A Sheik's Spell (5 page)

“Mama, they are here. They are here. Mama,” she cried as she ran toward them leaping into Najid’s outstretched arms.

“This is my littlest one, Sana. As you can see, she is our welcoming committee. She always has her nose in the windows looking for anyone who may be coming.”

Sana smiled boldly at Felicia, wriggling her small frame until her father was forced to put her back down on the ground. Skipping back to the building alongside them, she began to hum a traditional tune.

Felicia felt relieved to see Najid’s daughter and the smoke coming from the chimney of the inn, which also served as the Mu’adin family home. The entire scene seemed to take away most of the apprehension she had been feeling as she walked with Najid, whom she barely knew, to a place she knew nothing about

As they approached the doorway of the mud and rock structure, Majidah appeared, giving her husband a hug and voicing a soft but sincere welcome to Felicia as she beckoned for the two of them to follow her through a low, dark hallway. As the group emerged on the opposite end, a room embossed in a soft, shimmery light produced by several oil lamps greeted them.

A young woman placed bowls and eating utensils on the table as they entered, but she halted her task long enough to give her father a peck on the cheek and greet and welcome Felicia.

“This is my daughter, Jamillah (Jah-mee-luh). She is the middle child, and there is my son, Ali, the eldest.”

A handsome, honey brown-skinned man began to cross the room toward them as Najid spoke his name. Ali, too, gave his father a hug and turned to greet her.

Felicia felt somewhat overwhelmed by the family love that was obviously shared between the Mu’adins. She was engulfed by a sense of profound loss as she reflected on her childhood and her current plight. But that moment wasn’t allowed to last for very long as Najid guided her toward the wooden table that dominated what was the family’s dining area.

Majidah entered with a hot, steaming cup of cinnamon tea, offering it to Felicia. She accepted it graciously.

“It is old Egyptian custom, offer guest hot drink when enter our home. We are so glad you accept our welcome,’ ’ Majidah crooned with a serene smile.

“My Majidah’s English is not the best, but we have all attempted to teach her what we know. The children have studied your language in their schools, and I must speak it on my job, so we share with her whatever little knowledge we have, whenever we can,” Najid added.

Felicia was told to make herself comfortable; then they all went their separate ways, becoming involved in their own duties. All except for Sana, who sat on a little mat in the comer playing with a handmade doll. Every once in a while, she would look up at Felicia with an impish grin as she continued to play with her toy.

Felicia was glad to have a moment of semi-solitude as she sipped on the aromatic cup of tea. Her feet were tired from the walk to Najid’s home that had taken them nearly an hour, but she was glad she had come.

It was late in the afternoon when Felicia arose from the small bed in the room given to her by Majidah. Bright sunlight was shining through the tiny, high-set window, and Felicia could hear movement in other parts of the inn.

Swinging her feet off the bed onto the floor, she noticed her jeans and shirt had been removed from the back of the wooden chair on which she had placed them the night before. In their place were a colorful, floor-length dress and a pair of heelless, leather shoes.

The material from which the dress was made was truly beautiful, and Felicia found herself stroking its fine fabric between her thumb and index finger. As she marveled at the texture, there was a tap on the door.

“Yes?”

‘ ‘It is Jamillah. May I come in, please?’ ’

‘ ‘Of course, Jamillah.’ ’

“We hope you like the dress. Mama thought it would be just perfect for you. It used to be Mama’s until she gained a few pounds. She thought you might wear it today while your clothes are being washed.”

‘ ‘I simply don’t know what to say, or how to thank you all. I explained to your father that I do not have much money, but Fm sure I’ll be able to pay you when...” “Oh, no, no, no, it is not for pay that we do this, Ms. Felicia. My father has told us of your troubles and it is because of Allah’s grace that you have been sent to us. We are only to do his will.’ ’

Felicia could do no more than look down at the dress she held in her hands. She wished the large lump forming in her throat would disappear, along with the tears that were welling up in her eyes.

“Breakfast is already over with, but once you are dressed you are welcome to any of the dishes Mama has prepared for lunch.”

With these last words of encouragement, Felicia reached out and touched Jamillah’s hand. “You are so kind. I’ll get dressed and come down and join you right away.”

Felicia put the finishing touches to her hair. It fell in a series of dark waves and curls across her brow and down the side of her face, onto her shoulders and upper back. She firmly pushed the remaining side behind her ear as she assessed herself in the broken mirror that hung over an old washbowl.

The image that looked back at her was quite a pleasant one, but there was a lifelessness about the eyes that Felicia knew reflected the turmoil she continued to feel inside.

Strife was not a stranger to her. As a matter of fact, she considered herself to be a master at controlling it She knew if you pretended long enough that everything was fine, after a while you’d even be able to convince yourself.

She made herself focus on the reason she was in Egypt I’m a research scientist One who is on a very important project that could end up helping thousands of people in

the
long run. I’m finally doing something I’ve always dreamed of doing. I’m in control, she proclaimed in an effort to combat her thoughts of Na’im, without much success. I’m not some helpless female like my mother who had to take anything from a man just to survive. Felicia regretted the negative thoughts about her mother as soon as they entered her mind. She loved her mother, but she resented her for not being able to protect her as a child.

She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever see Na’im again. She chastised herself for feeling deserted. Life had already taught her that all a man wanted was to possess and dominate you, and then leave as Na’im had left without a second glance.

He had saved her life and they had spent four days of their lives together. Did they not share a common bond because of this? How could he simply put her out of his mind, like some stranger you’d pass on the street? His note to her had been short and simple: "Must go on to Karib; will contact you at the consulate as soon as possible. - Na’im.”

Felicia looked down as a slow, steady sigh passed through her lips. At that moment, she determined that with so many other problems to solve, Na’im Raoul Rahman was the least important to be concerned with.

Chapter Nine

There was much dancing and celebrating in the sheik
dom on the outskirts of Mut. Na’im’s father spared nothing in welcoming his son back home.

The melodic beat of ethnic drums vibrated through the night, accompanied by flutes and clappers, while Na’im and his father sat in the seats of honor before a majestic feast.

There were kebobs of all kinds, mahshi, and baklava, a crisp, flaky pastry with many layers, oozing with syrup and ground nuts. Turkish coffee and the aroma of Arab breads filled the air, along with the fragrance of fresh mangoes, oranges and figs.

The spirits of everyone in the small settlement seemed to be high, some boosted by homemade wines fermented from grapes and dates. Na’im had to admit he was glad to be among his people.

Na’im’s father talked of nothing else but Na’im’s travels and the education Na’im now possessed that would allow him to lead his people further into economic progress. Na’im sat beside him, content to let him rave on.

Soon a group of women began a ritualistic number to

the captivating sound of a solo flute. Fatimah (Fah-tee- muh), his cousin, twirled amongst the fluid dancers, giving Na’im an obvious wink as she went by.

My, she has grown into such a lovely woman. Na’im always knew she would be one of the prettiest girls in the village, but he had not expected such grace and elegance from his cousin, whom he remembered as no less than awkward—always stumbling about and knocking over anything within her reach.

Na’im smiled generously at Fatimah as the dancers formed a swaying, tightening circle. The dance ended abruptly in a final crescendo of drums and tambourines.

Slowly and almost imperceptibly, the lone sound of a haunting oboe began to fill the air, and the dancers’ circle parted to reveal a crouching figure in its center.

The solo dancer’s movements were so much one with the instrument that her undulating body appeared to move without conscious effort. As the drums joined in and the melody began to pick up its pace, so did the gyrations of the woman’s body until she became a fiery energy ball, captivating and spellbinding all who gazed upon her. This included Na’im, toward whom her rhythmic steps were advancing.

Na’im’s nostrils tingled from the smell of sweat rising from the dancer’s caramel-colored
frame as she came down on her knees no more than a foot in front of him. Her entire body shook with tremors, making the flesh at the top of her glistening breasts tremble. Her limber back bent backwards until the top of her dark brown head lay in the dust and her long, slender arms extended outward as if beckoning for Na’im to take her.

“Your father can see that this one rouses your inter
est”

‘ ‘My interest is not the only thing that has been roused, my father,” Na’im replied, as the woman bowed to him, never breaking contact with his eyes.

“Aha!” Na’im’s father chuckled, “I have not forgotten my promise to you that I would find you a suitable woman to wed. I have searched many territories and this one, Waheedah Faruuk (Wah-hee-duh Far-ook) of Khartoum has been so honored as my choice.”

“My father shows good taste in women, at least when it comes to their physical attributes.”

“And their mental abilities as well. If not, I would never have married your mother.”

“What do you know of this one’s
mind. Father?” “No more than what her father has told me, which I confess has not been much. But she comes from a good Egyptian background. One that would be politically and economically helpful to Karib. And from what I can see, she should be able to keep you happy. Even though your mother does not agree with me when it comes to her.”

‘ ‘Oh, my mother does not? What does she have to say about this?”

“You know your mother. She is always consulting her ‘guides’, who she says do not bring forth good feelings toward the girl. The older she becomes, the more she talks of them. She says it is because she is growing wiser and journeying closer to ‘The One’. I am careful when it comes to teasing her about it, for as you know she has proven to be right on more than one occasion. It has not been easy for her, choosing to hold onto the beliefs of her forebears. It is because of my power and influence that she has been left to believe what she wishes. She says it is because she is protected by ‘The One’ who exists inside of us and throughout the universe.”

‘ ‘Where is my mother? Why is she not beside us here enjoying the celebration?”

‘ ‘One of the women is in labor tonight. Yasmin (Yaz- meen) wanted to see if there was anything she could do to comfort her.”

“My mother has taught me many things through the years and I find it has helped me to keep an open mind. I have learned it is good to keep an open mind when it comes to the spiritual world.”

‘ ‘I understand, Na’im, but it is not always safe to voice your views to others who may not agree with you.”

“Are you attempting to make Na’im as overprotective of me as you are,
Ahmed ?”

Na’im looked up at his mother’s face as she knelt behind his father, placing both hands gently on his shoul
ders. She had not aged much during the past two years, and the small lines that had begun to appear simply added character to her strong features.

“No, Yasmin, this is not true. I simply wish that you would be a little less outspoken when it comes to some things.”

“But my husband, this is not the time to be silent. Have you not told Na’im of the problems we face because of Sharif Hassan (Shah-reef Hah-sahn)? Many of the younger women and older girls are being stolen from their villages, Na’im. And it is believed that Hassan is behind this.”

‘ ‘Right after you left for America, his village suffered a great tragedy. Somehow their wells became tainted. In the beginning, they could not tell that there was anything wrong because the water tasted and smelled the same. So before they realized this, their entire village drank of it for a few days. Then some of the people began to get sick
; the old ones and the women and children. When it was all over.

all
of the old ones had died and only a handful of the women and children were left. The majority of the villagers are now males. Hassan’s wife was among the dead.

“The villages that have been hit by Hassan are the small ones that do not have enough men to protect them against him. We do not think he will take on a village of our size, for these abductions have taken place in broad daylight, with brutal force. Still, we felt concerned because our cotton crop did not produce nearly as much this year. It would be devastating for this problem to be coupled by an assault from Hassan. Yasmin and I both felt that maybe you could think of a way to convince Hassan that this is not the way. Do you not know his son, Abdul (Ab-dool)?”