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The domn Iree qf Wad Hamid 13
sounds of rccit-tion from the Koran and a bright light, as
sharp as a knife-edge, radiated out, joining up the two river
banks, and I saw the down tree prostrating itself in worship.
• My heart throbbed so violently that I thought it would leap
up through my mouth. I saw a venerable old man with a white
beard and wearing a spotless white robe come up to me, a smile
on his face. Ile struck inc on the head with his string of prayerbeads
and called out: 'Arise.'
I swear that I got up I know not how and went home I
know not how. I arrived back at dawn and woke up my
husband, my son, and my daughters. I told my husband to light
the fire and make tea. Then I ordered my daughters to give
trilling cries of joy, and the whole village prostrated them-
selves before us. I swear that I have never again been afraid, nor
yet ill.'
Yes, my son, we arc people who have no experience of
hospitals. In small matt cis such as the bites of scorpions, fever,
sprains, and fractures, we take to our beds until we are cured.
When in serious trouble we go to the doum tree.
Shall I tell you the story of Wad Hamid, my son, or would
you like to sleep? Townsfolk don't go to sleep till late at
night—I know that of them. We, though, go to sleep directly
the birds are silent, the flies stop harrying the cattle, the leaves
of the trees settle down, the hens spread their wings over their
chicks, and the goats turn on their sides to chew the cud. We
and our animals are alike: we rise in the morning when they rise
and go to sleep when they sleep, our breathing and theirs
following one and the same pattern.
My father, reporting what my grandfather had told him,
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