Have we found a home?
The forest to the north was not so devoid of humanity as it had looked from the ridge, but they could easily avoid detection when they wanted to. As they moved north, they started to encounter people of finer features than they were used to seeing. People who reminded Zalika of her father, but often with much darker skin. When they spoke, they sounded like her father, but Zalika had difficulty with the accent, and Jamaani could not understand them at all.
Together, Zalika and Jamaani decided to watch them for a while before showing themselves. These were farmers and herders, not hunters. Zalika’s people had been farmers. The Maasai were exclusively herders. In the deep forest, the people were hunter-gatherers. Farmers were often the least irritable of the people they met, giving Zalika and Jamaani hope that this group of people might accept them or at least tolerate them.
Watching and listening, they moved north, careful to stay hidden. Occasionally, Jamaani would say that they were being followed or stalked. They would move onto very rocky ground or into deeper forest, covering several miles at night to escape pursuit. Zalika, for her part, took every opportunity to listen to these new people speaking, especially when they would talk to someone who spoke a language Jamaani recognized. In these conversations, Zalika learned more of the new dialect. When near a town, they would occasionally hear loud singing in the language of her father’s Qur’an.
After two months of observing these people and moving north, Zalika and Jamaani noticed three things that convinced them it was time to contact these people. The land was becoming more open with fewer places to hide. The increase is due mainly to the growing amount of farmland. The accent was getting easier for Zalika to understand, and she was pretty sure that she could speak to them in the language of the Qur’an and be understood. Finally, it became clear that someone was aware of their presence in the area and was actively searching for them. It would do them no good to be found while trying to hide.
“So, how do we introduce ourselves to them?” Zalika knew from experience that openly approaching people was not likely to work.
“If you want to see zebra, don’t go where they are. They will run away. Instead, go to where they will be, and let them find you.”
This idea struck the mare’s part of Zalika’s intellect like a divinely revealed truth. The human part of her intellect was less impressed but had to acknowledge the simple wisdom of it. “So, which of us should they find first?”
“They should find us together. If they find just you, you will have to show me to them. If they find just me, my beauty and power will overwhelm them. Then what would we do? They should find us together. That way, they will see that we are quite ordinary.”
Zalika thought about interrupting Jamaani at the comment about beauty and power, but wanted to see where he was going with it. “I would not worry about that. Once they get to know you, they will be overwhelmed by your self-confidence and your obvious lack of intelligence. So, great self-confident stupid one, how do we do this?”
Jamaani took hold of his tail with one hand and struck a thoughtful pose. “I propose that in the morning we should be next to the road, doing something ordinary, and see what happens.”
Zalika, who was always more cautious than Jamaani, suggested. “I think we should do it in late afternoon, and somewhere we can run to cover just in case these people are not happy about new neighbors.”
“It will work out fine, just you wait and see, but you may be right about having a little caution.”
They had known each other for several months now, and this was the most concerned Zalika had ever seen Jamaani. That did not bolster her confidence that these people would be ready to accept them, but what choice did they have?
They chose a spot protected by trees, located between a stream and the road near a town. Travelers could easily see them when close enough to talk, but wouldn't be able to see many details until then.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Mercy of Allah, what kind of jinni are you?” The young man, with little beard and a hand ax, led an ass. He looked directly at Jamaani as he spoke. The ass was torn between curiosity about Zalika and a desire to run from Jamaani.
Zalika stood up from where she had been sitting and, in her best Arabic, said, "We are travelers from the south. I am Zalika, and he is Jamaani."
Without taking his eyes off Jamaani, the young man said, "Yes, but what are you?"
“My companion does not speak your language.” As Zalika said, this Jamaani smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “You can talk to me. I will not bite.” Zalika thought better of this choice of words, just a little bit too late to stop it before it came out.
The young man seemed troubled by Jamaani’s smile, which looked quite toothy and far from harmless. “Forgive me, I should not expect strangers new to our land to know the ways taught by the profit. We are taught to protect our women from the eyes of strangers. I must seem very strange to you because you are very strange to me. Peace be upon you.” With that, he hurried on his way.
This set the pattern for the rest of the day. They mostly saw men and boys, all of whom were surprised to see the two of them. Most made little effort to speak to Jamaani, and none to talk to Zalika. When they found out he didn’t speak a language they understood, they would go on about their business. If they spoke to Zalika at all, it was brief, detached, and usually a message for Jamaani. The few women who came by were covered head to foot in cloth, often black. Those women said nothing at all.
As nightfall approached and traffic decreased, Jamaani and Zalika set up camp near the road in a place that had been used before. Occasionally, during the night, they could see and hear people approach, but never close enough for a conversation. Zalika guessed they thought it was too dark for them to be seen. She and Jamaani could see the visitors clearly, but chose not to make a point of it.
As the sun rose, they heard singing, and about three hours later, a group of men arrived at their camp. An older man with a white turban and a gray beard approached Jamaani. “Peace be upon you. I am the local holy man, and I wish to know what you are and what you want with us.”
Of course, Jamaani still had no idea what the man said, but this time, instead of trying to talk to them, Zalika introduced the holy man and explained what he said to Jamaani. She waited for his response, never looking directly at the holy man.
Jamaani thought that this was silly and said so. “These people can speak to you just as well as they can speak to me, and you will know what they have said. I will listen and try to learn the language, but that may take a while.”
“Peace be upon you. We are travelers from the south, fleeing a witch doctor who has enchanted us. We only seek a place to live." Zalika chose to tell them Jamaani's story as if they shared it, rather than her own.
The holy man said, “This witch doctor might come looking for you. Why shouldn’t we send you to him?”
Zalika translated for Jamaani and waited for Jamaani’s response.
Jamaani looked at Zalika and said, “What you are telling them is what happened to me. Your story is much more fun.”
Zalika simply answered “Yes.” It was plain these people had no interest in what she might have to say.
Jamaani directed his attention back to the holy man and explained, “His power comes from a single tree. They say a strong spirit is bound to the tree and must do whatever is commanded of it as penance for some terrible wrong committed so long ago that it can no longer remember what it did or who it once was. The command must be given in an ancient language that, if spoken too much, will drive the speaker mad. Away from the tree, he has no power.” The madness part was pure invention on Jamaani's part, but it sounded convincing.
The holy man listened to Zalika’s translation, paused to think, and then asked, “Why was this done to you? Why should we not fear you?”
Jamaani was slow to answer. “He wanted my daughter as a bride for the spirit of the tree. When I said no, he sent a serpent to bite my daughter and her husband. When I confronted him, he told me I should have done what he asked. Then he did this to me and placed a terrible hunger in my gut. He hoped I would eat my grandchildren. I ran through the jungle for three days and nights, losing myself to the cat. I remember nothing more until I met Zalika. The worst part is I do not know if I ate my grandchildren.” Jamaani was on the verge of tears as he spoke of this.
Zalika placed her hand on Jamaani’s shoulder. “If they were dead, their spirits would have come to us along with their parents. They are fine, just you wait and see.” She then translated Jamaani’s words for the holy man.
The holy man thought for a moment before saying, “It is good for a man to love his daughters as well as his sons. A father must do his best to protect his children. I think you should stay here. You may camp in this place as long as you need. Please come to the mosque for evening prayers. Perhaps Allah’s mercy will bring you comfort, and his wisdom can guide you in what to do next.” He started to reach for Jamaani’s shoulder but hesitated. “I, too, have a daughter.” With that, they left—or seemed to.
Zalika started to translate, but Jamaani said, “I got the gist of it.”
Two or three men stayed to keep an eye on them. Watchers came and went throughout the day. None of them stayed very long or got close. The constant watching reminded Zalika of her time with the Maasai.
As the sun began to sink towards the horizon, the holy man and a young woman in a blue head scarf returned to invite Jamaani to evening prayers. The invitation was aimed at Jamaani, but the young woman asked Zalika to come along as well.