To the south of Khaayradka lies a village with the gentle name of Bala. It is one of the hundreds of villages that Khaayradka shelters, a seemingly poor village, with dilapidated homes and inhabited by people living a nomadic lifestyle. Famine and lack of water are common in Bala, as in most neighboring towns.

  Alas, the reality is that, for many consecutive years, only the large city prospers. It is no coincidence that this is also the place where the king resides, along with his court composed of politicians, the richest merchants of the kingdom, and, of course, his family.

  At the heart of this humble village lives a virtuous young man, Chaaraf. A camel herder from father to son, he was unsurprisingly introduced to camel breeding at a very young age, making him an experienced breeder by the age of 20.

  Known in his village as an honest and courageous boy, he is often called upon by everyone for various activities within the community. Old ladies ask him for small errands, children run to him to play and giggle, and other camel herders rely on his advice to develop their trade. Such is the busy life of Chaaraf.

  Night fell on Bala.

  — “Mom, I’m home. Do you need me for anything?” exclaimed Chaaraf, smiling tenderly at his mother.

  — “No, my son. What is the reason for this smile today?” asked Zeynab, intrigued by the apparent joy on her son’s face.

  — “Well, today, Mr. Nayim’s she-camel gave birth, so I went to assist him at his place. I also went to buy some groceries for Mrs. Hawa, nearby. You know…”

  He was suddenly stopped by his mother, who looked at him with a worried expression.

  — “My son, I realize how important it is for you to help anyone in distress. However, you cannot spend your entire life at the service of others,” affirmed Zeynab.

  — “But people need me, and I care for their well-being, perhaps more than my own,” replied Chaaraf.

  — “As a mother, your well-being is more important than that of anyone and anything on earth. My greatest wish is to see you happy and safe before I leave this world. Yet, I fear that this altruism of yours, my son, will fail you over time,” said Zeynab sadly, sitting down, realizing the weight of her concern for her son’s future.

  — “Mom, be certain of one thing: I will only have what is decreed for me. My role on this earth is not to worry unnecessarily about a future no one can be sure of, but to act on my present in order to change by my hands what truly depends on me.”

  Zeynab took him in her arms and looked at him tenderly without saying a word, but with eyes filled with admiration and pride for what her son had become. This unconditional love was also forged by the sacrifices she had endured after the loss of her husband, always worried, wanting only the best the world can offer for him, like any mother.

  And like all other loving parents, Zeynab did not see that her son was gradually, but far too quickly, becoming an adult ready to face both the blessings of life and its challenges.

  The next day, the sun’s rays crossed the windows of Chaaraf and his mother’s modest house, marking the beginning of a new day, seemingly identical to all others.

  Chaaraf got up to carry out his morning routine and went downstairs to prepare breakfast for himself and his mother. On his way to the kitchen, he saw his mother setting the table early in the morning.

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  — “Good morning, mom, what are you doing?” asked Chaaraf.

  — “Well, my son, did God not give you sight?” replied Zeynab with an amused tone.

  Chaaraf approached his mother, kissed her forehead, sharing her amusement.

  — “It is customary that I prepare breakfast before you wake up, so I’m a bit surprised to see you here. That’s all,” explained Chaaraf, smiling slightly.

  — “Today is your big departure for the big city, so I wanted you to have strength and enough time to properly prepare for this journey,” said Zeynab.

  — “You’re right! I can never thank you enough for all you do for me, mom,” said Chaaraf, looking tenderly at his mother.

  “If a mother was constantly seeking recognition, her life would be very bleak and meaningless!”

  Once the preparations were finished, the various goods ranging from milk to traditional crafts and incense, carefully placed on the pack animal, Chaaraf went to say goodbye to his mother one last time before leaving.

  Though experienced, this is not a simple journey. Indeed, trading in the big city, which he does once or twice a year, allows him to live comfortably for months. So, the pressure to provide for his household weighs somewhat on our young Bala?n.

  Nevertheless, since his departure, Chaaraf has not stopped admiring the landscapes. Each time he passes through, he believes he is seeing them for the first time, so unique and pure is the richness of these places. The desert he crosses seems endless, no society in sight, only the silence of a peaceful nature. Although the trip lasts only two nights, the young man would not mind if it lasted four more.

  The two nights passed without surprise, signaling the imminent arrival at the big city. Chaaraf saw dwellings in the distance. He had finally arrived at Hara.

  Hara is the opposite of Bala, where Chaaraf is from. The mud houses have given way to luxurious multi-level stone houses, a sign of some prosperity and social success. The inhabitants do not wear clothes marked by wear, but outfits worthy of the greatest royalties of their time. Gold and other luxurious ornaments seem so common in Hara that they border on indecency.

  Each time he visits, Chaaraf is overwhelmed with questions;

  Why do these people live in carelessness and wealth while ours continue to perish one after another due to the ravages of famine?

  Why would my people be less deserving than these rich whose only accomplishment is to be well-born?

  What about the king? Do his many noble monarchical commitments stop at the borders of these places where all excess is customary or do they also reach the poor men who have neither political stature nor wealth to show?

  So many questions remain unanswered. Moreover, in a kingdom of such power where silence and oppression reign, what are the value of questions and the words of a young nomad?

  Chaaraf was interrupted in his reflection by a jostle. Some of his belongings he held in his hand suddenly fell. He quickly gathered his things and looked at the person responsible for the bump, who seemed annoyed by the situation.

  — “Pick up my things and apologize immediately!” demanded the individual.

  — “Excuse me, but this incident, though unfortunate, does not seem to be my fault, as you were the one looking away from the path. I have no reason to apologize, but yours seem more than appropriate,” supported Chaaraf.

  Chaaraf was quite disturbed by the rather extravagant outfit of his interlocutor.

  — “Do you know who I am, young impertinent? I don’t believe anyone knowing my status and power would dare answer me in such a tone.”

  — “It seems you answered your own question just now, dear sir. I have indeed no idea who you are nor the extent of your power, but that does not lessen your responsibility,” retorted Chaaraf.

  The man approached the young boy, making Chaaraf realize his imposing size. He put his hand around his neck and tightened his fingers, making movement almost impossible.

  His grip was so strong that he managed to lift Chaaraf. Bringing his face close to his, he said:

  — “I am the son of the king of Khaayradka, Qaraaki. Everyone here and everywhere else in the kingdom is under my orders. One word from me would be enough to make you disappear.”

  Wearing a smile at the corner of his lips and watching Chaaraf lose consciousness due to lack of oxygen, Qaraaki suddenly loosened his hand. The crowd gathered around a young man still unknown, lying unconscious on the ground.

  One would expect compensation, concern, or empathy from witnesses of such acts… Well, reality is quite different: the Hara?ns laughed as if watching a modern comedy. The suffering of an innocent did not outrage them in the least; on the contrary, it amused them.

  Suddenly, in a loud and authoritative voice, Qaraaki ordered the royal guards to imprison Chaaraf until his fate is decided. The guards almost immediately complied, carrying the boy toward the palace dungeons.

  The future of our young nomad seems to be played out in the dungeons of a city that, until now, has shown him nothing but contempt and disgust.