Areem

A small, crowded, sandy area resembling a military camp. At its edges, watchtowers were placed, manned by armed men, watching for something. Dust clouded over the area from the movement of people. It smelled like rot. There was no shade except for a few ghaf trees, under each of which sat a group of men, sometimes raising their voices, sometimes arguing, sometimes remaining silent. I saw all kinds and colors of people there. I heard about countries in Asia and Africa I had never known before: Basaidu, Qeshm, Zanzibar, Bombay, Sri Lanka, and Bangladesh. They brought them in sailboats and dumped them on the shore like sacks of rice, then gathered them up before redistributing them. At night, the movement subsided and the dust settled. Almost nothing could be heard except the faint sound of crying and whispers like the hissing of snakes among the stolen women, and the sound of scoundrels chatting and laughing. About the author: Turki Al-Zaabi, author of the novel "Arim" and 0 other books. Saudi writer Turki Al-Zaabi is a trainer in reading and reading sciences and a panelist at cultural events. View more.