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How many days passed before it happened, I didn’t know. I only knew that it was an excruciatingly hot day, and the sun was beating down on our heads with red-hot, iron hammers. In other words, a day like any other. That was the day on which it happened.
We were just moving up the side of a dune. Unfortunately, it was the side that lay full in the sunlight. Ambrose was struggling, making grunting noises with every step. I supposed he was having bowel problems. He hadn’t produced quite as much shit to burn yesterday as usual. Unfortunately, I couldn’t very well ask his namesake to step into the breach.
Suddenly, Ambrose stopped entirely. Blinking, trying to rouse myself out of my heat-induced stupor, I saw something black right in front of me on the glowing sand. It looked like a cross between a crab and a giant spider, with a huge, sharp tail at one end. Wait a minute… I had seen something like this in an encyclopaedia once, hadn’t I? What was it called again? A scorpion! Yes, that was it! A scorpion! Wasn’t its tail…?
I frowned. Somewhere at the back of my mind I was sure there was something important I had to remember about that tail. But it just didn’t want to come to me right then. Was it used in native medicine? Was it a delicacy in French restaurants? Yes, that was probably it! The French ate all kinds of weird stuff.
The scorpion clicked its pincers menacingly. Ambrose took a step backwards.
‘Oh, don’t be a chicken!’ I told the camel. Leaning down towards the scorpion, I told it in a very loud and clear voice: ‘Piss off!’
The scorpion hesitated for a moment - then turned, scuttled away and dived into a hole not far away.
‘There, you see?’ I patted Ambrose’s neck. ‘No need to get spooked. I’ll protect you.’
Only when I reached the top of the dune did I realise that there might be plenty of
reason to get spooked. I also realized that I probably hadn’t been the reason for the scorpion’s sudden retreat underground. Far, far ahead to the southeast I could see a yellowish something, like a sickly bank of clouds, hovering close above the ground. Far too close for it to really be clouds. At first I thought the thing wasn’t moving at all, but then I noticed that the distance between it and a solitary rock ahead of us was slowly shrinking. Finally, it reached the rock - and swallowed it up.
I shivered.
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
Youssef appeared next to me like a djinn out of a lamp. Only he didn’t come to grant me three wishes. His face was grim. ‘That’s the devil’s breath, Hanem.’
‘Does it smell?’
‘Worse. It bites, and chokes, and buries you alive. That’s a sandstorm, Hanem. One of the worst I’ve ever seen.’
I eyed the sickly cloudbank doubtfully. ‘It doesn’t look like much.’
One corner of Youssef’s mouth twitched in a humourless smile. ‘It looks more impressive once you get closer, trust me, Hanem.’
Quickly, he turned and barked a few orders in Arabic. Hurrying to the top of the dune, men began to dismount and make their camels sit down. Several removed their headscarves and started pouring water over them, others quickly began erecting tents on top of the dune.
‘What is this? What is going on?’ Bringing his camel to an abrupt halt out of a gallop, Mr Ambrose slid down from the saddle and shot Youssef a menacing look. ‘Explain yourself, Youssef.’
In answer, the other man simply pointed towards the sickly-yellow cloud. I realized that already it was not quite so distant anymore.
‘Yes?’ Mr Ambrose demanded. ‘What is it about that thing?’
‘It’s a sandstorm, Effendi.’
‘And?’
‘We have to stop, Effendi. To seek shelter until it has passed.’
‘Seek shelter?’ Mr Ambrose’s eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. ‘You do not honestly think that I will let this delay me, do you? That I will let a tiny bit of sand stop me from going on?’
The Arab sucked in a breath. ‘A tiny bit of sand? Effendi, I…’
‘We are going on, Youssef! Not another word.’
‘But Effendi…’
Mr Ambrose raised one, long, extended finger, and Youssef fell silent immediately. Taking another breath, he bowed his head. ‘Yes, Effendi. As you wish, Effendi.’
‘Are you sure that going on is wise?’ I dared to ask when we had started down the other side of the dune. ‘If he really thinks it’s dangerous, shouldn’t we listen to him?’
