“Tin Hinan” Chapter 4

TIN HINAN
Chapter 4

We walked out of the oasis and back into the ergs, the sand dunes.  Within days the mountains loomed before us, and we knew we were approaching the highlands.   As we got closer, these mountains were thickly covered with forests.  We were still in the foothills with their endless hammadas, stony deserts where our beasts stumbled at times,   but we were making our way to the beginning of the highlands. Before we saw scrub bushes and tough grasses and little else.  Now, at entrance to the highlands, we could see cypress and wild olives along with doum palm, oleander, date palms and thyme. As we entered the forests, it was such a shock to our eyes and noses!  The scents of the woodlands filled our nostrils, and our beasts grazed their fill as we made camp in the evening.  Owls hooted from high branches and hunted by night, the screams of their prey startling us as we huddled around a small, banked fire.

Both of us were uneasy.  The forest was alien territory.  In the desert, we could see all around, and although exposed to the elements, we could see what approached. In the highland forest thick canopy of trees obscured any ‘visitors’. We moved in dappled sunlight, gloomy after the white light and heat of the desert.

Springs and small streams, fresh water in abundance, were gifts to our senses. We could bathe ourselves and replenish our water skins. Takama found an herb when crushed would produce an acrid smelling lather and we could finally wash our hair. Of course, mine was shorn short, but it was a blessing to be clean.  We washed our robes and laid them upon limbs to dry while we sat in our gauzy white undergowns, munching our dwindling date supply.

Niefa, my camel, tucked her legs under her body and got as comfortable as she could.  The forest floor was hard walking for her, better were her padded feet on the desert sands.  The climb each day was hard on Niefa, but easier on Takama’s donkey.

“Aicha!”  Takama called out from the bank of the stream.

“Throw me your knife, the donkey has picked up a stone in her hoof.”

I threw my short knife to Takama and sitting with my back against Niefa, watched as she cleaned the stone from the hoof. Niefa chewed her cud happily, pushing her head into my shoulder, wanting me to scratch behind her ears.  She was grumbling and making silly grunts and groans, and if she could reach, she would search my pockets for dried fruits, her favorite treat.

“Niefa!” I yelled, hitting her on the nose, “stop eating my ear!”  Her big fleshly lips were nibbling on me and soon she would be tearing my clothes.  She did this when she felt she wasn’t getting enough attention.

That evening, we retrieved our dried clothes, and dressed for the cold night. I always wore my turban for the nighttime insects could be kept from my face by the veil. Leaning on Niefa as she groaned softly and was closing her large brown eyes, I was lulled by Takama’s softly singing a song of our tribe. I folded my robes around me, and was drifting off to sleep.  The fire was low and we were tired, for we had climbed for hours that day and the going was steep.  We settled on a plateau on a ridge, by the narrow stream, and looked down through the trees at a small valley far below.  Darkness was falling early. We were getting used to that for the season was changing.  Fireflies were twinkling like earthbound stars as they settled amongst the foliage.

Suddenly Takama stopped singing, her eyes wide with surprise. Takama pointed over my shoulder, too scared for speech. I turned in the direction of her hand, jumped up and grabbed my sword, she running behind me. There was a man, with his own sword in hand, staring at us. Almost immediately, other dark robed men appeared from behind trees, calling softly to each other. We could hear the sound of laughter shared amongst them. Then a man walked from behind a tree, closer to us, and addressed us in some alien language.  I had raised my sword menacingly, though we both were defenseless with so many.

“Before the Gods and Goddesses, what are two young girls doing in the mountains?”

He was a very large man, as tall as our Berber people, and we were known for our height. Perhaps he was a Berber, but perhaps also the hated Arab.  With my heart sinking I supposed we had fallen into the hands of raiders. The language difference would account for that.

“I am not a girl, I am a man and this is my wife.”  I pitched my voice low, but I was shaking.  All we feared was standing before us. Laughter erupted from the men who now seemed to surround us.

Then I realized I had not placed my veil over my face.  Except for the faint blue coloring across my cheeks and nose, I probably looked like a girl.  My men’s clothing not withstanding, I would appear female to them.

Takama started to moan in fear behind me, I trying to hush her softly.

“Aicha, Aicha”. Fear was making her voice waver.  “We are lost, undone.  Oh, why did you lead us out of our home to this fate? Aiiiiieee!”

Her wail annoyed me, and I wanted to beat her with my fists, but I knew I had more problems before me than the slave behind.  I, too, was afraid, and my voice shook as I addressed the obvious leader before me.

“If you come near us, I will kill you with my sword.  Leave us alone, we are poor travelers.”  I raised my sword before me, with both hands holding the grip.  I had seen the men all my life practice in camp, mock battles where sometimes blood was drawn.  Being female, I was not allowed to touch weapons, for in our traditions, a woman handling weapons would make them turn in a man’s hand.

This black turbaned man looked at us, and then squatted down on his haunches.  His position was one meant to disarm our fears, but I was having none of it.

I did not relax my guard, and spread my feet wide to steady myself.  Takama continued to whimper behind me and plucked at my robe in fear.

The squatting man laid his curved sword over his knees, for no Berber would lay it on the ground unless it was a death blow that made him drop it.

“So you are called “Aicha” by your wife. Now, what a strange name for a man, if you be one.”

He pulled his veil down around his mouth and grinned at me.  Big white teeth were like bleached bones even in the dimming light of the evening.

“I can see for myself that you were never a man, nor will you ever be one.  Your woman’s figure is too full to play that and besides, you have no beard on your face.”

He continued to grin and then his voice turned serious.  “Now tell me, what are your names, and don’t lie to me.  What are you two girls doing in these mountains?

I was silent for a moment, weighting what I would say to him, and how much to reveal.

“My name is Tin Hinan, and I go on this journey to meet my destiny.”

There was some hooting at my words, and I looked up at the men before us on the ridge with as fierce an expression on my face as I could muster.

“Tin Hinan, huh?” he said with a dismissive shake of his head. “Not too inventive for a woman who wears men’s clothing.  “Nomadic Woman” is not very poetic, and since the Berber women are good poets, one would think you would call yourself something with more music.”

His comment made the men laugh and I again threw a fearsome glance.

“Well, “Tin Hinan” you will be, at least amongst us, but you will also join us for we soon return to our own tribe.

“Are you the Arab raiders?” I asked, my voice still wavering.

They all laughed and a few spit on the ground.

The man before us looked over both sides of his shoulders as if this was a great joke and smiled broadly, getting to his feet in one smooth motion.

“No, we aren’t Arabs, but you could say we are raiders. Now, let’s see what your beasts are carrying and if you present a danger to us.”

Of course, this was absurd, but we were in no position to resist.  But my next concern was for Niefa.

With Takama still behind me, hanging close to my back, I moved towards Niefa and she grumbled and groaned and got to her feet.  She was so beautiful in the dim light, like the moon fallen to the earth, so white and shining.  Niefa took that moment to nudge me in the shoulder, throwing me off balance and when a camel pushes, you feel it’s superior strength.

“Niefa, stop it!” I scolded her in a whisper.  She was not helping the situation.

The big man walked up like he had no fear of my sword or my using it, and laid his hand on Niefa’s hump.  He stroked her and scratched her, and Niefa shook herself, and groaned in delight.  She was an attention seeker and would take pleasure where she found it.

I looked at Niefa and thought how much of a traitor she was in her affections, and that little moment of my distraction was my undoing.  With the speed like a desert cheetah, the man leaped at me and before I could even think had knocked the sword from my hands.  He was fast and I found myself sprawled on the ground before him, he standing over me, scowling.  I believed at that moment my life over, and raised my eyes to him and spoke.

“Take my life, but spare my slave.  She is blameless.  I forced her to follow from our tribe. And don’t kill my camel, her name is Niefa and she is young.”

His face softened at my words.  He held out his hand and pulled me to my feet.  I was shaking, still not sure of what was to happen.

“Well, Tin Hinan, you have no reason to fear us.  We are raiders, not murderers of young women.  You, your slave and your camel, will join us on our journey back over the mountain, but you will not wear the man’s veil or clothes with us.  It is an abomination for a woman to do so.  First, you don’t deserve to wear the veil and then, you defile your God-given beauty with man’s clothes. Come, we treat such brave women with respect.  And don’t worry about your camel.  She will have the company of her own kind in our settlement.”

We crossed the mountain and then another one, and within the time of a new risen moon, we came to a mountain ksar.  Here, amongst a strange tribe, my life began anew.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2007, 2009

Tags: 6th Century Berber Queen, Arabs, Berbers, desert, erotica, Tin Hinan