Free The Exile Kiss by George Alec Effinger Page A

Bey sensed it, too.
"I do not like these men," he said to me in a low voice. We were watching one of the Bedu put handfuls of dates in wooden bowls. Another man was boiling water for cof-fee. Muhammad and the rest were hobbling the camels.
'They haven't shown any outward signs of hostility," I said. "At least, not since they first ran down on us, yelling and screaming and waving their weapons."
Papa gave a humorless laugh. "Don't be fooled into thinking that we've won their grudging admiration. Look at that man dividing the dates. You know the packs on the camels are loaded with far better food than that. These Bayt Tabiti are too greedy to share it with us. They will pretend they have nothing better to eat than old, stone-hard dates. Later, after we're gone, they'll prepare them-selves a better meal."
"After we're gone?" I said.
"I don't believe there is a larger camp within a day's journey from here. And I don't believe the Bayt Tabiti are
willing to offer us their hospitality much longer."
I shivered, even though the sun had not yet set, and the heat of the day had not yet dissipated. "Are you afraid, O Shaykh?"
He pursed his lips and shook his head. "I'm not afraid of these creatures, my nephew. I'm wary—I think it would be wise to know what they're up to at every mo-ment. These are not clever men, but their advantages are that they are more than we, and that they know this terrain. Further discussion was interrupted when the Bedu we'd been watching came to us and offered us each a bowl of rancid-smelling dates and a dirty china cup filled with weak coffee. "These poor provisions are all we have," said the man in a flat voice, "but we'd be honored if you'd share them with us."
"Your generosity is a blessing from Allah," said Fried-lander Bey. He took a bowl of dates and a cup of coffee.
"I am quite unable to express my thanks," I said, tak-ing my own supper.
The Bedu grinned, and I saw that his teeth were just as bad as Muhammad's. "No thanks are needed, O Shaykh," he replied. "Hospitality is a duty. You must travel with us and learn our ways. As the proverb says, Who lives with a tribe forty'days becomes one of them.' "
That was a nightmarish thought, traveling with the Bayt Tabiti and becoming one of them!
"Salaam alaykum," said Papa.
"Alaykum as-salaam," the man responded. Then he carried bowls of dates to his fellows.
"In the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful," I murmured. Then I put one of the dates in my mouth. It didn't stay there long. First, it was completely coated with sand. Second, it was almost hard enough tocrack my teeth; I wondered if these dates had been the downfall of the Bayt Tahiti's dental work. Third, the piece of fruit smelled as if it had been left to decay under a dead camel for a few weeks. I gagged as I spat it out, and I had to wash away the taste with the gritty coffee.
Friedlander Bey put one of the dates in his mouth, and I watched him struggle to maintain a straight face as he chewed it. "Food is food, my nephew," he said. "In the Empty Quarter, you can't afford to be fastidious."
I knew he was right. I rubbed as much sand as I could from another date, and then I ate it. After a few of them, I got used to how rotten they tasted. I thought only about keeping my strength up.
When the sun slipped behind the ridge of a western dune, Friedlander Bey removed his shoes and got slowly to his feet. He used my keffiya to sweep the sand in front of him. I realized he was preparing to pray. Papa opened his canteen and moistened his hands. Because I didn't have any more water in my own canteen, I stood beside him and extended my hands, palms up.
"Allah yisallimak, my nephew," said Papa. God bless you.
As I executed the ablutions, I repeated the ritual for-mula: "I perform the Washing in order to cleanse myself from impurity and to make myself eligible for seeking the nearness to Allah."
Once again, Papa led me in prayer. When we finished, the sun had completely disappeared and the sudden