to find the mysterious City of Brass in the far desert wastes, which no one has ever entered. The journey takes two years and a few months and it is full of hardship. The servants take one thousand camels and two thousand cavalry. This I remember.’
‘That’s a lot! What would anybody do with a thousand camels?’
‘I know, but that is how the story goes. They pass an inhabited land and ruins and a desert with a hot wind and no water and no sound.’
‘How can there be no sound?’
‘There just isn’t.’
‘What – no birds or wind or talking?’
‘Nothing.’
Mohammed sat up. He was more awake than before. Perhaps I’d chosen the wrong story to tell him.
‘Come on!’
‘OK,’ I continued. ‘One day, they come to a wide plain. They see something on the horizon, tall and black with smoke rising to the sky. When they come closer they see that it is a castle, built of black stone with a door of steel.’
‘Wow!’ Mohammed’s eyes had widened now, full of curiosity and wonder.
‘I don’t suppose you’re getting sleepy now?’
‘No,’ he said, shaking my arm so I would go on.
‘OK. So beyond is the City of Brass, protected by a towering wall. Behind the wall is a shiny paradise of mosques and domes and minarets and high towers and bazaars. Can you imagine it?’
‘I can. It’s beautiful!’
‘It is very beautiful and gleaming with brass and jewels and precious stones and yellow marble. But … but …’
‘But?’
‘But the whole place is empty. There is no movement, no sound. The men find no people. In the shops, in the homes, on the streets … only emptiness. There is no life in this place. Life is as useless as dust. Nothing can grow here. Nothing can change.’
‘Why?’
‘Listen. In its midst is a very big pavilion with a dome rising high in the air. They come to a place with a long table which has words etched onto the surface. It says, “At this table have eaten a thousand kings blind in their right eye, and a thousand kings blind in their left eye, and a thousand kings blind in both eyes, all of whom have departed the world and have gone to tomb and catacomb.” Every king who ever ruled this place was blind, in one way or another, so that they left it full of riches and devoid of life.’
I watched Mohammed’s face, saw the thoughts moving behind his eyes. There was a pause, as if he was holding his breath. Then he exhaled.
‘That’s a very sad story.’
‘Yes, it is a sad story.’
‘Is it true?’
‘It’s always true, don’t you think?’
‘Like back home?’
‘Yes, just like home.’
Mohammed lay back and turned towards the glowing fire and closed his eyes.
Seeing the smoke rising into the morning sky, I remembered Mustafa smoking the colonies during harvesting season; we used the smoke to protect ourselves while we harvested the honey. That way the bees would not smell each other’s pheromones and would be less likely to sting in self-defence.
We filled a can with wood chips and shavings and started a fire, and once we got the fire going a bit, we snuffed out the open flame and stuffed more fuel on top of it. You don’t want an open flame, because if it hits the bellows they can become like a flamethrower and burn the wings of the bees.
When we had so many colonies we couldn’t manage them on our own we hired workers who would help us build new hives, raise queen bees, check the colonies for infestations and also collect the honey. In the field where Mustafa stood, our employees were also smoking the colonies, and puffs of smoke rose from their cans and into the blue sky where the sun blazed down upon us all. Mustafa prepared lunch for everyone – usually lentils or bulgur with salad or pasta and egg stew, followed by baladi soft cheese with honey. We had a small hut with a kitchen and outside a canopy with fans to provide some relief from the heat. We sat together to eat, Mustafa at the head of the wooden table, stuffing food into his mouth after the morning’s hard work, dipping bread into the tomato sauce. He would be so proud, proud and grateful for what we had achieved together, but a part of me always wondered if this gratitude also came from fear, a fear of the unknown, of some future disaster.
Mustafa lost his mother when he was five years old. She and