"Come friends gather round, join me where I'm going. This desert is too much, too hard, too demanding. You have your fruits and your underground wells, your storage tanks and irrigation systems. They work well for you mostly, but not for all. Some go thirsty, and some poorer still are dying but nobody is willing to share and do enough for them.
Lay down your tools, stop toiling for others for so little work. Good honest toil deserves recognition, warrants love and just reward. I know a place. I have seen a lake where all can benefit who wish to. Those who strive and are devoted shall be more than satisfied, for they shall find riches beyond their expectations. Follow me, if you want to be valued and live a life where you are sated and your needs met, follow me...I know the way."

I had heard them tell of this charismatic nobody. They say he has many followers but he is hunted by the officials for spreading dissent. I'm eagerly looking about me seeing if the soldiers are present. They don't like big gatherings, and certainly not ones that haven't been sanctioned by petty bureaucrats who like to keep a tight lid on things. I kept the kids close to me. They were bored, but I was intrigued. Many people hear many promises out here where the sun is vicious and the land is hard to farm. The desert can be a cruel mistress, but not an altogether hopeless cause. It is as any relationship, to thrive it needs understanding and patience. People here are out of patience. Without water you die, and more and more people are falling every day.

The crowd was dispersing. He was coming down from the rocky crop where the limestone walls in the gully created a natural echo. It was a popular spot by travelling mystics and political activists, and usually heavily patrolled. He wasn't hanging about to be discovered. What he said rang true to me, as my family are hard working honest folk. And I do want what he says. I've tried gainful employment but even that is thin on the ground and won't provide for us all we need. I tried less noble endeavours but my own conscience makes me uneasy. I'm fearful of my God and how he may judge me, even though I do it for the little ones. As a father I feel the need to provide for my family, we may each contribute, but it is I feel the ultimate responsibility to give them a better life. And I know at present I'm failing.

"Grab your things," I say to my eldest, "we're leaving. We are following this man and his promises, we are going on an adventure." My two littlest smile and grip my hands, their little fingers applying pressure seeking reassurance. I squeeze them to acknowledge they are not forgotten. But my eldest Alleyah is fourteen, and she is old beyond her years.
"But mother won't be able to make a long journey, she hasn't got it in her."
She looked deeply concerned.
"We have the donkey and the cart, she may ride in that and we will carry most of what we need to make space."
"But father, it will be a long way and the trip may be hazardous."
I smile my best reassuring smile.
"It will be okay Alleyah, Allah will provide. We have ourselves and our faith. That will be enough."
I raised a dutiful daughter, though she has an enquiring mind.
"As you say," she replied, and took the hands of her siblings and led them towards our meagre wagon and rations. All we owned was on that wagon, and stood beside it was my beautiful wife.

There was a lot of waifs and strays following the stranger, whom they were calling a Prophet. Only a few were wealthier merchants looking for new trade routes or a fresh start, most like us were just peasants or poor townsfolk down on our luck but eager to improve our circumstances. We marched with him and his own retinue, and sometimes they walked amongst us whispering words of encouragement.
"That's it brother, this is the way."
"Yes sister, keep striving, keep following and you shall soon find reward."
It was hot and arduous, the way seemed very hard at times with long stretches of desert to cross. The sun was unyielding. People at first were keen to help each other and there was fresh hope and revived spirits of what a better life we were moving eagerly towards. But as days stretched on, that camaraderie seemed to wane, and each night more and more people sneaked off into the darkness to retrace their steps.

"My friends, there is a lake ahead. Keep following, cast away your doubts. Have faith, be strong in your convictions."
He was on a natural hillock speaking to us by the light of a pale cream moon.
"Give us proof," someone shouted from the night, safe in that they felt nobody could see who spoke.
"I can give you no proof. If what you seek is truly out there, wouldn't you have hope enough to try? Wouldn't you give your all despite the lack of tangible evidence? If God was to say believe in me, would you still ask for proof? What proof is sufficient? Can a man's word not be proof enough? Can we not believe in each other, help each other, respect and honour one another and achieve together more than we can apart?"
He looked into the still sizeable crowd, but many were tired and weary. They heard his words but didn't feel them like I did. That night we tended to my wife and her comfort, we shared our meagre food, we held hands and we prayed. We asked Allah for his help in our deliverance, and we afterwards all cuddled up under our thin wool blankets and watched the beautiful sunset disappearing to the stars' rule.

More of the followers had left. There were much fewer of us now. My wife did not complain when I knew the roads were bumpy and the cart was jolting this way and that. Our donkey was a stout beast but even he was struggling. We all carried heavy loads and the children were getting miserable. I felt awful, that I was letting them down. But his friends were coming round trying to encourage us.
"Have faith friends, we are nearly there."
"Allah will show you the way, keep strong in your heart and fight to find the right path."

One hot sunny day we arrived at a large open depression surrounded by rocks and dead palm trees and shrubbery. I saw the Visionary get up, look around, smile then come to address us all delight written all over his face.
"My friends, we are here at last. Did I not tell you there is a lake of plenty. Now will you believe?"
"But it is dried up. It has been for years!"
"Charlatan!" "Fraudster" came angry shouts.
"But people, this is all that I promised you. Look beyond what is visible, there is more here if you see with your heart and not your eyes."
"Trickster!" "Shame on you!"
And with that some started throwing stones at the man and his followers. He tried to appeal for calm and understanding but the crowd weren't having it. He couldn't tell us more, they never gave him chance. Many people were crushed, felt abandoned and bad and so started to return home whilst they still had the provisions for the return journey.
"Papa? Shall we try returning?" asked Alleyah hopefully.
"Let us pray on it tonight as a family," I said. "And whatever we decide as a family in the morning I will abide by."

When the sunrise came there were but around fifty of us travellers left and the Prophet and his friends. He addressed us early.
"Friends, please hear me out. I said we are to toil. To find reward you must search, you must dig, you must believe and have great faith. Hold true to conviction."
"Easier said than done," a small family group shouted as they were seen tieing the last of their supplies back on their wagon ready to leave. The man looked saddened and a trifle dejected for the first time. I mistook his countenance as a reflection of his inner doubt, but it was not.
"I know here is a dead lake. You see it like I do. But what I know in my heart and head is Allah has told me to have faith. That if we dig and if we toil, we shall find our just reward."

My wife, as ill as she was, she'd always been an excellent judge of character. She was gravely ill by now but she was propped up awake looking him straight in the eyes. She was smiling, and the light hit her pained face and once again I saw the remnants of the beautiful girl I had married so long ago.
"What is it my love?" I asked enquiring what it was that amused her.
"Don't you feel it Beloved?"
"What?"
She replied taking my hand weakly and pressing it to her lips.
"He has brought me home. This is where I should be."
"Do you mean we stay?" I asked her not altogether sure myself, and I noticed our oldest daughter listening in intently.
"Yes my love, we stay and we toil. Allah has brought our family to a new home and resting place."
And that was decided, our family was staying put. When his followers came round it was my wife who addressed them with as much assurety as their Leader.
"We are staying and we all shall dig."

It has been more than a week. We are only two dozen now, us few who stayed and continue to toil. Each night we hold true to our word, we have all dug to the best of our ability, even my wife. We have toiled hard, and we have slept restlessly. We have shared what little we have with the others, and we could not go back now even if we wanted to. We have not enough supplies for more than a few more days. My wife's skin is ashen gray, but she will not relent. The Prophet himself has stripped to the waist and encourages us that through hard work comes just reward. We few who listen have bought into his rhetoric, we feel differently. It is that each one of us in camp is now bound to the others, our fates intertwined.

Three days later we awoke to the sound of the Prophet shouting us.
"Come friends, come." His friends too were eagerly banging utensils on pans and making a noise to rouse us all.
"Behold, our lake, and our fresh start together."
And wonder of wonders, there was the basin filled once more. Some deep fissure has been weakened we guessed and once again the waters beneath the arid land had bubbled up to refill. It was a glorious sight and I felt my heart was going to burst with joy, more so when I saw the look of awe and relief on my childrens' faces. I turned to go back to my wife who hadn't stirred,
"Darling, wake up, see the glory that you knew would be."
But in my haste and my eagerness, I had not noticed how still she was, and how her cold hand in my own now no longer stirred.

The Prophets friends took care of my children, whilst he came to see and be with me. He put his arm about my shoulder in an expression of comfort.
"She's gone." I said with stoney sadness and finality."She believed but now she's gone." Great tears were falling down my cheek and he covered her lovely sunken face with his own shawl.
"That she is my brother." He took me up in his arms and hugged me. "She's finally gone. She was brave, and true of heart. She truly saw the lake as it was in her heart. She saw what others could not."
"But she never got to see it. She never got to see the place we always truly dreamed of reaching. She said she was coming home to her dreams desire, but she didn't get to see that."
Then the strangest thing happened. He turned my face up towards his grey green eyes, the tears falling as much as my own, but he was smiling.
"But brother, she did get to see it. This is not the reward, this lake is but the entrance to the gates of Heaven. A place your family can live safely, be happy; where belief and hard work leads to an honest pathway to friendship and a quality and purpose to life. The lake is but the means. I promised to lead you to a place where you can find riches beyond your expectations. We have not found that here brother, but she has found it there. She found the path, though I showed her the way. She is there, rejoice, for she is home."




© .Garry Saunders