Tuareg Read online

  There was then only one hope, to head east and then to veer south and hope that by taking that route they would reach the end of the “lost land” more quickly.

  Gazel knew the Tuareg guides well and that if they took a wrong turning they would carry on and pay the consequences. That one mistake usually meant they had completely lost their notion of space and distance and that they no longer knew where they were. There would be nothing else for it but to push forward and pray for salvation in the hope that their instinct would lead them to water. The Tuareg guides hated changing their routes unless they were completely convinced that they knew where they were headed, because centuries of tradition had taught them that there was nothing more exhausting or demoralising to man than wandering aimlessly from one side of the desert to another, without a concrete destination. It was without doubt then that, for reasons that would never be known, once the guide of the “great caravan” had realised they were in the unknown universe of the “lost land,” he had continued blindly on, putting all his trust in Allah to make their journey short, which, in one sense, it would have been.

  And there he was now, mummified by the sun, teaching Gazel a lesson, a lesson that Gazel would accept.

  Evening fell and once the sun had stopped its angry assault on the land, he abandoned the shade of his refuge and filled his pockets with gold, money and large diamonds.

  Not for a moment did he feel as if he were robbing the dead of their belongings. According to the unwritten law of the desert, everything there belonged to the person that found it. It was understood that the souls who entered paradise would be well provided for and have no need of them, while the evil souls condemned to eternal wanderings had no right to do so with their pockets full of riches.

  Then he divided up the rest of the water between Abdul, who did not even open his eyes to thank him and the youngest of the camels; the only female that still had a few days left in her. He drank the blood from the last animal and tying the old man onto the saddle, he started off again without even taking the fabric that they used for shade with them as this time it would just be an unnecessary weight. They would not be stopping again, either by day or night, since their only chance of salvation now was to get out of that inferno.

  He said his prayers, for him, for Abdul and for the dead, then took one last look at the army of mummies, checked his direction and set off, leading the camel by the halter. She followed him without protest, in the knowledge that only a blind confidence in the man who was leading her could save her now.

  Gazel was not sure if that night was the longest or the shortest one of his life. His legs moved automatically and his superhuman strength of will turned him once again into a stone, but on this occasion, he was a “travelling stone,” like the ones that you saw in the desert. They were heavy rocks that moved mysteriously from one side of the flat land to another, leaving a wide track behind them. How they moved was anybody’s guess. Maybe they were pulled along by some strong magnetic field, or by the spirits condemned to eternity or maybe the phenomena was just another of Allah’s whims.

  Corporel Abdel Osman opened his eyes and immediately cursed his bad luck. The sun was already a quarter over the horizon and was heating up the earth, or better said, the white, hard, almost petrified sand on the plain. He sighed as he took in the torturous terrain before him. They had already been camping on it for six days now, in the most unbearable heat that he had ever experienced, in all his thirteen years of service in the desert.

  He turned onto his side, tilted his head slightly and looked over at his fat companion, Kader, who was still sleeping and snorting restlessly, as if unconsciously trying to remain in the world of dreams and avoid waking up to the painful reality that surrounded him.

  Their orders had been categorical:

  ‘Remain here and keep watch over the “lost land” until someone comes to look for you. That might be tomorrow, in a month or even a year. Move from here and you will be shot.’

  There was a well nearby full of dirty, smelly water that gave them diarrhoea. They had been able to hunt up where the “lost land” ended and the high plateau of the hamada began, with its rough stones and tumble weed and old river channels through which, many thousands of years ago, water would have rushed on its way to the distant Niger and Chad rivers. As good soldiers, they were expected to survive there, in those conditions, for as long as it was considered necessary.

  Whoever had given the orders had not taken into consideration the possibility that they might go completely mad in such solitude, in that relentless heat and it was clear that those orders had come from somebody who knew nothing about the Saharan desert.

  A drip of sweat, the first of the day, ran down his thick moustache and slipped down his neck and onto his hairy chest. He sat up reluctantly and remained there, his dirty blanket still wrapped around him, squinting into the sun as he searched the white plain mechanically.

  Suddenly his heart leaped and he reached for the binoculars, fixing them on a point almost directly ahead of him. Then he shouted out impatiently:

  ‘Kader! Kader! Wake up you useless son of a bitch!’

  Mohamed Kader opened his eyes reluctantly, but without taking the slightest bit of offence to his companion’s abusive language. He had already got used to the fact that the corporal was unable to say his name without throwing in an affectionate insult or two.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’

  ‘Look. What do you think that is?’

  ‘A man and a camel?’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘It looks like it.’

  Captain Abdel Osman, who had been rummaging in the back of the jeep, leant back against the machine gun and looked through his field glasses again, trying to keep them steady, even though his pulse was racing.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said finally.

  ‘A man and a camel.’ He paused as he looked around. ‘The other one’s not there.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ the fat man said as he calmly started to gather together the blankets they had been sleeping on and set up the small burner they had been using to cook with in order to make some tea. ‘What’s surprising is that “this one” has managed to get this far.’

  Osman looked at him questioningly and a little uncertainly:

  ‘And what do we do now? I say we go and look for him.’

  ‘That Targui is very dangerous. Incredibly dangerous…’

  Kader, who had finished putting all their stuff into the vehicle, pointed to the machine gun that the other man was leaning on.

  ‘You point it and I’ll drive. At the slightest movement, you fire.’

  His companion hesitated for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

  ‘It’s better than hanging around here just waiting. If he’s really dead we can get out of here today. Lets go!’

  He positioned the gun, while the sweaty and obese Mohamed Kader started up the jeep and they set off slowly towards the two bodies.

  When they were about three hundred meters away they stopped. The man in the back picked up his field glasses, while the captain kept his eyes firmly fixed on them.

  ‘It’s the Targui for sure.’

  ‘Is he dead?’

  ‘You can’t see if he’s breathing with all those clothes on. The camel’s dead, it’s started to swell up.’

  ‘Shall I shoot the bastard?’

  Mohamed Kader shook his head. Even though the captain was his superior he was obviously the more intelligent of the two, well known in the regiment for his calm head and cold blood, or better said for his acute laziness.

  ‘It would be better if we got him out alive. He might be able to tell us where Abdul-el-Kebir is. The commandant would like that.’

  ‘We might get a promotion.’

  ‘Maybe,’ the fat guy said unenthusiastically, not even vaguely moved by the idea of a promotion and the possibility of any more responsibility. ‘Or maybe they�
�ll give us a month’s leave from El-Akab.’

  The captain was spurred own.

  ‘Right, let’s move in!’

  Once the were no more than fifty meters away they were able to see that the Targui did not have a weapon on or near his body and that his hands were open and perfectly visible. It was as if he had fallen down about ten meters away from the camel that he had been trying to follow, his strength having finally failed him.

  They stopped some seven meters away from them, pointing the machine gun at his chest and ready to fire at the slightest movement. Mohamed Kader jumped out of his seat, picked up his submachine gun and circling around the camel so as not to be in Captain Osman’s line of fire, went over to the Targui, whose turban had fallen to one side and onto his dirty veil.

  The fat man stuck his gun into the recumbent body, which did not move or make a sound. He then prodded him again with the butt of his gun and finally knelt down in order to listen to his heartbeat.

  The captain who was still in the car by the machine gun was starting to get impatient:

  ‘What’s going on? Is he dead or alive?’

  ‘More dead than alive. He’s hardly breathing and he’s completely dehydrated. If we don’t give him any water he won’t last another six hours.’

  ‘Check him over!’

  He did so carefully. ‘He hasn’t got any weapons on him,’ he assured him and then stopped as he opened up a leather bag and a cascade of gold and diamonds fell out onto the sand. ‘Fuck!’ he exclaimed.

  Captain Abdel Osman jumped out of the vehicle and in the blink of an eye was at his side, grabbing at the money and handfuls of large stones that lay all around them.

  ‘What’s this? This son of a bitch is rich! Fucking rich!’ Mohamed Kader put his gun to one side as he put everything back in the bag again, then, without lifting his head up he said:

  ‘Only he knows about this.’ He paused. ‘And us now.’

  ‘What are you trying to say,’ he said, looking at him straight on.

  ‘Are you completely stupid? If we hand him over alive they might give us one month’s leave, but once he’s recovered he’ll want his money back and it won’t be long before the commandant comes looking for us.’

  He paused. ‘What would happen if say, we hadn’t found the body for another few hours?’

  ‘Have you got it in you to leave a fellow dying like this?’

  ‘We’d be doing him a favour,’ he noted. ‘What do you think is going to happen to him once they get hold of him after everything he’s done? They’ll beat the shit out of him and end up hanging him. Or not?’

  ‘This isn’t my scene. I just do what I’m told.’ He leaned over to pull down the veil that covered the unconscious man’s face, which was haggard and lined and half covered with a wiry, white beard that made him look even older. He wanted to turn away but there was something about his face that puzzled him and suddenly he shouted out:

  ‘This guy’s not the Targui! This is Abdul-el-Kebir!’

  In a flash it dawned on him that they were still in danger and he went to grab his weapon, but almost simultaneously two shots, only two, rang through the air. Captain Abdel Osman and the soldier Mohamed Kader flew through the air, as if they had been picked up by an invisible hand and fell back to the ground, the first one falling straight onto Abdul-el-Kebir’s body and the second man falling flat on his face.

  A few seconds passed in silence. The captain tilted his head painfully, saw the face of his companion with a hole through his forehead and felt a sharp pain sear through his chest, mouth and stomach, but he still managed to turn over so that his face was upturned, in order to find out who had shot them

  He could not see a soul. The plain continued on as always to infinity, desolate and flat, with no possible hiding place for a marksman. But suddenly, before his very eyes, which were already starting to blur over, a half-naked, tall, strong, man covered in blood, like a being from another world, a gun held firmly in his hand, emerged from the dead camel’s belly.

  Once he had checked that the man who was still alive no longer presented any danger to him, he walked around the animal, over to the fat man and pushed his gun away with his foot. Then he walked quickly over to the jeep, which he proceeded to search frantically, until he found the water bottle and then drank from it at length, all the while keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the wounded man.

  He drank and drank, allowing the liquid to run down his throat and his chest, glugging it back until he almost choked, but continuing to drink as if his life depended on it. Finally and only once he had drank the last drop, he let out a loud belch and leant for a minute against the spare tyre, in order to regain his breath after the huge effort.

  Then he took another water bottle and walked over to Abdul-el-Kebir, held his head up and made him drink as best he could, even though most of the water ended up all over his face, rather than down his throat.

  Then he wet his face and turned to the wounded man:

  ‘Do you want water?’ Corporal Osman nodded. The Targui went over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him into the shade of the vehicle where he gave him some water and even helped him drink it.

  ‘I think you are going to die,’ he said. ‘You need a doctor and there isn’t one anywhere near here.’

  Osman nodded and then asked with difficulty:

  ‘Are you Gazel? I should have remembered that old hunting trick you used. But the clothes, the turban and the veil confused me.’

  ‘That was my intention.’

  ‘How could you be so sure that we would come?’

  ‘I saw you with the first light of day and I had time to prepare myself.’

  ‘Did you kill the camel? Did you find the “great caravan?”’ Gazel nodded and looked back over his shoulders.

  ‘It’s back there, three days walk from here.’

  The other man shook his head in amazement almost in disbelief. Finally he closed his eyes and his breathing became laboured. Then he was silent and ten minutes later he was dead.

  Gazel remained still, squatting down before him in quiet respect of his agony and only once the man’s head had dropped onto his chest did he get up and using the last of his energy, dragged Abdul-el-Kebir into the back of the vehicle.

  He rested for a while because the exertion had been too much for him, then stripped the unconscious Abdul of his clothes, his veil and his turban and got dressed again.

  When he had finished, he sat down exhausted. He drank again and then lay down in the shadow of the jeep, next to the body of Captain Osman and fell asleep immediately.

  He woke up three hours later to the cries of the first vultures.

  Some had already pulled out the entrails of the dead beast, while others were moving towards the dead soldiers tentatively.

  He looked up at the sky. There were already dozens of birds of prey up there even though they were still keeping to the edge of the “lost land.” It was as if they had appeared by magic from out of the tumbleweed and bushes of the nearby hamada.

  Their presence worried him. A circle of vultures in the sky could be seen for many kilometers around and he did not know how far away the next patrol point was.

  He looked at the sand. It was hard and even though there were pick axes and spades in the back of the vehicle he did not feel capable of digging a hole big enough for two bodies and one camel. Then he studied Abdul’s face and saw that he was breathing more easily, but was still, however, some way off from regaining consciousness. He gave him water again and checked that there were two full cans still, as well as one full of petrol and another with food. He meditated for some time. He knew that he had to get out of there as soon as possible but he had no idea how to work the jeep, which in his hands was nothing more than a useless pile of metal.

  He tried to remember. Lieutenant Razman had been driving an identical one and he had watched how he had pulled the steering wheel from one side to the next and how he had pushed the pedals on the floor and
constantly moved a stick with a black ball on the end that was over on his right.

  He sat down in the driver’s seat and imitated all of the lieutenant’s movements, turning the wheel and pressing down hard on the brake pedals, the gear and accelerator pedals and pushing the black ball from side to side, but the engine still did not make a sound.

  Then he realised that they were the movements you needed to drive the vehicle with, but first of all he had to start the engine.

  He leaned over and studied the small sticks, keys, buttons and indicators on the control panel. He beeped the horn, which startled the vultures and he managed to squirt the windscreen with water, which was immediately wiped down by two mechanical arms, but there was still no sound of the engine.

  Finally, he saw a key inside a lock. He took it out, but nothing happened and then put it back in, still with no luck. Then he tried to turn it and the mechanical monster revved to life, coughed three times, jumped along for a while then became silent once again.

  His eyes lit up as he realised that he was on the right track.

  He turned the key with one hand and moved the wheel like a madman with the other, but the result was the same, just splutters, shudders and silence.

  He tried the key with the brake. Nothing.

  The key with the pedal. Nothing.

  Then using the key with the right hand pedal, the motor suddenly roared to life and continued purring gently as he eased the pressure off slowly.

  He then tried out the brake, the clutch, the accelerator, the handbrake, the indicators and just as he was about to give up, the vehicle jumped forward, the back wheels running over Captain Osman, stopping three meters further on.

  The vultures flapped around bad temperedly.

  He started the whole process again and advanced another two meters. He carried on like that until the evening fell and when he finally decided to stop, he had only managed to put about one hundred metres between himself, the vultures and the dead.

  He ate and drank, then made a soup of biscuits, water and honey, which he tried to make Abdul swallow and then the minute night fell he lay down on one of the blankets on the ground and fell into a deep sleep.