Good Night, Ester (Midnight, Day 8)

A storm whips up the desert and flings the sands over us. It is incredible to behold; in front of our very eyes, one sand dune is swept away, only for another to be almost instantly created in its place. The wind is so strong that we have to lie face down on the ground and hold on to each other in order not to be lifted up and swept away. There are three of us – Fuad, Basri Bey and I. Yes, I know Basri Bey is dead but I still do not find it odd having him there next to us, and neither does Fuad, who is clinging on to my arm with his right hand. We are lying still on the ground, the wind howling in our ears, the grains of sand thrashing around us, striking our hair and our heads like hot sparks.

‘Memories!’ I shout above the din. ‘Think of happy moments from your lives, happy memories, and hold on to them! Hold on to your most precious memories!’

Fuad does not respond but Basri Bey begins to say something.

‘I remember an oasis’, he mumbles. ‘Like a piece of paradise that has fallen to earth…’

He is only mumbling, yes, but I can hear him clearly, as though the storm is not there, as though its winds are not trying to turn us inside out and fling us into oblivion.

‘I'm exhausted’, he goes on, losing himself in his story. ‘As though I have been on the road for days and have not closed my eyes for days. My whole body rattles with every step the camel takes, and is swinging like a pendulum. It's hot. So hot, if I reach out, I'll be able to touch the sun. That is when the oasis appears in front of us…’

I listen to Basri Bey and feel his words come to life. Not even that, I become Basri Bey myself. There is no more Şehsuvar Sami; I am just the sum of what my beloved commandant sees, hears and feels. I am the one swinging like a pendulum on a camel, I am the one losing my mind in the suffocating heat.