The Day |
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was hot as we waited. The little ones were crying. Thaniel played with his
younger brother and sisters to distract them. He was the one who had wanted
to come and was anxious in case I decided that we should all return home.
It was very hot. Even when we first arrived at the mountain side, it had been crowded with people. Thaniel had insisted that we arrive early, so that we could sit near the summit and have more chance of seeing him. It soon became clear that there was little chance of that. We had partial shade, under an olive tree. An old man and woman shared it with us, their backs against the trunk. As I have said, it was Thaniel who wanted to see him, but I was the one who did. I was looking to my left, when I noticed a sudden stir, people moving towards something. I saw him, in the centre, walking swiftly up the hill. His skin was dark, and his hair brown, brown as his face. He wore red over his white djellaba. Then he disappeared. I saw the crowd who surrounded him carry on towards the summit. I knew he must be among them. All of the people on the mountainside began to move and murmur. Then there was a silence and I presumed he must have started speaking but we could not hear anything from where we were. Eventually the crowd began to move again, talking quietly, repeating some of his words. Then silence again. Thaniel ran on up by himself, weaving between people, desperate to catch a glimpse, hear the actual voice. The intensity of the heat began to decrease at last. My youngest girl grubbed in the earth and became absorbed. I knew he had finished speaking when the crowd began to stretch their limbs, shake out their cloths and mats. This started at the top of the mountain, and flowed downwards. Thaniel returned. He tried to look important, as if he had seen and heard, but I could tell he was disappointed. We walked home, amongst the many. The sun was low in the sky, turning everything to amber and gold. Thaniel ran on ahead. I felt as if I’d lost him. He wanted to reach his father first, and tell him what he had heard today. Thaniel had already told me some of the things he had heard repeated by the crowd. “ The clothes men make for kings are as nothing compared to the glory of the flowers God made for everyone.” That was part of it. I could have said these same words to Thaniel, but he would not have listened to me. I have lost him. He thinks that everything I say is without consequence. Dust rose all around us as we walked. My youngest slept against my shoulder. The others held on to my skirts. They were silent now, as if too exhausted even to whimper. The night was warm, as if the day still lived within it. The darkness seemed to pulse. Before I closed my eyes I repeated to myself what I had seen. I knew that others would ask me; and for years to come, over and over again. I wanted to be able to tell the truth. No embellishments. Like a prayer to God before I slept, I said the words inside my head. “ His skin was dark, and his hair brown, brown as his face. He wore red, over a white djellaba.” |
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