Amanda in Arabia: The Perfume Flask (3 page)

“See you in about one hour,” said Leah's mom as she rolled up her window and drove away.

Amanda wandered away from Leah when she noticed a pretty little window with decorative wrought iron grilles and wooden shutters faded by the hot sun on the side of a house. She went closer to study the window and jumped back when she saw someone inside. When she looked in once more, the figure was gone. ‘Perhaps my eyes are playing tricks on me,' she thought. ‘There is obviously nobody here.' She felt a chill in spite of the heat.

Amanda wandered around on her own and was drawn to a half–open, painted door. The colours of the door had begun to fade but she could see that the swirls in the geometric design had been painted turquoise, pink and purple. She had to push hard on the heavy door to open it all the way, as a lot of sand had blown into the house. Once inside she couldn't help wondering who had lived there before and where they were now.

Suddenly, a young woman appeared in front of Amanda. She looked beautiful in her green, silk, gold–trimmed dress, her green veil revealing only her large oval, black–outlined eyes.

“Do you have the perfume flask?” she whispered.

Amanda's mouth went dry. Her knees felt like noodles unable to hold her up.

“Please, do not be afraid.” The young woman drew closer and held out a small hand covered with brown swirly
henna
drawings. “I must have the perfume flask you are keeping for me.”

“I – I don't have it with me,” Amanda stammered as she backed away. “Who are you?”

The young woman stood taller as she stated, “I am Princess Shamza, a daughter of the royal family of Ras Al Khaimah.”

“Do – do you live here?” Amanda forgot to be afraid as her curiosity got the better of her.

“For now.” The princess looked down at the floor, and then back at Amanda, “I no longer have a real home.”

Amanda had never seen such sad eyes before. “Why do you want the perfume flask?”

“It was my mother's, and my grandmother's before that. It has been with my family for many years. It is the only thing left of my family for me. You see, I can no longer be with my family.” The beautiful eyes filled with tears.

“Why?” Amanda asked.

“My father wanted me to marry an old man with much money. I did not want to marry him. My mother did not wish me to marry him either but she could do nothing. I ran away at night on my camel.” The princess looked past Amanda into the distance. “We rode far into the mountains and across the desert for many days. I ate all the food and drank all the water my mother gave me when I left.”

“You came here?” Amanda asked. She needed to know more - like where did the perfume flask figure in the story?

“I did not know what would happen to me.” The princess continued her tale. “A kind man, Yoseph, found me in a stone hut almost starved to death. He took me home to his wife and family. They fed me, gave me clothes and sold my camel and the perfume flask for me so I would have some money.”

Amanda listened to this story in amazement. Could this be true?

“But I bought the flask in a little shop in town. How did you know I had it?”

“Yoseph is the shop keeper. He promised me he would sell it only to someone who would look after it for me. He told me you had it and that we could trust you to look after it. It has my mother's blessing with it. Without it I will perish. I just know it.”

“Where are you Amanda?” Leah called, breaking the spell.

“I must not be seen,” whispered the princess as she backed away. “It is too dangerous. Please do not tell anyone you saw me.”

Amanda moved to the door to keep Leah from entering. Before she stepped into the bright sunlight she glanced back. The room was empty. There wasn't even a foot print on the sandy floor. Princess Shamza had disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.

Amanda wasn't quite sure if what just happened was real or a day dream. “I'm in here.”

“I didn't know where you had gone,” said Leah as she stuck her head in the doorway.

“Did you see anyone?” asked Amanda

“No, of course not, silly. I told you this place is deserted.” Leah gave Amanda a searching look. “Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost or a
djinn
.”

“What is a
djinn
?”

“Kind of like a genie, but more like a bad genie.” Leah led the way back to the place where her mother was to pick them up. “Maybe like a pixie or a leprechaun. Some bring good luck – some bring bad luck.”

Amanda didn't know whether to tell her friend about seeing the Princess or not. She decided not to mention it. Leah might think she was making it up and she didn't like it when people didn't believe her. She felt a black cloud move over her, even though the sky was cloudless. She had an uncomfortable feeling that this
djinn
might bring her bad luck.

That night before she went to sleep, Amanda took out the perfume flask to look at it again. Without thinking, she rubbed it. Nothing happened. ‘Don't be stupid,' she told herself, ‘genies in a bottle are just in children's stories.' She felt a strange connection with the flask and decided to sleep with it under her pillow.

That night she dreamt she was riding Ali Baba. She felt him sway easily under her as they bumped along a lonely dusty road. She rode towards a moonlit mosque, which didn't seem to come any closer. Princess Shamza appeared in the doorway wearing her beautiful, green dress. She disappeared in a couple of seconds.

Amanda woke with a start. She was hot and her pajamas were sticking to her. The lightweight covers were soaked. Perhaps she had a fever. She kicked off the covers, turned up the air conditioner, and went back to sleep.

“I don't think I feel very well, Aunt Ella,” she said at breakfast, the memory of her dream still vivid in her mind.

“You must drink more water during the day.” Her aunt reached across the breakfast table to feel Amanda's forehead. “It's much hotter here than in Canada. You had quite a busy day yesterday. Maybe you better stay at home today and rest.”

Amanda looked at the milky, blue sky beckoning to her through the window and thought that she sure didn't want to waste an entire day of her holidays sitting in the apartment.

“At least you don't have a fever,” decided her aunt. “Did you enjoy visiting the deserted village?”

“I sure did, but it seemed real strange that no one lived there anymore.” She reached for her orange juice and took a sip. It felt cool and refreshing as it went down her dry throat. “Is it true that in this part of the world parents can make you marry someone you don't even like?”

“I suppose it does still happen sometimes.” Aunt Ella answered as she buttered some toast and placed it in front of Amanda. “But parents here love their children just like parents all over the world do and usually want them to be happy. From what I understand, many marriages are still arranged by the parents, but both the boy and the girl need to agree to it.”

Amanda took a small bite of her toast. “But what if one of them doesn't want to marry the other person?”

“Then the parents will usually call it off and try to find other mates for them.”

“What if, say, the father wanted his daughter to marry a creepy, old man just because he had tons of money?”

“I guess that can happen,” sighed her aunt as she got up to get the toast that had just popped–up. “There are greedy people everywhere and not all fathers are kind and loving, unfortunately.”

Just then Uncle Ben sat down to breakfast. “Don't worry; we won't try to marry you off to a wealthy, old
Sheik
while you're here.” He winked at Amanda.

“You better not,” she laughed and punched him on the arm. The toast and orange juice were starting to make her feel better.

She could still picture Princess Shamza with her veiled face and sad eyes. ‘Was she real? Will I ever see her again?' she wondered.

At noon, when she heard the call to prayer, Amanda made a wish for Princess Shamza. She wished for her to be safe and not to have to marry a man she didn't even like.

***

Amanda woke up early the next day, slung her camera strap around her neck, took a bottle of water out of the freezer and grabbed her hat. She wanted to be prepared. It was going to be a hot day, even hotter than the past few days. She was going to the camel races!

On the road to the racetrack, Amanda saw a sign that caught her attention. It was a typical triangular, white road sign trimmed in red like any you'd see back home. What made this sign so unique was that in the middle of it was the black silhouette of a camel.

“Does that mean watch for camels?”

“Yes, camels wander across the road and occasionally are hit by motorists. I'm afraid that's not good for the vehicle – or the camel,” explained her uncle.

Amanda knew her friends back home would laugh when she told them about the sign. She asked her uncle to stop so she could take a picture.

There was the smell of dust and excitement in the air as they drove up to the race track. Camels and jeeps were scattered everywhere in what seemed like a chaotic mess. A string of camels in all sizes and colours were being lead to the track. Old, large, hairy camels were at the head of the line. Skinny, young, almost–bald camels were at the end. All other sizes and hairiness were in between. They came in as many different shades of beige as the various tones of sand in the Emirates. Some were almost white and some were almost black. They didn't seem to have a care in the world as they sauntered along in a thin, dusty line.

Uncle Ben parked the jeep and they walked over to what appeared to be the starting point. A sandy sea of camels, wearing saddles made of brightly, coloured blankets, were sitting around waiting patiently for their turn to race. The flowing, white
dishdashas
of the owners were in stark contrast to their surroundings as they made their way through the crowd of camels and small jockeys. Amanda was amazed at how they kept their robes so clean in the hot and dusty climate.

She noticed a man wearing a red and white checkered headdress leading a camel to an empty spot. She recognized him as one of the men from the camel ranch. She was absolutely sure the camel was none other than Ali Baba.

“Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben – look over there,” shouted Amanda. “That's Ali Baba.”

“How can you be sure? Basically all camels look alike,” said her aunt.

“That's him, I'm sure of it.” She would know him anywhere.

The man minding Ali Baba came over to where they were standing and nodded a
hello
to them.

“Will Ali Baba be racing today?” asked Amanda.

“Oh, you remember Ali Baba, do you Miss? No, he is too old for racing. He brings the supplies for the riders. That is his job.”

Amanda could see that the camel was carrying two large packs, one on each side. “Will he remember me?”

“Oh yes, Miss. A camel never forgets his friends – or his enemies.”

Amanda was taking pictures of everything, even the camel tracks in the sand. Up close, she realized that the jockeys were little boys wearing what looked like bicycle helmets and mismatched clothes that could have been bought at a discount store, like Value Village. They stayed close to their camels, adjusting the multi–coloured blanket saddles, talking to them and even hugging them.

“Take my picture, please,” said a little jockey of about six or seven, as he flashed a big toothy smile at her. Another boy, a little older, wearing a light, beige, judo–style outfit tied with a deep red sash, posed casually on his camel. His friend, in a red T–shirt, plaid, cotton pants and a short, red, checked sarong tied around his waist, leaned on his whipping stick. Amanda snapped the picture. She didn't want to ever forget this day.

Suddenly a horn blew. The jockeys put on their helmets and jumped on their camels. One quick touch with the stick and the camels were up and moving. At the same time all the people jumped into their vehicles. When the camels started to race around the track, the jeeps drove alongside honking and shouting and cheering the riders on. It was amazing there were no accidents.

Amanda, Aunt Ella and Uncle Ben jumped into their jeep and followed along as well. They could hardly see what was happening through the swirling, brown, clouds of camel and jeep dust. The scene was changing so fast that Amanda was having trouble getting photographs.

“This is so cool!” she said, as she took a drink of her water to wash the dust out of her parched throat. She was glad she brought it along. Although it was still morning it was already hot, but the heat didn't take away any of her enjoyment of the race.

The men in the
dishdashas
waited at the end of the track to catch hold of the camels and help the boys dismount. Everyone talked and laughed at the same time. It was impossible to tell who had actually won. It didn't seem to matter.

Amanda and her family went back to where Ali Baba was sitting. A young man of about eighteen handed out cold drinks and snacks from Ali Baba's packs to the jockeys. He looked at Amanda as if he knew her. “Would you like a drink, Miss?”

“Go ahead,” said Uncle Ben and pointed towards a red SUV. “We'll be right over there. I see someone I want to talk to.”

Amanda walked over to the young man and the camel. “Hi, Ali Baba.” The camel looked at her, grunted, and seemed to give her a familiar nod.

“I am Mohammed,” the young man introduced himself. He leaned closer to Amanda as he gave her not only a soft drink but a message. “I am a friend of Shamza. She said you could be trusted. We must get Ali Baba back to her so she can get somewhere safe. You must help.”

“This is Princess Shamza's camel? This is her Ali Baba?” Amanda asked, as Ali Baba made a low, groaning noise.

“Yes,” whispered Mohammed. “He was sold to the camel ranch so she could have some money, but now she needs him.” Mohammed glanced back at Ali Baba and shrugged. “The camel does not feel right, he misses his princess.”

Amanda felt sorry for the princess and her camel pining for her. Without hesitation, she asked, “How can I help?”

“Come to the camel ranch in two days and ask for a ride on Ali Baba. No other camel will do,” Mohammed spoke quickly as the group of boys who waited for a soft drink continued to grow. “I will be your guide this time. You must believe in me and trust me.” He looked directly into her eyes before he turned away to hand out more drinks.

“Ready to go Amanda? Your aunt is getting too hot out here.”

“Coming,” called Amanda in a daze. ‘What have I got myself into now?' She looked back at Ali Baba before she climbed into the jeep. She was sure she saw a large tear roll down his cheek.