‘Please.’ She knew all about Nurdin’s former life and felt awful about his situation. His hands were strong and agile, and the assured way with which he picked up the tablet testified to the many priceless objects he had handled on a daily basis. He set up the scales on her desk, and weighed the tablet.
‘You’re right. The weight is completely wrong. I don’t understand. It’s much heavier than clay.’
‘But it is clay?’ she asked.
He passed his fingers on the surface.
‘Yes it is. But the weight is more like that of a small stone slab. There must be an obvious explanation, but it eludes me,’ he sighed, ‘I have to get back to my daily chores, unfortunately.’
‘Thanks for your help Nurdin.’
‘Good luck,’ he said as he left the room, shutting the door behind him.
Mina leaned back in her chair, puzzled. There was another knock on the door. She quickly wrapped the tablet in its rag and put it away in her desk.
‘Come in,’ she said.
‘Good morning Mina,’ said Professor Almeini. ‘How are those essays?’ he glanced at the pile of paper on Mina’s desk.
‘They’re quite good actually.’
‘May I introduce you to my American friend Jack Hillcliff?’
Jack appeared behind the professor and stepped into the office. Mina stood up and shook his hand.
‘Mina Osman.’
‘Jack Hillcliff.’
She observed the handsome man in front of her. He seemed unpretentious and had a thoughtful air about him.
‘Jack is in charge of an irrigation project in a small village outside Mosul,’ explained Professor Almeini.
‘You’re American? It must be dangerous for you working on the outskirts of Mosul these days.’
‘No more than working in downtown Mosul I guess,’ he answered, smiling at her.
‘Point taken,’ she smiled back at him.
‘People need water, especially in wartime,’ he explained as if carrying out this kind of project while the war raged on was perfectly normal.
‘Jack and I are working together on an aspect of his project and I thought you might be able to give him a hand,’ Professor Almeini said.
‘Sounds interesting. I didn’t read anything about a departmental irrigation project?’
Jack answered immediately, ‘Oh, it’s nothing like that. I’ve got funding from a number of NGOs to bring water to this village and make it as self-sufficient as possible. I’m an irrigation specialist of sorts. And, until I ran into the Prof here, I was a little stuck.’
‘How’s that?’ she asked.
The professor smiled at them, ‘Mina, Jack, I need to get back to my office. I’m so glad you’ve met.’ Looking at Mina, he added ‘Don’t forget we have a publication committee meeting this afternoon.’
‘Of course not, Professor. See you there.’
Mina turned to Jack, ‘So, Jack, have a seat and tell me all about how you met Professor Almeini.’
She was doing her best to be pleasant, but she was aware that her body language was a little awkward, always a sign that she was attracted to a man.
‘I met the Prof through a mutual friend, a hydrologist in Baghdad. To be honest, I was a little nervous when I first met him but we started chatting, and before I knew it, we were talking shop.’
She smiled, ‘He does tend to have that effect on people.’
‘I came to him with questions about local
‘You’re kidding, right? Did he forget to mention that King Darius lived 2,500 years ago?’
‘I know. It sounded insane at first but you know, irrigation specialists all over the world, and especially those working in developing countries, often investigate how things were done in ancient times.’
Mina thought about it and had to agree with him. Knowledge of water systems had not progressed that much over the last thousand years. All it took was keen observation of the water table, underground water and gravity over a long period of time. She had read somewhere about a
‘I’m totally under-funded and have little time to carry out my project’ Jack continued. ‘Although Mosul is built on the west bank of the Tigris and it’s the major river in the region, we couldn’t afford to set up a secure network all the way to the river. The Prof showed me some maps of the region’s archaeologically excavated
Mina looked horrified. ‘You want to use an ancient qanat to bring water to the village?’
Jack burst out laughing. ‘No, I think I’d run into trouble with sanitary officials! If I could find that water source, I would lay pipes and a filtering system, follow the same track and bring at least one line of water supply to the village.’
‘OK. I could give you a hand on the archaeological side of things if you’re interested.’
‘I’m very interested.’
‘Great! I have some time to spare. Let’s go down to the archive.’
They went down to the basement, into a small room which held the departmental map archive.
‘Most of these maps are unpublished. As you can imagine, with the current state of affairs, there are more pressing needs.’
‘I can. I’m also surprised the basement wasn’t looted.’
’I know. It was seriously messed up though. We’ve spent months putting some order in the archive. The students have helped us tremendously. Where is the village?’
‘About 30 miles west of the city,’ he answered.
‘What’s it called?’
‘Al-Bayaty Ninewa’ he answered.
Mina started rummaging through the piles of maps, and pulled out a few.
‘Here you are,’ she said, pointing her finger at a dotted line on the map. ‘There’s the beginning of the
‘Roughly here’ he said, pointing at a spot on the map.
‘You’re only about a mile and a half from the water pocket,’ she said triumphantly.
‘That’s amazing. Can I have a photocopy of this map?’
‘Of course. Just mention the help you got from the department to whoever funded you.’
As they walked back up to the main reception room, she asked him ‘So Jack, you’re an irrigation specialist?’
‘Of sorts. I’m an engineer, with an interest in irrigation.’
‘Your project strikes me more as a humanitarian one than the sort of job you’d normally go for with your expertise.’
A wave of sadness seemed to pass over his face.
‘I… The village really needs it, and many more villages do, too,’ he answered. ‘We should exchange numbers, if that’s alright with you, Mina,’ he said politely.
‘Of course. Here’s my card.’
