thought of my father anymore, I was so engaged with my many dealings and trades; selling the
camels, buying new ones and a duty that came with rank: tax collecting. At first, I found the task
undesirable; the faces of the people in the villages, starving, pleading. But after doing it so many
times, I started building myself a shield against feeling guilty for these kind of things. These raids
weren’t weighing on my chest anymore. I got used to them.
Among the caravan, I was called Khertsgii- the ruthless one. I had finally understood why
Arslan had treated me how he did. I had grown stronger, more aware of my surroundings.
Suddenly, the cold wasn’t too bitter; the smoldering sand didn’t burn my feet anymore, and when
I rode my favorite camel Karasu, I could feel the wind in my face, blowing back my hair. Sand
whipped my clothes, adrenaline coursing through my body; the rippling dunes shimmering past.
Those were the times when I forgot about everything and became one with the desert, the Gobi,
my home.
Once, a sand storm caught us by surprise; Arslan was on edge with nerves. The air buzzed
with electricity and Arslan’s nervousness started to rub off on others. A thin, swirling cloud of
sand started circling us warily at first but then started picking up speed. Arslan started to shout
commands but I couldn’t hear anything over the buzz and roar of the sand in my ears and the
strong beating of my heart. My vision blurred at the edges and I stopped seeing anything except
sand. I heard screams and the groaning of the other camels. I closed my eyes and tried to calm
myself down. Bending over Karasu, I can’t remember how many hours I sat waiting until the
storm subsided. When I woke up, I couldn’t see anyone. I called out everyone’s name until my
throat was sore: “Kushi!! Monkh!! Where are you? Are you okay?“
When I found their bodies, I decided to bury them. After all, they had been my family for the
past decade. Where would I be without them? Probably helping my father with his camel herd…
my father. My mother. I hadn’t thought about them for a long time and I suddenly felt homesick.
I had lost my family and left the other. The desert stretched vastly before me, making me feel
utterly and completely alone. I finished making the traditional circle of stones around the freshly
dug mounds of earth.
Karasu and I sat side by side waiting for the night blanket to cover the rosy sky.
Absentmindedly, I ruffled Karasu’s soft mane, twisting and untwisting it into knots and then
weaving them loose with my rough fingers. I had no idea what I would do with my life next. What
had happened to me? I had grown up and changed into a new person as if putting on a new set of
clothes. Since I was young, the only thing that drove me was making my father proud, and what
had I done to fulfill that dream? I had terrorized villages, stripping people from what little they
had; drank myself into a haze with all of the men in the caravan and possessed a camel heard in
which most of them were stolen.
My name, Bataarkhan, meant nice-hero, as my Papa had once explained to me on a starry night.
“Honor your name, Khan, we named you that because that is what you are”.
It was time to start again, I decided. I couldn’t keep living like this because I owed it to my
Papa and to myself. The last I saw before drifting off to sleep was the tiniest and palest of slivers
of light in the sky, until it was completely consumed by darkness.
Waking up from sleeping on Karasu, I decided I would start by tracing my steps back from
where I began my troublesome journey, to get back home. I stopped at every village we had
pillaged and returned most of what they had paid. I couldn’t return everything because the rest
had been stored in the bags of the other camels that had fled during the terrible sandstorm.
A playful smile tugged at the corners of my mouth every time a child ran outside dragging
