From the Sand to the Blood

From the Sand to the Blood

    The sand crumbled by the weight of the camel’s toes, digging for some sort of friction in this sandy paradise known as the Thal Desert.   The sun and its beautiful radiance, fills the sky with a bright, majestic light  that lights up the sand to shimmer and reveal our hidden path.  I tightly grip the tethered rope that feels like it is on the brink of tearing that connects me to my camel, helping it walk along the fragility of the sand, always watching one footstep ahead for a sign of danger that could lead to the loss of my superior.  Without the camel, us peddlers would be out of job so we must respect and honor our co-workers.  In this part of Pakistan, on the eastern border between us and Afghanistan, the sand is very separated leading this travel very dangerous for such enormous animals. 
Also it is known scorpion territory because this is one of the most commonly used routes in this desert.  One strike from their venomous tips of their tails could leave a 1 inch diameter into a camel’s flesh and in some circumstances, a hole through a human’s hands.  One slip up and it could leave you poisoned, immobilized and paralyzed if you are so lucky to get struck or if your camel’s fate is the one it is seeking, it will leave you stranded and isolated in the most harshest and extreme climates on this world.  Both of these things will lead you directly to the worst death, where you will be wishing and praying for death so you don’t have to be thinking about it.
    My other two nomads helping me with our peddle, Kalpu and Tanyia, are risking the flagrant route and treading on, leaving me at least a half a kilometer behind, completely disregarding the peddlers pact of never leaving one behind because one less person make its two times as hard to survive out in these parts.  But what could you expect from a married couple that trades together.  Matrimonial nomadic peddlers.  I wish I didn’t have to ask them for their help on this voyage but, first I didn’t know they were married and second, they were the only other peddlers stationed at the bazaar besides myself.  I wish I could of done it by myself but, the trek is far to dangerous to be working by yourself.  Also their has been some talk of bandits so the bigger the group, the less chance of any violent activities. 
    After I get out of the roughest terrain and also, practically, the beginning of the route, the couple still keeps on going, completely selfish.  They are only in it for themselves, hardly even taking the time to get to know me.  Just trying to lose precious days on our estimated time of arrival.  This is supposed to be a 15 day voyage, under my supervision, from the center of Pakistan to the outreach of Istanbul.  But they say we can make in 12.  Wishful thinking but I hardly expect anything from them and they probably aren’t as well-versed as I am.
    I have been in the trading business since I was 16, which makes it 13 years, al most half of my life looking at sand.  I started after my family left us, our home country, to try out the American Dream and I haven’t heard from them since.  Their original plan was to save up enough money to be able to bring me along after a few years but either they couldn't get a hold of me since I am constantly traveling, viewing beautiful, un-touched dunes anywhere between Mongolia,to Turkey and sometimes as south as Congo.  I would like to call it a dream job but it was just wishful thinking on my part.
    The heat has been over bearing for the past 2 days and has really taken a toll on the camel.  He looks out of breath after every stride and his head keeps wondering, looking for the sweet taste of water but the nearest, known, oasis is for another 5 kilometers which should take us at least another day.  His throat must be dry because he keeps coughing up saliva.  I put my hands on his neck to try and calm him down and bring him acknowledgment but his muscles keep going through spasms which send a shockwave throughout the rest of his head.  I am hoping we can make it and this severe weather doesn't cause us any reoccurring health problems.  If the worst happened and such internal drought, exhaustion and dehydration would persuade me to retire my companion which I have named after my sister, Hazeln.  After a year of work with this camel, I decided on the name because it proved the same determination and relentlessness my sister always reminded me of.  It was my sister who persuaded my parents to take their adventure to the west and inevitably left me in the east.  The difference between us, the two culture shocks is that we never forget and they always move on.  We are stuck and they are walking blind into the unknown.
    I guess I should explain the art of peddling, the need to know of survival in one of the most peaceful but drastic occupations in the world.  First off, everything is fair game.  As long as no one sees you and you aren't directly harming a human, ethics don't ring a bell in my territory.  Survival is the only thing that matters out here and if I can do that by misleading others, eating bugs, and hoping for the worst.  Scorpions provide the most nutrients and are the most dangerous to prey on.  They are natural born killers so their is no reason to be sneaky around them.  All you need is confidence and reflex when it comes to spearing a few scorpions for a snack.  Also never pack heavy.  Two pair of clothes are ideal, one for the day and one for the night.  For the day time apparel, maybe a pair of light, canvas, tan pants and a white, long sleeve T-shirt.  For the night time, you want to pack some heavy wear.  Possibly a heavy sweater (with no undershirt) and a tough pair of cargo pants.  Also, the bigger the better when it comes to boots.  Before you go to bed in the moonlight, clean your boots.  If you decide to forget such an important task, the buildup of sand and muck that exists in the desert will be cemented to your boots.    Always wear a something to protect your head such as a turban.  The hardest thing that I have encountered to get out of any crevice in your body and especially your scalp.
    It took a while to find the best location to take a break and finally hit the hay after a strenuous day.  The best way to find such a destination is by sleeping on the backside of a dune, so you can bask in the last remaining arc of the light that shines from the moon for a little bit more of warmth and also to shield you from the morning rays that could bake you in your night gear.  I put Hazeln to sleep with a few handfuls of water from my first, out of my three, canteen.  He seemed pleased and curled over, leaving his protection to only me.  It must finally mean that he trusts me.  I ended up making the fire, snatching a few weeds that grow sparingly throughout the sand and storing it in my knapsack.  A few flicks of a flint and the leafs catch flame to cook our slop meal of a few scorpions, that I speared, which was our appetizer and then for our meal, a few cans of tuna and some water chestnuts that we roasted.  After only talking about our future conditions, the couple and I haven't got to talking yet so I really try to give them another chance to lighten the mood.
    "So where did you two meet?" I begin to ramble.
    "Actually, it was fate." Tonyia, the brown-skinned, jet black haired woman says, almost under her breath.
    Then Kalpu laughed, nodding away.
    "We were both traders and decided it would be a good idea to have a life long companion on these routes." Kalpu, the hairy chested, white-skinned, man said after a few nods later.
    "Oh yeah, that does seem like a good idea but that is why we have the camels." I laugh to myself while both of them glance at each other just as if I had drool on my chin.
    "...Yeah I guess but some of us want more than a pet." Tonyia spouts off.
    "A camels nice but where is the relationship." Kalpu.
    "No where and that is the beauty."  After leading us into this quarrel, I try to end it.  It's not that I don't believe what I am saying but I don't need anything else hovering over me on the trip.
    "Well goodnight."
    "Life long companions..." stuck with me the rest of the night, and led me to barely getting any normal sleep.  I just kept dreaming of them and her, switching off and on between them that the fantasies became parallel.  I heard it best from my mentor, Hazuhr, which he told me while I contemplated leaving the practice. "All one needs in life our three things which are simple and rather easy if you don't get caught up in mind games.  First being a career.  Something that will expand you and will help you explore yourself.  Next is something you are born with, a family.  A defense system when the first and the last leads you to close to farewell which leads me to the last.  A woman.  Something to look forward to from a struggle with the family and a long day at the first one.  They will help you re-find normalcy.
    One forgets me and the last leaves me.
    We finally made it to the oasis just on the border of Afghanistan.  It is known as the Pharaoh's resort because is it said to be the first known documented oasis in the world and the peddlers were traveling to deliver King Tut some luxurious items and this is where they stopped. 
    I heard the couple fucking last night. I almost said something before we took off in the morning but I decided to let it go, I wanted to let it go because, I'm still trying to give them a chance.  Chances by me are given out to many times but it will one day bring me balance because at least I can say I always tried.
    The closer we get to our destination, small villages start sprouting up throughout the days and it is a very nice change of pace.  Your eyes can get permanently blinded by the shards of sand that turn as yellow as its source.  These villages, usually just a few shanties and always a bazaar for the villagers to have a different change of pace even though their jobs are either a farmer, hunter or, like me, a trader.  There is hardly any other room for other jobs you might here of closer to cities since these little havens are forgotten in time.  As city landscapes try to bring the two worlds closer in unity, places that I visit deteriorate with un-needed attention. 
    As I keep on passing each tent, lined up on the street, completely isolated from society but engulfed with character.  People from all hierarchies, culturally and economically reside when they see a camel or a caravan traveling in.  They know two things are about to happen.  New product so the sooner they can find time for the market, the fresher their produce will be or deals on the old stock will go up.  Free market economy doesn’t exist out here because their is no corporations or even small enterprises.  Civilians out in this severe region will make strict future predictions on their health just to be able to trade something so they can have a little cushion in their pocket.  A dollar out here means more than a dollar in the west and that is the main reason you here that we live off a dollar or two a day. We use it for only for survival like a frog uses a Lilly pad. 
    As the sand starts to form canyons and sharp towers that reign from the perimeter of the route is when you know you hit the end of Iran and finally ended up in Turkey.  Still another two days but everything after that bout with dehydration has been pretty excellent.  Towns started forming, more than ever and in between these market towns are where the bandits lurk so we decide to room at a few places for a few beads of jewelry and promise of breakfast. 
    The people out here are very reluctant to keep us in for our safety and even though we might look scummy from the lack of baths but out in these market towns that are sporadically scattered throughout the east, us peddlers are honored.  If a region has a bad season, we are prayed for since if one part of the world has an off year, their is always a worldly balance and the un-educated, poverty level, never noticed human beings understand that and respect the flip of the coin.
     The couple fuck every night but I can't bear to say anything.  It keeps me up while they scurry around in the sand.  I can hear it all.  Each thrust pushes me farther into my own history.  The sand being gripped for leverage holds me down until I remember the one that got away.  Cleopatra, named after the Egyptian goddess.  I took the nickname of Alex for historical purposes because I was her conquer and she was mine.  The converging of two strangers.  The silent moans fill my eyes with tears of the night she left.  Cleo wasn’t ready for me and the distance.  The occupation tore us apart and I think I was just too young to commit.  Commit to the same thing, different phrases type of life.  My camel was ready to take me a quarter of the globe away in a matter of weeks while Cleo just wanted to root me. I didn’t mind it at the time when I was 22 but after two years of it, she left me.  It felt mutual for the first few years after the break but now, more than ever, it felt one-sided.  To much time devoted to someone just to leave in a matter of hours.  I’ve tried writing her but...you know how that eventually turns up.  The more I wrote the less she commented and after receiving countless, disappointing letters to my rather low standards, I decided to clear my memory of her address and just move on but after such a relationship, their is no vertical movement.
    The route between Ankaraha and Istanbul, I spotted a few bandits at least 2 kilometers out.  There where hard to spot out since their appearance is almost identical to any other peddler but the only way to really tell is by the glow of their rifles when this sun hits the barrel.  They definitely saw us pass so on the way back home, we must circumvent this route and take a detour to Afyon which is just south of Ankaraha but it could help us receive some work at the markets so it might not affect our supply to harshly.  I don’t think the couple saw them because they were to busy giggling to themselves for more than half the day.
    We arrive in Istanbul and the shacks remind me of home and it is nice to finally see civility.  This is why I decided to begin trading.  Everyone needs something they don't have from exquisite delicacies, to the most practical of foods, to luxuries.  This world is full of necessities and the word want is hardly heard.  Some people still don’t even have electricity out here and communication they are use to is face to face.  It was a beauty riding into to such a memorable city.  This was the end of the end to the silk road and was formable known as Constantinople.  The pillars from their temples were the first thing that caught my eye when we were still 2 kilometers out.  I have been here before but, unlike the other locations I frequently travel, this one changes the most.  Paved roads are being installed at a rapid rate and sky scrapers are starting to form.  Its hard to believe that the western explosion is finally hitting places this desolate.  Good thing we get to dodge these parts of the city and only enter the providence's to the south which are still isolate from this financial Mecca.
    As we head through the alleys still made of limestone, I watch the excitement come through the eyes of our youth and I hope that one day, my job will still be considered useful.
    We made it to our destination, the Trephl marketplace with what seemed to be open arms.  I spot the bazaar headmaster and wave him over to our assess the haul.  His name happened to be Stanu and he looked over 60 and had a long white beard that was somehow attached to his shrunken head.  His eyebrows were white and bushy and he expressed them through every word that came out of his mouth.  We expect to make $1000 each but I could tell through the man’s eyes that was not going to happen.
    “Well their is your wheat, jewelry and some other fine delicacies from Pakistan, I believe the agreed price was $3000.” I say, taking over so I wouldn’t bother the love birds while they peer into each others eyes.
    “The thing with that.” Stanu says before I interrupt him.
    “There is no thing, with any less of an amount, we will hardly be able to either A) make it home and B) start up another operation after we get back.  We need this money.
    “I know there was an agreed on price but the market got some un-expected visitors so this stock you brought in will either lower the market price to ridiculous levels or...”
    “Or what.”
    “Or we will have to give this away.  It’s the only two feasible options.”
    “...”
    The worst thing about this crummy town is not the lights from these automobiles zipping around or the pollution that is spilling over this sand crusted staleness that usually hovers over, it’s the risk.  We risk, for 15 days, just the possibility of getting here.  Right here and since it is the end of the route, other caravans and peddlers usually spill over what they didn’t sell at other markets.  It’s just another fuck you from chance itself.  Either they do what I just said or the sellers trade before they get here and markets like this go empty for months.  In this job, just like most, you got to prepare for the shortest end of the stick.
    We have two options that I talk over with the couple. Either we stay here and try to look for work back to scrounge up an initial payment to even survive the desert or we risk it and just try for the haul with hardly any money.  If we get this the same conditions we got on the way here, we are doomed because our camels will die of starvation and after they go, we will soon follow because that is what the human race does best.  We follow as we pretend to lead.
    The couple decides to take the riskier approach because, they have faith.  It’s not fate but selfishness.  They pleaded with me, saying that I didn’t have to join them but I follow the pact so I nod and tread on, holding my head far down.  I am not ready to pray for death so I am hoping that we get some great weather.
    They have had no respect for me this whole trip and their camaraderie has been the worst I have seen throughout the whole 13 years and I have had people strip me during sleep and leave me but at least it was close enough to a market I could get work.  This is taunting death, waving our already malnourished bodies at the tip of his scythe.  I hate them.  We sleep at the eastern outskirts of Istanbul and I decide to take a few supplies from the couple after their hour long fuck fest.  I knew they would practically be paralyzed, burning up so much precious energy that I decided that I would use their supplies more wisely.  I steal a few cans of tuna and 2 out of the 5 canteens of water and hid it underneath my night apparel as soon as I wake up which was an hour before them.
    As we take off, forgetting about breakfast because we rather start off dying so we can always revive ourselves later.  Maybe in Iran.  Half way to Ankara, I remember the bandits, and decide to split off telling the couple that I’ll meet up with them in Kars which is at the eastern tip of Turkey because I am going to look for some providers and pick up a job hopefully.  As I get out of sight, I climb to the highest dune with Hazeln and watch the scene, hardly being able to blink.
    The bandits stroll up to the couple, shouting.  I think it was shouting because all I could here is the echoes bouncing off the surrounding dunes.  The couple gets off their horses and the only thing I can make out is the tan of the sand turn into the red from the bloodshed.  Some hits from the butts of their guns across their faces after they reveal bad news to the gang of hustlers and thief's.  I continually watch until the bandits scavenge through their belongs and they also ransack their camels as they take everything but the couple, as they lay face up being burned by the rays of the sun.  And I knew they were inexperienced.