" There, It is a great mystery.
For you who also love the little prince, as for myself,
nothing of the universe is similar if somewhere,
who knows where, a sheep which we do not know,
has, yes or not, eaten a rose.... "
Saint-Exupéry.
I freed myself from under the lorry. I began my vertical
recovery, still surprised by the unconsciousness of this mysterious small chap.
- "Come and play with me," he insisted on saying.
There was nothing around, no mehari, no vehicle, no other person but himself.
He was there, all alone, appeared from nowhere. There should be a village over
there at the foot of these sinister cliffs looking like nipples, a camp behind these
dunes beyond this immense ocean of sand, a caravan in transhumance, a lorry on
this track already darkened by the falling night, and how could he be alone?
We were one thousand kilometers away from any conglomeration and he was there,
all fresh in his indigo dokkali, he was not dusty, nor sweating, he looked at
me with his large dark and brilliant eyes, his face slightly sun-tanned, and
his move effeminate, he came from nowhere.
- "Do you come and play with me?"
His quiet assurance in front of my precarious situation disturbed me. The
night was comforting, I could forget my condition, I had nothing to lose, how
could I refuse that to him. I would have all the time to follow him to his
camp. He was there. I was certainly saved.
He starts running towards the high
dunes, delighted that I accepted his frivolous requirements.
- " Wait, I said, wait a while, I would like to talk to you first, to know
where you are from, who send you here, how did you know I was here?"
-"I know everything. Here, I have many friends," He answered.
I who aspired to freedom, who refuse any assistance, any dependence, my
deepest prayers were heightened, I finally had help. A help not yet
materialized, but I was now reassured. Somewhere at the foot of these sinister
mountains of Hoggar, there was a Tarqui camp, I was now certain of it.
And he took my hand. He gently pulled me towards him then start running towards
the dunes. To the contact of his hand, I felt like a shiver crossing my body,
a disturbing chiver. I almost forgot he was a young man.
Then he went away
from me, he ran towards the dunes, cavorting in the sand like a lunatic, and I
saw him disappear slowly behind the dunes.
I got close, indecisive, to the
first dune. He had to be there. I had difficulty to maintain my balance on the
unstable slopes. He crossed over them like a bird.
At first glance, I saw nothing. The dune overturned towards other dunes, all
quite impressive, they succeeded one another as an immense ocean covered with
disturbing, unstable shadows, already transformed by the coming night.
I perceived at first, the lengthy white lintham that lay over the sand and
which was boisterous lazily like an immense snake. Then the indigo tunic,
slightly buried into the sand, immovable in front of me, as a wound on the
sand. I looked up for my enigmatic visitor, I was a little disturbed, my
certainties began to fray, there was somewhere on this warm dune of sand, a
naked young man who waited for me doubtlessly impatient, and who waited to
be conquered.
I barely distinguished the flesh from the sand, the sand from the lively
flesh; he was lying there, immovable, melted into the dune. He fixed me with his eyes
without showing any chastity. I stayed at a distance, confused in my certainties of
male. I scrutinized discreetly the spots on his skin that detached from the
dust of sand that sprinkled all over his body. He was delicate, he was like a
woman.
I perceived his trunk stocked with two tiny nipples ornated by small auras,
he was almost like a woman. I scrutinized with my eyes the line descending along
his prominent belly, to the level of his sexual apparatus; I did not see any protective
small black forest, or any male apparatus, only a sweet hillside which took
off between the scraggy legs flanked by the light inflation of his hips, an
imperceptible linear crack like a tear on his fragile skin, the distinguishing
feature of the mysterious vagina of a girl, it was almost a girl. The delicate
body of a fragile and rectilinear girl, it was surely a girl, a mirage, a
miracle of the desert.
I got close, I knelt down to her, I was confused, I felt the embarrassment of
a father experiencing the lewdness of a girl, her daughter.
- " You frightened me. I thank you for being a woman "
She looked at me with surprise. She did not seem to understand. Then she got
up rashly, with gestures of excitement, she knocked me down on the sand.
- "Go, come to play," she says, and she laughed, she skipped while she
pushed me around, throwing me on the dune, careless and beautiful.
-" The sand is warm, you will love it "
She acted and said these things without any restraint, as if they were natural, I did not discern any loving
passion, all this look puerile, and childish. Having knocked me down, she
launched herself over me and began skillfully, to deprive me from my clothes.
She looked at me emphatically, investigating me as if I was a strange being,
discovering bit by bit and with astonishment, the configurations of my body of
already grown-up male man. I was uncomfortable, disturbed by her sweet naiveté
and her attitude exempt from any sexual make-up.
When she had finished, she
rolled over the sand, stood still at the foot of a dune, childish. I knelt
down beside her, smelling her sides, she did not move any more, she was
unmoved, insensible and dangerously attractive.
- "Will you help me?" I asked.
She looked at me with tenderness.
- "I am here to help you, come with me, you will never suffer any more."
She said these things quite naturally, as evidences unknown to me.
- "People of your tribe will have to help me," I said, "because I have to
continue my trip towards Tamanraset."
She hesitated to understand, her face darkened.
- "I am the only one that can help you, if you come with me, you will never
have to go to Tamanraset any more, you will never have these worries again".
I could hardly seize her answers. I could not imagine that she can be alone in
this desert and that, by following her, I was going to abandon my vehicle,
Tamanraset, all my worries, my freedom, my Cartesian reasoning did not manage
to decipher her messages. It appeared to me, there was a linguistic confusion
with this girl whose mother tongue was the tamatchek.
Marco Polo or the imaginary journey (Contes et légendes arabes, translated from french, mars 1997, revision avril 1998) © 1996 Jean-Pierre Lapointe
