Strangers at the Spring

Heeding the Queen’s advice to help whenever needed, Amaal followed a group of women to one of several freshwater springs a short distance from the hill. Their plan was to turn the trickling stream into a bathing pool. Amaal helped dig the pool, lug the larger stones to the edges, and line the bottom with smooth pebbles. When they were done, the pool started to fill, and the women doffed their dusty gowns, rinsed them in the water, and laid them out to dry. Under the Libyan sun, it wouldn’t take long. In the meantime, they bathed and sang songs of thanks to the mother goddess, Asherah, for the sanctuary she had given them. They had dressed and were preparing to leave when a startling spectacle appeared, seemingly out of thin air: three strange women wearing colorful head scarves—ochre, berry red, indigo—and embroidered gowns cinched at the waist with woven belts. Each wore a necklace of silver medallions and chunky beads, and each carried a leather pouch across her back. But what amazed Amaal most were the many black tattoos—squares, dots, diamonds, flowers and crescent moons—inked onto their faces. The three strangers strode past Elishat’s women to the edge of the pool and raised their hands in the air as if they were catching something from the sky. They closed their eyes and shouted shrill incantations. Amaal and the others shot worried glances at one another, silently asking the same question: Is it a blessing or a curse?

Turning away from the pool, the strangers gestured forcefully to Elishat’s women to sit down on the nearby boulders. Unarmed and defenseless, Amaal and the others did as they were told. The strangers loosened the laces around the tops of their leather satchels. The women held their breath and watched. Would there be knives? Cudgels? The strangers dug into the satchels and pulled out discs of flat bread, a handful of dates, and palm leaves from which they unrolled bits of dried lamb. One laid out a square of brightly woven cloth and set the food down on it while another opened a clay pot, tore off a piece of flat bread, scooped out a lump of soft, white cheese, and passed it, insistently, to Amaal, who sat closest to them. Amaal lifted the offering to her mouth. The pungent odor of the cheese stung her nostrils and made her eyes water. She held her breath and forced the morsel into her mouth. She managed a weak smile as she blinked back tears and choked it down. At the strangers’ insistence, Elishat’s women were soon tasting the delicacy, feigning sounds of deliciousness as they politely accepted the food that was, to their palate, absolutely revolting. The lamb, on the other hand, won honest praise from Elishat’s women, and the dates were a delicious relief.

The strangers boldly examined the fabric of the scarves and robes of Elishat’s women. They offered their own cloth for comparison, showing off the roughly woven fabric embellished with colorful needlework. Amaal noticed that every finger on their hands held a silver ring, sometimes two. The strangers bared their arms to reveal stacks of silver wristbands and lifted their gowns to show off the ankle bells on their dusty legs. Elishat’s women allowed the strangers to examine their earrings and necklaces, figuring that they would find them superior in design and workmanship. To the contrary, the strangers dismissed the style, indicating that they preferred their own.

Amaal and the others attempted to show off the new bathing pool, but the strangers seemed convinced that the changes had been wrought by the sky spirits, and Elishat’s women thought it best to leave it at that. Several times, the strangers uttered a word, “iarbas.” Whatever it meant, there was much discussion among them whenever it was mentioned. By simple gestures, the strangers asked the women if they had children, and when Elishat’s women indicated there were children living on the hill, the strangers pressed the remainder of the food into their hands, insisting that they bring it to the little ones. Elishat’s women thanked them. The strangers approached the stream, washed their hands and faces, filled their goatskin bags with fresh water, and vanished as quickly as they had come. Elishat’s women hurried to the hill to report what they had seen.

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