Page 18 - Fables volume 1

How Paradise was Glimpsed by the Camel

“I am Haroun al-Jamal, the Old Camel of the Mountain. I have
come to induct you into the Bactrian Liberation Front. You will be
released from this endless toil. Behold the free camels’ paradise!”
The Old Camel curled his upper lip and emitted a shrill whinny.
Instantly a soft rhythmic clopping began outside the compound.
Three sleek young female camels slowly paraded in. They made one
complete undulating turn around the courtyard, giving the popeyed
Abdullah a tantalizing view of their charms from all angles. Then they
were gone.
“You see, my son,” intoned the Old Camel, “what can be yours
once you throw off the chains of slavery and oppression. Camels were
not made to be mercilessly exploited by cruel and greedy men. No!
We were meant to run free in the mountains and deserts of Bactria,
our beloved homeland.”
Abdullah blinked rapidly. Was he dreaming? His head still swam
against the tides of time and space, blurring his vision and hearing. He
reoriented himself to the familiar landmarks of his constricted world.
Yes, he was still tied to the wall, the moon glowed up in the heavens,
and the courtyard continued to push up against his feet. But he could
not blink away the Old Camel of the Mountain, who stood by the
shattered gate, chewing methodically.
“What does this mean?” Abdullah slurred. “What do you want from
me?”
“To join us. To rise in rebellion when the signal is given. To break
out of here as I have broken in. You could even smash the oil press
with a few good kicks on your way out: it is an instrument of torture,
and will not be tolerated in the new order.”
“But my master—he depends upon me for his livelihood,” gasped
Abdullah. “And I for mine upon him.”
“Rubbish!” spat Haroun al-Jamal. “Look at yourself: mangy,
covered with bruises, underfed and overworked. You never see the
mid-day sun or get a day off. Your life is spent trudging in a circle,
wasting your strength against a never-easing weight. Does your master
appreciate your years of unswerving loyalty? Does he ever give you
one kind word or a change in diet from this dried-out straw?” He spat
again. “Ha!”

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