“Wake-up Fatimé, I can see the star you told me about, it’s time to go!”
Fatimé peeks out from under her blanket, “yes, that’s the star”, so she and
I get down off the bed, she heads off to milk the camels, and I try
frantically to re-kindle the fire. In the end, it’s her husband who takes
pity on me and gets it going so that I can put the kettle on. There’s no
water to put in the kettle, so we take milk instead; can’t do anything about
the lack of water to wash with…. Fatimé puts the milk on to boil as I
quickly read my Scripture passage for the day. There’s not much time to
read and pray because we must set off early. Fatimé needs to get her milk
to town so that people will buy it for their breakfast.
We set off through the scrub, walking at a good pace so that we can cover the 10kms and be in sight of town at daybreak. Fatimé steps out with the assurance of one who has grown up without light; I stumble along behind,
tripping over odd protrusions, and praying that I won’t fall. As we go we are joined by other women. Most of the conversation is around the amount of milk they have to sell today.
Nothing else stirs this morning, not even a hyena; we stride on heading for town. Daylight begins to break, and that’s the signal for a short pause. The women put down their heavy pots, share out any water that they have and
start their ablutions, and then pray. The first one finished calls to me, “you walk with us, and live with us, when are you going to learn to pray and fast?” I assure the ladies that I do pray and fast. But since they have never seen me pray as they do, it really doesn’t count. From their pont of view there is only Islam and paganism! Fatimé later assures them that I do pray, but it’s a funny kind of prayer, as she sees it, I just sit there and don’t worry about
which way I’m facing, or anything important like that. She also confides that I pray in English, which of course provokes howls of laughter. Even the children know that Arabic is the language of God, and of prayer, which is a part of why this people are so proud of their heritage…. they are Arab nomads come down from the middle east and descended from the man they consider to be the final prophet.
Daily I walk with them, and talk with them, but how long will it be until they see the light?