Malik

The boy crouched in the alley and pushed around some dirt and water. In a minute he had a small mud pie in his hand. A look of doubt on his face vanished just as soon as it appeared and he looked at it brightly and said,”Mmm, mmm, chicken pie, I’m going to eat you. Oh yes, I am and you are going to be so delicious too.”

Then he took a bite.

The mud squelched in his mouth and grit on his teeth. He made an effort and swallowed. Then he threw the rest back onto the ground and wiped his hands off on his shorts.

“Scrumptious!” he announced, “That was too much.”

Hands in his pockets, he stuck his chest out and went down the street until he came to two more children.

“I’ve just eaten some chicken pie, haven’t I, then,” he said.

“Oh, Malik,” said one, eyes large. “Could you get some more?”

“Don’t listen to him,” said the other. “He lives in his dreams.”

“It was real!” Malik said.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I’ll show you!”

He ran off and suddenly found himself being lifted off the ground feet still kicking. The bigger boy held him up and pressed him to the wall.

“Where’s my money, runt?”

“I said I’d give it back and I will! I’m adding a surprise! It’ll be great!”

The boy dropped him. “You like living life on the edge, kid,” and he shook his head.

Malik was already running.

Malik leaned against a wall taking deep breaths in and out. He sank down to the floor, drained. Hardly did he sit than he saw a figure on the opposite street and he jumped up again, smoothed his clothes and arranged a nonchalant expression on his face.

Feeling his gaze, the figure turned in his direction. A broad smile crossed the man’s face and he swept across the street as if in one step. It seemed like Malik had just seen him and now here he was next to him, thumping his back, mussing his hair. Malik made a small grumble and his large, friendly uncle laughed an apology and smoothed his hair back down. He wiped some mud off Malik’s cheek. “You always do find something to eat, Malik?” he asked.

Malik tried, puffing up his chest, but somehow “chicken pie” couldn’t come out in his uncle’s presence. He said nothing but it seemed to be enough; his uncle nodded.

“Come on then, we’re going for namaaz. I think..,” and he paused and smiled at Malik, “I think you are doing adhaan today, no?” He marched with purpose and Malik tried to keep up.

His uncle had been having him practice give the adhaan for a long time. But he saw him infrequently, most of the time Ammo was away from Fustat, on a ship, in a caravan, always just recently arrived or about to depart, always surrounded with curiosities from elsewhere, a scarf that felt like air in one’s fingers, a carved spoon in an unknown color, a new kind of food. Yes, they had practiced the adhaan, but it was so long ago, how much would he remember?

But here they were already his uncle talking in friendly tones to the muezzin, here more people were smiling at him, patting his head, everything was a blur. He was climbing the steps and then it was up to him.

His heart thumped and his mind went blank – he couldn’t remember the words. He knew it began with allahoakbar – but he would have to keep count. He went for it. How many allahokabars had it been? Two? Four? Six? It felt like he had been at this forever. The men were getting uncomfortable…he could feel it. Maybe he had prayed too many. They knew he didn’t know how to do it and they didn’t know what to do next. Would it be a terrible sin if he ran away after beginning? Was he allowed to run through the masjid? How could he get out? He closed his eyes and went with another Allahoakbar.

Someone had stepped up next to him. Someone wrapped a comforting arm on his shoulder and he opened his eyes. Ammo! What a relief. He gave him a panicked look. Ammo smiled back and rubbed his shoulders gently and nodded at him. He bent next to his ear and whispered the next words into it. Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, of course, I know that line. He got through one more line. But what was the next? The words were in his ear. Oh yes, that’s the one, right, right, right. His own voice was ringing out loud and clear and it felt good. He could see the men shuffling in for the prayer coming in from all directions. There was a joy to the call and people answering it. Malik felt as though he was doing something with meaning. Suddenly he was at the last line and it was over. Relief and a warm feeling…happiness. It went okay. Ammo squeezed his hand.

“I can stay for namaaz, I suppose.” His mind was really on the line for the food that was given out and the fact that people would be lining up already, skipping the prayer. But he didn’t want to say that to Ammo, and not in the glow of his performance and everyone’s praise. In that moment he felt a small sense of comfort in the fellowship with the other men, feeling a little less alone in the company of so many hungry others, everyone here to bargain for a better tomorrow. Perhaps he could allow himself to…hope. Food. Money. He hardly dared to dream it but maybe here, for just a moment, he could dream it.

Malik left Ammo Yusuf's house with the pleasant feeling of a full belly that he had almost forgotten. Fresh bread! After weeks of old, stale bread, and those were the good days. He was carrying home treasures too, an apple, and he hid it carefully in his shirt, an apple could cost you your life these days.

He cast a long look at the masjid as he walked past it, and then tipped his head in a silent acknowledgement, yes, Allah had provided the meal even though he missed the one that they gave out at the masjid. Perhaps Allah could toss him some fulus, a few dimes. Ammo Yusuf ate well even with the ongoing famine…the rich were always untouched by the common going-ons on the street.

There’s no life without money, he thought to himself. No more messing around on the street with those boys, he had to get serious about life, find a real apprenticeship, learn a trade, make money. That was the road to people respecting you, like they respected Ammo Yusuf, you could give out food to hungry boys then, walk tall into a workshop and have the workers sit up and pay attention. What was his life now? And he grimaced as he thought about it. Sit around with Hasan and Abdul and Khalaf, owe Faris money and keep an eye out for who might be coming around the corner with a knife and his ears in their sight.

He came to the corner, paused briefly and then impulsively turned left. A girl was stepping out of the house at the corner. Malik stopped for a moment and smoothed down his whiskers. There was a bowl of water outside one of the houses. He leaned over it and looked at his reflection. Unhappy with what he saw he turned back the way he came.  She had already seen him. “Malik!”

Nowhere to go now. He walked towards her. He reached underneath his shirt for the apple and gave it a quick polish with the edge of his shirt. He opened his mouth to speak but she seemed to be bursting with excitement – “What…what is it?” he said instead.

“You have NO IDEA what is about to come down the street, Malik! You’re just in time!”

 He stood up a little taller, happy at her excitement. And he had eaten today too. It was a good day!

“Dying to find out, Roni! What is it?”

“It’s Abdul! It’s Abdul! It’s going to be amazing!”

Surely everyone could hear the loud crash of his heart falling down through him onto the street. Time to leave. “I’m in a bit of a hurry, Roni. Would you like an apple?” His eye caught movement at the end of the street and his jaw dropped.

It was Abdul sure enough, but Abdul and a heavenly being, a brown horse, so large, so God-like, he almost filled the narrow street and smashed the walls of the houses on each side as he came down it. Malik stood transfixed and next to him Roni jumped up and down exclaiming, “Oh Abdul! Oh Abdul!”

He hardly knew what was happening as the horse came up to them and he couldn’t think beyond its smell, its muscle, its presence taking over all the space. There was nothing left of the street but – horse…the sound, the feeling of keeping away from its hooves, not getting in its way, this animal that was ten times stronger than you. But here Abdul was in charge, Abdul was holding the reins, Abdul could control and harness all the power and Roni was smiling at Abdul and he was helping her up, and helplessly Malik fed the horse the apple and then they were off.

He kicked himself for making the left turn and walked back the way he came trying to find the old swagger, trying to keep his back from stooping, trying to move, but his feet would drag so and his shoulders would droop and Malik felt as though the men had been measured and he didn’t stack up.  

He didn’t mention any of it at all to the boys later. They worked in the afternoons carrying water into the hot workshops refilling the buckets the craftsmen used to cool their tools. They carried the water in and out silently, hungry, hot, dusty and tired nobody tended to chat much anyways. But the men were talking to each other in the workshop, and the story of the day was also about a horse, this one belonging to the owner, taken away by the governor to cover the late taxes the man hadn’t paid. “The horse is worth five times what I owed, the swine,” he was loud and raucous in his complaints.

“Where do they take the horses?” Malik asked.

“Eh?” The men swung around. The boys did not converse with them.

“The horses. The ones they take. Where do they take them? Maybe I can get it back for you?”

“Are the buckets full, boy? Then clear out!”

He left but his head was full of a plan that was slowly putting itself together – he could feel something building even though he wasn’t quite sure what it was yet.

But that evening he knew where he wanted to take all his friends and he walked forcefully as they lagged behind him wondering where they were all going, wondering why Malik kept going even when they had left Fustat behind.

The road led into Qatai and the boys slowed down instinctively.

“Malik, Qatai gives me the creeps. Where are we going?”

Malik walked on.

The night air was cool and a light fog rolled amongst the buildings. It hid their edges and then made them suddenly spring out at you as you got closer.

The boys shuddered and kept close together.

They were passing the walls of Ibn Tulun and the familiar masjid helped them relax their shoulders a little bit. This street they knew. “Time for adhaan, Malik? They write a special namaaz just for you?”

“The boy’s got a plan!”

“Hey, leave him alone. Let’s just see where he’s going. Anyone who wants to sit around in Fustat can just go back.” Their voices bounced off the sides of the building and tumbled around in the empty street.

Then in the still air they could hear other familiar sounds, the shift of hooves, animals breathing, an occasional grunt. Horses! What was this?

The masjid wall ended and in the open area beyond they could see stables and animals inside. The stables were huge, there must have been at least fifty horses. A watchman loitered in the field, sipping from a cup, and the boys froze.

Malik kept walking and Abdul grabbed him and indicated with his chin toward the watchman. Malik shrugged him off and made an annoyed sound. The boys hung back and watched as the man nodded at Malik, and the two of them talked softly in the darkness. He offered his cup to Malik, and Malik took a sip. Malik turned back and looked at them all so they moved forward, a little at a time, closer.

“Drink?” the watchman asked. A pot gurgled over a small stove next to him.

Abdul nodded and the man leaned over and tossed some leaves into the pot. He watched it for a moment and then dipped a cup in and handed it to Abdul.

Abdul sipped his drink and watched Malik. He tilted his head as though turning a thought over in his mind. Then he gave a small shrug and tossed his cup on the grass. “Will you recognize him when you see him?”

Malik looked at him.

“The boss’s horse. We’re here to get his horse back, aren’t we? Come on, then.” Abdul headed toward the stable. His long legs carried him fast.

Malik squeezed the watchman’s arm and ran to keep up with Abdul. “Hey, I – “

Abdul spun around. “You…what?” The words were a challenge.

Malik stood straight. “I’m not sure, Abdul. I thought I’d check it out. The watchman works for my Ammo sometimes. He told me where the horses were, and I said I’d come take a look.”

“That’s bullshit, Malik!” Abdul’s voice grew louder. “I have a horse, you want a horse and you’ll do anything to get one. You want to get one tonight, let’s get one. If you’re man enough to take it when it’s right in front of you.”

Malik paused. Hasan and Khalaf came running in.

“What’s going on?”

“Let’s just go,” Malik said roughly.

“Malik wants a horse so bad, but he’s lost his nerve,” Abdul jeered.

“Stop it, Abdul,” Hasan said. “Don’t always be like that.”

“I’m so fed up of him,” Abdul said. “He thinks he’s better than everyone else. His father’s a farmer. He gets his high and mighty ways from his Ammo Yusuf and suddenly he’s acting like the amir. He came here to get a horse! We all know it! And now he doesn’t have the guts!”

“I’m going,” Malik nodded at the boys and walked out. His ears were hot and he wanted to hit Abdul, to watch him fall over and break his nose, but he was afraid he would actually do it so he walked fast in the other direction. He balled his hands into fists and tried not to turn around and charge at his ex-friend. A breeze was blowing but it didn’t help. It felt like an insect he couldn’t swat away and he got angrier. He tried to grab some grass and fling it but it flew back in his face in the wind. “Aaahh,” he cried out and as he passed the watchman’s stove he kicked it. Hot coals flew over the grass and the grass began to smolder. “Oh – oh, hey” – Malik looked around for something to gather the coals back up with. Little fires began to burn in the grass. Malik had only sandals on his feet and nothing to fight the fires with. The wind carried the little fires a little further along the field closer to the stables. Malik started to run toward the stables ahead of the fire. “Hasan!” he screamed.

The boys appeared in the doorway. Malik was running towards them and behind him the flames were growing. “Open the doors! Give the horses a chance to get out!” They began running around the stalls opening the doors.

“Khalaf! Help me!” Abdul shouted, moving to the large double doors at the entrance. The doors were heavy and both boys put their shoulders to the wood to push them open. Wind blew in and smoke that made them cough and choke – the fire had already grown. The horses were whinnying and began to run out.

“Malik! Hasan! We’re going to get trampled – let’s go!” Hasan came running. The smoke was beginning to thicken. “Where’s Malik?”

Hasan looked at him, panicked. Abdul pushed Khalaf and Hasan. “Go, go! I’ll find him.”

They ran out. Abdul went deeper into the stable looking around for Malik. He saw him and grabbed him and pulled. “Abdul, we have to calm them,” Malik pleaded, “and get them out.”

“Listen, they are going to bolt and we will be crushed. We have to go, NOW.”

Malik stood at the door and looked around. Flames were leaping in the field. Who could help? Qatai was deserted.

“Ok, boys, time to ride!” Malik shouted wildly. It was too dangerous to attempt to outrun the fire. They would have to do it on horseback to even have a chance. The horses were getting jittery already, any minute now they’d begin to bolt. The boys were frantically untying them but their hands were shaking and they were beginning to give up on struggling with the ropes. It was time to go.

“Time to ride!” Khalaf shouted back, grinning. He got on the horse easily and gave a wild yell as he started to canter out. He was a good rider.

Abdul, also a seasoned rider, made less noise and accomplished the task with more efficiency and purpose. He turned back to look at Malik, a question on his face.

Malik nodded at him and Abdul rode off.

“Time to ride,” Malik murmured to himself, more softly this time, and looked up at the closest horse.

The air shimmered with heat and smoke softening the horse’s silhouette so that it appeared not quite real, its edges blurry. Up close, it was bigger than Malik imagined and Malik let his gaze travel up the strong neck to the hair on the forehead and the perfect, pointed ears. He could see Ammo would approve; Malik had watched him buy horses. His gaze moving down from the ears he found himself looking the horse in the eye and for a moment, he froze. An inner fire glimmered in the eyes, this horse would never let him ride him. They needed to come to an agreement. “I am not just here to be carried,” Malik thought. “I can get us both to safety.” Horse and boy eyed each other as both contemplated the bargain. Malik saw the moment when the horse agreed and slightly bent his head. “I can do this,” he whispered and with a Ya Ali! he grabbed a fistful of mane and before he knew it he was up. It was exhilarating being on a horse and he felt all the strength and support of the animal and a confidence in his own ability to get them both out of there. The horse was moving, fast, faster than Malik had ever thought it was possible to move through space, and he could feel the heat and the smoke being left behind them and the wind that was whipping his face was cooler now, clearer, even while the thunder of hooves seemed to be all around them. Malik wanted only to close his eyes, cling to the horse and let it run, but he remembered their bargain and gripped the reins and tried to keep an eye on where they were going. It was important to stay in control and not let panic or exhaustion win. If they could make it to the Nile they would be safe and… around this corner, there, he could see its water glimmering in the distance. He pulled at the reins and could feel the relief flowing through both him and the horse, they had done it. He slipped off and leaned his head against the horse’s neck; a tear on his cheek mingled with the sweat on its neck and Malik felt like they had made a pact. At last he raised his head and pushed the horse towards the water, they both needed a drink.

Malik plunged into the water too blindly and then ducked his head into its cool depths, finally feeling an escape from the fatigue, the dust, the smoke, the heat. When he raised his head out of the water he was finally able to look around for his friends and they were all there, horses too, Abdul talking to his horse, Khalaf splayed on the ground, Hasan – wait, where was Hasan?