Love in the Kingdom of Oil Read Online Free PDF Page B

hot!’
    ‘There’s nothing to do but wait, nothing.’
    As he said the word ‘nothing’, he looked upwards. A grey cloud was twisting round and round on the skyline.
    ‘The oil is drinking the water vapour in the air. When the clouds are dispersed by the sun, drought results.’
    ‘Drought?’
    ‘Yes, the liquid disappears, changing into solid, and you can walk on it easily without your feet sinking into it. Even tanks can cross it.’
    When he said ‘tanks’, his eyes began to glisten as if with tears. Perhaps they would take him off to the war. His space on the bed would become empty and she would stop cooking. She tensed the muscles of her throat under the weight of the jar. She beat the ground with her feet.
    The man was busy looking at the path. The vanguard of the great procession had appeared. A line of people carrying drums beating out the national anthem. Swarms of motorbikes and fireworks, employees of the palace inside long black cars, followed by the journalists. A vast tank out of which leant His Majesty, waving with his hands as if to the masses. Beside him was the president of the company, raising his hat in greeting.
    She was walking along, the road empty in front of her, when the bamboo cane stung her on her rump.
    ‘Bow quickly!’
    She did not know yet how to pay her respects. She leant forwards from the waist and bent the top of her trunk backwards. She became like a camel in the process of kneeling down. The man began to teach her the anthem. His voice intoned a song in a quiet semi-musical voice. After every syllable he would dry his sweat with the sleeve of his
jallaba.
    ‘Is it the national anthem?’
    ‘Yes, here we follow the principle “I love my country.”’
    ‘Is it your country?’
    ‘My mother was buried here, and where your mother is buried, that’s where your country is.’
    He said the word ‘country’ and bowed to the ground. He lowered his eyelids over his eyes as if to conceal tears. He never mentioned his mother except when threatened by death. In his hands he held a small piece of paper stamped with the face of His Majesty, and an immediate summons.
    She lay down with her eyes open, straining her ears to hear. She felt him climbing into bed beside her. He turned his face to the wall. She stretched out her arm and stroked his neck from behind. ‘Don’t go, for all you’ve got left there is your mother’s tomb.’
    ‘Anybody who doesn’t go is killed.’
    ‘And whoever goes is killed.’
    ‘There is no escape from death.’
    ‘Then let’s die as and when we want to.’
    She said it soundlessly as she got out of bed. She hung her bag over her shoulder and took hold of the chisel. She walked swiftly, squinting her eyes in the face of the storm. Her feet sank into the black water up to her knees. Movement seemed impossible. She stopped, piercing the darkness with her eyes and straining her ears to listen. At first the voices were faint. Like the rustling of the wind or the flapping of
jallabas.
It came from the bottom of the slope where the houses of the village were, and gradually climbed up the slope. It resembled the beating of tambourines and the throbbing of drums. She saw a woman spinning round on one foot. Around her the women formed a circle, their hair ruffled. Their teeth chattered and they had their arms outstretched. They beat the ground with their feet, spinning round like the earth does. They were singing with one voice:
    Our lady of purity,
    Lighten our burdens.
    The woman in the middle was tall, her head tied with a black scarf. She was like her aunt, beating the ground with her feet. She lifted her eyes to heaven as if entreating the mother goddess. At every spin her body shook. Her movements became increasingly fast and light. At the climax of the last paroxysm, her body became so light that it appeared to disintegrate. Time stopped and silence fell. Then movement broke out once again. It overflowed towards the ocean, and the women’s bodies