It\u2019s only a day\u2019s walk north from Sana\u2019a to Al Madid, in the province of Neham, so I said, \u2018In Al Madid, God willing, surely we\u2019ll find what you seek.\u2019<\/p>\n
Wearing a cuffia<\/em>, the small man eyed me with a detached superiority while I thought to myself, \u2018How fortunate he is to have me. With someone else, he could find himself in a perilous state, Yemen being Yemen. And Yemenis being Yemenis, they may not tolerate his lofty air.\u2019 However, being a humble Yahud I chose to ignore it. We were on foot, heading toward the Mareb and the mountains. It was still spring.<\/p>\n I\u2019d been told the bare minimum by the small man, Baahir Jalali, and in truth had no right to know more. But curiosity is a beast all its own, and a beast must be fed. My countless questions kept falling flat though, so I ceased my futile efforts. If he wanted to speak, fine. If not, so be it.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Poverty in the countryside is such that we traveled with nothing of value. Not even food. Without provisions, we trusted in the Jews of Al Madid. I carried a letter of introduction from Moshe Alkarah, a well-to-do merchant based in Eden. He knew Baahir Jalali and had recommended me, Al Fathihi, to act as his guide. Addressed to the Rabbi of Sana\u2019a and other Rabbis in other towns, the papers I possessed requested we be looked after and promised reimbursement for any out-of-pocket expenses, in due course.<\/p>\n The barren mountains stretched ahead and as we walked, endless dust swirled at our feet. My eyes roved, seeking the few plants that found strength to sprout and cling amongst the rocks, existing on thin air and hope. Were we not doing the same ourselves? The hours crawled by and Baahir Jalali was getting tired, because in spite of his steely gaze his body was made of something softer.\u00a0 When we came to the outskirts of Al Mawqiri, a small village not far from Al Batah, both of us were thirsty as two empty humps on a camel.<\/p>\n In the distance, I glimpsed a girl tending goats. Baahir Jalali rested his bones while I went for water. About thirteen and completely covered, only her tired eyes and chapped lips were exposed. Glad for the interruption, she offered me a leather pouch spilling water and asked a thousand questions. I answered a few, pouring the precious clear liquid for my friend into her clay dish, which I swore to return. Picking some plants, she pressed them into my hand and said \u2018Eat.\u2019 I trusted doing this would energize us and ease our walk. Baahir Jalali was dozing when I returned, but quickly revived to say water had never tasted so good. Chewing her herbs, we stretched our legs and massaged the soles of our feet.<\/p>\n The sun\u2019s movement across the sky meant we must carry on if we were to reach Al Madid before nightfall. At last, perhaps bored by his own thoughts, the small man spoke, \u2018Have you ever been to Lahaj?\u2019 I\u2019d never had that pleasure, but asked if it was true they sent water to Eden? Baahir smiled, \u2018One hundred camels carry bags of water every day!\u2019 he boasted triumphantly. \u2018Lahaj is beautiful, its palm trees plentiful and their dates so sweet.\u2019 He spoke of big juicy melons, then with probing eyes, asked if I knew the Sultan of Lahaj: \u2018I\u2019ve only heard of him,\u2019 I answered in all modesty. Baahir Jalali laughed with delight and seemed slightly relieved.<\/p>\n \u2018It sounds heavenly. All those rivers and green fields.\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018Oh yes! It is most certainly heaven on earth!\u2019 sighed Baahir Jalali then he fell silent for a while. Waiting. Debating in his mind. He weighed it carefully before casually mentioning his grandfather had lived in Lahaj.<\/p>\n \u2018So why do you not live there?\u2019 I asked.<\/p>\n \u2018Long story,\u2019 said Baahir Jalali with a smirk.<\/p>\n \u2018This road is long. Your story will not last the length of it.\u2019 But Baahir Jalali grew quiet.<\/p>\n I gave up on getting anything out of him, but only then, of course, he answered. Baahir was not born in Lahaj, because his father left there to look for a key.<\/p>\n \u2018He left Lahaj only to locate a single key? This key must be quite unique.\u2019 Baahir Jalali smiled and left my unanswered question dangling there between us.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Our walk resumed, we both kicking stones and me trying to make some sense of this mysterious man. Suspense was clearly his currency, and I had a strong suspicion he was toying with me. Asked a direct question, he didn’t divulge, but when I relented, he tendered the most granular detail. Determined to deprive him the pleasure of depriving me the answer, we walked on.<\/p>\n The wilderness pressed in from all sides, leaving us to stare at the rugged mountains straight ahead. Baahir Jalali retreated back behind his personal well of thoughts, his bushy brows shaded eyes further darkened by contemplation. It was not in my nature to sustain a vexation with the taunts of this haughty man and slow as a snake twisting up a tree, my curiosity reawakened, tickling my mind as we passed the place called Jabal Dhimarmar. The springtime sun slid further down in the sky, and yet still it sliced our backs like a hot sword.<\/p>\n \u2018Tell me, what is the importance of that key?\u2019 I felt compelled to ask. Baahir Jalali jumped, startled out of a somnambulant stroll, and from his twinkling eyes, a smile melted across his face to form deep dimples in his cheeks and softening his grimace, revealed a row of teeth, perfect as pearls.<\/p>\n \u2018I\u2019ll say more than I intended, but only if you promise not to say one word to a single soul.\u2019<\/p>\n Vaguely intrigued before, I must admit he had me eating out of his hand.<\/p>\n \u2018And be warned,\u2019 he continued, \u2018possession of a secret can put you in danger.\u2019<\/p>\n At this, I laughed, \u2018Surely, you\u2019re not serious?\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018I am serious. What is a secret worth without any risk?\u2019 His glare mixed gravity with bemusement at how my curiosity, like a flame kindled, now leapt out of control. Patting me on the shoulder, Baahir Jalali promised knowledge that would hold me hostage to him and his secret. Unhurried, he inquired \u2018How long until we reach Al Madid?\u2019<\/p>\n I saw the sun low in the west, ready to slip behind that mountain and said surely we still had hours to go.<\/p>\n Baahir Jalali sighed, \u2018We\u2019ve eaten nothing, and I\u2019d settle for a simple cup of coffee.\u2019 \u2018Coffee.\u2019 What a word. It sent my head spinning, with a longing that weakened me and I had to agree, \u2018Coffee, would be good, indeed.\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018I\u2019ll finish telling you that story later.\u2019 He said, \u2018Now all I can think of is food.\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018No, please talk,\u2019 I pleaded. \u2018Say anything to make us forget our hunger.\u2019 So he spoke.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Baahir Jalali was not born in Lahaj, but his father was Shafiki, son of the Sultan. I did not doubt him for a moment but began to believe that the road we were on had no end. By some miracle the soft hills parted, we rounded a corner and stumbled upon a small holding. In the midst of its sand and gravel, stood several coffee trees, their leaves a lustrous green.<\/p>\n An old man squatted in the dirt, just off the trail, staring into the empty distance, then greeted us, \u2018Salam Aleikum.\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018Is this your land?\u2019 I asked.<\/p>\n \u2018Why else would I be here?\u2019 he answered in a bored tone of voice locals reserve for travelers.<\/p>\n \u2018Please could we have some coffee?\u2019 I ventured. He was weather-beaten but wiry as a young goat, and stood up on his feet to bellow, \u2018Latifah, bring coffee. Now!\u2019<\/p>\n A stunning girl of seventeen brought us three glasses of coffee on a woven tassey, and to our unfettered delight, put down a plate of dates! Squatting alongside the old man with all the willpower we possessed, we ate the dates at his measured pace. \u2018Your daughter?\u2019 I asked, politely sipping her spiced coffee.<\/p>\n \u2018God, no! She is my new wife,\u2019 he said, swelling with pride.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Satiated by strong coffee and sweet dates, the old man asked, \u2018What business brings you here?\u2019\u00a0 Baahir Jalali looked to me, but I hesitated to speak, not confident I\u2019d been informed of the complete story, myself. Quickly it became clear Baahir Jalali was leaving it all up to me.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I said to Sa’idi, that was his name, we were collecting stories about an ancient queen. She was called Sheba, and once ruled these lands. Did he know any stories? Old Sa’idi waved his hands as if to say, \u2018Waste of time. Centuries ago. Forgotten!\u2019 \u2018But there must be some stories passed down? Generations of people tell their children old tales.\u2019 His eyes were open, but Old Sa\u2019idi sank into a sort of sleep.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The lovely Latifah brought him a nargila<\/em> pipe and absentmindedly, he stuck it between his lips without exiting his trance.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018Where are you from?\u2019 Alert now and abruptly he turned to interrogate Baahir Jalali. Locals regularly treated foreigners with suspicion. For this reason, Baahir Jalali reclaimed his roots. \u2018Lahaj. And Al Fatihi, here, is from Sana\u2019a.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The old man sank back on his soles, \u2018I seem to recall something about a man from Lahaj. Must have been sixty years ago\u2026\u2019 Old Sa\u2019idi adjusted his cuffia<\/em> and scratching the back of his neck, he said, \u2018Yes, I was about five years old when a fancy young man from Lahaj came through here on his way to Al Madid. Found out later he was the son of the Sultan. It\u2019s been so long but I\u2019ll never forget the gorgeous young girl he had with him. As if it were yesterday, I still see those eyes of hers, green as basil. The man, Shafiki, claimed she was his wife and kept calling her Cat. And by God, she did resemble a cat with those enormous green eyes. The rest, of course, was always covered, but once I was alone with her. Lifting her veil, she held my face in her elegant hands and said to me, \u2018My child, one of these days, one of my own will come for you and yours.\u2019 When I think of it now, she was merely a child herself!\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018So why did they come to your place?\u2019 asked Baahir Jalali and Sa’idi scratched his head.<\/p>\n \u2018They were looking for a tablet. One of the old stone ones they say go back to the Sabaean period, with writings on them. We only have one here. Salam Al Saudi brought it back. From Al Narjan.\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018The tablet has an inscription?\u2019 Baahir Jalali vibrated with excitement and making myself small, I watched how hotly he asked Old Sa\u2019idi, \u2018Did the local people reveal the tablet?\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018They didn\u2019t dare. As you know, bad luck will be unleashed if these tablets fall into wrong hands. Cat claimed it rightly belonged to her, but the people said she would find many more tablets in the south. They asked her why she must have Salam Al Saudi\u2019s slab? She insisted she was searching for a particular stone. Something about the writing.\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018What was inscribed?\u2019 I almost whispered.<\/p>\n Old Sa\u2019idi shook his head, \u2018Who knows? It\u2019s a long forgotten language.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018What would a woman want with that tablet?\u2019 asked Baahir Jalali, on tenterhooks, stuffing each of his trembling hands into the opposite sleeve of his robe. Sa’idi shrugged his shoulders. \u2018She didn’t get it. They buried it so well under the floor of Salam Al Saudi\u2019s house. Back then he was the last of his line. And now, he\u2019s long dead.\u2019 Sa’idi sucked deeply on his pipe which made the water gurgle.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n We three sat quietly, thinking of Shafiki, Cat and their tablet. Jalali calmed himself and I said,<\/p>\n \u2018It\u2019s a good story.\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018Yes, yes, it\u2019s a great story!\u2019 agreed Baahir Jalali a tad too enthusiastically.<\/p>\n \u2018So Salam Al Saudi\u2019s house, is it in ruins?\u2019 I ventured.<\/p>\n \u2018Yes. But everyone knows where it was. It was the last house at the end, where the Mareb road leads in the direction of Bab Al Yahud.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Like a jackass who can\u2019t restrain from running, Baahir Jalali was dying to depart out the door. But I sat for more chitchat with Sa’idi, and thanking him for his hospitality, we left hopeful to reach Al Madid before dark.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n It was cool and nearly night when we arrived to a pleasant dinner at Yahya Mansoor\u2019s house, modest fare laid before us made tasty by the undeniable goodness of our host. We mentioned an early morning meeting with the blacksmith would make us late for breakfast. Mansoor showed polite interest in our appointment, but Baahir Jalali deferred going into detail until the following day. And before anyone, including the sun, was up, we set out.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n With only a sliver of moon to light our way, we found the ruined house of long dead Salam Al Saudi. We knew it by the Star of David hung high in a niche on the wall, just where Old Sa’idi had described it would be. Rubble piled high made our mission seem impossible, but Baahir Jilali began pulling large stone slabs and expected me to come to his aid. My hands are more accustomed to pen and paper, so I said \u2018We\u2019ll not get far like this. Two people in the dark.\u2019 He eyed me in a way that could only mean, \u2018dig or I don\u2019t pay.\u2019<\/p>\n I shifted smaller stones, and after two tedious hours, it was daybreak and Baahir Jalali began to agree with me. We needed help, but first it was time for breakfast. Sweet words indeed! We walked back and Yahya Mansoor\u2019s wife had prepared a simple meal with as much coffee as we desired. Mansoor was too busy to hear about the blacksmith, but on his way out said, \u2018I\u2019ll be seeing him later, myself!\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018Better go see that blacksmith,\u2019 grumbled Baahir Jalali, the moment Mansoor left the room.<\/p>\n \u2018Because?\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018Because, we said we would and Mansoor may discover we lied.\u2019\u00a0 He was impatient with me.<\/p>\n \u2018But what business have we with the blacksmith?\u2019 I asked.<\/p>\n \u2018You\u2019ll think of something!\u2019 he snapped.<\/p>\n \u2018More urgently, who will help us dig in the ruins for the tablet? Shall we trust Sa’idi?\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018Let us ponder that on the way to the blacksmith,\u2019 answered Baahir Jalali. And on our way to see Sa’idi we pondered more. Could we get Old Sa’idi\u2019s help without the locals learning what we\u2019re after?<\/p>\n \u2018We\u2019ll give him something.\u2019 Concluded Baahir Jalali.<\/p>\n \u2018But what have we to give?\u2019 I simpered.<\/p>\n \u2018One always has something to give\u2026\u2019 What was in Baahir Jalali\u2019s devious mind? Close to Sa’idi\u2019s place Baahir Jalali stopped and said. \u2018I must say something before we see Old Sa’idi. As you may have gathered by now, Cat is my mother, Safia.\u2019<\/p>\n Safia, was the daughter of an Italian, Doctor Montalbano, who lived in Eden. When the Sultan fell ill, his doctors, unable to cure him, called the Italian to Lahaj. Montalbano\u2019s wife was originally from Lahaj and happily accompanied her husband back to her hometown. The couple brought along their adorable daughter Safia, who had just turned twelve.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n During his treatment, the Sultan took a particular shine to this green-eyed girl in his palace, as did she for his statuette, a cat cut from stone. It sat on a windowsill of the Sultan\u2019s private chamber, and one day lifting the statue, Safia found a key fitted into the base of it. Since nobody was looking, into her pocket slipped the key.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018My father told me, the moment she held that key in her hand, she knew it was meant to be hers and hers alone.\u2019 Baahir Jalali repeated like a mantra.<\/p>\n \u2018I don\u2019t follow,\u2019 I mumbled mostly to myself before he added\u2026<\/p>\n \u2018My father never explained this preternatural episode to my satisfaction. Perhaps he didn’t understand it himself? He did say, there are some things in life we are not meant to understand and the wisest of us would not try.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n For safekeeping, Safia stowed the key deep in the stuffing of a doll and sewn up tight, returned with it to Eden. Months passed before the complacent Sultan discovered his key missing and with that, all hell broke loose. No one really remembered the significance of the key, dutifully passed down from father to son, for generations. Long before the people of Lahaj were who they are today, the key was always there. When the imams and aristocracy had not yet converted to Judaism, already they believed the key to be essential, a lucky charm. Its absence made the superstitious Sultan and his people uneasy. Its loss could bring permanent misfortune on the tribe. This made it imperative to locate the key, and bring it back where it belonged.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The Sultan trusted his youngest son, his favourite, to resolve this affair. Shafiki was a smart young man, and assembled the whole tribe. Investigating each great family, he deduced only an outsider could have taken the key. Who strolled through palace gates and gardens, right in to the Sultan\u2019s inner sanctum? His father\u2019s concubines. So Shafiki conducted careful interrogations to satisfy himself of their ignorant bliss. Previously unaware of the key, word of its disappearance had even reached their exquisite ears and all over Lahaj, hushed whispers hung in the air.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Good citizens began sulking in anticipation of evil genies unleashed on the world. Shafiki was determined to calm them. He had a theory and so set out to see Doctor Montalbano in Eden.\u00a0 Montalbano received him cordially. Shafiki avoided any discussion about the key, describing the purpose of the visit as an expression of the Sultan\u2019s ongoing gratitude. The doctor dismissed the idea of yet more lavish gifts, insisting Shafiki remain rather than rushing his return to Lahaj.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n During the days that followed, Shafiki noticed Safia\u2019s strange attachment to her doll. Wisely, he surmised she was beyond the age of clutching such a toy but not too young to be the thief. \u2018What is it about this doll that makes you cling to it so?\u2019 Safia\u2019s eyes filled with defiance as she bit her lips in determination that not one word of confession would spill from them.<\/p>\n Shafiki demanded \u2018Give it back. It\u2019s not yours. You know what they do to thieves, don\u2019t you? They cut off the hand that stole!\u2019 He glared fiercely and after an eternity spent staring in to her eyes so green, found himself hopelessly ensnared. Shafiki had fallen in love with Safia.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Returning to Lahaj, Shafiki informed his father that he had located the key. The Sultan demanded details, but instead Shafiki reminded him, \u201cDid you not stress the key should remain in good hands, with the people of Lahaj? The Sultan admitted that was true. Then you must allow me to marry Doctor Montalbano\u2019s daughter.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n This statement confounded the Sultan, who saw no connection between the missing key and his son\u2019s future. Shafiki went on to say, \u2018I\u2019ve been to see Montalbano in Eden and his beautiful Safia resembles that cat statue in your private chamber.\u2019 The Sultan\u2019s furrowed face brightened as finally he followed his favorite son\u2019s plan.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Doctor Montalbano was taken aback when Shafiki asked his daughter\u2019s hand in marriage and his wife said her little girl was too young. Shafiki was willing to wait years for kids, but about the ceremony he insisted, \u2018I must marry her now.\u2019 The doctor could only consult with Safia, explaining, \u2018I\u2019m European and in Europe we let our daughters decide for themselves.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n So besotted was Shafiki by Safia, he endured the doctor\u2019s delays and Italian egalitarianism. Montalbano\u2019s final condition stipulated that instead of his daughter living with her in-laws in Lahaj, he preferred Shafiki stay in Eden to help in his medical practice. \u2018I always wanted a son. I\u2019ll teach you medicine.\u2019 This seemed to Shafiki a last straw. His life was in Lahaj and the great outdoors.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He spent his days on horseback, supervising the farming activities that sustained his tribe. Riding alongside the Sultan amongst palm trees, disgruntled Shafiki consulted his father regarding this complicated marriage. \u2018I find it a splendid idea,\u2019 said the Sultan. \u2018Lahaj is not far from Eden. You\u2019ll visit often.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I\u2019d been standing around in the heat, listening to Baahir Jalali\u2019s story when all of a sudden he looked up, appalled, \u2018I\u2019ve said too much! You know quite enough already. Sai\u2019di\u2019s young wife is his weakest link. Just let me do the talking and don\u2019t try to help.\u2019<\/p>\n God bless us and save us, I thought to myself. Did I ever meet a more conceited man? But he\u2019s paying the bills, so I will obey.<\/p>\n Nearing Old Saidi\u201ds place, we found him right where we\u2019d left him. If anyone told me he\u2019d slept squatting on his soles like that, looking at the mountains, I would\u2019ve believed them. Sa’idi saw us and didn’t seem surprised in the least. \u2018Salam Alaikum,\u2019 We replied in kind.<\/p>\n \u2018Did you find the house?\u2019 His question clarified just how transparent we appeared.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n To his credit, Baahir Jalali was quick to recover, seeing no point in beating about the bush.<\/p>\n \u2018Yes, we did,\u2019 he replied. \u2018Shame the place is in ruins.\u2019 But Sa’idi was not sentimental. \u2018And the tablet?\u2019 His knowing eyes found me and he smiled. \u2018Many come searching but none find,\u2019 was his answer to the question we had not asked. He sucked deeply on his pipe, and the water it contained gurgling through the filter was the only noise we heard until he set it down.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Old Sa’idi jumped again like a young goat, calling lovely Latifah who brought us black spicy coffee. We sat sipping and Sa’idi said, \u2018I\u2019m an old man.\u2019<\/p>\n That is fairly obvious, I thought to myself.<\/p>\n \u2018And I have a young wife,\u2019 he continued.<\/p>\n What was he driving at? I kept quiet, looking at Baahir Jalali politely nod.<\/p>\n \u2018I would like to live longer for Latifah,\u2019 said the old man whose eyes began to well up. Baahir Jalali stopped nodding to stare harshly at Old Sa’idi when he said \u2018and be young again.\u2019 Returning Baahir Jalali\u2019s judgemental stare he demanded, \u2018What will you do for me? I want more time.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n After some silence Sa’idi said with utmost confidence, \u2018I presume you possess the key.\u2019<\/p>\n Baahir Jalali croaked, \u2018What makes you say such a thing?\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018Because Cat was your mother.\u2019<\/p>\n Beneath his sallow skin, Baahir Jalali blushed.<\/p>\n \u2018Don\u2019t have her green eyes, but you\u2019re certainly Safia\u2019s son.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018What is the key for?\u2019 I blurted, carried away by my confusion in the moment until Old Sa’idi\u2019s eyes darted disdain in my direction. \u2018He didn’t tell you?\u2019 I was starting to feel stupid.<\/p>\n \u201cFirst, find the tablet,\u201d Old Sa\u2019idi advised as if the entire story were written there and Baahir Jalali wore a silly smile until Sa\u2019idi said, \u2018The Sultan, Shafiki, Cat. All dead now.\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018Yes.\u2019<\/p>\n Sa’idi sucked his pipe, then offered with some finality,<\/p>\n \u2018So we\u2019ll do a deal.\u2019<\/p>\n Old Sa\u2019idi wasn\u2019t in a rush. It seems old men never are, despite the short span that stretches ahead of them. No, he meandered like a slow stream licks every stone with love.<\/p>\n \u2018I don\u2019t pray for riches or immortality. All I ask is another forty years. No more. I\u2019ve learned too late contentment in a woman\u2019s company.\u2019<\/p>\n You could have fooled me, I thought. Latifah seemed more a servant than a companion.<\/p>\n Baahir Jalali was not laughing, but said \u2018What have you got?\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018I\u2019ve got the tablet,\u2019 said Sa’idi, resolute.<\/p>\n Jalali jumped up glaring, \u2018You said it was in the ruins!\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018I lied,\u2019 said Sa\u2019idi.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Jalali paced up and down the road. Muttering to himself, he kicked the dust, then shouted \u2018It\u2019s not yours!\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018It\u2019s not yours either,\u2019 said Sa\u2019idi, unfazed.<\/p>\n \u2018How do you know you have the right tablet?\u2019 growled Baahir Jalali.<\/p>\n \u2018If the key fits.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Baahir Jalali must have had a better idea because now he was positively beaming.<\/p>\n \u2018Ok,\u2019 he said. \u2018You\u2019ve stated your wish. To be young again and live for another forty years? Am I correct?\u2019 Sa’idi bowed, but his eyes remained opaque.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u2018Shall we dine to conclude our deal?\u2019 asked Baahir Jalali. \u00a0\u2018I\u2019m famished!\u2019 The old man was also ravenous. Making love to Latifah, even if only imagined, produced in him a vigorous appetite. At last we spoke of something I understood. Together we approached Sa\u2019idi\u2019s home. In the Yemeni style, the tall building was constructed of red mud and decorated with white filigree around the windows.\u00a0 We entered the dewan where Latifah and an older woman were preparing a minor feast. Gesturing to the older woman baking fresh pita bread in a hot charcoal oven, Sa\u2019idi introduced her as, \u2018My first wife.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Both women served zehook<\/em>, hilbe <\/em>and a fragrant chicken soup. There was rice with shredded carrot and also baba ghanouj<\/em>. We tucked in like there was no tomorrow and finished the meal with coffee. The older wife brought a nargila<\/em> which we then smoked in silence. The water in the pipe was still gurgling when Sa’idi left the room.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Soon he returned with a heavy stone slab wrapped in soft white cotton. Laying the tablet down on a low table, Sa\u2019idi sat now ignorant as I. It was Baahir Jalali who recited the strange words carved on the stone, and me dying to know, \u2018So what does it say?\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I detected a slight tremor in the hands of Baahir Jilali as he translated, \u2018The green eyed Cat, you and yours will be obeyed,\u2019 he said. Sa’idi bowed his head, but Baahir Jallali mulled over this, mumbling \u2018You and yours.\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018What does that mean?\u2019 I asked.<\/p>\n Baahir Jalali shot me a look that said \u2018Silence.\u2019 If Sai\u2019idi noticed anything, he didn’t let on, standing still as a stone statue, himself. Impatient, I watched the key in Baahir Jalali\u2019s hand, move in slow motion, and I was suspicious. Did he have\u00a0 something devious in mind ? Sai\u2019idi, as usual, seemed less hurried than I.\u00a0 Baahir Jalali, finally ready, flipped the tablet over. There was a point carved in to the stone, where he was able to insert the key. Just as he was about to turn the key, Old Sa\u2019idi\u2019s voice came out of him, as if from a cavern made of the same stone. \u2018Don\u2019t forget I\u2019m yours.\u2019<\/p>\n Baahir Jallali retracted his hand. \u2018What are you saying?\u2019 He asked.<\/p>\n \u2018The Cat blessed me, and don\u2019t you forget it! She made me one of you! I couldn\u2019t comprehend what she said at the time, but later I saw the tablet and understood everything,\u2019 said Sa\u2019idi.<\/p>\n The old man motioned for Baahir Jalali to go ahead and turn the key. At a loss, he did just that. The tablet\u2019s tiny door sprang open to reveal a compartment. Its box-like interior was beautifully inlaid with gold, but otherwise quite empty. Staring in to it, we saw nothing but heard what Baahir Jalali said was the sound of the sea. Sa\u2019idi and I had never seen nor heard the sea in all our lives. So over the deafening roar Baahir Jalali described to us what waves looked like and in our imagination we watched them crash on the shore.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n To our astonishment, a golden bird materialised inside the box. But before we could catch it, the bird flew away into the blue sky, taking the lining of the box with it. All the gold was gone. And when Baahir Jalali closed the little door, we saw even the key had vanished.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Stupefied, we stared at each other and then at Sa’idi. In his place was a much younger man with a big open smile full of strong white teeth. I was speechless but Baahir Jallali shouted,<\/p>\n \u2018Our wish came true!\u2019 I could see that Sa’idi got his wish, but what did Baahir Jalali get?<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He hugged me, singing \u2018All is good! My son is healed! I saved my son!\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018You have a son? Your son is saved? How do you know?\u2019<\/p>\n \u201cI just know,\u201d said Baahir Jalali. \u201cI thought Sa’idi would spoil it all but it still worked.\u201d<\/p>\n Mystified by these events, I was feeling a little left behind. That is until Baahir Jallali took my face in his hands and said, \u2018It is only for you and yours connected to the cat.\u2019<\/p>\n <\/p>\n A willing hostage to him and his secret I asked, \u2018But where is the key now? Is what\u2019s left of the tablet of any use? And what about the people of Lahaj?\u2019 So many of my questions remained unanswered, but now we were distracted by Latifah entering.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n She carried fresh coffee and pushed Sa’idi away when he tried to fondle her. His wife screamed, \u2018Get hold of yourself, I\u2019m a married woman!\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018Of course you are,\u2019 said Sa’idi delightedly, \u2018You\u2019re married to me!\u2019 She looked around in confusion and panic.<\/p>\n \u2018It\u2019s me, Sa\u2019idi! Don\u2019t you see I\u2019m the same, only younger?\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018Stop fooling around. You\u2019ll get me into trouble! Where is the man I married?\u2019 wailed Latifah and then she began to cry. The old wife, hearing the commotion, came out and started shooing Sai\u2019idi out of the place.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Baahir guided me out into the garden. \u2018Better let him explain,\u2019 and then under his breath, almost to himself, \u2018it\u2019s going to be tough.\u2019 Hurrying down the Mareb road, Baahir Jalali promised to clarify it all for me. But as we headed toward Sana\u2019a, he said we would save that story for some other time.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Do you think this piece is valuable? If so, you might consider providing us with financial support via Patreon<\/a>, or simply pay us a small sum directly using PayPal: admin@cassandravoices.com. Thanks for supporting independent journalism. Subscribe for free to our monthly newsletter here<\/a>.\u00a0<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" It\u2019s only a day\u2019s walk north from Sana\u2019a to Al Madid, in the province of Neham, so I said, \u2018In Al Madid, God willing, surely we\u2019ll find what you seek.\u2019 Wearing a cuffia, the small man eyed me with a detached superiority while I thought to myself, \u2018How fortunate he is to have me. With […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":126,"featured_media":4446,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[26,1],"tags":[204],"class_list":["post-4444","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","category-uncategorized","tag-2019july"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4444","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/126"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4444"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4444\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4444"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4444"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4444"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}