Rebels of the Kasbah

— 12 —

Through the day they rode without stopping. Zigging and zagging through mountain paths surrounded by cedar, juniper, and Moroccan fir trees. The mountainside was especially steep, but there were so many valleys and gullies it was difficult to keep any sort of direction. The group followed a small creek for a while and then cut over and up a steep embankment. Snow was still on the ground in most places.

Tariq rode slowly and everyone was constantly forced to wait for him. Fortunately, these rebels knew the mountains better than their own homes, and they left a trail that was impossible to follow except by the most expert of trackers.

At nightfall, the group sought refuge and a needed rest. They strategically chose a location on high ground that would allow them to defend their position against a much larger force. The camp was camouflaged by the overhanging trees and bushes. Two sentries, expert archers both, stood watch on either side of the trail below. The rest of the group quickly set up camp, which consisted mostly of laying down some rugs on the hard ground, pitching tents, and tying up and feeding the camels and horses.

Tariq, Margaret, and Fez all watched this activity from a distance. Someone from the rebel group offered them a snack of cold pigeon and dried apricots, which they gratefully accepted.

As the rush of adrenaline from the day’s events began to ebb, Margaret found herself starting to cry. They had escaped! Her dream had come true. She was no longer a slave in a harem. Against all odds they had made it out alive. She hugged Fez and Tariq and both of them cried as well.

“Where is Aseem?” she asked.

“He didn’t make it,” Tariq said slowly.

“Is he okay?”

“Yes. I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

Margaret saw the shame in his face and decided not to broach the subject. Obviously something had happened between the two of them.

Sanaa approached the group with one of the rebels. He was young, maybe thirty, and handsome. A three-day black beard grazed his face. His skin was bronze and his eyes dark. He possessed the stature of a nobleman.

“Everyone, this is Malik. Like all of us, he is a sworn enemy of the Caid,” Sanaa announced.

Malik stepped forward, looked all the children in the eyes, and smiled broadly.

He spoke in a soft voice.

“My friends, I cannot express to you how astounded I am of your bravery. For children, you showed the heart of lions. What you did was courageous, and I am proud to be in your company.”

Malik went to each of them, hugged them, and kissed them on both cheeks. His embrace was warm and genuine.

“Come and rest your tired bodies. Tomorrow we will make our village, where you will all be accepted as one of our own.”

That night, Tariq lay on the ground by himself, away from the others. He gazed at the sky full of stars and planets. He tried to keep count of the falling stars and meteors but his mind drifted and his thoughts kept returning to Aseem.

“Something on your mind?” Malik asked, and lay next to him.

“Have you ever done something you regret so much but can’t take back?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“When the Caid was gaining power, my father wanted me to join the resistance and fight him, as he and my brother did. I refused. They were killed by the Caid, who then pillaged my town.”

“How do you live with it?” Tariq asked.

“By learning from my mistake and making a difference each day. There is not a day that has passed that I do not think of my father and brother. The good, however, is that it lit a fire in me to fight the Caid—each and every day until he is defeated.”

Tariq thought about this for a moment.

“I want to see the Caid defeated as well.”

Malik didn’t say anything for a few moments. There was something he needed to discuss with Tariq but he didn’t know the best way to bring it up in conversation.

“Tariq, your friend Zijuan asked me to rescue you,” Malik finally admitted.

Tariq had known this, because Sanaa had told him when he was a prisoner.

“How do you know Zijuan?”

“Oh, Zijuan has been fighting with us for as long as I can remember. She is like a mother to Sanaa. She is as good a friend to me as I could ever imagine.”

“She is like a mother to me as well.”

“She specifically asked that I look out for you. But she asked me something else as well.”

“What was that?”

“That if we rescued you, I would take you as my apprentice and teach you to fight with us.”

“Why would she ask that?”

“Because, Zijuan wants something better for you than being in an orphanage.”

Malik allowed Tariq to think about this for a moment before continuing.

“The choice is yours, of course, Tariq. You can return to the orphanage in Tangier or stay here with us and begin your training. But, life might be very dangerous for you in Tangier. You are a wanted man now, and the Caid’s spies will be searching for you.”

Tariq thought about this for a moment. He looked at the encampment. He was a city rat and had never even been outside of Tangier.

“What would I need to do?” Tariq asked.

“Well, first you must learn to live as our people live—how to live off the land, how to hunt and how to live in the desert and mountains. Then, you must learn to fight. Not just with your hands, but with your head.”

“And you would teach me?”

“Yes.”

“Could my friends stay with us, if they want?” Tariq asked.

“Of course.”

This all made Tariq very happy. He didn’t need to give it much thought, as his mind was already made up. In fact, he had already planned to approach Malik to ask about staying with his group.

“I will join you, Malik. I am proud you have chosen me as an apprentice.”

“Tariq, I must warn you. The training is not easy and it’s not supposed to be. Our goal will be to prepare you for the hardships of battle and the difficult life of a resistance fighter. You may want to quit, but I will never let you. In fact, the more you want to quit, the harder I will make you train.”

“I will not quit, Malik. I will be your best student ever!”

The two shook hands and hugged. Tariq, for the first time in a long time, smiled very broadly. He felt much better after the conversation. He decided he would dedicate the rest of his life to freeing Aseem and to fighting the Caid. He could not wait to begin training—even though he had no idea what that training entailed.

Tariq got up to go tell his friends leaving Malik by himself.

What Malik held back was what Zijuan had told him—that Tariq was a natural leader, as athletic and courageous a boy as she had ever seen. Malik didn’t tell this to Tariq, of course, because he didn’t want to swell the boy’s head. Too often, gifted boys and girls will take the attitude that their gifts are enough, without being challenged to develop them.

Malik wanted to see for himself what the boy was made of.

The next day, the group arose before the sun showed itself over the mountains. It was completely dark and bitter cold. Everyone wrapped themselves in blankets and broke camp. They didn’t bother to build a fire. It would have slowed them down, and, if the Caid’s soldiers were nearby, they did not want the smoke from the fire to reveal their location.

The group headed silently back up the trail. There wasn’t the rush from the previous day, so they took their time. Many parts of the trail were too steep to ride, so they walked single file, cutting through narrow valleys and up steep embankments.

By nightfall, they had made it to the village.

It wasn’t so much a village as dozens of tents pitched in a circle. There were perhaps one hundred and fifty inhabitants, including many women and children. These were Berbers; mountain tribes of Morocco who had been roaming these mountains for thousands of years. There was fierceness, but also generosity, in their eyes. Their skin was brown and tough, but somehow there was elegance to each one of them, as if a light shined from within.

Tariq, Fez, and Margaret were soon surrounded by all manner of men, women, and children who shouted, sang, and shook their hands. They were greeted as conquering heroes. After five minutes, the three friends were shown to their tents; Fez and Tariq would share one, while Margaret would have her own. Jawad was still very injured and placed in a medical tent where the local doctor could tend to his wounds. The tents were small but cozy, with a number of rugs and furs to keep them warm in the cold mountain nights. That night, there was much dancing and a feast to welcome their new inhabitants.

The following morning, just as the sun was hovering over the horizon, Malik woke Tariq. Without hesitation, Tariq threw on his shirt and was immediately at Malik’s side. He watched his breath in the cold morning air. He liked waking up in the cold; it somehow made him feel more alive.

The first thing Tariq noticed was a falcon on Malik’s shoulder. A small hood covered its head and eyes.

“What are you doing with that bird?” Tariq asked.

“This, my friend, is your first lesson. Meet my trusted friend Babr Al Jaraz. He is a very noble and very proud Peregrine Falcon.”

“Hi, Babr Al Jaraz.”

“Come, we have a bit of walking to do.”

The two walked for about a mile, up to a high ridge. From that vantage point, they could see the entire valley and the adjacent mountainsides covered with trees and snow. It was beautiful and enormous. Malik slowly took the hood off Babr Al Jaraz. The falcon cooed with satisfaction. Malik slowly untwisted the leather strap attached to the bird’s talon. Babr Al Jaraz chirped with gratification, playfully nipped at Malik’s ear, and took a few steps to ensure he was free.

Malik then gave a series of hand signals to the bird. Babr Al Jaraz nodded once in understanding and then took off in flight.

“I gave him instructions to make one pass around the camp and then hunt for food.”

“What do you mean one pass?” Tariq asked.

“Falcons are our scouts. It takes years to train them, but once trained, they are invaluable. They can see a mouse flying half a mile over the desert and swoop down to grab it silently. We train them to alert us to enemy movement. Many times we will have them fly over the Caid’s camp as a spy. They fly so high that the Caid’s rifles cannot hit them. Our falcons are a primary reason the Caid’s men can never find us. We are alerted to their locations far before they are able to find ours.”

“Doesn’t the Caid have falcons as well?”

“Ah, but he has nobody to train them. Falcons can easily be trained to simply hunt and return to the same spot. But training them to act as scouts and spies takes an artist’s touch and a priest’s patience. It is an art that has been passed down for hundreds of years among our people.”

“May I train a falcon?” Tariq asked.

“That is an honor you must earn, my friend.”

“How do I earn it?”

“By first proving you can work hard without question. That, you must learn with hard work and sacrifice.”

Tariq nodded in appreciation.

“Being an apprentice means performing all the menial chores for me. This includes sharpening my sword, making new arrows, cleaning my clothes, minding my horse, and even cooking my food. This is meant to teach you what it is like to perform manual labor so you may appreciate those who do this sort of work for a living. You must never look down on such people, for they make our lives easier.”

“Okay.”

“Being an apprentice is also meant to teach you how to take care of yourself.”

“Okay.”

“When you have proven you can do this work with a positive attitude and without prodding, I will begin teaching you the way of the warrior and the way of battle. I will teach you how to lead and how to scout. How to fight the Caid. How to hunt and fish. How to live in the desert.”

“Okay.”

“Now, considering this will require very long hours and demand your constant attention—do you accept these terms?”

“I do.”

“Have you thought about it?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you accept these terms?” Malik asked him.

“It is like a baby bird in a nest. The fledgling must first learn to fly and may fall from the nest. To fly takes much struggle and much learning. But once the bird learns to fly, it can soar in the heavens.”

Malik smiled; he liked this answer very much.

“That is very good, Tariq. Today, please rest and play. Tomorrow we will start your true training.”

“Malik, there is one thing I must discuss with you.”

“What is it?”

“That boy Jawad, he did not want to join us.”

“What do you mean?”

“He wanted to stay with the Caid. He was about to join the Caid’s cavalry. He is only with us because he fell off his camel during the race and I did not want to leave him.”

“Hmmmm. I will need to consider this.”

“There is one other thing.”

“What is it?”

“My friend Aseem is still with the Caid. He was left behind. I must rescue him.”

“I cannot allow that, Tariq. The Caid will be extremely angry with us. Any day now, I expect him to begin patrols to scour these mountains looking for us. He will increase his security details. It will be very dangerous in the coming months.”

“Okay,” Tariq answered and held his head low.

“I will figure out how to deal with Jawad. In the meantime, hold your head high. You are no longer a slave. You are a free man.”

Tariq smiled. They stood on the ridge for another hour talking and watching as Babr Al Jaraz hunted—he finally scooped up a small squirrel and hungrily devoured it on a nearby ledge. Afterwards, he dutifully flew to Malik’s shoulder and rested—content and full from the morning’s hunt.

“So, what did you and Malik have to talk about?” Margaret asked Tariq.

“He has taken me as an apprentice,” Tariq answered proudly.

“That is wonderful—congratulations!” Margaret said and hugged him. Tariq turned red with embarrassment at this display of affection.

“So when do you begin?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Well, that gives us today. They are planning a feast and party for us again tonight. I can’t wait. I could use a nice bath and some good food. It’s not right for a proper English girl to get so dirty like this.”

“You look fine Margaret.”

“Tariq, there’s something we need to discuss.”

“Yes.”

“What are you going to do about Jawad?”

“I don’t know.”

“Perhaps you could talk with him?”

“He’s still pretty bad. I will wait until he’s healthy.”

“And Aseem?”

Tariq thought about this for a minute.

“I must go back for him. It is my fault he’s not with us.”

“How will you do that?”

“I don’t know, but I must save him.”

Margaret did not push the subject. She could see Tariq was in considerable pain. To push the subject further would only add to his sorrow. She figured he needed a pat on the back more than a kick in the behind.

“What are you going to do, Margaret?”

“I need to return to my parents—to England.”

“How will you do that?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“I will help you.”

Margaret smiled at that thought.

“Tariq, you’re just a child.”

“None of us is a child any longer. I will help you return to your family. I promise.”

“Thank you, Tariq.”

Fez joined them, waking up from a nap.

“Fez, are these the mountains of your tribe?” Tariq asked.

“Yes, but my tribe lived much further north. I do not know this area.”

“It’s beautiful country,” Margaret said.

“Do you know that there are apes in these mountains?” Fez asked.

“Apes?” both Tariq and Margaret said at once.

“Yes, Barbary apes, but they are just a nuisance.”

“Anything else?” Margaret asked.

“Oh yes. Wild boar, mountain sheep, goats, gazelles, and more birds than one can imagine,” Fez said excitedly.

Margaret looked at the trees spread around them.

“Fez, what kinds of trees are these?” Margaret asked.

“The tall bushy ones are called fir trees. The longer, skinnier ones are called cedars.”

“Any snakes?” Margaret asked.

“Oh yes! The cobra, viper, and puff adder are some of the most dangerous,” Fez answered, even more excited.

Margaret looked at Tariq and gulped. They didn’t have snakes in England. Although she had lived in Egypt, where snakes were plentiful, her life had been in Cairo, in the safety of the city. As a child in Cairo, she had witnessed a snake charmer, and she remembered the white markings on the back of a cobra’s hood.

“Anything else?” Margaret asked slowly.

“Just watch for the scorpions. They’re small buggers and can crawl into your blanket at night for the warmth.”

With that, Margaret went almost completely white.

“Do not worry, Margaret, snakes and animals are more afraid of you than you are of them. It is very rare to die from a snake bite. Just don’t provoke them and you should be fine. If you are bitten, cut a little incision around the wound and suck out the poison,” Fez explained.

“Well, I don’t want to run into any of them. I don’t like snakes or scorpions.”

“Oh, I like snakes; in fact, I was going to learn to charm snakes. Not like in the cities, where they use defanged cobras and vipers, but a real snake charmer.”

“Fez, you’re kind of weird,” Tariq said.

All three of them laughed, and Fez continued to tell them stories of the countryside. He was a little encyclopedia, and went on at length about star constellations, bird species, different kinds of plants and flora, and even gave them a long lecture on the benefits of limestone.

After fifteen minutes, Tariq and Margaret both had a headache from all the information they had just absorbed.

“I feel like I’m back at school,” Margaret finally said.

“Fez, you could be a professor at a university,” Tariq remarked.

“That would be a dream for me,” Fez answered.

“Well, I’m going to take a bath and relax. Thank you for all the information, Fez,” Margaret said and retired to her tent.

That night they feasted on roasted goat, prickly pear, and a fig dessert. They danced and played drums along with the entire clan. Finally, everyone collapsed from exhaustion under the stars. The three friends felt like part of a family. The Berbers, always known for hospitality, were nothing but smiles and affectionate greetings to their new companions. Margaret had never experienced anything like this. Even Tariq, who was from Tangier, was warmed by the generosity of their spirit. They all seemed to have smiles on their faces, and their hearts seemed so true. The women were beautiful, even after living in the mountains, with bronzed skin and inquisitive chestnut eyes. Everyone wore colorful garments and headdresses. The men, who were constantly under the stress of war, possessed a whimsy and honesty in spite of their hardships and oppression.

“The training begins.”

Tariq, before the sentence had ended, was up from his bed, putting on his shirt. In another instant, he was out of his tent, standing face to face with Malik. It was so early the sun had not yet risen.

“So, you’re a willing apprentice,” Malik smiled when he said it.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s have a walk.”

“Okay,” Tariq said and dutifully followed him.

“Tariq, why did you leave your friend Aseem behind?”

“Well…”

“Think before you answer.”

Tariq already knew the answer but was ashamed to admit it.

“I was afraid, sir. Afraid I wouldn’t succeed. Afraid I might fail.”

“Exactly. Fear is in all men.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me. It’s what you do with that fear that determines if you are a leader or follower, a brave warrior or a coward. Fear is like fire. Control it, and it can cook your food and keep you warm at night. Let it rage out of control, and it can burn down your entire village.”

“How do I control my fear?”

“Tariq, why do you think you were afraid?”

“I felt weak.”

“Weak?”

“These feelings deep inside of my stomach kept coming up to me. They forced me to lose my breath, to tremble.”

“What feelings? Describe them.”

“I am an orphan. What good am I? I am poor—even my own parents did not want me. I was an accident. What good could I ever do?”

Malik listened to Tariq, and he felt for the boy. It was a heavy burden for such a young one to bear.

“Tariq, you have shown the heart of a lion, and you are a good person. However, you have something to prove. You have a hunger inside of you. Never, ever let that hunger be extinguished. It is your edge over all others.”

“I don’t understand.”

“A boy who has parents and a comfortable life has no reason to reach beyond his boundaries. He can be perfectly content with his life and never strive or risk for anything greater. A boy who comes from nothing, and has nothing to lose, has something to prove to himself and the world. This is a boy who can do great things.”

Tariq listened intently; it was the first time a man had ever had anything good to say to him.

“However, you must learn to conquer your fear. In the face of great danger, allow fear to be your friend and let it fuel you.”

“How?”

“First, by repeating it to yourself. Now, repeat after me, like this—I will never show fear.”

“I will never show fear.”

“If I am facing the biggest warrior with the largest sword and I only have my bare hands, I will never show fear.”

“I am not afraid of pain. I am not afraid of getting hit.”

“I will give to my enemy twice as hard as he gives to me.”

“Now, are you ready?” Malik asked.

“Yes,” Tariq answered, but before he could say more Malik had swiftly kicked his ankles out from under him. Tariq hit the sand hard on his side.

“Now, get up and try to hit me.”

Tariq rose and lunged wildly at Malik, missing him completely. With his palm open, Malik swung his right hand and slapped Tariq upside the head, sending him tumbling.

Tariq was thrown face first onto the sand. He shook his head and got back up slowly.

“Come on, you aren’t hurt. You’re much tougher than this,” Malik urged him.

Tariq gathered himself, lunging to tackle head first into Malik, who simply moved to one side and shifted his weight so that Tariq went flying into the sand.

This continued for five minutes until Tariq was bloodied and tired. His shirt was ripped and sand stuck to the open wounds on his elbows and chin. He breathed heavily and fell to his knees. He spit a combination of saliva and blood.

Malik went to him, extended his hand, and lifted him to his feet.

“That was very good, Tariq. You were with a stronger and more experienced opponent, yet you never quit. You were sloppy, but you never quit. That is the most important lesson of all—never quit.”

Tariq nodded, bloodied but happy.

“The first thing you must learn is balance. If you are unbalanced, you will be easily beaten. Stand with your feet about shoulder-width apart and bend your knees a little. Good; now, bring your arms up and keep your elbows at your ribs. Yes; this position protects your body from attack. When you attack, don’t lunge so much; bend your knees and twist at the waist for power. Never, ever lose balance.”

Tariq did as he was told, and the two of them practiced sparring for over an hour. Malik taught him balance and knocked him to his butt when he was off-balance. Tariq learned quickly to keep his weight centered and his arms close in to protect his ribs. He improved greatly in just a short amount of time.

“Now, I would like for you to prepare my horse by putting on his saddle. Also, feed him and bring him water. After that, go to my tent, collect my dirty clothes, wash them, and have them folded in my tent by sundown. When you are done with that, I will show you how to make an arrow. I will need one hundred arrows made by the end of the week.”

“Yes, sir.”

“When you are working, think only of the job at hand. Think of nothing else. Do not think of other things you would like to be doing. Do not think about how hard your task is. Just focus on the job at hand and nothing else.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, let’s get started.”