Ayman took me to an ancient part of town. He had to park the car and walk as the stone alleys were so narrow that even the sun couldn't get down into the labyrinth of warrens and dens, shops and stalls. I perused so many beautifully laid out stalls with exotic items that my senses were overwhelmed for a while. I purchased a few oddities and some sugar dates and pistachios when finally, I could take it no more and asked Ayman for a break.
He took me through a dozen intertwined alleys finally arriving at a tidy stall that had tea and lunch and low and behold, some backgammon tables where locals where playing a few matches. Lined with obviously very old ornately-carved dark mahogany panels, it was well outfitted with a new flat-screen tv above the counter with a cricket match on, a high end computer serving as the register and something very cool – an old British phone booth by the entrance where there was a small lineup of men waiting to make their calls while a fellow was in the booth talking rapidly.
We had a light and delicious lunch and sat down to play. I have been playing backgammon for years so knew how to play, when to double, how to make bad rolls work in my favor, when to take a risk and when to capitulate so I looked forward to playing some of the locals who after all have been playing the game for centuries.
It seems that I was a bit of an oddity – an American who knew how to play this ancient game so as Ayman and I played a couple of matches and I beat him soundly some of the locals took interest. Ayman translated when some of the locals decided to open up a bit and talk. They asked where I was from and how long I had been playing and if I enjoyed playing for money and when I grinned and nodded there was a general round of smiles and knowing laughter.
All this time an odd-looking and obviously ancient man was sitting in the back corner on a pile of silk and hide pillows with a hookah slowly being drawn and bubbling through his grey thin lips – dark and brooding, his eyes black with huge silver eyebrows and a beard flowing to his knees that would make Merlin proud. The wrinkles that creased his face were deep chasms showing many years of hardship and toil. He seemed never to blink and I felt his eyes boring into me when I wasn't furtively glancing at him. There was something odd about him but since the other fellows in the stall never acknowledged him I let it go.
Ayman was not a seasoned player so I figured now was the time to put years of playing to the test. The first few rounds with my new acquaintances did not go well and I lost quite a few Euro – much to their pleasure and amusement - but then I began to hold my own and win some of my losses back.
After a few hours my butt was sore and I couldn't drink more tea so it was time to wrap it up. The locals told Ayman that I was a good player and because I had treated them with respect and was both a good loser as well as a gracious winner that I could come and play with them anytime.
The odd staring gentleman that had unnerved me appeared by my side out of nowhere and in halting English said that he was delighted with my visit. He then said something very strange, quietly so that only I could hear: "It is late for the hour of your arrival but now that you are here it is a good sign of things to come." His hands were icy cold and hard as iron as he grasped mine firmly in his, in a weird welcoming two-handed grasp.
All of a sudden I saw lives like movies flash before my mind in rapid fire and felt faint and flushed, like swirling in a ghostly whirlpool cloud but with your life as an instant movie. I felt something being thrust into my hand and as my head cleared I was vaguely aware that Ayman had continued to translate what the locals were saying to me. I shook my head to clear away the strange fogginess and looked about and the old man was gone, as were the pillows in his corner. My head cleared further as I bowed unsteadily to each of them bidding goodbye and saying I would be honored to return. I asked Ayman about the old man and where he had gone to which he looked directly into my eyes, puzzled, and asked "what old man?"
Back at the house as my head finally cleared, Ayman wrote out directions of how to return to the little backgammon parlor as he would not be available for a week due to his lecture schedule. I undressed and prepared for bed. As I cleared my pockets I found a heavy metallic object with very old and subtle Moorish scroll work etched into the surface. It was from all appearances made of hematite and shaped like a big flat yet smooth sugar date. I held and looked at it carefully and there lay a fine line of almost microscopic smooth green stones. I put it carefully aside in the drawer and went off to shower and sleep.
A few days and several more nights of frustrating attempts at getting the local women to acknowledge my presence passed. I went back to the club where I had seen the beautiful rust haired woman and though I saw her again she would not even make eye contact this time. I was tiring of trying so thought it would be polite to return to the little parlor a play a few rounds of backgammon with my new acquaintances.
I rummaged through the bedside drawer and found the directions Ayman had written down. I also spotted the metallic object laying there as something compelled me to pick it up. I looked at it carefully again and noticed with interest and awe that the stones ringing the object were now purple. Out of amusement I lay it my palm. I gasped and reeled as I felt my entire body go rigid, then extremely hot, then icy cold and then nothing... nothing at all.
I awoke face down on the bed wondering what had happened. I took a few moments as I drew some deep breaths and slowly arose. When finally standing I realized that I felt fantastic. I felt alive and energized, clear-headed more than any other time in my life and fresh. I looked at my hand and there was now what appeared to be an emblazoned tattoo of the same shape and size as the metal date in my palm. I felt the area and noticing it was warm I put on my glasses and notice that what at first appeared to be just a plain grey tattoo was actually extraordinary fine lettering and scroll work like I had seen on the object, almost like a henna tattoo.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed I pondered the circumstances and was wondering what to do and if I should stop by a hospital, when I remembered my plan of going to play some backgammon at the old bazaar stall and thinking further I wanted to question the old man about this thing that he had slipped me.
