Shei Omar

French North Africa 1923

Lady Mary Westlake was looking down at the endless rows of sand dunes. Her 10 year older brother Charles was steering his biplane towards the south. While at first around the coast they had still seen many small villages and oasis and even caravans for hours the landscape had been an empty expanse.

Now however they were coming up to a mountain that seem to appear out of nowhere on the horizon. "Looks like an old volcano," her brother shouted. Mary looked in wonder at the small lakes and the trees surrounding the magma flow. It was beautiful. All that water in this endless dry environment.

The small plane kept heading south. Mary was left alone with her thoughts.

Her brother and legal guardian had inherited the title of Earl of Davenport a couple of years ago after their cousin had succumbed to the effects of being gassed during the Great War. So the big house and the title had gone to the orphan Charles. But the death-taxes had been so heavy that he had struggled to maintain the house and in the end had decided to sell and buy a farm in Rhodesia.

Charles had been an aviator in the war and had decided he would take the opportunity to travel from England to Rhodesia by plane in a record time and so maybe make a name for himself as an airplane instructor too. As it was obvious that aviation was going to be the future.

Mary just had turned 18 and had just finished her boarding school for ladies and had to follow her brother's orders as she was still under age. So that got her now in a plane looking down at the Sahara desert. Charles planned to land in the afternoon in the big oasis town where they would refuel at the small military airfield and spend the night.

The plane started to make a weird noise. "Hold on. I have to make an emergency landing," shouted Charles.

He managed to land the plane safely.

When the motor had cooled off enough he went looking for the cause of the malfunction while Mary waited for him in the shade of one of the wings.

"I cannot repair it Mary. A bolt came loose and damaged the motor. I best get back to that lake oasis and get us some help. I think we will end up travelling all the way to the airfield to get new parts before we continue. You best stay here as I am more trained for a long march as a former military man. How much water do we have left?"

Charles had wrapped his head with his spare shirt and grabbed two of their water bottles leaving her the other bottles and had marched off north for the lakes.

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That had been two days ago and Mary had run out of water by now. She prayed her brother would come soon. When he had not returned when it got dark she had lighted a fire on the crest of the nearest high hill fuelled by some of their luggage and some bits of the plane. Hoping he would see the fire on his way back. It did not much in keeping her warm in the very cold night.

Charles had not come and so had no one else. There was no one to be seen. She also did not see any rescue plane coming to look for them. The second night she lighted a fire again and made it a very big one this time using parts of the plane. Charles could always rebuild it. Again no one came.

After having spend a day in the shade with no water left she had resorted to drinking her urine. She felt how her strength was deserting her. She was sure she was going to die. That night she could not get up anymore to build a fire. Shivering on her spot under the wing she dreamt of a figure on a camel who bend down towards her.

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Sheikh Omar considered himself a learned man. Not only could he recite the Holy Book he could actually read it himself. And not only that book. He had some others as well. One he certainly liked was a book about the world with maps and drawings of far away places. He could still remember how he had stared at the sea when his father had allowed him to accompany him and his caravan for the first time. And now his country was ruled by the French infidels he had even take it up on himself to learn to speak their language as well. It would help with the trade for his deep desert realm. To sell the dates, apricots and henna the grew in the big oasis. And the trade in his famous camels that he raised.

His caravan was on its way back to their oasis after a successful trip to the coast. They had sold their local products and stocked up on things the locals would want to buy. So far all was well. This morning they left the Mosquito oasis with his old caldera and lakes after having spent a few days there so their camels could rest and drink and so could they.

After half an hour they stumbled upon the corpse. Sheikh Omar noticed the man was a foreigner. It was obvious he had died of thirst in the desert. Omar looked at the trail he had left in the sand. Would the guy have tried to reach the oasis? Sheikh Omar wondered if this man had come from the plane they had seen circling the oasis a few days ago.

They buried the dead man and Sheikh Omar told his men they would follow the trail and see where it would lead them as it was more or less the direction they had to go anyway. He would love to see a flying machine with his own eyes. And maybe they would find a name to the guy so his family would know where he had died.

He had been quite strong as it took the caravan hours to reach the plane.

"There is someone there!" shouted his scout brandishing his gun. But the discovered it was a young woman who seemed to have died like her husband. But when Omar felt for the vein in her neck he still felt a pulse. "She lives but she is not far from death. She is gravely ill. Not only from thirst but also a running a fever." He looked at the young woman not more than a girl. Her lips crusted, her long yellow hair matted. Carefully he dripped some water in her mouth, stroking her neck so she would swallow.

His men searched the plane while he kept dripping water in her mouth. She felt like she was burning up. Has she been drinking her own urine and were her kidneys now ill? Samir found paperwork in the plane and brought them to the Sheikh. But he realised that if he wanted this beauty to live he had to hurry. So he scoped her in his arms and mounted his camel again. "We have to hurry back to the oasis and see if we are in time to cool her down so her fever will break."

So they hurried back and he took pain to hold her comfortable and let her sip little bits of water. When they reached the oasis again he walked with her into the lake to let the cold water cool her down. He ordered Samir to look in his luggage and find his spare robe he had used during his trade negotiations.

After a while he started to peel off her soiled cloths that seemed to suffocate her. Beneath her cloths she was wrapped in a strange contraption that imprisoned her breasts and her whole torso and hips. He tore all off her. The cold water pebbled her pink nipples. Caring he washed away where she had soiled herself. He looked at her silent face. Her hair now it was wet a lot darker. Her sunburned face a big contrast with her milky white breasts and belly. He realised she was the first woman he held in his arms naked since his beloved wife had died three years ago.

He walked out of the water cradling her to his breast. He dressed her in his best robe. His men had pitched up a tent and they placed her on a carpet inside. They debated what they should do to safe her. Give her water? Cool her forehead and wrists? Should she have something to eat? The girls was still unconscious.

Sheikh Omar kept a vigil deep into the night. He chewed on dates until they were so mixed with his saliva that the mixture was a kind of soup he could feed her. Old Ali suggested to mix sugar with water and let her drink that. He told the Sheikh to sleep next to them while he would take his turn watching the girl.

The next morning the girl looked a lot better but she had still not opened her eyes although her fever was down. The Sheikh wondered what colour her eyes were. Omar was stoking her now curly hair urging her to wake up. To live.

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