Jandal - the name of a stone

By René Maori
(Translated from Russian by Rene Maori)

- Abu, the sun is rising, - I say to Naji, as soon as I notice the sky getting lighter.
It's my duty to wake him up for the morning ablution and Fajr*. The water jug is ready, covered with a cloth and placed on a stone. The mentor mumbles something and gets up with difficulty. In the darkness, still half-asleep, he can't see me clearly, but as always, his intuition doesn't fail him:
- You didn't sleep all night? - he asks.
- I said goodbye to sleeping yesterday, - I replied. - And today I was bidding farewell to the moon and stars.
Naji begins his ablution. A drop of water on his palm - we need to conserve water. There's a spring behind the big rock, but soldiers are stationed there. And we can only approach them once. They are our enemies. Behind us in the mountains, another enemy is lurking, but they will never shoot us in the back, so we are at ease.
Naji takes a worn prayer rug and goes to pray on a small elevation to the left of the cave. He always prays there. I also spread out my rug, but making sure he's not looking at me, I freeze in place, gazing at the brightening sky. It's the second day of a dust storm, as if specially prepared for me by Allah. The sunrise is orange, and Naji's figure appears completely black. I see him putting his open palms to his ears, and I hear:
"Alla-a-a-hu akbar..."
But I don't pray, even though I know it's a sin. Today, all my sins will be forgiven. I listen to myself, somewhere inside an unfamiliar feeling of despair and indignation is growing.
Naji is like a father to me. In my fourteen years, I've never received so much care from anyone, but I always knew that a day would come when I would fully repay him for everything, he so generously gave me. I've known about my purpose since I began to understand words, and only four years ago, this knowledge turned into a ticking bomb that now constantly counts down the minutes of my life. For four years, we've been sleeping in caves and under the open sky, in dust, heat, and cold, moving further and further from home. "Man comes to earth for suffering, but then paradise bliss awaits him," Naji always says. And he adds: "Praise be to Allah, Lord of the worlds."
- Hey, Jandal**, - Naji touches my shoulder, I didn't even notice him approach. - What are you thinking about? Here, eat instead.
He hands me a cup of water and a piece of thin flatbread. The water smells slightly of rot, but the flatbread is so dry that it can be eaten for a long time. I look at the gray stone. If I knew how to write, I would carve my name on it. So that someone could read it later.
- Abu, show me how to write my name.
- Why do you need that? - he asks grumpily. But still, he draws a few squiggles in the sand. - Like this.
But I don't have time to examine them properly, a hot wind blows in and instantly turns my name into mere waves of dust.
-That's how it is, - Naji laughs, - when there's a person - there's a name. And when there isn't..., - he makes an expressive gesture. - Only Allah is eternal.
The radio crackles, and Naji walks away, probably so that I can't hear what he's saying. What difference does it make - I know anyway. And for some reason, I don't want to think about it.
- If it is Allah's will, - he says upon returning, - you'll move out right after Asr***. The sign will be a helicopter. A helicopter with supplies should arrive for them. It's about an hour's walk there. You know, we came from there ourselves. When you arrive, it will already be twilight. You'll approach the camp and ask for water. Do you understand everything? You'll do it all by yourself, right? Or else...
- No, don't. I'll do it myself.
Time drags slowly. And I begin to feel such anguish, as if a pile of stones has been heaped upon my heart.
- Abu, - I plead, - let's go to the mountains. There...
He looks at me with surprised eyes:
- You've been honored to serve Allah, and you want to run away? I envy you so much, for today you'll perform your last prayer surrounded by angels. Izrail himself will lead you to heaven. On your right hand, Jibril himself will pray, on your left - Mikail. Who else will be granted such an honor? - Naji bares his teeth in a smile.
I look at his mouth and think that when I'm gone, he'll return to his village, along with his faded keffiyeh and chipped teeth. What would he do here alone - he'll return home.
- I shouldn't think like this, I shouldn't, - I tell myself, but I can't help it. Thoughts are like flies, no matter how much you chase them away, they'll still overcome you.
Now we're silent. I sadly survey the rusty world spread out around us. Naji dozes off, using his backpack as a pillow. Then I wake him up, and he goes to the hill with his prayer rug again, while I once more don't pray, fully aware that I'm damning my soul. But the words of prayer won't come to my tongue, I can't force myself to utter them. And yet, it seems, I should be feeling joy. At least, that's what Naji promised me.
Shortly before Asr, Naji goes into a cave and brings out a plastic bag. I know that it contains a new thing that I would rather not look at with my eyes.
He carefully takes out a heavy vest, entangled with wires, and lays it out on the stone. He cautiously sorts through the wires, connecting something. With gentle movements, he smooths the dense fabric and seems to even purr something under his breath, as if talking to a child.
- Come closer, Jandal, I'll help you put this on.
The heavy vest presses unpleasantly on my shoulders. I repeat to myself: "My name is Jandal. I am fourteen years old. Today, I must die." Naji busies himself around me, fastening numerous Velcro straps and buckles, adjusting colorful wires, and finally handing me a beautiful button. If I weren't thinking about death right now, I would surely admire it. The button is transparent like dawn and crimson like the sunrise. It's fitting that in the last moment of one's life, they see something beautiful. Naji steps back and admires:
- Allah will be pleased—you are a true shahid.
"Today I will die."
- What is this? — two wires end up in the dust at my feet. I hadn't even noticed how I accidentally tore them off. Naji shakes his head in frustration and removes the vest from me. - What are you doing? Now I'll have to fix it, - he says.
- Only after the prayer, - I reply spitefully. - It's time for Asr.
The prayer rugs are laid out side by side. This time, Naji doesn't go to pray alone.
- I swear by the declining day, truly every man is in loss, except those who believe, perform righteous deeds, exhort one another to truth, and exhort one another to patience in obedience to God, avoiding sin, - I repeat after him. But suddenly, it feels as though I stop hearing him. I say other words: "Oh Allah, merciful and compassionate, I am only fourteen years old. Why do you need my life? I swear, I agree to drink only rotten water and eat only stale bread—just don't make me die. You see, I am in despair, but how can I disobey my elder? He said this is your will. But if this is not your will, then give me a sign so that I am not among those in loss, even as a believer."
I keep repeating this, and at some point, I realize that the world around me has changed. A strange low hum grows louder. Right above the earth appears a huge silvery disk with thick edges. It’s so large that its distant edge disappears beyond the horizon while its front obscures the mountains behind us. And I cannot understand whether it’s made of metal or clouds. The light dims: the earth vibrates.
- Abu! - I shout, - Allah has appeared to me!
But my voice fades in the growing noise. At that moment, I noticed a small helicopter in the distance, a sign that it was time for me to leave. But Allah is merciful; he sends fire to the earth. Flames begin to pour directly onto the desert, the mountains, the stones. I see the helicopter ignite like an insect caught in a burning lamp, and its frame breaks in half. I feel the fire touch my face and fall, blinded by the divine light.
Suddenly, everything stops. I open my eyes and feel pain. My face is burned, my hair and eyelashes are singed, my clothes have turned to rags. Naji is nearby. He's still in a prayer position - on his knees.
- Abu, - I call. "We're alive. Allah himself has granted life to us."
But he's silent and doesn't move. I touch his shoulder, and from this touch, Naji's body suddenly crumbles, turning into a pile of gray ash. He disappears, just as my name disappeared in the sand, and only the wind raises the gray dust - all that remains of my mentor.
For more than two hours, I make my way to the big rock - it radiates heat but no longer burns, like a cooling stove. I climb on it and look down into the valley, where the soldiers should be, where the camp is set up. And although I can barely see anything in the twilight, I know there's nothing there, only scorched earth and ash. The sounds of explosions that always accompanied us are not heard either. Nothing. Only dead silence. I carefully descend from the rock - in places, it's slippery like glass. It is glass, which the sand has turned into. Somewhere here was the spring from which we took water. Steam bursts from the crevice. It's under high pressure and whistles as if a kettle is boiling in the rock. I lean down, and overcoming the pain in my burned body, try to see something. I'm very thirsty. And then I lose my last strength, and with it, the sense of time. A strange state of oblivion comes when you feel everything but can't move.
Night falls very quickly, followed by dawn. I start shivering from the cold - the rock has cooled, and the steam has disappeared, but there's no water in the spring - it has all evaporated. Several more hours or days pass, and once I hear a faint sound - water is returning. From some depths, defying both fire and ash, it returns to me to prevent me from dying. Allah saves me again. I struggle to open my swollen eyes - it's night again around me. And only below, where the spring is being reborn, a faint glow can be seen. It becomes stronger and stronger, and finally, a fountain of glowing water hits me right in the face, bursting blisters and burning wounds. I greedily swallow it, knowing that I'm drinking not salvation, but death.

*Fajr: The dawn prayer in Islam, one of the five daily prayers.
** Jandal: The narrator's name, as mentioned in the title.
*** Asr: The afternoon prayer in Islam, one of the five daily prayers.