same time. The dunes, the rare branches and the clear, cerulean sky! Zayaa couldn’t help but
be astounded by how different scenery could be just across the mountains. She took a deep
breath, and was choked a little by the particles in the air. Like she cared. She was free, and all
on her own! She took out her tsuur and placed it on her lips, before long the familiar dismal
hum interrupted the desert’s exhaustive silence. If Zayaa were not so consumed by her first
performance in the wild, she’d have noticed how a few marbled polecats left their dens just to
have their share in such a rare recital.
By all means, how could she not sway along in such a celebration of independence? Skip, hop,
swirl and whirl. Skip, hop, swirl and whirl. Zayaa was intoxicated. As she played and capered in
the boundless desert, she couldn’t help but be brightened up by her rosy prospect: think of it, how
many of such days were to come! With her tsuur she could go anywhere. Woodlands and deserts,
villages and towns, even capitals and palaces! She could easily earn her expenses on the way and
she was delighted by the likelihood of moving frequently. She was a nomad, after all. Zayaa was
absorbed in her reverie. She danced and danced some more.
By late morning Zayaa was tired. She founded a shrub and set herself down. Absent-mindedly,
she tore her cheese in two halves and shared it with Ja. The dunes were snaring Zayaa’s attention.
They seemed to be changing every second! Lambs, hats and cradles, were they the mischievous
winds’ wizardry? All of a sudden something disrupted the desert’s astounding uniformity --- a
black dot in the tides of gold. What was that? Zayaa realized as it came closer that it was a man
with his camel. What on earth was anyone doing here? She thought to herself. Then she giggled.
What on earth am I doing here? To runaway from her family! She felt an instant intimacy with
the man. The chemistry of lonely souls. She took off her shawl and started waving it. He waved
back. The man was approaching.
Zayaa had never met anyone like him before. Was it his ebony eyes? Or shoulder length hair?
Or tanned skin? No. No. She denied it. It was not his appearance, but his aura. A vagabond, Zayaa
could tell by the way he dressed. He was lonely and artistic, and he yearned for freedom. How
could she know? You might ask. Well, there were times when you could do nothing but be amazed
by the accuracy of a girl’s intuition.
“I’m Zayaa. What’s your name?”
“Askaa.”
As for Askaa, he was just as shocked as Zayaa’s unconcealed excitement. One month till
twenty-one, he had been roaming for a few years now, and seldom had he encountered anyone
who’d recognize his presence. “What are you doing here - a girl and a horse in an isolated desert?”
He couldn’t hide his curiosity.
“I’m escaping from a marriage with a man I don’t know. And you?” He heard the girl asked.
Zayaa was her name.
“My parents wanted me to be a rancher. I didn’t. So I ran away.”
A toddler on her father’s shoulders, he was a rancher as well. “Oh papa, I’m so tall!” She gurgled
and screamed every time he pretended to trip. They were on the family ranch, encircled by flocks of
sheep. Fluffy woolen cushions, the little girl thought, they could catch her if she actually fell…
* * *
