Zaar
by Zhaleh Farahani ︎︎︎"Winds are like people, they can be kind or cruel, you know?” Mama‐zaar said. Her suntanned face looked crimson in the sunlit desert and her deep contralto voice sounded like I was hearing her words from the bottom of the sea.
I said nothing. She was rubbing some kind of aromatic oil on my arms, I was naked.
It was our daily journey for a week now, 5-hour walk without food or water until getting here where there was no sign of any manmade thing, pure nature, as she named it.
She pushed away her shiny green scarf and continued her story:
"They travel on the oceans; sometimes come to the beach, come to us and dive into our hearts, they find themselves angels or sometimes monsters, but they always make us sick in their journey, like a turbulence, you know?”
The heat didn’t hurt anymore, nor did her hot palms and fingers on my sunburned body, I wasn’t thirsty or tired or even sick. I was light and free of emotions.
“They take something they like from us and nurture it, like we nurture sheep, you know? In return, they leave some of their air in our souls, so they never really leave us. They call us air-ish folks, you know?”
That night was the night. The other air‐ish folks of the village would come to build the semicircle, and Mama‐zaar would talk to my Zaar.
She was done with my front, so I rolled over, my mouth was half open and soon I felt the dry sourness of sand on my tongue, yet I didn’t close my mouth.
I had a fairy‐Zaar. They recognized it on the first day. My Zaar was a pagan and cruel but fortunately he hadn’t tasted blood yet, and Mama‐zaar promised him a magnificent ceremony, he accepted quickly, then Mama‐zaar and I went to that remote ruin of a house so that no one could see me except Mama‐zaar.
“We will feed him, we will sing to him, amuse and satisfy him, so he would leave your body, we know his keen and we do the ceremony for centuries you know. So don’t worry. We are no doctors of course but then you are no patient either, my flower‐girl.”
She was right. I had heard enough bullshit already; "It is just mental Bibi, there is no sign of anything physiological”, like I was faking all that pain. "Perhaps your ego is telling you something Ms. Bibi, you were a good girl for a long time”, like I was some kind of psycho.
***
The fire was filled with aromatic seeds again, which sparkled and made funny noises. Soon enough, the air smelled weird and I saw everyone in the semicircle breathe more slowly, including myself. The moon was bright in the sky and we were sitting in pure nature. Mama‐zaar was playing the drum magnificently, but after a while, someone else took her place and she came towards me and started hitting me with a weird long stick. I screamed, but she hit me harder.
My feet were tied so I couldn’t move. They asked my Zaar to come out, but nothing happened. She kept hitting, until my eyes went dark and then, the desert wasn’t the same desert anymore…
I was naked and alone. The sun was shining and the ocean was roaring in the distance. I felt a familiar and pleasant presence. “Why do you want me to leave? I won’t hurt you more than they do.” I felt my Zaar whirling, whipping, caressing and playing around my body. "I searched your soul but I found your body more interesting.” He didn’t need blood to talk, not with me. There was nothing between us. "You can dance before kings and gods, giants and fairies, you can dance to stop or start wars, ageless and inimitable. You can feel the beauty of motions and show it to them”. I was turned on. My arms started to move like waves lying on each other in the ocean, my feet were strong yet elegantly posed like lotus leaves, two twisting snakes started to move up my belly,
"Wake up flower‐girl, it’s over now…”, the deep contralto voice said.