Niani, October, 1375, Evening
Today is the day that I return to the paper after so long. I don't know precisely how long, but it has been decades. The pages are yellow and the leather holly and smells. Even the binding string is rotting.
And as I flip though the dozens of entries, I can't help but compare it to the newly-popular Catalan Atlas, based not on the actual land of West and North Africa, but of oral accounts of the journeyers. And it seems very apparent, with my memories revived, that Abraham Cresques did not contact any griots, because the details (and even the basic ideas) are definitely off.
The journey through this land, however it's portrayed, was, without a doubt, the highlight of my life. I met Khalifa, of course, and he remained a livelong friend. Technically, I own him, actually. When we returned to Niani, I had escorted him back to his owners as a final farewell, but I knew that I would be forever reluctant if I let him go back, because then I don't think I'd ever see him again. So when we were greeted, I opened a heavy fist full of gold dust from the journey (that I think I got quasi-legally), and Khalifa stayed with me.
And I met other people, too. One of the soldiers came to my fancy, and now we're grandparents together. So many other friends have I met as well, and they aren't the small saying-hi-to-in-passing kind of friends; they are the kind of friends in which I'd sacrifice my life a thousand times over for them. (And I've encountered many risks with them, from bandits to thirst to starvation to rioting crowds.)
The Hajj was definitely, without a doubt in my mind, the best thing that ever happened to me. Ever.
And as I flip though the dozens of entries, I can't help but compare it to the newly-popular Catalan Atlas, based not on the actual land of West and North Africa, but of oral accounts of the journeyers. And it seems very apparent, with my memories revived, that Abraham Cresques did not contact any griots, because the details (and even the basic ideas) are definitely off.
The journey through this land, however it's portrayed, was, without a doubt, the highlight of my life. I met Khalifa, of course, and he remained a livelong friend. Technically, I own him, actually. When we returned to Niani, I had escorted him back to his owners as a final farewell, but I knew that I would be forever reluctant if I let him go back, because then I don't think I'd ever see him again. So when we were greeted, I opened a heavy fist full of gold dust from the journey (that I think I got quasi-legally), and Khalifa stayed with me.
And I met other people, too. One of the soldiers came to my fancy, and now we're grandparents together. So many other friends have I met as well, and they aren't the small saying-hi-to-in-passing kind of friends; they are the kind of friends in which I'd sacrifice my life a thousand times over for them. (And I've encountered many risks with them, from bandits to thirst to starvation to rioting crowds.)
The Hajj was definitely, without a doubt in my mind, the best thing that ever happened to me. Ever.