+ “You must always know what it is that you want,” the old king +had said. The boy knew, and was now working toward it. Maybe it +was his treasure to have wound up in that strange land, met up with +a thief, and doubled the size of his flock without spending a cent. +He was proud of himself. He had learned some important things, +like how to deal in crystal, and about the language without +words…and about omens. One afternoon he had seen a man at the +top of the hill, complaining that it was impossible to find a decent +place to get something to drink after such a climb. The boy, +accustomed to recognizing omens, spoke to the merchant. +“Let’s sell tea to the people who climb the hill.” +“Lots of places sell tea around here,” the merchant said. +“But we could sell tea in crystal glasses. The people will enjoy +the tea and want to buy the glasses. I have been told that beauty is +the great seducer of men.” +The merchant didn’t respond, but that afternoon, after saying his +prayers and closing the shop, he invited the boy to sit with him and +share his hookah, that strange pipe used by the Arabs. +“What is it you’re looking for?” asked the old merchant. +“I’ve already told you. I need to buy my sheep back, so I have to +earn the money to do so.” +The merchant put some new coals in the hookah, and inhaled +deeply. +“I’ve had this shop for thirty years. I know good crystal from bad, +and everything else there is to know about crystal. I know its +dimensions and how it behaves. If we serve tea in crystal, the shop +is going to expand. And then I’ll have to change my way of life.” +“Well, isn’t that good?” +“I’m already used to the way things are. Before you came, I was +thinking about how much time I had wasted in the same place, while +my friends had moved on, and either went bankrupt or did better +than they had before. It made me very depressed. Now, I can see +that it hasn’t been too bad. The shop is exactly the size I always +wanted it to be. I don’t want to change anything, because I don’t +know how to deal with change. I’m used to the way I am.” +The boy didn’t know what to say. The old man continued, “You +have been a real blessing to me. Today, I understand something I +didn’t see before: every blessing ignored becomes a curse. I don’t +want anything else in life. But you are forcing me to look at wealth +and at horizons I have never known. Now that I have seen them, and +now that I see how immense my possibilities are, I’m going to feel +worse than I did before you arrived. Because I know the things I +should be able to accomplish, and I don’t want to do so.” +It’s good I refrained from saying anything to the baker in Tarifa, +thought the boy to himself. +They went on smoking the pipe for a while as the sun began to +set. They were conversing in Arabic, and the boy was proud of +himself for being able to do so. There had been a time when he +thought that his sheep could teach him everything he needed to +know about the world. But they could never have taught him Arabic. +There are probably other things in the world that the sheep can’t +teach me, thought the boy as he regarded the old merchant. All they +ever do, really, is look for food and water. And maybe it wasn’t that +they were teaching me, but that I was learning from them. +“Maktub,” the merchant said, finally. +“What does that mean?” +“You would have to have been born an Arab to understand,” he +answered. “But in your language it would be something like ‘It is +written.’” +
+ + +