When the lonely road through the barren desert dunes led his pick-up truck into a luscious green village, Abdel knew he had taken a wrong turn. Which wasn’t possible on a road that had always been straight.
He stopped his truck in the village square to consult his map. By the well in the centre of the square, a group of women in traditional garb interrupted their nattering to observe his arrival. He ignored them and checked his route. It wasn’t new to him, but this oasis was.
A tap on his window. He rolled it down.
“Hello. Lost your way to Al Nadah?”
“Yes,” said Abdel, “although I can’t see how.”
“Do not question fate,” the man replied and opened the driver’s door of the truck. His hands, like his face, seemed old without showing wrinkles or other signs of age. “Come, you must be thirsty.”