Let me take you on a short mental journey. Imagine a desert on a hot afternoon (are there any cold afternoons in the desert??). Anyway, picture a little oasis deep in the heart of said hot desert. Sand dunes all around, rippling gently like they seem to in the movies.
A group of Tuaregs, heavily bandaged…erm… turbaned, as is their way. They are dressed in deep blues and dusty blacks. They have had their fill of water, and filled up their pouches to take with them, they are only waiting for their camels to finish drinking. They are trespassing. This oasis belongs to another…erm… clan?? of Tuaregs and they know it. Unbeknownst to them, a sentry from the owner-Tuareg clan sneaks off to alert the others. Just minutes later, a group of five Tuaregs (I love this word, FYI) approaches, balanced easily on graceful, beautiful horses, riding hard and raising up dust (what else would they raise up?!)
The trespassers say nothing; they know they have been caught with their…erm… flowing robes down. They gather up their things and call their camels to them, their eyes wide and fearful. They had thought they would escape unscathed.
The leader of the pack jumps down from his mount, venom in his eyes and his mouth squeezed in a snarl. He approaches the trespassers huddled together, close to their camels, shrinking back surreptitiously. Making a sudden bold decision, the leader of the trespassers steps forward, chest puffed out, eyes challenging, taunting even.
The rightful owner steps forward quietly, fearlessly. In a flash, he unsheathes his sword, brandishes it long enough for the sun to glint wickedly off it, then places the very tip at the base of the scoundrel’s throat.
Filled with contempt and anger, he spits out a single word:
I rest my case.
*bowing to deafening applause*
OK, so I’m too excited to rest my case. Even the Bible agrees with me (kinda….)
But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel.
I’m not sure if the Tuareg people actually ride horses. If you have a problem with me saying they do, though, kindly go and sit down inside bush and read newspaper small.
What’s your favourite word?
Cheers, darlings 🙂