Feline Feelings

A cowrie shell that looked like a half closed eye of a newt or the hump of a charging bull was resting on a discarded and badly crushed soda can. Countless partially-crushed limestone blocks scattered all over the place decorating the coarse sand dunes from which the fine dust was being perpetually sifted and blown over the faces of those who frequent the place irritating their nostrils and eyes. When walked upon, the coarse sand would splutter and hiss then yield the right of way like a desert viper. A coast that has pebble beaches scattered like antique gems displayed artistically with the perfection of the most alluring dress on a super model .
Suakin: a haunted place, a ghost town and a neglected cradle of history for a nation that has been plagued with the incurable pestilence of conflict and warmongering.
The ruins of the ancient sea port of Suakin tend to give the novice traveler the first impression of an unwelcoming destination. For the mature and experienced veteran tourist, Suakin displays the romantic features of a sacred site with all the anticipated scars, wrinkles and furrows of a solemn and aged face on which time has planted and harvested scores of unpleasant situations and a somewhat unique unforgettable predicament.
It was a quiet Thursday summer morning right after sunrise and the seaside at Old Suakin wasn't that busy. It was the end of Sha'aban, and the Holy Month of Ramadan was lingering close behind. Almost everyone in the community was sporting a ramadanic mood of one sort or another. There were a couple of young men strolling lazily by the seaside sniffing the morning breeze which was refreshingly doctored with the strong saline and damp smell of dead or dying marine life. There were some medium waves which were smoothly caressing, the submersed sponge and coral reef colonies but rush towards the protruding coastal rocks and boulders and hug them lustly, crashing with a bosom-crushing embrace.
Musa was physically and mentally exhausted by the time he reached the seaside at Suakin having walked all the way from the only arterial asphalt road to the west of the town. The bus had earlier dumped him with his few belongings after a long journey heading east from his drought-stricken, famine-squeezed village in rural DarFur.The village where he used to call home has finally been ravaged and devoured by the on-going skirmishes. Seeing the sun rising from the east and his people facing east for prayer, like many of his peers, he thought there must be hope in the east at last.
"Alhamdulillah, that must be the legendary sea of salt" he said to himself soothingly. His mouth was dry, his hair tousled and with clothes that had caked on his sweaty skin, he managed with difficulty to clear a spot on the ground, sat himself down and relaxed. Next to him, a couple of boys were slouched over a dilapidated ancient wooden table reading magazines. Lulled by the fresh air and quacking seagulls hovering overhead,he soon fell into a gentle slumber. He felt like day dreaming at first. He kept staring in the vast sea ahead of him while battling the raging emotions and conflicting issues dvastating his mental peace. Hypnotized by the unfamiliar surroundings and broken down by fatique, he closed his eyes and slept profoundly. While asleep, he had this conversation in a dream:
-"Did you see that fat-assed cat with silky golden fur?" asked the bearded old man clothed in rags
-"The one on the rock you mean"? Musa said.
-"exactly". "That cat has been living here since the days of King Solomon I think and Suakin by then was a mere neglected military and trading outpost set aside as a prison for the rebellious groups of demons and tribespeople." added the old man.
Musa, with his arguementative nature and with the influence of the cultural and religious background and upbringing he has had, refuted back skeptically, "but cats don't live that long I presume!"
-"Haven't you heared, my son, that cats enjoy remarkable longevity in general, and that those of Suakin in particular were granted the privilege of enjoying nine lives before any of the other feline tribes were even blessed by the status of cathood?"
Musa felt uncomfortable and seriously concerned. Even cats have tribes of their own! That means they suffer the consequences of whatever comes with that: tribal warfare, claim to aristoracy and nobility, social stratum,religious, social and racial bigotry to name but a few.
TO CONTIUE...

(Edited by Suliman Tibin on 10-11-2009, 04:50 PM)
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(Edited by Suliman Tibin on 10-13-2009, 04:35 PM)

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