Chapter Two – Ali

A long line of white creamliners drifted past at impressively fine turtle pace, way up there. Wherever they were going, they were in no rush getting there. And just as well, for neither was Ali. They were the nomads of the sky. He was a nomad of the earth. At least, that's how he felt much of the time.

In something like mild disbelief, he looked up at the pale blue sky through the dense canopy of the great cedar tree, hands folded behind his head. High above, seagulls soared and drifted playfully about in the sunny windstreams. He carefully eyed the winged creatures painting invisible circles on the perfect blue canvas of the clear spring sky. Floating on the wind with such effortless ease...however do they do it? It was one of many miracles he couldn't quite get his head around. And that was fine by him. After all, he didn't have to understand it all. Simply appreciating the many wonders around him felt like plenty. The only thing he felt confident that he truly understood, was the simple fact that he could understand very little of the miraculous workings of the natural world.

Lying on his back in the short spring-grass, he pulled his grey sheepskin hat down over his dark-brown eyes and closed them, trying to feel how it might be like being a bird on the wings.

....

He sighed deeply in satisfaction.

Now wouldn't that be something.

Slowly he opened his eyes and got to his feet, casually brushing off grass and dirt from his brown sheepskin vest. Leaning absent-mindedly on a shepherds crook, for a while he simply swayed gently with the wind. Part of him seemed to still be up there soaring side by side with the seagulls. He looked at one of the seagulls that had landed on the field, strutting around, sometimes pecking holes in the grass. God, what amazing posture it had. Such innate purpose and intent in every craning and turning of its long sleek neck. His back straightened instinctively in response.

Startled, the seagull suddenly takes to the air as a black and white dog is about to leap playfully at it.

Ali shook his head smiling and curved his hands around his mouth.

'Salaa-aam' Ali suddenly called with a high and clear voice that boomed across the vast, open field. 'Salaaaaaaam' he called again, setting the dog off at a dash towards him. In mere seconds it was at his feet wagging its long bushy black and white tail.

'Come here buddy.' Ali said with genuine affection, reaching out his hand to give the collie a thorough scratching behind its ears. Salaam was the name Ali had given it when they first met, more than five years ago. It was a word he really loved to yell out loud over the open field. It meant 'peace' in Ali's language, and he figured that maybe if he called for peace many enough times, then perhaps someday, it might just come for real. Maybe someday, peace would fill the heart of every person, every little town and village, land and city. He knew it was a silly thing to wish for, and perhaps only a fool's hope, but it was the honest and simple wish of his heart. For despite his young age, he knew that there was much trouble and unrest to be found beyond the peaceful hills of his home. Either way, just the simple act of calling out 'salaam' brought Ali himself much peace and joy. What's more, it seemed to make Salaam happy as well.

The two had first met when he was no more than an overgrown puppy. That was when Ali had first started to work as a shepherd, tending a small herd of a few dozen sheep for an old farmer. Before that, Ali had lived in the capital of Minfadlak, at a large public orphanage. He had never met his parents, and life at the orphanage had been anything but a happy one. He'd never forget the feeling of relief he felt when farmer Kamir agreed to take him in and gave him Salaam to help tend the herd. The two had hit it off from the very first wag and had been inseparable ever since. Kamir had told him that for as long as he'd be tending the herd, Salaam would be his dog. 'His dog..?' Ali had frowned in bewilderment at first. However could one own the life of another living creature? Now that was something he definitely couldn't get his head around. Salaam was absolutely not 'his dog'. He was his friend and companion. An equal which he just happened to be so fortunate to as be looking after in some ways. Sometimes when he visited the capital, he would hear how many people talked to their dogs, and feel very awkward. Often they talked to it as it it were a small child or some unintelligent creature. To Ali, animals were his friends and equal and much like the family he never had.

Watching Salaam eyeing him with a hungry stare and his long pink tongue dangling from his mouth, Ali knew it was time. Time for lunch, for the both of them. He withdrew a few strips of dried mutton from his backpack and fed them to the expecting Salaam. It was something he did with mixed feelings. He loved his sheep, yet he knew that some day, they might end up as the mutton in his hand. He made a silent vow to himself that he would never become a farmer for that very reason. No, Ali's dream was to become a doctor. Not for animals though, but for people. It seemed meaningful, and he had seen so many sick around the poor districts of Minfadlak. He wanted to help them get well, to make a difference with his life. But right now, the most meaningful thing to do it seemed was to get some food down into his growling belly. God was he starved. Ali took out a few slices of bread and a piece of aged hard cheese for himself. The two so sat under the old cedar, eating their lunch together like two best friends, both eyeing the lazy herd of sheep grazing away in the distance. Watching them as he chewed on the dry bread and cheese, he felt a pang of gratitude. After all, the milk that had made the cheese in his mouth was from them. The wool that clothed him and kept him warm, was from them. And in his room, was the most precious thing that he had: a grey woollen blanket. Even that was something he didn't feel he could own. It wasn't really his. It was just something he was blessed to be enjoying the good use of for the time being. Something he borrowed. Owning things simply just didn't make much sense to Ali. Maybe it was because of his upbringing as an orphan where he was allowed no possessions. It didn't matter though. He much liked it his way. Free as the bird. Nothing to bring. Nothing to leave behind.

Upon finishing his lunch, he took out a worn leather-bound book and opened it midway. It was one of the few things he with gratitude could think back on during his time at the orphanage; they had taught him to read. It was a religious book that he had come across in one of the public libraries in the city. He definitely wouldn't consider himself religious, yet he found many ideas and thoughts in the book to be stimulating, and above all, they reminded him not to take the simple things for granted. There was so much to be grateful for.

He took off his sheepskin hat, revealing a shock of short and straight black hair. The midday sun was getting hot, and sweat was trickling down his crooked nose. Kamir had said it resembled the beak of a small hawk, and that it was one of the things that had convinced him to take Ali in and entrust him with the herd.

"I knew you to be sharp and have a watchful nature." Those were his words the night Ali had arrived at the farm five years ago.

Ali unbuttoned his vest, revealing a dark-green cotton tunic. Taking a large sip of water from a leather water-skin, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It had been a good lunch and he felt refreshed. He ran his hand through his hair, appreciating the cool wind as it flowed through. Sometimes he imagined that the wind was welcoming him and ruffled his hair like an old friend or dear father. Even if the wind was cold, its candid touch could make him blush and feel warm at times. He much felt that he had his family all around him. His father, the sun. His mother, the earth. And Salaam, his best friend and companion. Could he ask for more?