, Abbas pushed him forward and broke his stare. The black male camel fell in with the others and began walking ahead. Abbas walked along, calling at the herd.
Over the last few days, the look of the male camel had changed. He seemed unsettled, as if there was a trace of hatred or even anger in his actions. Abbas had sensed this. The male also disturbed the other camels. He would act aggressively toward them, biting at them for no reason. He would suddenly grab at them with his teeth, biting their legs or their ears. Abbas had been riled by this. He had to constantly separate this one camel from the others. With a few blows and by shouting he could eventually be made to let go of the other animal, but sometimes it would take forty blows to his head and legs before he would let go. Abbas was not so softhearted as to be bothered by hitting the animal. He was concerned more for himself in the situation, since this wasn’t easy work. Separating two camels, one of which acts drunken and tinged with madness, made him tired and irritable. He would end up sweating all over. Alone in the desert, he’d be exhausted and had to eat more of his bread and drink his water quickly. As a result, he’d return home twice as exhausted as usual and collapse in his bed like a corpse at night.