Sands of Redemption

35

Georgia kicked the doona aside. She was alone in the women's tent lying on a thick foam mattress surrounded by a mountain of pillows. It was pitch black, the tent shut to the desert's cool night air and any curious creepy-crawlies. Everyone had dispersed to their own private shacks several hours earlier. She wondered if Khalid was in the men's tent next door and if he was having trouble sleeping too.

She sat up, staring into the darkness. It didn't take much anymore to make her prickle with fear, to turn her blood cold. It was the blackness. It was the quiet. All too similar to her cell in the Mujahideen camp. Heart thudding, she got to her feet. Arms outstretched, she found the tent's exit.

It was only a little lighter outside, the moon's halo keeping the desert aglow. The Milky Way was a pallid smear against the black. Except for the occasional bleat from the goats and a noisy growl from a camel, it was quiet. How long it was until morning, she couldn't know but she wasn't going back into that tent. Taking a seat on the hard earth, she waited.

It wasn't long at all before the camp started to wake. Just as the sky began to lighten she heard movement. Looking over her shoulder, her eyes straining against the gloom, she recognised a heavily swathed female form walking away in the opposite direction, an empty bucket swinging from the crook of her elbow.

Several minutes later another form exited her house to begin her morning chores. From then on the camp very quickly came alive. By the time the sun had crested the horizon, it seemed that all the women in the camp had woken up, all busy. Even Fatimah was working, arriving at the women's tent with a large sack of clothes slung over her hunched back.

'As-salamu alayki,' she puffed with a small, gap-toothed smile.

'Wa-Alayki assalam,' Georgia replied, a frown between her eyes as she watched the woman struggle with her load. 'Here, let me help you.'

Georgia stood but the old woman waved her aside. With much grunting and puffing she managed to fold open the tent and get inside.

A short time later the children followed. Georgia smiled as two young boys rode by on the donkey's back, waving and laughing.

There came a rustle from the men's tent. Khalid stepped outside. He yawned and was about to stretch when he caught sight of Georgia. He stiffened, his arms sagging to his sides. He turned and walked away, passing by Latifah who approached with two baskets: one with unleavened dough, the other filled with sticks and branches.

'Good morning,' she greeted, her eyes beaming above her niqab. She placed the baskets on the ground. 'Sleep well?'

'Yes. It was very comfortable. Thank you.'

Latifah hummed to herself as she assembled her little flame-powered stove, retrieving the large hotplate from somewhere within the tent. Quickly and expertly she built a fire, then set to making the bread.

Undoubtedly enticed by the smell of breakfast cooking, the rest of the camp finally stirred. Chin in hand, Georgia watched Latifah make her bread, finding her rhythmic, practiced movements soothing.

'Are you well?' she asked as she cast another piece of bread upon the hotplate. 'Sister?'

'Oh, sorry,' Georgia said, shaking herself from her musings. 'Yes, I'm fine.'

'You look sad.'

Georgia shrugged, her lips quivering.

'Oh! You are sad!' Latifah exclaimed. Dusting off her hands, she reached over and touched Georgia's wrist. 'Tell me what hurts you.'

Georgia struggled to get the words out. Failing, she turned away. She covered her face with her hands.

'Come, come. Talking will make you feel better.'