Haroun's Return

                             By Jim Buckley


Haroun sat on the rickety chair, his hands resting on an old oil lamp stood
exactly in the centre of the table. His eyes gazed at the mud coloured walls
of his house which was no more than just a single room and watched a little
gecko scuttle towards the ceiling in pursuit of some invisible insect.
Through the only window the setting sun did it's best to lighten the dark
shadows now advancing from the distant corners. The rough sack curtain
covering the doorway fluttered in the breeze as a gentle puff of wind forced
it's way inside.

With sad and tired eyes Haroun looked up to see who had entered. For the
briefest of moments he thought he saw a tall, dark, thin figure wearing a
brightly coloured turban and flowing white robes framed in the fading light
but as he blinked the apparition disappeared.

Haroun sighed deeply, his gaze resting on his hands holding the old oil
lamp. If only there were such things as Genie's of the Lamp like in the
stories that his mother Fatima told. If only he could rub the lamp and a
genie appeared to grant him three wishes. If only he hadn't run away from
home to follow the camel train to what he thought would be riches. If only...

With a further sigh that almost turned into a sob Haroun lovingly rubbed the
dirty old oil lamp but no genie appeared. Sadly, he got up from the rickety
old chair, thrust his dirty hands deep into the pockets of his faded old
jeans and walked to the solitary bed in the corner. His grubby "T" shirt
proclaimed to the world that Coca Cola was best, or at least it used to
until the strong desert sunlight had faded the red writing to a mere shadow
of it's former self. Haroun sat on the bed with only straw for a mattress,
slipped off his sandals and lay back to rest. In the fading light he closed
his eyes and drifted off to a troublesome sleep.

The gecko, having caught the first course of his supper stood stock still as
a fly settled on the ceiling and looked around. Haroun stirred uneasily in
his sleep and as he tossed and turned sending some of the straw tumbling off
the bed, a wisp of smoke formed over the old oil lamp. The smoke twisted and
twirled and thickened until the seething mass started to take the shape of a
man.

Some strange premonition forced Haroun to wake up and as he peered into the
almost dark room, he could see the vague shape of a tall, dark, thin man
dressed in flowing white robes.

Haroun sat up bolt upright, his heart beating hard and fast. He rubbed his
eyes with two grubby hands, but the smoky stranger was still hovering over
the old oil lamp and getting clearer and clearer by the second. Above a
thin, kindly face with a hooked nose, twinkling eyes and long grey beard, a
brightly coloured turban seemed to glow in the dark.

The young waif stared, half frightened and half curious as the stranger, now
fully formed, hovered above the lamp. He looked at Haroun and Haroun stared
back, not believing what his eyes saw.

The stranger made mystic gestures with his hands and glided over to where a
now terrified Haroun sat, unable to move. The gecko looked down and swiftly
and silently flitted away to some dark corner. Mesmerised, Haroun wondered
if this was all some strange nightmare brought on by him not having eaten
anything more than a few scraps of manna during the last few days.

The tall stranger stopped a few feet away from Haroun and slowly settled on
the floor. His feet were clad in footwear that reminded him of the stories
that his mother used to tell. The pointed toes curled up and back to form
almost a perfect circle. At the very tip of each shoe a small diamond
sparkled in the light that was not there. 

"This has got to be genie," thought Haroun, still unable to move. "But where
did he come from? Or is this all some strange dream?"

Once more the stranger made mystic gestures with his hands and a voice
boomed inside Haroun's head.

"Haroun!" he heard the voice but the strangers lips did not move. "Hear me
Haroun and take heed. Help me and I will help you."

Haroun closed his eyes as if that act would make the stranger disappear but
as he opened them the mystic stranger was still stood before him.

"Who are you?" Haroun started to say but the stranger motioned him to
silence.

"Take heed Haroun." the voice roared inside his head. "I am not a genie and
I cannot grant you any wishes but I can help you to get home but only if you
will help me."

"Home!" thought Haroun "Home! Yes that's the place where he would like to
be. Back with his mother and father and his two sisters. Even tending the
goat herd would be better than being all alone and hungry."

Before Haroun could speak the stranger went on, "I need your help to find my
son."

Haroun's fear dwindled away and is if in answer to an unspoken thought he
found that he could move again. He stood up and moved his arms, now sure
that this was no dream. "How can I help you?" he queried "Can you really get
me back home?"

"Come over to the lamp Haroun." commanded the old man. "Lift up the lid and
look inside."

Inside the lamp thick, green smoke twisted and swirled around and began to
take shape. Haroun could see a young boy, dressed in the finest silks of the
most brilliant colours sat in a garden by a tinkling fountain. By his side
stood two slaves each armed with a large scimitar that sparkled brilliantly
in the sunlight. Fast asleep at the boy's feet lay a large brown dog. In the
palm trees behind the boy red, green and blue parakeets called to each
other. Also amongst the trees a dark shape lurked unseen and unheard.

Haroun watched open mouthed as the dark shape seemed to glide forward to
where the boy was sat trailing his hands in the waters of the fountain. The
dark shape folded around the boy and before any of the guards could move,
whisked him up into the blue sky onto a flying carpet and away towards the
distant mountains.

Once more the green smoke filled the old oil lamp and Haroun saw no more of
the boy or his guards.

As if in answer to his unspoken questions, a voice filled his head. It
sounded tired and old as if the owner of the voice was weary of searching.

"That was my son and many centuries ago he was abducted by the Djinn of the
mountains and has never been seen since. I was the Caliph of Baghdad and
although my guards searched for many years, they found no trace. Just before
the Grand Wizard passed on he left this old oil lamp with the words that
only another boy, destitute and alone would ever find my son, the Prince of
Baghdad."

"How can I find the Prince?" asked Haroun "And surely after all these years,
won't he too be dead?"

There was no reply from the stranger as Haroun looked about the empty room.
Of the stranger there was no sign, not even a single puff of smoke. Instead,
on the table there was food and wine. The puzzled boy looked inside the oil
lamp but could see nothing at all.

Bewildered by the encounter, Haroun sat down on the rickety chair, reached
forward, took the food and started to eat. As he ate silently his thoughts
in a turmoil, the rough sack covering the door quivered aside and a large
brown dog padded in softly and sat on the floor as if he was begging for
food.

Haroun's first reaction was to chase the dog away but a distant thought
stopped him. "This was just like the dog that was with the Prince. Maybe it
was a sign and maybe the dog would be able to lead him to where the Prince
was." Haroun looked down at the dog's begging eyes, tossed him a piece of
meat and watched as the animal devoured it hungrily.

Full to overflowing Haroun gathered the remaining food, wrapped it in a rag
that too had mysteriously appeared on the table and lay back on his bed with
the large brown dog curled up on the floor. As he closed his eyes Haroun
could only think of it all as a dream and when he awoke in the morning he
would still be hungry and there would be no dog at his bedside.

Bright sunlight streaming through the window and the sounds of people going
about their business woke Haroun with a start. Quickly he remembered the old
man and the dog and was just about to dismiss it all as some sort of weird
dream when he spotted the food on the table and the dog. "So it was all
true. It did really happen." thought Haroun as he clambered off his bed. 
"What do I do now?"

In answer to his silent thoughts, the dog got up trotted over to the table
and grasped the old oil lamp in it's jaws. The lid fell off and as Haroun
looked inside he saw a donkey and a mountain before the smoke disappeared.

Haroun stared at the lamp and with a puzzled frown confronted the dog. "What
am I supposed to do? Can you lead me to the Prince? What did the donkey mean
and which mountain is it?"

The large brown dog shook it's head and wagged it's tail and with a look
that seemed to say follow me, went through the door into the busy street.
Hurriedly grabbing the lamp and the food he went outside and squinting his
eyes against the bright sunlight, followed the dog. Guided by it, Haroun
journeyed on until they passed the last house of the town and reached the
road for Baghdad.

Hour after solitary hour, the boy and the dog trudged the dusty road,
occasionally jumping aside as some sheik's car flashed by sending clouds of
dust into the air. Through the heat of the midday sun, boy and beast
struggled along until at last the scorching sun lost it's tormenting heat
and changed to a mellow warmth. Exhausted and very thirsty, Haroun sat down
by the roadside and shared out their meagre rations. The large brown dog
thanked Haroun for his share by wagging it's tail furiously.

Just as darkness was beginning to fall, silhouetted in the dying sun, Haroun
saw an old man leading a donkey towards them. The donkey was heavily laden
with two large panniers and a goatskin bag which seemed to be full of water.
As the travellers drew closer Haroun rose to his feet and with outstretched
hand just like he used to in the town that they had just left, approached
the oncoming old man.

"Please, for the love of Allah, please give me some water and some for my
dog too." pleaded Haroun. "We have travelled far and all our water is gone."

No sooner had he spoken than the old man just disappeared leaving the laden
donkey alone on the road. Thinking it was all a mirage Haroun blinked hard,
fully expecting the donkey to disappear also but when he opened his eyes the
donkey was still there.

"Praise be to Allah," exclaimed Haroun "now we have some water and a donkey
for me to ride on." The dog just stared at him and wagged it's tail. The
donkey stood quietly as Haroun and his dog quenched their thirsts with the
water and settled down by the roadside to sleep. He thought about looking
inside the panniers but somehow he just never got round to it.

For two days and two nights, Haroun, the large brown dog and the donkey
followed the road to Baghdad until at last they reached a cross roads

"Which way now?" asked the bemused boy looking at his dog and the donkey.
Neither replied but both set off along a road that seemed to be heading for
the mountains. Following behind Haroun called out, "This isn't the way. It
can't be. Baghdad isn't in the mountains."

Both animals ignored his pleas and went steadily forward. Then Haroun
remembered the old oil lamp which had shown him not only a large brown dog
and a donkey but mountains AND the Prince of Baghdad. "This has got to be
the way to find the Prince," thought Haroun as he chased after the animals.

Two more days and two more nights went by as Haroun and his two animals
trudged higher and higher into the mountains. The air got cooler and the
clouds seemed to come lower until one morning Haroun woke up to find that
they were above the clouds.

All was quiet and still. Not a sound danced around their ears. Haroun could
no longer hear the clip clop of the donkey's hooves on the road as they
wended their way onwards. It was as if all sound had ceased to be. Haroun
stopped and listened intently, hoping to hear just one small noise. The
silence was complete even when he stamped his foot on the dirt track.

Haroun shivered in the air that wasn't even cold and looked about him. As
far as his eye could see there were white, fluffy clouds below him and only
the mountain above.

"Go on Haroun!" a voice whispered inside his head "Go on and follow the
donkey."

Startled by the voice, Haroun rushed forward, caught hold of the donkey's
mane and walked in stealthy silence.

Just as night was falling, Haroun stumbled into a cave which seemed to glow
with a light from nowhere. The two animals followed him inside and as he
slept an uneasy sleep, he dreamed of a cave behind a cave, guarded by an old
man and a donkey.

Haroun woke with a start to the sound of the donkey braying loudly. "Hee
Haw! Hee Haw!" The noise chased the echoes around the cave but there was no
donkey in sight. Only the large brown dog stood by his side and on the floor
were the two panniers that used to straddle the donkey's back. Trembling
visibly with a fright that was becoming more and more frightening, Haroun
looked around the cave as sunlight poured through the entrance and lit up
every corner.

In the far distance almost out of reach of the sunshine, Haroun spotted the
donkey and with it an old man. They stood motionless as he approached them.
The closer he got to them the further away they seemed to be and the further
away was the cave entrance and the sunshine. Haroun stopped and called to
the dog but it had run off far ahead and now he was all alone.

Frightened and at the same time puzzled he turned round as if to go back,
but where the cave entrance and the sunlight should have been there was
nothing only darkness and silence.

"Go on Haroun," said a voice in his head "it's not far now. Follow the dog."

The boy obeyed the command and approached the old man and the donkey. They
stood perfectly still like statues and as Haroun got closer he could see
that they were in fact statues made of stone, yet strangely the donkey
wasn't cold like stone. Haroun stood in wondering silence and as he looked
at the donkey that not so very long ago had led him to this place, he
spotted a cave behind them.

The entrance seemed very small and he could hear the dog barking in the
distance. Haroun wondered if he should go on, then he remembered his dream.

Haroun climbed through the small opening into a large cave, filled with
statues of Kings and Caliphs from all the lands. Right in the middle was a
statue of a small boy dressed in the finest silks of the brightest colours.
At his feet lay a large dog fast asleep. Next to the boy was an empty 
pedestal.

"Take out the lamp." a voice commanded "Take out the lamp and open the lid!"

Once again Haroun obeyed the orders in his head. Thick, green smoke whirled
out of the lamp, rushed around the cave and settled above the empty pedestal
and slowly formed into the shape of the tall, dark, thin figure wearing a
brightly coloured turban and flowing white robes.

"Thank you Haroun. Thank you for finding my son." said the Caliph of old
Baghdad in words that boomed around the cave and were no longer inside
Haroun's head. "I can rest alongside him now and it's you that I must thank.
In return for finding my son and bringing me to him I cannot grant you any
wishes but I can show you the way home as I promised." The Caliph waved his
hands in a mystical way as he continued, "Go to the donkey outside the cave
and stroke his left ear twice. Then you must put the lamp in the old man's
hand and leave the cave. Do not look back until the clouds are above you and
the sun warms your back. The road and Allah will lead you home to your 
family."

With those words ringing in his ears, Haroun watched as the Caliph of
Baghdad became still and turned into a statue.

As Haroun walked down the mountain with the sun on his back he heard a clip
clop, clip clop behind him. Coming through the clouds was a donkey with two
panniers on it's back and a goatskin bag of water. Round it's neck was a
collar bearing a silver name plate. On the name plate was engraved just one
word. Allah!