15
One could perceive the seabed as clearly as through a glass of
water below. For the beauty of the sea was in contradiction with
the difficulty of the living. I had not imagined how exhausting
pearling was until I saw Djaliil stay immersed in the water for what
seemed like an eternity. He emerged from the water pale and
exhausted because of the intense pressures his body undergone.
He asked: "You see the rocks I band to my ankles?"
I nodded in affirmation.
"When I reach the sea bed, I will release them. You have to
haul them to the surface by that rope," and he gestured towards it.
Next, he secured a basket at his neck and slung a knife at his wrist.
I could not help thinking about the barracuda much dreaded in the
gulf.
"I will tug on this rope," he continued, showing me another rope
from which a whitewashed cloth was hanging. "This I will do when
I have collected as many oysters as I can carry. I will not be able
to hold my breath much more, so you will have to pull me to the
surface as quickly as possible." He waited a few minutes before
adding:
"We will place the oysters in a hap on the deck and it is
traditional not to touch it when we sail back. Tomorrow, you will
receive two shares of the proceedings, maybe three if the pearling
was good. All right?"
I shook my head, thinking about the bargain.
"Fair and true," I finally said, grinning broadly.
Soon he disappeared under the cutting edge of the canoe. The boy
came back several times then dived again, resting a little before
falling back in the womb of the Red Sea. Each time he came up
very pale and trembling, but the sun did him some good. After a
few hours of this wearisome occupation, my body ached from arms
to toes. However, the exercise made me feel happier. I liked to be
moving around the tiny boat and trying to be of some help to my
new friend. Slowly, the sun began to set. I had heard the adhan
call once more, then silence had taken over so I did not really have
any notion of time. Suddenly, as I was contemplating the bottom of
the sea, I perceived a shadow coming under the dugout. This time
it was not Djaliil. Where was the boy now?
16
I must have been daydreaming for just a few minutes, rocked by the
pitching of the light bluish diamond under me. The shadow passed
again across the beam of the canoe, having the shape of a very large
fish.
The sea lames seemed to roll and made the frail vessel move slightly
backward. A fan pierced the surface, probably not a dolphin. The
second rope tightened, but no one yanked at it. I was short of
breath, panting in horror. A shark!
Divers maybe were used to them as well as fishermen, but I had
never seen a shark alive. This encounter made my spine ache as I
followed the cursive line of the fish's sculling.
Something stirred at the bottom of the Red Sea. A minute after, the
predator disappeared and the rope was tugged. I pulled him fast
and hard, bending my muscles as never, wishing desperately Djaliil
was alive at the end of this rope. After a few moments that seemed
ages, I distinguished his slim shape and began lifting him aboard.
He was barely breathing. However, he tried to swarm with his feet
and hands. In the process, the weight of both our bodies
outweighed the balance of the dugout. We both fell in the terrifying
water.
I swore as we made it to the shore, holding the boy tightly into my
arms. I swore against at the stupidity of such a diving, against the
greedy merchants who exploited cheap labor, against the love for
pearls.
I ended by swearing against poverty that forced men to die from
attacks of the bends or from fatal encounters. I think I also swore
against God himself. Doing this with my mouth, I was still trailing
my little load across the sand.
Finally, I let his weary body fall on the beach.
His eyes were opened but thin drops of blood showed at the corner
of his mouth. I said, quite alarmed:
"I will go find a doctor."
Djaliil slowly raised to one elbow, clenched my wrist with very pale
fingers, then implored:
"No! Nobody can do anything for me. Let it pass. It always
passes. Death is not a terrible thing, actually, I hoped for it sooner.
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