It's the story of one kept man, serving on a diving ship and battling temptation.
I kept a lot of the original sea terms in there to make it more authentic. I didn't provide any glossary at the end, but I might in the future.
I'm swimming in murky water, pretty much blind, commenting or leaving any notes, will surely help steer me true.
It was stifling. The heat was unbearable, and we hadn’t hit a strand of wind in the course of two weeks. My measly belongings were soaked through, not with any water, but of the endless stream of sweat that gathered all around me. Being a Seeb was hard, I didn’t get my chance under the water, even though it was all my eyes would need to be focused on, to protect my diver. The beating down of the sun on my already broken skin, was nothing compared to the dry rub of the ropes, on my cracked, dry palms, as with rehearsed movement, I pull the divers up.
Adel, that was his name, my diver this time. We’d been partnered from the start, our semi-bunks touching on all angles, but never us. No, there was an unspoken rule on the ship, here amidst God fearing men, and men who relied on his grace to return; no matter the urge, kill it, kill it with pain, or it will be done for you.
But, it wasn’t just that, the men wouldn’t give me the grace of being called a man, because I was owned. Women would pass by me with no need to cover their modesty, no head cover, because I was a slave, less than a man, and here at sea, it was no exception. I was used to work at sea, because my owner’s son, Salman was here as an apprentice just like his brothers before him, and I served them just as I serve him now. I was also sent as protection, and to distinguish his social class. But being on a ship, even as a servant, I was required to pay to eat, that’s why they employed me as Seeb.
Adel’s rope jerked in my hands, just a tiny bit of a vibration, but it was enough to get my attention, and I pulled. Adel’s face was the first thing I saw out of the water, then his cleanly shaved scalp, with little droplets of water sliding down his tanned skin. A body that spent so much time in water, should glow in a lighter shade, but the bodies of the divers were anything but light. Their almost nude apparel was the dress code on the ship, and it was never a necessity for them to dress before they dried completely under our scorching sun, or before the Nokhitha announced they’d stop for the day.
Adel was the perfect shade of honeysweet dates, and was by no means skinny. He was athletic, as any good diver was, and when he smiled, there was a boyish innocence the sea had not seized yet, in the set of his mouth.
I closed my eyes after the meal, I couldn’t consume anymore rice, not when it was so hard to breathe, so hard to escape the dryness of everything without wanting to plunge headfirst in the sea. Adel also left his edge of the round tray of rice, that gap closing behind him quickly.
Adel looked at me with concern in his eyes, we had not had our first case of a possession on the ship yet, did Adel think it would be me who’d let go first? I gave the man my back, stuffing the last of the clean undershirts under my head.
Adel lay on his own, and asked me to sing. I turned to look at the man, shock written all over my features for sure. Adel smiled, the left side curving upward, his cheek almost touching his left eye, it was boyish, mischievous and secretive. There was much about it that held promise, affection and hope. I wondered how Adel knew, did the man keep an eye on me as I do on that little patch of water that I know he is folded under? Were my tones a constant vibration felt through the one thing that binds us together in the sea, the rope? Adel answered as if he’d been listening to my heart all along.
“I heard you, on Jassem’s Boam, five months ago. Your hands were soaked with grease and the dust of limestone, hard at work scrubbing at the wood while you composed line after line. I thought, whoever she was, she was not fit for this man, not with this kind of zuhairiyah.”
What could I say, to the man who inspired that very same zuhairiyah, over and over again? The man who’s mere mention set a haze on the pain of skin blazed from the sun, and palms chaffed from rope. So I sang in whispers, line after line of longing, despair and a throbbing ache that doesn’t get dull, not by hours at sea, nor the minor relief of constant servitude; I sang of unrequited love, and all I wanted was to reach over to him, and pull the knot of his only defense of fabric left, over the both of us.
Adel’s eyes were closed, my voice, or my thoughts, whichever came rushing at him first, earning a nod of understanding. I smiled at him now, the heat forgotten for that moment.
Adel, that was his name, my diver this time. We’d been partnered from the start, our semi-bunks touching on all angles, but never us. No, there was an unspoken rule on the ship, here amidst God fearing men, and men who relied on his grace to return; no matter the urge, kill it, kill it with pain, or it will be done for you.
But, it wasn’t just that, the men wouldn’t give me the grace of being called a man, because I was owned. Women would pass by me with no need to cover their modesty, no head cover, because I was a slave, less than a man, and here at sea, it was no exception. I was used to work at sea, because my owner’s son, Salman was here as an apprentice just like his brothers before him, and I served them just as I serve him now. I was also sent as protection, and to distinguish his social class. But being on a ship, even as a servant, I was required to pay to eat, that’s why they employed me as Seeb.
Adel’s rope jerked in my hands, just a tiny bit of a vibration, but it was enough to get my attention, and I pulled. Adel’s face was the first thing I saw out of the water, then his cleanly shaved scalp, with little droplets of water sliding down his tanned skin. A body that spent so much time in water, should glow in a lighter shade, but the bodies of the divers were anything but light. Their almost nude apparel was the dress code on the ship, and it was never a necessity for them to dress before they dried completely under our scorching sun, or before the Nokhitha announced they’d stop for the day.
Adel was the perfect shade of honeysweet dates, and was by no means skinny. He was athletic, as any good diver was, and when he smiled, there was a boyish innocence the sea had not seized yet, in the set of his mouth.
I closed my eyes after the meal, I couldn’t consume anymore rice, not when it was so hard to breathe, so hard to escape the dryness of everything without wanting to plunge headfirst in the sea. Adel also left his edge of the round tray of rice, that gap closing behind him quickly.
Adel looked at me with concern in his eyes, we had not had our first case of a possession on the ship yet, did Adel think it would be me who’d let go first? I gave the man my back, stuffing the last of the clean undershirts under my head.
Adel lay on his own, and asked me to sing. I turned to look at the man, shock written all over my features for sure. Adel smiled, the left side curving upward, his cheek almost touching his left eye, it was boyish, mischievous and secretive. There was much about it that held promise, affection and hope. I wondered how Adel knew, did the man keep an eye on me as I do on that little patch of water that I know he is folded under? Were my tones a constant vibration felt through the one thing that binds us together in the sea, the rope? Adel answered as if he’d been listening to my heart all along.
“I heard you, on Jassem’s Boam, five months ago. Your hands were soaked with grease and the dust of limestone, hard at work scrubbing at the wood while you composed line after line. I thought, whoever she was, she was not fit for this man, not with this kind of zuhairiyah.”
What could I say, to the man who inspired that very same zuhairiyah, over and over again? The man who’s mere mention set a haze on the pain of skin blazed from the sun, and palms chaffed from rope. So I sang in whispers, line after line of longing, despair and a throbbing ache that doesn’t get dull, not by hours at sea, nor the minor relief of constant servitude; I sang of unrequited love, and all I wanted was to reach over to him, and pull the knot of his only defense of fabric left, over the both of us.
Adel’s eyes were closed, my voice, or my thoughts, whichever came rushing at him first, earning a nod of understanding. I smiled at him now, the heat forgotten for that moment.
No comments:
Post a Comment