Tales and Stories

Chapter 19 - Escape to Sinai

Thunder rolled overhead and lightning cut the sky into pieces. And it was not only Kifkef who winced in apprehension, although his friends did so for altogether different reasons. He soon learnt the cause. A thick-fingered hand settled on each of his shoulders. Kifkef span around and found himself deciphering the scars on his assailant’s cheek from up close. The other two Moroccans came around the table in reserve.

“Er, salaam?” Kifkef smiled.

“Kifkef, you have some unfinished business with these guys?” Gypsy Lou smiled.

“Well, they do look familiar.” Kifkef agreed as he was picked up by the shoulders and carried off to their table. “We’ll just have a little talk and, enshallah, we’ll come to an arrangement.”

The sadhu and the gypsy watched as Kifkef was sat down on a chair and his new acquaintances took their seats in a circle about him to begin the negotiations. All things considered, they seemed to be in the stronger position.

Gypsy Lou discreetly smashed her wine bottle against the leg of her chair so that it became something of a vicious weapon. She passed it to Gene.

“So, holy man, can you use one of these in a tight spot?”

He blinked in surprise.

“Well Shiva would have no reservations so neither should I. But, Lou, I didn’t realise our knuckle-cracking friend was so close to your heart.”

She shrugged, breaking another bottle in the same way.

“This is Catalonia.” She told him flatly. “No one backs out of a fight.”

But it seemed that violence was not immediately necessary. Kifkef came trotting back across the courtyard of the taverna with an impish grin on his face.

“What happened?” They asked.

“Oh, it was no problem - they were just a little concerned about three hundred gold watches I sold them a year ago.”

“They weren’t gold?”

“What do you take me for? Of course they were gold. They just didn’t work, that was all. Lost three hours a day. Now,” he said, lifting up the tablecloth, “If you’ll just kindly join me under the table - Yes, please, just come and in a moment I will explain everything to your satisfaction..”

“You had better be able to or else I’m changing sides.”

“It’s quite simple. I appeased them by offering to sell you, Lou, as their private escort - Now don’t jump.… I got a very good deal, after all.”

“And what does that have to do with squatting down here in the dark?”

“Well, the price was dependent on her virginity which I offered to confirm down here - Ow. I don’t see why you’re taking it like that.”

“I assume, Shri Kikkef, that you have a plan.”

“You’d better have.”

“Well, yes… I am going to pray.”

“Pray?”

“Yes, I think that having gone a little astray from the path of a Believer, I should now ask help from Allah, the Magnificent, the Compassionate and - most importantly of all - the All-Forgiving.”

“Maybe divine intervention is the best course of action here. Ommmmmm-“

“I don’t believe it.”

“Ashadu Allah hu akbar-“

“Om Shiva Shankar-“

“I’m not staying with you locos a moment longer.”

“Ashadu leilahahilalah-“

“Alak, Shumbo-“

The prayers were cut short by a shriek from Gypsy Lou on the other side of the table cloth.

“Kifkef, if something has happened to her then only you will be held responsible.”

“You’re right. May Allah forgive me for my bad business sense.”

“Guys, I think you can come out now.”

“Kifkef, why am I hearing the sound of the sea and…flutes?”

“Allah be praised. Kifkef cried, throwing back the tablecloth to dazzling moonlight, “We are in Sinai - The nearest place to Paradise as can be found upon on Earth. Come, let us adjourn to the many comforts of the hoosha.”

Part 3

A little while later the three storytellers sprawled out in comfort upon multi-coloured rugs and cushions, low wooden tables before them. They drank sweet mint tea by the edge of the hoosha, a spacious tent made only from bamboo poles and thin carpets, looking out on the beauty of the Arabian night.

The land was tinted a liquid blue as the moon rode the heavens through this last phase of the night. The sea was calm like a reservoir of crystal dreams and it lapped musically at the coral reef. Also drifting through the air came the meeting of oud and ney, the mandolin and flute of the Arabic world; accompanied by a single drummer, they held a modest session in these small hours when most dwell in the place of dreams. The melodies rose and fell, sliding seamlessly into one another as smooth as the lilting sea and wind.

Behind the hooshas and the road that brought supplies to this small settlement, the land climbed in sharp, rocky slopes to form strong mountains of stone and sand. Red through the day but blue in this night. For these silent giants the years passed like seconds and their story would take a thousand lifetimes to tell.

For the first time in the course of the night, Kifkef appeared genuinely relaxed. His shoulders had now dropped below the level of his ears and his fingers no longer twitched as though in search of a deck of cards. Sure now of his environment, he seemed to occupy twice the physical space, his limbs stretching out in whichever outlandish direction felt comfortable. He had changed into a loose green jelaba that draped from his neck to his ankles and which left him as unrestricted as if he were naked.

As comfortable as he now seemed, he would barely sit still for half a minute before disappearing noiselessly to the kitchen to fetch further delicacies for his guests. But once he had laid the table with a pot of mint tea, couscous fried in olive oil and coriander, slices of coal-roasted lamb, pickled capsicum, Egyptian beans, green and black olives soaked in lemon and chilli, balls of felafel with tahini dressing, cucumber salad, bowls of hummous and even a small plate of stewed sheep’s eyes - Only then did he assume his place at the low wooden table and venture to taste a few items himself.

“You know, Kifkef, I thought it was only the Spanish who eat banquets in the middle of the night.” Gypsy Lou approved, tearing into a piece of lamb.

“Ah, for we Arabs the presence of guests is always an occasion for feasting. There is nothing more auspicious than the arrival of visitors. Indeed, tradition requires that we always cook enough to provide for the guest - And then he will surely come.

And now, if your stomachs are feeling welcome, indulge me by listening to a tale of the desert.

The Story of the Blind Dervish and the First Flute