Free The Turtle of Oman by Naomi Shihab Nye Page A

very mysterious. When Naveed returned to ask if they would like second helpings, Aref hadn’t even finished his giant pile of rice yet.
    Sidi put his hand over his stomach and said, “I am grateful, kind sir, but no. How long have you been out here, cooking all these tasty dinners for wanderers?”
    Naveed laughed and shook his head. “Time runs together. One month, one year . . . I think I have been here almost two years. Or maybe since the beginning of time! My brother used to work here and I took his job when he returned to India for his marriage.”
    â€œWere you scared when you came?” Aref asked.
    Naveed smiled kindly. “No. The desert is a friendly place.”
    Far in the distance, at that exact moment, they heard a weird scream. It didn’t sound friendly at all.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Aref asked.
    â€œThe hyena, ” said Naveed. “Big teeth.” He opened his mouth hyena-style to show them his own teeth.
    Aref shuddered and asked, “Does it come close to this camp?”
    â€œWe hope not,” said Naveed. “No, I think not. I think you will not be seeing it, no.” He was shaking his head to make Aref feel better.
    â€œDon’t worry, Aref,” said Sidi. He was smiling and didn’t look nervous at all. “Their voices are much scarier from a distance than close up. If you meet one, they act scared of you.”
    â€œIs it like a wolf or a fox?”
    â€œA little bit, yes,” said Naveed.
    Sidi sat comfortably in his red chair moving his prayer beads quietly through his fingertips. He looked peaceful. “We came here once before,” he said, “when this boy was younger . . . your brother must have been here then, but we didn’t get to spend the night because a sandstorm was whirling up.”
    â€œNo sandstorms tonight,” said Naveed. “Very quiet!”
    Right then, the hyena howled again and everyone laughed.
    Sidi and Aref washed up in the camp bathroom, a little square building made of brown cement painted with a single dark blue frill around the top of the wall. It had no roof on it. They could look right up at the twinkling stars with no trouble. Amazingly, a single silver faucet offered a stream of cool running water.
    They brushed their teeth standing side by side. Then they stepped out of the bathroom and stared up at the sky some more. The Milky Way stretched and glittered like a massive white sparkling ribbon. It cast a softened glow across a great canopy of sky.
    â€œOh . . . I see some beautiful planets that I haven’t seen since before we had lights,” said Sidi. “We slept on the roof all summer long when I was a boy and the Milky Way poured its stories down on our heads and into our dreams. . . .”
    â€œI want to do that, Sidi,” Aref said. “You always talk about it. Can’t we still do it?”
    Sidi pointed out a distant planet with a reddish-orange tint and said, “I think that’s the one we used to wish on. Yes, we could still do it. We could put two cots or mats up on your roof or mine. You could spend the night at my house before you go. Why not? Why haven’t we been doing that? We forgot! Air conditioning makes people forget.”
    They walked slowly back toward the patio. One of the English men was playing a guitar near the fire pit and singing softly. Sidi and Aref stood for a minute and listened. Aref had heard this song before, at school. “Turn, turn, turn.” Aref mouthed the words.
    Naveed guided them to a black-and-brown striped camel hair tent on a raised wooden platform. They would sleep on cozy narrow beds covered with dark purple and blue stitched quilts. An old red rug covered the floor, and some large maroon satin pillows sat stacked in the corner. Aref raced around investigating. He pointed at the bed farthest from the door. “That’s my bed!” he said, thinking of the hyena. “This one’s