Sands of Redemption

Mohammed stood alongside his father, his brothers and the rest of the men in the village, watching as his enemies approached their little settlement in a haze of dust and exhaust fumes. Up above, an eagle soared, its eyes fixed on the desert wilderness.

The Bedouin tribesmen had little doubt the last six months of negotiation would come to nothing, that no matter how far they reached into their hearts to find the right words, they would never convince the Abassan National Petroleum Company that Wadi Hilal, a valley harnessed by their ancestors for generations, was worth much more than the oil beneath it.

But that wasn’t going to stop them from fighting until the end.

The men stiffened as the dust pulled away, revealing their enemies sharp and clear. With a roar which sent the goats in the camp behind them into a fit of nervous bleating, the trucks pulled up in front of them. Before the dust had settled, several soldiers sprang out from the back of the nearest truck bearing guns and metal batons.

The Bedouins gripped their staffs restlessly, their thoughts turning to their rifles they’d left in their cabins alongside their women. They did not go back to retrieve them, knowing full well that exercising their fullest strength would merely mean the death of them all.

From the truck’s cabin dropped a man they had come to know all too well. Observing them, Sahib Bitar, ANPC’s liaison officer, swaggered over.

‘Negotiations are over, my brothers. This land has now passed into ANPC’s ownership. Leave, or you will be forcibly removed.’

‘We are not your brothers,’ Mohammed’s father said, ‘and we will do no such thing, not while we still have strength in our bodies. This is our land, given to us by the Al Rashid family over thirty years ago.’

‘Yes, yes, yes, I’ve heard all this before,’ Sahib said, waving a dismissive hand, ‘but it makes no difference now. King Rashad has died and now it his son, King Hazim, who reigns and he supports ANPC in its endeavour to improve and develop our great nation. For the benefit of the country it is sometimes required its citizens make sacrifices.’

‘I see no benefit in lining your pockets,’ the old man spat, ‘and if we truly mean so little to the King, then we are no longer his people and we choose to resist.’

‘Very well,’ Sahib said, his eyes flashing, ‘if that is what you want, but just remember you have made your choice freely, I can do no more for you.’

Walking back to the truck, Sahib smiled at the platoon’s commanding officer. Pulling out a cigarette, he looked back at the pitiable settlement and the desolate dust bowl that was Wadi Hilal no longer and shook his head.

‘Why on Earth they would want to defend this miserable life is something I won’t ever understand.’

Flicking open his lighter, he nodded at the officer, and the group of soldiers advanced, pulling out their batons.

The tribesmen held their positions, gripping their staves tightly. Behind them, from within their rusting cabins, the rest of the camp waited anxiously.

The first struck down was Yasar, Mohammed’s oldest brother. The tribesmen retaliated, shouting and screaming and chanting as they attacked the soldiers with their staves, but they were quickly overwhelmed as the rest of the soldiers joined the fight.

Mohammed was knocked to the ground with a jab to the ribs. Beside him, his elderly father was thrown to his knees. Outraged, Mohammed leapt back to his feet, and with a yell, charged the nearest soldier. The soldier jabbed out his baton, catching him hard in his right eye in a blast of fiery agony.

Yelping, Mohammed fell back, clutching at his face, his hand rapidly filling with bright pink blood. He staggered on his feet, the world whirling about him. His ears filled with the discord of women screaming, with men shouting, he collapsed to his knees.

Too caught up in his own suffering, he was only dimly aware of his father lying on the ground, bleeding from his ears, before a strike to the base of his skull shattered his vision, and his father, along with the rest of his desert home, vanished into darkness.