‘Iman. Salma,’ she called out.
When hours passed and there was no response, she began to despair. The trail continued for several miles and her friends could long have passed this spot. Finally, something moved towards her. Because it did not speak out in response to her cry for help, she assumed it was an animal. A deer or, worse, a fox. Normally these forest animals were harmless, but nothing for Moni was normal any more. Her body was poised for a fight, the instinct to defend herself. But what shambled over to her was as harmless as a cow, as elegant as a cat, as lustrous as a peacock. It was an unidentified creature, a mix of mammal and reptile, horrific and yet beautiful, repulsive and yet compelling because of the sad dignity with which it carried itself.
When it moved closer to Moni, she caught a sweet scent from it, more herb than animal. A perfume that soothed Moni’s nerves, stopped her from fidgeting and trying to unlock her body from the distorted ball position it was now in. When the creature leant over to look at Moni and their eyes met, they recognised each other. It was Iman.
Chapter Thirteen
After Moni had left them, Salma and Iman walked in silence, enjoying the challenge of the climb. Without Moni to hold them back, they built up speed. Salma had the longer strides, but Iman could keep up. For considerable stretches of time, they forgot the bad feelings between them. It was almost how things had been in the past, with Salma leading the way and Iman finding it natural to follow. They crossed a running stream, the water transparent over the dark rocks, the clatter of their feet on the rope suspension bridge. They passed other climbers, couples and families, three men who talked among themselves in a European language. Salma was the one who exchanged greetings, slowed down for a few friendly comments. Iman ducked her head and said nothing. She had the ability to stop thinking, to simply feel and exist in the moment. At times she almost forgot that Salma was there, just a little ahead. But Salma was not making the decisions. She was not choosing right over left, it was all about following the blue trail. This put them on equal footing. It made Iman relax and even seemed to point at a new kind of relationship. One in which they could be equals.
They came across a picnic clearing, an array of wooden tables and a large rubbish bin. Without discussing it, they stopped to eat the sandwiches Moni had made. They did not speak while they ate, passing the water bottle in silence, flicking away crumbs from the table. In addition to her own sandwich, Iman ate half of Moni’s and kept the other half to crumble for the fishes and the birds. There were enough bits of leftover food in this picnic area without her needing to add more. She would make sure to carry the half sandwich deeper into the forest, to a place that was less trodden, that was rarely brushed by the debris of humans.
If only Salma hadn’t spoken, but she did. To reproach her yet again, to remind her of their shared past, their sisterhood; the times they prayed together and broke fast together. The times Salma vetted suitors for Iman. The times Iman refereed arguments between Salma and her eldest daughter. And the times I was your sidekick and dogsbody. The times you laughed at my views and treated me like a doll.
If only Salma wasn’t speaking. She was spoiling the day with her voice, all this analysis. She was egging Iman on to talk, to say again what she had said before. How she disliked direct confrontations! And yet to Salma they were the solution. ‘We must talk this through,’ she kept saying. ‘We can discuss this and resolve our differences, Iman.’
‘You are oblivious to my feelings,’ said Iman. ‘You don’t know me. If you knew me, you wouldn’t talk to me here like this.’ What she wanted to say was the forest should not be sullied with their pettiness. They should walk in silence, be in awe. They should be one with nature. But that was what Iman knew and Salma didn’t. That was the difference between them and it was greater here than it could ever be in the city.
‘I was happy walking,’ said Iman. ‘This outing today was your idea and I was going along with it and then you have to spoil it by talking.’
‘I’m talking because I’m disturbed. And I’m disturbed because you’ve changed, Iman. Why have you changed towards me?’
‘Because, because, because. Enough.’ She did not want to explain. She was forever struggling to explain, to put words to feelings. Salma would outsmart her with words. Salma would win every argument. She said, ‘Salma, there is no point. Get it through your head. I’m not going to move in with you. It’s final.’
She saw tears spring to Salma’s eyes, watched her jump up, scrunch the kitchen towel that her sandwich had been wrapped in and throw it in the bin.
They followed the trail in silence, Iman averting her eyes from Salma’s face. Never had one of them cried without the other comforting her. But there was nothing more to be said. It had come to this. After all these years and hours of laughter. Friendship was not much of an investment after all, instead it was sand pouring down the hourglass, water meandering downhill; an act of defiance against the
